Letter 314

• 314. Caroline to Wilhelm Schlegel in Berlin: Jena, 7–8 May 1801

Jena, 7 [–8] May [1801]

|120| This morning, my dear Schlegel, I am able to tell you only that I myself was delighted by your unfortunate “Fortunatus.” Yesterday evening Gries (who is good only for such things) had brought me Marie Stuart, [1] and once we had begun to read it, I did not want to relate it to him yet in such an ill mood and instead also wanted to read it first aloud for myself. [2]

But tell me, my dear, where on earth did you ever find it? It is so imaginative, so delicately ghastly and charmingly horrific, with the assonances expressing such wonderful intimations of all that, and then the way the rhyme prepares the reader for the decisive moment of imminent death among the roses. I am absolutely and completely taken by it and for precisely that reason simply do not want to exhaust any part of it or detract from any part with an analysis.

Fortuna herself inspired you with the name Fortunatus. Just please keep writing and endeavoring thus! This is one of those poems whose |121| initial impression will always be the abiding, determinative one for me. Can one really come upon such enchanting ideas in the Tiergarten? If anyone were to attack it in my presence, they would certainly have their hands full dealing with me. But you, my darling, had a rather inferior cause to defend in your argument with Tiek about Maria Stuart.

It is truly not better than Wallenstein — in fact, the entire, even more inferior Wallenstein speaks from within it. The few lyrical passages are pretty enough — oh, yes — but are poorly integrated into the whole. One’s interest in Maria herself is excessively weakened throughout; it appears as if such were supposed to be intended objectively, but there is absolutely nothing genuine about it, merely imitative, “patent” objectivity.

I can well imagine how it might come across quite nicely in the theater. The scene in which Melvil uncovers his priestly head is one of the most exceptional in the play and is an excellent concluding appearance for Maria. [3] The final scene ends exactly as in Wallenstein, namely, with an epigram — Prince Piccolomini! “Lord Lester is embark’d for England.” [4]

The political elements in it cannot avoid the impression of the distinctness and clarity of a deduction, and I assure you that during my initial reading, when, after all, my curiosity was also quite engaged, I could not escape a certain measure of boredom. —

And the way Mortimer comes out blustering about his Catholicity! There is absolutely no reason to provide a psychological explication of how he became Catholic; he need simply zealously state it: “I am Catholic.” [5] Indeed, my friend, it is quite clear to me that in the final analysis, all the poetic trimmings in this piece do not yet constitute genuine poesy.

What are you anticipating from the Mädchen von Orleans? [6] I once again asked our deaf friend, Gries, and since it is always pleasant to talk about something one only half knows as if one knew everything about it, let me tell you just this much, namely, that it |122| is to the contrary nothing but a sentimental Jeanne d’Arc. She is virtuous and in love, believes herself to be genuinely inspired (which would be nice), and then there is all manner of magic.

But just imagine the horror: she is not burned at the stake, but dies from her wounds on the bed of honor. An old Queen Isabel, who is warring against her son Carl with the English (as Gries tells it), gets her in her power. She is bound firmly to a tree by six-fold chains. Meanwhile the battle continues and someone or other who is standing on a hill relates to Isabel how things are going and that Carl is in danger. Jeanne falls into holy madness at the news, and the chains fall away from her in response to her prayer. She flees in order to save the king and in the process receives her mortal wound. [7]

There are stanzas in it, but Gries claims not to have heard any other irregularities. Nor anything of Genoveva, more of Shakespeare. [8] He doubtless misheard it.

As an aside, I must also say that what all of you found in the way of Tiekisms in Maria did not seem such to me at all. When Maria comes out into the open, there is a kind of cantata that would sooner have reminded me of Rammler’s Ino. [9]

Schiller read the piece aloud to the actors with the idea of having it performed immediately, but it may perhaps not come about after all, at least for now, because of the excessive numbers of actors required. They are preparing Nathan. [10]

Gries also insists that he was often distracted by being reminded so much of Voltaire’s Pucelle, which Schiller did indeed often consult while writing, though I doubt one can really determine whether it sooner played tricks on Schiller or on Gries. [11] Pucelle would never occur to me in connection with Shakespeare. How nice that this translation is appearing at the same time.

A great deal by Schiller will be appearing at the coming book fair, also Macbeth. [12] Be consoled in knowing that Woltmann knows more than do you yourself! You realize, of course, that up to this very |123| moment Schiller had not divulged this sujet to anyone. As compensation, you yourself are now acquainted with his embryo, Don Juan, though you are permitted to reveal only mysterious hints about it. [13]

Here is an approximate rendering of two lines that conclude the first act:

— I would
hasten to the aid of Gaul's heroic sons
Relieve beleaguer'd Rheims, and crown my king. [14] 

They provide me with quite insight enough. —

I would like to read Tancred; its iambics and additional concluding passages are allegedly uncommonly beautiful. [15]

Goethe is here. Schelling spent the entire morning with him yesterday and went out riding with him, then also arrived back here at our place utterly fatigued from all the serious and non-serious conversation. [16] When I sent the package to him, he inquired most earnestly about you and your work and activities and about when you would be coming. [17] Schelling told him about your quarrel with Unger, [18] he read your letter [19] and said: “Well, he nonetheless seems to be quite content and well, and I am glad I will be seeing him soon.”

He will not be staying long. He had not yet read the piece on Nicolai, Schiller had quickly gotten hold of it first. [20] I did not receive a complete copy for him, and Schelling will have to send him his own. [21]

The duke came unexpectedly this week to see Loder and ate with him, whereupon Loder was absolutely radiant and also paid me an hour-long visit yesterday morning. Madam Loder had already visited me twice.

Hannchen returned from Leipzig, where she lodged with the Tischbeins, and brought along numerous greetings for me along with considerable laments from Caroline with regard to your not having answered her, which I will do immediately. [22] Caroline’s voice has allegedly improved admirably, while Betsy is now permitted |124| to sing only very little; she has chest pains and is so sensitive that she weeps and trembles for hours at the least little thing that upsets her. She is Mignon. Alas, I fear she will not live, so early have these delicate strings sounded! [23]


As far as the errand requests in your letter are concerned, I already wrote them out and sent them to Friedrich yesterday evening, since as far as I know he traveled to Leipzig today to pick up Madam Veit. [24]

It is unfortunately already too late to do anything about the typos in B.; [25] I already had a copy here in the house that Friedrich had sent for Schelling, who sends you his thanks. — Friedrich let me know that he himself would take care of everything.

At the same time, I passed along to him your wish that you find all your books in the house when you arrive, since the two bookshelves do indeed look a bit denuded, though I could not really say what exactly is missing except for a few things I myself tried to find; e.g., Müller’s History of Switzerland was not there. [26] I had someone fetch it for me because there was something I wanted to look up in connection with Wilhelm Tell. [27]

I cannot pass along your “Fortunatus” to Friedrich until he stops by again, though I will shortly have to have someone get the sonnet on the portrait when I finally send it to Tiek. [28] The latter was in Leipzig, but I do not know whether Friedrich will still find him there. [29] He is quite distraught that I will not be seeing him. [30]

That one statement you made, namely, that in my personal relationship with Friedrich you would not take sides against me, has calmed me down completely. I ask for nothing more even though my heart has indeed been full of indignation and displeasure at least to a certain extent. —

I still cannot yet see, or comprehend, how Madam Veit could dare to be so inconsiderate of both you and me, hence I am still inclined to think that my eyes and ears are simply deceiving me. —

|125| At first I tried to keep your remark in mind concerning the reality of the concrete damage, which was indeed correct, but then I found myself almost overly neglecting precisely the reality of the damage. [31] Everything I had to fetch back already seems as if it was never missing in the first place. As far as meubles are concerned, [32] probably everything is there except one table. But you know how it is when one wants to ask for replacements. Can I maintain that they broke so and so many dozen plates when nothing was ever really formally given over to Madam Veit to begin with?

Admittedly, only 2 dozen are left instead of the 10 dozen with which I started out, and up till the very end, we were, after all, still able to entertain quite a large company with the porcelan. [33] Rose, too, said there were far more glasses here before, only two were crushed, item the cups, [34] and the blue glass compotes broken to pieces! Friedrich responded to my complaint about the loss of other housewares such as baskets etc. with a denunciation [35] concerning Lene’s disloyalty, except that when Rose left, these things were still here. [36]

I in no way intend to let myself into any discussion with Madam Veit. It would inevitably end up being a nasty business, so until we — you and I — can discuss it, just let things go on as they have. —

Rose said that Madam Veit always wanted food warmed up on the porcelan plates, and that is when they cracked. —

All these things, however, which at most are simply things that are more noticeable, are nonetheless trivial compared to other, completely different complaints.

I can assure you that Schelling left Bamberg with the idea of seeing Friedrich, except that the first thing he encountered here was that hostile behavior toward me. [37] I am also completely convinced now that it was not just the result of a whim or fancy, and assuming that my trust in Madam Veit went too far, it can also be easily enough explained. She |126| is striving, with a strong, ill feeling regarding her nationality, to attain an upright bourgeois existence, or at least an upright social existence, and she thought she could use the ruin I had brought on myself as the foundation for that existence. [38]

Hence she betrayed me through both truth and slander first to Madam Paulus, who certainly offered the most receptive ground for such, namely, envy. The system of communication was further expanded partly in connection with Friedrich’s attempt to increase their circle of friends among the better people, partly in order to win people to their side and to that purpose certainly also not to spurn the coarser people. And would we ever really have tolerated Winkelmann, Vermehren, and such people around us thus on a daily basis, and have wanted Paulus as a friend, who, let us be honest, certainly cannot conceal having the most despicable character on earth, or have wanted Fromman as a protector? Can baseness and coarseness ever be completely expelled from such surroundings?

And from a higher perspective — should one really admit such importunate dilettantes and pathetic creatures merely with the hope of expanding a truly consecrated circle? I know exactly what has seduced Friedrich, namely, the enjoyment, one alien to him, of a certain kind of popularity. Despite his almost passionate inclination for conviviality, he has always lived isolated.

And then — I am permitted to say this because there was a time when I was able to peer into his innermost heart [39] — he is not without a certain lust for revenge. He thought he had to take revenge on Schelling, who in reality merely fell away from him as a result of his, Friedrich’s, own behavior — and this entire, dreary business obscured his memory of me and himself, and made him obdurate. —

The only thing I am waiting for now is to see whether he comes out against even you in order to demand the letter back. [40] I confess I would prefer that you do so simply as a request from me, and sealed. You can then read it when he leaves it unanswered. Although it was by no means written for you to read, as far as my own person is concerned I have nothing against it.

He just sent me a note also saying he would take care of everything, including the last table, and departed this morning without asking me whether I might not perhaps have any business for him to take care of in Leipzig or something for the Tischbeins. That Madam Veit does not come visit me is quite in keeping with my own wishes, though hardly with your expectations. You shall see that she will not do so, though such would, of course, doubtless be the most appropriate thing. She has long been boasting here that she had no intention of seeing me. And this is the same person whom not a soul would have received here had it not been for me, and on whose behalf I ignored every concern I might otherwise have had.

Although I have not uttered a single word to anyone, I can see quite clearly that this tension has on the other hand certainly been articulated verbally — for, tell me, how could Winkelmann know about it, who was already alluding to it to Luise in Braunschweig? [41] How could Madam Fromman know, since she in no way presupposed that I had already seen Friedrich etc.? I am telling you this merely to prove that these things are not chimères. [42]

Nor have they been much more discreet even with regard to themselves, since their money problems and domestic affairs have always been known to everyone in society here even down to the students. Indeed, Friedrich even tried to get money from Brentano, who was unable to give him any. I will wait until I see you in person to relate to you the source from which I know this, and indeed from this moment on intend to write no more about these things except for the most necessary facts about what happens now, since I realize it must and can only be awkward and embarrassing for you to hear, and you must understand that it is solely because of the necessity for me to keep you informed that I mention it at all.



Friday morning [8 May 1801]

Wilhelm, you are a rogue, a rascal, and the personified Schlegel. We were absolutely, royally amused with you, and I confess I so wish I could tease you in person now, indeed, I can hardly control my urge to do so.

Yesterday Schelling said: “What a delicate little letter from Schlegel arrived at Goethe’s with such a dainty little border and address — it had to have come from a woman etc.” At that very moment, it occurred to me that it was from Unzelinchen and that Unzelinchen wants to come to Weimar. [42a] Schlegel once wrote me fleetingly that she was hoping to meet me; and indeed, now it all fits together: he will remain in Berlin until he himself can accompany her here, intends to surprise me with the little fairy sprite herself, has even charged me with cleaning up the house and making it beautiful — oh, what a crafty one you are, and now I am more crafty still for having gotten to the bottom of it all. With the help of her own privy councilor, Unzelinchen turned to the privy councilor with utter discretion, but the latter’s own privy councilor happened to be present, and he in turn happily related it to the wife of the counselor, and finally we in our turn have the greatest jest in the world with it. [43]

But do write quickly and tell me whether it really is so, for what a shame were I merely deceiving myself. We have already made the grandest plans to ensure that horrific confusion arises, with a particularly healthy dose of jealousy, since Luise intends to be jealous of you, to which purpose she has, as you already know, taken some steps. [44] Schelling intends to worship Unzelinchen such that no one will be able to tell how he really feels. Although you thought you could make our heads spin, good Sir, it is not in those blue eyes alone that fairy pixieness resides. [45]

In any event, I was already intending to write and tell you that as far as making the house attractive is concerned, it probably cannot be done. Until then, we will be happy merely to get it cleaned in the corners, and |129| my own benevolent spirit, which had completely vacated the premises, shall doubtless also soon return, albeit without any particular adornment for the time being.

You can especially imagine how shabby the walls look, though no one but time is to blame for that, and that is one cleaning job I really cannot undertake by myself. We definitely must discuss this a bit, so I will await your arrival. I do not merely want to have my own room painted over with the same green color. If I do keep it and we intend to spend anything on it, it must be made prettier. What looks particularly bad is the room in the corner and your own room, and I really do intend to speak with the painter about that, and if the cost is not too much, I will go ahead and have those rooms quickly painted over. [45a]

What particularly pains me is that I have not even the smallest area where I would consider keeping Auguste’s portrait. The large room is so public, and I cannot remove the copper engravings from the one in the corner because of the wall. And there is no other picture where this portrait is hanging. Write and let me know briefly how far I am permitted to go with my own arrangements. [45b] Since the most important thing for my Schlegel is, after all, that he get his finances in order again, I have spent money replacing only the most necessary small housewares.

In the meantime, however, acknowledging the possibility that the thing with Unzeline will genuinely happen and that her presence might make it necessary for us to entertain company, I do genuinely intend to write to Braunschweig today and have the porcelan replaced at least to a certain extent. It does not have to be paid for immediately. If you were in a position to do so, you could perhaps bring me cups with you from Berlin — even if only 6, and, as is customary today, each one different. I had 12 simple white ones of which now, however, only the ones I took with me are useable; |130| although I did have others, they have all gone to the devil, I might respectfully report, including my porcelan inkwell, which they presumably threw at his head as he was stealing away. [46]

The slipcovers on the sofa and chairs are completely in tatters, but that has simply happened over time, since I already had all these things when I started keeping a household for the very first time. I will be receiving some pieces of cotton chintz from Harburg, which I am getting much cheaper through a certain source and which is quite modern. [47]

Although my mother is doing better, she is aghast at the disastrous way my brother is raising his little boys, who can basically p[ee] and p[oop] wherever they like. [48]

Emma would be charmante were her mother more charmante. Now and then I have to lead her to your room and put her on the writing stool, where she always mentions your name and is doubtless imagining you being there. Schelling, by the way, has won both their hearts, so much so that yesterday evening, when he was telling ghost stories, Luise threw herself tout à fait [49] into his arms out of fear and out of that particular tenderness that allegedly arises from fear. [50] It would not be bad at all if you might concern yourself a bit with their aprivoisation; [51] it would quite beneficial for Wiedemann.

Here I would like to devote a special chapter to Rose. I am not aware of any lover, either rejected or otherwise. [52] If she no longer knows about it, then things are well with her. I am fond of her, she is very devoted to me and also quite active, just not particularly attentive. I consider her as part of our family. True, she does not really ask about you, but I think that is not because she has no reason to ask about you in the first place, but simply because she is phlegmatic.

The woman from Braunschweig is not an extraordinary cook. [53] We must take care of some things at the stove ourselves. Things are expensive here despite the fact that it is so empty. We compared my old invoices, and in many instances things cost twice as much, such have prices increased.

For several days now I have also been having a meal prepared for Schelling; he either has it picked up or, occasionally, comes himself. I consider this my Christian duty given his health; the food one gets here otherwise is pathetic, and a single man has a hard time of it in any case.

By the way, I will not arrange anything that might disturb you when you arrive or have to be undone. — I have the most calming hopes for when we are all finally settled in together again.


I probably did not tell you anything about the piece on Nicolai yet. Your cavalier preface provides a nice contrast to the thorough treatment and heavy cavalry inside. [54] Fichte, after all, is always quite properly serious. But how they will all cry out now; you will hardly be able to show your face.


When and where will the printing of the anthology commence? I do not really know what Tiek did this winter. [55] It does not really worry me that you did not always devote time to it despite the fact that you spent hours washing and combing and coquetterie. [56] That is not why I am pushing you to come, but rather simply because I would so much like to see you again. But I do understand that you cannot come until — until it is time.

I am happy just to have made it through the initial stage here, and for the future will be calmly relying on your friendship and on the quiet power of my own good disposition. These |132| two together will, I am sure, be able to reestablish something, to erect a small hut among the ruins of former splendor. Oh, my friend, how often have I built up and then torn down again. These are now the final branches, the branches of a weeping willow that I weave together above my head that I might await the evening in their shade. [56a]


Vermehren is suffering painfully with his Allmanach. If only one could get the people started with chopping and digging. [57] He invited Becker to send him something and at the same time sent him a whole convolute of his own poetry in fair exchange, at least according to Gries, who as it were was enquiring whether you would also be taking contributions, [58] something I categorically denied, speaking instead about a “closed company,” as it were.

One must certainly avoid promoting dilettantes in any discipline. I am increasingly inclined to believe that anyone — except for me — can write poetry. Imagine, Carl Schelling translated one of Ariosto’s books into stanzas — first into iambics, for which his brother soundly scolded him, then laying into him with regard to the stanzas as well. Otherwise he is an upright, bright boy and a tiny bit less thickly Swabian. [59]

Although Kochen has vacated the premises here, one does still hear otherwise about all sorts of common rabble. [60]


Schelling also loves “Fortunatus.” He spoke about how wonderfully you couched the basic idea of the Nordic ballad in that of chastised unfaithfulness and clothed it in crimson roses. He thought especially the periodic structure was implemented in the best style of the Romanze, and in the larger sense as well, this spoke to him much more than did “The Wandering Jew.” [61]

|133| One more thing concerning household matters. There is not a drop of wine in the entire house, not in the cellar, not in the attic. Should I order Hungarian red from Salzburg?

Madam Sander is behaving like a little fool in Leipzig, is absolutely insisting on coming here to see her friend Goethe, or, as she puts it, her “darling.” She wanted to visit the Loders and stay there for three weeks, but Hannchen managed to thwart that through a bit of cabal, with which Madam Loder was extremely happy. The little lady made no secret of the fact that it was “solely because of Goethe” that she wanted to come, and she is still thinking about coming. [62]

Stay well, well, and do not regret the time you spend with this long letter. I am only asking for short ones in return.


[1] Schiller’s Maria Stuart (Tübingen 1801) (Caroline here writes “Marie”), first performed in the Weimar theater on 14 June 1800 (Das Repertoire des Weimarischen Theaters, 36); the printed version had just appeared in April 1801, published by Johann Friedrich Cotta. Here the frontispiece to an edition of 1818 (Maria Stuart: Ein Trauerspiel von Friedrich von Schiller, Meisterwerke deutscher Dichter und Prosaisten 33 [Vienna 1818]):



[2] That is, Caroline did not want to relate “Fortunatus” to Gries yet in such an ill mood and instead also wanted to read it first aloud for herself. Back.

[3] For the text of this scene, see supplementary appendix 314.1. Back.

[4] Caroline misquotes from the play’s final lines (act 5, scene 15; the reference is to Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, Elizabeth’s counsellor; trans. here and below: Mary Stuart. A Tragedy, trans. Joseph Charles Mellish [London 1801], 223–24; (illustrations of Leicester and Elizabeth from Schiller’s Works, ed. J. G. Fischer and H. H. Boyesen, vol. 2 [Philadelphia 1883], 284, 304):


Caroline: “Lord Lester schift nach England.”
Schiller: “Der Lord läßt sich / Entschuldigen, er ist zu Schiff nach Frankreich.”
Mellish: “He demands / Excuse — he is, ’tis said, embark’d for France.”

Caroline’s comparison of Leicester with Octavio Piccolomini plays on the personalities and opportunism of the two characters. Leicester, though Elizabeth’s counsellor, is a rigorous opportunist interested solely in his own advantage and motivated by no notions of morality, and who is equally prepared to marry Elizabeth as Maria.

In The Death of Wallenstein, Octavio Piccolomini, who has sworn loyalty to the emperor (see the supplementary appendix summary of the Wallenstein triology), is ultimately elevated to the status of “prince” for that loyalty, loyalty that resulted in his being able to sway the other generals to betray and ultimately murder Wallenstein.

In the final scenes of the two plays, Leicester deserts Elizabeth and goes to France, while Octavio Piccolomini, who has betrayed Wallenstein, receives news of his elevation to prince (trans. of Wallenstein from Schiller’s Works. Illustrated by the Greatest German Artists, ed. J. G. Fischer, Hjalmar H. Boyesen, vol. 2 [Philadelphia 1883], 252–53; accompanying illustration on p. 253):

Concluding scene of The Death of Wallenstein:

Gordon. O house of death and horrors!

[An Officer enters, and brings a letter with the great seal.
Gordon steps forward and meets him.

What is this?
It is the Imperial Seal.

[He reads the address, and delivers the letter
to Octavio with a look of reproach,
and with an emphasis on the word.

To the Prince Piccolomini.

[Octavio, with his whole frame expressive of sudden anguish,
raises his eyes to heaven.

The Curtain drops.]


Concluding scene of Maria Stuart (Elizabeth shunts the blame for Maria’s death onto Burleigh and Davison and dispenses harsh judgment on both; she attempts to keep George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, who advised mercy for Maria):

Eliz. My honest Talbot, you alone have prov’d,
‘Mongst all my counsellors, a man of justice; —
Be you henceforth my leader, and my friend.

Shrews. O! banish not your most obsequious friends;
Cast not those into prison, who for you
Have acted; those who now for you are silent.
But suffer me, great Queen, to give the charge,
With which twelve years you have entrusted me,
Down in your royal hands, and take my leave. —

Eliz. (Surprised.) No, Shrewsbury; you surely would not now
Desert me? No; not now. —

Shrews.Excuse me, Lady;
I am too old, and this right hand is grown
Too stiff to ratify your later actions.

Eliz. And will he leave me, who has sav’d my life?

Shrew. But little I have done; — I could not save
Your nobler part. — Live, govern happily!
Your foe is dead; now have you nothing more
To fear, and therefore, owe respect to nothing. [Exit.]

Eliz. (To the Earl of Kent, who enters.)
Send for the Earl of Leicester.

Kent. He demands
Excuse — he is, ’tis said, embark’d for France.

[The Curtain drops.] Back.

[5] For the text of this scene, see supplementary appendix 314.2. Back.

[6] The published title of the play was eventually Die Jungfrau von Orleans. Eine romantische Tragödie; concerning the poem “Das Mädchen von Orleans,” see the third paragraph of Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 27 April 1801 (letter 312). Back.

[7] For the text of this scene, see supplementary appendix 314.3. Back.

[8] Ludwig Tieck, Das Leben und Tod der heiligen Genoveva, Tieck’s Romantische Dichtungen, 2 vols. (Jena 1799–1800), here vol. 2. Back.

[9] Although Caroline (according to Erich Schmidt, [1913], 2:612) fails to recognize certain echoes from Tieck’s Das Leben und Tod der heiligen Genoveva, she does perceptively sense in the garden scene at the beginning of act 3 in Schiller’s Maria Stuart a connection between the monodramatic recitative “Hastening clouds!,” and of lyrical dramatic art in the larger sense, with Karl Wilhelm Ramler’s cantata Ino: Eine Cantate, in Karl Wilhelm Ramlers Poëtische Werke, 2 vols. (Berlin 1801), 2:12–18.

Romain Roland writes about Georg Philipp Tellemann’s composition of Ramler’s poem Ino (Musical Tour Through the Land of the Past, trans. B. Miali [London 1922], 138–39; here the illustration accompanying the publication of Ramler’s piece in 1801 cited above):


The cantata Ino constitutes a much greater advance upon the path of musical drama. The poem by Ramler, who contributed to the resurrection of the German Lied, is a masterpiece. It was published in 1765. Several composers set it to music: among others, J. C. F. Bach of Bückeburg, Kirnberger, and the Abbé Vogler.

Even a modern musician would find it an excellent subject for a cantata — the reader may remember the legend of Ino, daughter of Cadmus and Harmonia, sister of Semele, and Dionysos’ foster-mother. She wedded the hero Athamas, who, when Juno destroyed his reason, killed one of his sons, and sought to kill the other. Ino fled with the child, and, still pursued, threw herself into the sea, which welcomed her; and there she became Leucothea, “the White,” white as the foam of the waves. —

Ramler’s poem shows Ino only, from the beginning to the end; it is an overwhelming part, for a continual expenditure of emotion is required. In the beginning she arrives running over the rocks overlooking the sea; she no longer has strength to fly, but invokes the gods. She perceives Athamas and hears his shouts, and flings herself into the waves. A soft and peaceful symphony welcomes her thither. Ino expresses her astonishment; but her child has escaped from her arms; she believes him lost, calls him, and invokes death. She sees the chorus of the Tritons and the Nereids who are upholding him; she describes her fantastic journey at the bottom of the sea; corals and pearls attach themselves to her tresses; the Tritons dance around her, saluting her [their?] goddess under the name of Leucothea.

Suddenly Ino sees the ocean gods returning, running and raising their arms; Neptune arrives in his car, the golden trident in his hand, his horses snorting in terror. A hymn to the glory of God closes the cantata.

The scene Caroline references occurs in act 3, scene 1 of Maria Stuart, here Mary Stuart. A Tragedy, trans. Joseph Charles Mellish (London 1801), 110–11 (act 3, scene 1; illustration by Arthur von Ramberg, 1859, from the Schiller-Galerie of Friedrich Pecht and Arthur von Ramberg, Friedrich Schiller Archiv):


Act III.

Scene. — In a park. — In the foreground trees; in the back-ground a distant prospect.
Mary advances, running from behind the trees; Hannah Kennedy follows slowly.

Kennedy. You hasten forwards just as had you wings —
I cannot follow you so swiftly — wait.

Mary. Freedom returns! O let me enjoy it, —
Let me be childish, — be childish with me!
Freedom invites me! O let me employ it,
Skimming with winged step light over the lea; —
Have I escaped from this mansion of mourning,
Holds me no more the sad dungeon of care?
Let me, with thirsty impatience burning,
Drink in the free, the celestial air!

Kennedy. O, my dear lady! but a very little
Is your sad jail extended; you behold not
The wall that shuts us in; these plaited tufts
Of trees hide from your sight the hated object.

Mary. Thanks to these friendly trees, that hide from me
My prison walls, and flatter my illusion!
Happy I’ll dream myself, and free;
Why wake me from my dream’s so sweet confusion?
Th’ extended vault of heav’n around me lies,
Free and unfetter’d range my eyes
O’er space’s vast immeasurable sea!
From where yon misty mountains rise on high,
I can my empire’s boundaries explore;
And those light clouds which, steering southwards, fly,
Seek the mild clime of France’s genial shore.

Hastening clouds! ye meteors that fly;
Could I but with you sail through the sky!
Tenderly greet me the land of my youth!
I am a pris'ner! I'm in restraint,
I have none else to bear my complaint,
Free in aether your path is seen,
Ye are not subject to this tyrant Queen.

Kennedy. Alas! dear Lady! You’re beside yourself,
This long-lost, long-sought freedom makes you rave. Back.

[10] Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Nathan der Weise: Ein dramatisches Gedicht in fünf Aufzügen (n. p. 1779) (premiered in Berlin on 14 April 1783), a play dealing with religious tolerance set in Jerusalem during the Crusades. Schiller was currently working on a stage adaptation. The play was not, however, performed in Weimar during May or June 1801 (Das Repertoire des Weimarischen Theaters, 39). Back.

[11] Caroline is now speaking again about the Jungfrau von Orleans; she had earlier similarly mentioned Voltaire’s play in connection with Schiller’s adaptation; see her earlier letter to Wilhelm on 27 April 1801 (letter 312), with note 16. Back.

[12] Schiller, Macbeth: Ein Trauerspiel von Shakespear zur Vorstellung auf dem Hoftheater zu Weimar eingerichtet (Tübingen 1801). Schiller’s adaptation (based on Eschenburg’s prose version) had already been performed in Weimar on 14 and 17 May 1800 and in Lauchstädt on 26 June 1800 (Das Repertoire des Weimarischen Theaters, 36).

Gottfried August Bürger similarly adapted the play in 1794; here an illustration from act 3, scene 6 of that adaptation (act 3, scene 4 in the original), in which Macbeth speaks to Banquo’s ghost (illustration: frontispiece to Macbeth: Ein Trauerspiel in fünf Aufzügen nach Shakespear, in the Theatralische Sammlung 53 [Vienna 1794], 152):

“Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee!”



[13] Caroline had mentioned Don Juan in connection with Schiller in her letter to Wilhelm on 5 May 1801 (letter 313). Back.

[14] Erich Schmidt, (1913), 2:612, notes that Caroline copied out long discourses by the character of Johanna from Schiller’s Die Jungfrau von Orleans. Eine romantische Tragödie (Berlin 1801).

The lines Caroline cites constitute part of the conclusion to the prologue rather than to act 1. She slightly misquotes the first part, which in her version reads “ich will / Zu Hülfe eilen Frankreichs Heldensöhnen” (I would / hasten to the aid of Gaul’s heroic sons), while the lines actually read “wirst du . . . / Errettung bringen Frankreichs Heldensöhnen” (Thou shalt . . . / To Gaul’s heroic sons deliv’rance bring). Her citation of the second line is correct except for the (consistent) error “my king” instead of the original “thy king.”

Here her passage in context, in which Johanna appears alone (The Works of Frederick Schiller. Historical Dramas etc., trans. Anna Swanwick [London 1847], 341):

Thou in rude armor must thy limbs invest,
A plate of steel upon thy bosom wear;
Vain earthly love may never stir thy breast,
Nor passion's sinful glow be kindled there.
Ne'er with the bride-wreath shall thy locks be dress'd.
Nor on thy bosom bloom an infant fair;
But war's triumphant glory shall be thine;
Thy martial fame all women's shall outshine.

For when in fight the stoutest hearts despair,
When direful ruin threatens France, forlorn,
Then thou aloft my oriflamme shalt bear,
And swiftly as the reaper mows the corn,
Thou shalt lay low the haughty conqueror;
His fortune's wheel thou rapidly shalt turn,
To Gaul's heroic sons deliv'rance bring,
Relieve beleaguer'd Rheims, and crown thy king! Back.

[15] Concerning Goethe’s adaptation of Tancred, see Caroline’s letter to Schelling on 1 March 1801 (letter 294), with note 11 with cross references, esp. Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 12 March 1801 (letter 293), notes 15 and 16. Wilhelm mentions its performance in Berlin in his letter to Goethe on 28 April 1801 (letter 312c). Back.

[16] Proper riding form at the time (Taschenbuch zur belehrenden Unterhaltung für Liebhaber der Pferde [1801]; Inhaltsverzeichnis deutscher Almanache, Theodor Springmann Stiftung):


Schelling and Goethe were possibly discussing, among other things, how to fill the professorial position vacated when Christoph Wilhelm Hufeland left for Berlin. See Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 26–27 March 1801 (letter 303), with note 22 (there also Schelling’s letter to Carl Eschenmayer about the position). Back.

[17] Concerning the package, see Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 5 May 1801 (letter 313), with note 17. Back.

[18] Concerning this quarrel, see Wilhelm’s letter to Caroline on 18 April 1801 (letter 309). See also Wilhelm’s letter to Johann Friedrich Cotta on 23 April 1801 (letter 310c) and to Ludwig Tieck on 7 May 1801 (letter 313a). See esp. supplementary appendix 309.1. Back.

[19] Wilhelm’s letter to Goethe on 28 April 1801 (letter 312c). Back.

[20] Schiller returned the piece to Schelling on 12 May 1801; for Schiller’s assessment, see Caroline”s letter to Wilhelm on 15 May 1801 (letter 316). Back.

[21] Concerning the incomplete copy of Fichte’s satire on Friedrich Nicolai, see Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 5 May 1801 (letter 313), with note 15a. Back.

[22] Hannchen, short for Johanne, who is also mentioned later in the letter, is otherwise unidentified. Back.

[23] Mignon is the enigmatic, boyish, erotically attractive girl in Goethe’s Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre who proves to be the harpist’s child and who sings several signature songs in the novel, e.g., Know’st thou the land where the lemon tree blows. Here an illustration from Goethe’s Works, vol. 1: Life of Goethe, Poems, ed. George Barrie (Philadelphia 1885), following p. 60:


In the novel, after being separated from the protagonist, Wilhelm, Mignon suffers severely from her yearning for both Italy and Wilhelm. When Wilhelm then becomes engaged to another character, Therese, in Mignon’s presence, Mignon dies from a broken heart (Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, trans. R. Dillon Boylan [London 1867], 508–9; illustration: anonymous, nineteenth century):

They were about to leave the hall, when the children ran violently through the passage, and they heard Felix exclaim, “No! I. No! I.”

Mignon was the first to rush through the open door. She was breathless, and could not utter a word, but Felix, who was at a little distance, cried out, “Mamma Theresa is here!” The children, it appears, had run a race to bring the news. Mignon was lying in Natalia’s arms, and her heart beat violently.

“Naughty child!” said Natalia, “is not every violent exercise forbidden? See how your heart beats.”

“Let it break!” replied Mignon with a deep sigh, “it has too long beaten already.”

They had scarcely recovered from this sudden surprise and tumult, when Theresa entered. She ran to Natalia and embraced both her and Mignon. She then turned to Wilhelm, and looked at him with her clear eyes and said, “Well, my friend, what have you done? Have you allowed them to impose upon you?” He advanced towards her — she rushed to him, and hung upon his neck. “O, my Theresa!” he exclaimed.

My friend, my love, my husband! yes, for ever your’s,” she cried amid the most affectionate kisses.

Felix seized her by the gown, and cried, “Mamma Theresa! I am also here.” Natalia paused and looked on silently. Mignon suddenly pressed her left hand to her heart, and extending her right hand violently, she fell with a shriek apparently lifeless at Natalia’s feet.

They were dreadfully alarmed. No motion of the head or pulse was perceptible. Wilhelm took her in his arms, and carried her hastily away; her body hung motionless over his shoulders.


The presence of the doctor afforded them but little consolation — he and the young surgeon, to whom we have already alluded, exerted themselves in vain. The dear little creature could not be restored to life.

See also Caroline’s letter to Luise Gotter on 20 May 1795 (letter 150), note 16. Back.

[24] Dorothea was having new teeth made. See Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 24 April 1801 (letter 311), esp. note 3 there. See also Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 5–6 March 1801 (letter 296), note 31. Back.

[25] Possibly a reference to Wilhelm’s essay “Über Bürgers Werke,” in Charakteristiken und Kritiken 2:1–96 (Sämmtliche Werke 8:64–139, where the title is simply “Bürger”). Back.

[26] Johannes Müller, Die Geschichten der Schweizer, vol. 1 (Boston [=Bern] 1780). Back.

[27] The legendary Swiss freedom fighter; Schiller did not compose his play Wilhelm Tell, the last he completed, until 1803–4, publishing it as Wilhelm Tell: Schauspiel (Tübingen 1804). It premiered in the Weimar theater on 17 March 1804.

Caroline, however, had left Jena on 22 May 1803 (frontispiece to Friedrich Schiller’s sämtliche Werke, vol. 5, Wilhelm Tell [Vienna 1809]):



[28] Wilhelm’s sonnet “An Buri, über sein Bildniss der Gräfin Tolstoy, geb. Baratinsky,” Musen-Almanach für das Jahr 1802 107 (Sämmtliche Werke 1:369). For the text see Caroline’s letter to Wilhelm on 5 May 1801 (letter 313), note 25. Back.

[29] Ludwig Tieck was indeed in Leipzig, where Wilhelm had requested that he query publishers concerning the continuation of the edition of Shakespeare after Wilhelm’s problems with Friedrich Unger. See Wilhelm’s letter to Tieck on 7 May 1801 (letter 313a). Back.

[30] Tieck had canceled his anticipated visit to Jena. See his letter to Wilhelm on ca. 21 April 1801 (letter 310a) and to Friedrich on 23 April 1801 (letter 310b). Back.

[31] I.e., the damage to household items while Caroline was away from Jena between May 1800 and April 1801. See her letters to Wilhelm on 24 April 1801 (letter 311) and 27 April 1801 (letter 312), Friedrich’s letter to Wilhelm on 27 April 1801 (letter 312a), and Caroline’s to Wilhelm on 5 May 1801 (letter 313). That is, this issue had already become one of considerable vexation for Caroline, nor did the issue cool down after Caroline’s death (see Friedrich’s letter to Wilhelm on 27 April 1801 [letter 312a], note 9). Back.

[32] Fr., here: “pieces of furniture.” Back.

[33] Porcelan as written, for French porcelaine. Here an illustration of the contemporary production of porcelain and some samples (Schauplatz der Natur und der Künste, vol. 3 [Vienna 1776], plate 46):


Although one cannot know the quality or manufacturer of this porcelain, it is perhaps worth noting that the Schlegels owned a sizable collection; here representative porcelain settings from the eighteenth century (Ludwig Schnorr von Carolsfeld, Porzellan der europäischen Fabriken des 18. Jahrhunderts, 4th rev. ed. [Berlin 1922], plates 13, 14, 50):




[34] Latin, “and in addition; similarly, likewise.” Back.

[35] Denunciation as written. Back.

[36] Rose seems to have departed Jena on 28 September 1800 to meet up with Wilhelm and Caroline in Gotha. It was at just that time that Friedrich and Dorothea moved out of the apartment at Leutragasse 5 and into their the new apartment. Back.

[37] Schelling departed Bamberg for Jena with Johann Diederich Gries on 1 October 1801, arriving on 3 October. Schelling returned to Jena not least because of Friedrich’s incipient lecturing activity at the university. See Schelling’s letter to Fichte on 31 October 1800 (letter 273c). Back.

[38] The reference to nationality is to Dorothea being Jewish; see also Caroline’s letter to Auguste on 6 October 1799 (letter 247). Back.

[39] Caroline had become close to Friedrich during her period in Lucka, and even Friedrich remarked later (on 2 August 1796 [letter 168]) that

It was three years ago today that I first saw you. Imagine that I am standing before you now and silently thanking you for everything you have done for me and for my development. — What I am and will be, I owe to myself; the fact that I am thus, I owe in part to you. Back.

[40] This “epistolary affair” continued to sour the relationship between Caroline and Friedrich. In some ways, the relationship between Wilhelm and Friedrich was itself never the same after these problems. Back.

[41] Caroline had dined with Winkelmann on 19 April 1801 at the Wiedemanns’ in Braunschweig; see her negative account of his company in her letter to Wilhelm on 20 April 1801 (letter 310). Back.

[42] Fr., “chimera; myth, idle fancy, vain imagination.” Back.

[42a] Concerning Friederike Unzelmann’s letter to Goethe, see the final lines of Wilhelm’s letter to Goethe on 28 April 1801 (letter 312c), with note 23. Friederike Unzelmann’s letter makes no mention of any future appearance in Weimar, speaking instead about her gratitude for having performed the role of Clärchen in Goethe’s Egmont and expressing her (and Berlin’s) disquiet at having heard of Goethe’s illness earlier in the year. Back.

[43] Caroline is jesting: “With the help of her own privy councilor [Geheimrath, Wilhelm in Berlin; though Wilhelm bore the title of only a Rath, he was in this instance Friedrike Unzelmann’s “privy” councilor], Unzelinchen turned to the privy councilor [Goethe] with utter discretion, but the latter’s own privy councilor [a jest: Schelling] happened to be present, and he in turn happily related it to the wife of the councilor [Caroline].” Back.

[44] Unknown allusion. Back.

[45] Caroline herself had blue eyes, something she mentions in her letter to Wilhelm on 10 December 1801 (letter 335). Back.

[45a] Exterior house painters from the late seventeenth, early eighteenth century (Christoff Weigel, Abbildung Der Gemein-Nützlichen Haupt-Stände Von denen Regenten Und ihren So in Friedens- als Kriegs-Zeiten zugeordneten Bedienten an biß auf alle Künstler und Handwercker Nach Jede Ambts- und Beruffs-Verrichtungen meist nach dem Leben gezeichnet und in Kupfer gebracht etc. [Regenspurg 1698], illustration following p. 418):



[45b] Daniel Nikolaus Chodowiecki, illustration for Taschenbuch zum geselligen Vergnügen (1799):



[46] Caroline is doubtless referring to a considerably more elegant inkwell set than in this representative illustration (Anleitung zum Schönschreiben nach Regeln und Mustern, Oder Vorschriften (Vienna 1775), illustration following p. 12):


Concerning the allusion to throwing inkwells at the devil, see J. H. Merle D’aubigné, History of the Great Reformation of the Sixteenth Century in Germany, Switzerland, &c., vol. 3 (New York 1843), 40 (illustration of Luther’s room in the Wartburg — allegedly with the ink spot on the wall — from Alexander Ritter, “Ein Kleinod Thüringens,” Bibliothek der Unterhaltung und des Wissens [1900] 13:153; illustrations: [1] Luther erscheint der Teufel [19th century]; Museum im Melanchthonhaus Bretten; [2] anonymous):


To Luther, Satan was not simply an invisible, though really existing, being; he thought that adversary of God was accustomed to appear in bodily form to man, as he had appeared to Jesus Christ.

Although we may more than doubt the authenticity of the details given on such topics in his Table Talk and elsewhere, history must yet record this weakness in the Reformer. Never had these gloomy imaginations such power over him as in his seclusion in the Wartburg.

At Worms, when in the days of his strength, he had braved the power of the devil, — but now, that strength was broken, and his reputation tarnished. He was thrown aside: Satan had his turn — and in bitterness of soul, Luther imagined he saw him rearing before him his gigantic form — lifting his finger as if in threatening, grinning triumphantly, and grinding his teeth in fearful rage.

One day in particular, as it is reported, whilst Luther was engaged in translating the New Testament, he thought he saw Satan, in detestation of his work, tormenting and vexing him, and moving round him like a lion ready to spring upon his prey. Luther, alarmed and aroused, snatching up his inkstand, threw it at the head of his enemy.


The apparition vanished, and the ink-bottle was dashed to pieces against the wall. The keeper of the Wartburg regularly points out to travellers the mark made by Luther’s inkstand.

That is, Friedrich and Dorothea, too, had allegedly had a visit from Satan himself. Back.

[47] Caroline’s brother Philipp Michaelis lived in Harburg (Daniel Nikolaus Chodowiecki, Besetztere und illuminierte Landkarte von Deutschland, from the Kupfersammlung zu J[ohann] B[ernhard] Basedows Elementarwerke für die Jugend und ihre Freunde: Erste Lieferung in 53 Tafeln. Zweyte Lieferung in 47 Tafeln von L bis XCVI [Leipzig, Dessau, Berlin 1774], plate xlv):


Germ. Kattun, cotton calico, more narrowly cotton chintz, manufactured beginning in the late seventeenth century by the Dutch in the East Indies. The textile itself, which came from Bengal and China, was printed using wooden rolls in a rather cumbersome process, though toward the end of the eighteenth century the wooden rolls were replaced by copper plates, and the printing itself was done in France, England, Switzerland, and Germany. The most exquisite cotton pieces in this style were the printed East Indian “chits” or “chintz” (Germ. Zitze, Swiss Persiennes, Indiennes). These fabrics, which during the Rococo period were popular as fabric for clothing, eventually developed into coveted fabric for furniture as well, a style that long remained popular. For Caroline, writing in 1801, using these prints for furniture would have been a rather novel feature in a home. That is, Caroline is here choosing fabrics quite according to the latest fashion, and the fabric she was ordering likely had a red, blue, or — rarest of all — green background. (Personal communication from Sabine Schierhoff, including the following cross-reference.)

See Rudolph Ackermann, The Repository of Arts, Literature, Commerce, Manufactures, Fashions and Politics 6, no. 31 (July 1811), 54–55, plate following p. 54:

Allegorical Wood-Cut
with Patterns of British Manufacture

No. 1 . . . An elegant and fashionable print for furniture, on a bright Sardinian blue ground, which throws off the lively colours blended in the chintz pattern to the most striking advantage, and bespeaks at once that tasteful invention for which the house of Mr. Allen, Pall-Mall, is so celebrated. At his extensive warehouse, No. 61, not only this happily blended print may be purchased, but every other article appropriated for elegant, cheap, and fashionable furniture.



[48] Philipp Michaelis had two sons: Adolph and Eduard. Back.

[49] Fr., “quite, entirely, absolutely.” Back.

[50] Schelling was publishing his “The Last Words of the Pastor of Drottning” in the upcoming Musen-Almanach für das Jahr 1802. Back.

[51] Fr., apprivoisation, here: “domestication.” Back.

[52] In her letter to Wilhelm on 10 December 1801 (letter 335), Caroline does, however, mention a certain Herr Moser who had left at Michaelmas and for whom Rose was allegedly still waiting. See also her letter to Wilhelm on 26 November 1801 (letter 332), where “Rose, however, is waiting for the one who promised to return.” Back.

[53] In her letter to Wilhelm on 16 March 1801 (letter 301), Caroline mentions that she and her sister Luise would be bringing along to Jena “the maidservant from here whom she [Luise] hired as a cook” (illustration from Der Freund des schönen Geschlechts: ein angenehm und nützlicher Taschenkalender für das Jahr 1808):


This woman is possibly Dortchen mentioned in Caroline’s letters to Wilhelm on 1–2 and 16 March 1801 (letters 293, 301), though in that case it seems Caroline would have mentioned her by name rather than merely as “the woman.” Back.

[54] See the supplementary appendix on Fichte’s piece for Wilhelm’s preface. Back.

[55] Wilhelm was already having difficulties with Tieck with respect to the Musenalmanach and wrote to him in exasperation on 28 May 1801 (Briefe an Ludwig Tieck 3:249; Lohner 68):

Cotta, moreover, is now referring me to you concerning arrangements for the printing of the Almanach. Forsooth, to the right person indeed! For what, might I ask in the name of the devil, were you waiting for before relating such news to me? What time can we possibly afford to waste? If the Almanach is to appear in time at Michaelmas [at the Leipzig book fair], the printing must doubtless commence in July. Considering how much effort and trouble and responsibility I have voluntarily taken on with the editorial duties, it does not seem you would find it all that burdensome to write me a few lines in this regard. Back.

[56] Presumably a mildly critical or needling allusion to Wilhelm’s social life in Berlin ([1] Berlinischer Damen Kalender auf das Iahr 1799; Inhaltsverzeichnis deutscher Almanache, Theodor Springmann Stiftung; [2] the Berger dance hall in Berlin, anonymous, Abendbelustigungen auf dem berühmten Bergischen Tanzsaale zu Berlin; colorized engraving [ca. 1790–1810]; Leo Liepmannssohn, Berlin, Cat. 159 [1905]):




[56a] Taschenbuch für das Jahr 1816: Der Liebe und Freundschaft gewidmet; Inhaltsverzeichnis deutscher Almanache, Theodor Springmann Stiftung:



[57] Johann Bernhard Vermehren did manage to publish two issues of his own Musen-Almanach (Leipzig 1802–3) “out of pure love of art,” as he put it in a grateful “declaration” at the beginning of the first, the Musen-Almanach für das Jahr 1802. The two volumes and contributors were:

[58] For the Musen-Almanach für das Jahr 1802. Back.

[59] Caroline had referred to Karl Schelling in a letter to Auguste on ca. 21 (27?) October 1799 (letter 251) as “a real bear, and speaks with such a strong Swabian accent.” Back.

[60] August Heinrich Matthias Kochen was also represented in Schiller’s Musen-Almanach für das Jahr 1799 (Tübingen 1799) (“Der Werth. Nach Pope,” 173; “Die Spinnen,” 236) and with five poems in Vermehrens’s Musen-Almanach in 1802, including “An Schleiermacher,” 98 (though the point of this poem with respect to Schleiermacher’s thought is not entirely clear even to specialists; see Hermann Patch, “Du, Redner der Religion. Zeitgenössische Gedichte auf die Reden,” in 200 Jahre “Reden über die Religion.” Akten des 1. Internationalen Kongresses der Schleiermacher-Gesellschaft. Halle 14.–17 März 1999, ed. Ulrich Barth and Claus-Dieter Osthövener [Berlin, New York 2000], 351–3) and “Athenaeum,” 217; also three pieces in the next issue (1803), “Die Kirche,” 25; “Die Natur. Eine Rhapsodie,” 112–14; “Die Lehre,” 259. Back.

[61] Caroline is backpedaling here after her (and by proxy: Schelling’s) less-than-subtle criticisms of Wilhelm’s piece in her letter to Wilhelm on 27 April 1801 (letter 312). Back.

[62] Concerning the impression the Sanders made in Weimar and elsewhere, see supplementary appendix 314.4. Back.

Translation © 2015 Doug Stott