Schleiermacher to E. and H. von Willich.

[CCXXVI.] Halle, 17th October, 1804.

You cannot but know, dear friends, that my heart has communed with you, though my pen has not, and therefore I need not tell it you. Yes, you must be aware that through your felicity you bestow upon me a happiness such as I have never before known, and such as I can never again know, except through you. For although I cannot possibly wish or predict for you a more beautiful wedded life than Wedeke’s, I did not witness and share in his from its first holy commencement, as in your case. Spare me, then, the expression of what I felt on reading the first accounts of your new and full life. They were to me also a wedding feast, a bridal embrace of my most beautiful and most cherished ideal. I was with you, and around you; and indeed I am so still, and it is impossible to imagine a stronger contrast than between my constant living with you in thought, and my total abstinence from writing. Do not punish me for what has already caused me so much pain, but satisfy my longings very soon. Anything new you cannot indeed have to tell me; the same spirit, the same life must prevail throughout, yet the separate events of that life are as important to me as they are to you, and I long to go through them with you. Did I not prophesy about you both in the Monologues? Do you not repeat my feelings in new and living truth, Ehrenfried, when you say that your wife is to you daughter and beloved maiden, and mother? Believe me, dear souls, I become quite romantic and fantastic when I think of you! I seem to love your marriage, independently of yourselves, as if it were a distinct being. I love it passionately, and yet tenderly and reverently; and thus it ought to be, for it is indeed a true, a beautiful, and a holy union. I am already counting by half-years, when I shall be able to go to you, and behold your heaven with my own eyes, for it is only in reference to this that I now keep any account with time. I wonder when the moment comes whether I shall take my own heaven with me, and thus introduce if not a clouded heaven into a heaven of joy, yet a pale German sky into a bright sunshiny Italian atmosphere?⁴

Henrietta Herz has probably already written to you about the wretchedly disjointed life I led in Berlin. As to enjoyment, I had but very little of that. I lost much by the unexpected death of the excellent old Mrs. Spalding, whose society I had looked forward to with great pleasure, and who had a similar feeling with regard to my coming. Intellectually, the meeting with Johannes Müller, the Swiss, was very pleasing to me, though it made me feel my insignificance in point of learning, more than I have ever felt it, in comparison with any of the scholars whom I have as yet met in this place. For very different reasons I was pleased to become better acquainted with Delbrück, the tutor of the princes. He sought me out, and spoke long with me about the religious education of the Crown Prince; he seemed to listen to me with pleasure, and in a great measure to agree with my ideas. I preached once, during my stay in Berlin, and seemingly produced a desirable effect on many of the persons present. But although a place in the cathedral became vacant immediately after my arrival, the ministers would not allow me to remain, but preferred sending me hither. Many persons were surprised at this, but to me it seemed very natural, as steps had been taken in regard to my appointment here, which no government would like to have made in vain. My reception here, on all sides, was very satisfactory. The principal point, it is true, still remains to be proved, namely, how the students will like me, and how I shall succeed in the lecturing line. On Monday next I commence, and shall give three lectures on that day, in order to force myself into it at once. Instead of beginning with Christian ethics, I have been induced, by various circumstances, to commence with philosophical ethics, and perhaps it is as well that I should lay the foundation in this way; the worst of it is that I have not quite completed the arrangement of the whole, and fear that I may forget a great many points the first day. As yet I have not distinctly worked out anything, and during the three days that remain I have still to make a general sketch of the three courses. With respect to my preaching to the academy, the prospects seem still very distant, as the choice of a building, and other external matters, have not yet been settled.

And now, dear friends, God be with you. God bless you, children! Do you often realize to yourselves how we are all ever with you? My resolution, to take my sister to live with me after Easter, remains unchanged.

Schleiermacher to Henrietta Herz.

[CCXXVII.] Halle, 22nd October, 1804.

I have been inducted into my office, and have already commenced three courses of lectures. I am tolerably satisfied with myself, better than I expected; whether the students be so likewise, I do not know; but a great concourse there certainly has not been. Only very few have put down their names, but there were more present to-day than have done so; many of these must consequently be supposed to have come merely from curiosity, and will probably speedily disappear. You know that I rather feared than desired applause at first, and I am therefore pretty well pleased with the present aspect of things… …

Schleiermacher to E. and H. von Willich.

[CCXXVIII.] Halle, 30th October, 1804.

Yes, certainly I did know it, my dear, dear daughter, when I comforted you; certainly I did see in spirit the glorious period which has now dawned upon you both. And when you feel yourselves very happy, then remember that this happiness is not shut up within your walls; but that it reaches me and makes me happy too. When you can find leisure, dear Jette, you must describe to me your whole mode of life: how you divide your time, how you feel as mistress of a family, and how you get on as such, and also what kind of intercourse you keep up with other people. For you must not begin with isolating yourselves. Though you may suffice for each other, that is not enough. Every family, and more especially such a family as you constitute, must from the beginning adopt the missionary spirit, and be on the look-out for some soul that it may draw towards itself and save from the desolate waste of life.

I always think of a family as a pretty snug little room in the great palace of God, as a sweet, contemplative resting-place in His garden, whence the whole may be overlooked; but also as a snuggery in which one may bury oneself deeply, and feel around one its narrow, cozy limits. In such, the doors must not be closed, but every one must be admitted who possesses the magic key, or who knows how to find his way in by bending aside the branches that conceal the entrance. Is there nobody in your neighbourhood, who might be inclined to knock at your door and to participate a little in your life? You can hardly conceive how impatient I am to see everything connected with you develop itself; and I should, therefore, like to know that you are already letting your light shine before others. It always seems to me one of the great privileges of a clergyman, that being entitled by his office to lead a retired life, he may keep aloof from burdensome conventional connections, while, on the other hand, his calling points out to him the true nurslings and friends of his household, whom he ought to lead by his example to undeviating morality, and to a simple, rational enjoyment of life. How heartily have I not rejoiced with you, my Ehrenfried, that your office is of this blessed kind! Surely a great deal may be done in this way, in individual cases; and I become daily more convinced, that even as regards the world, this is the only way of proceeding, as, indeed, the true, must ever be the only, way. If the idea in its purity could but be brought home to the hearts of those who are led astray by foolish disputes about the dead letter, and by the dialectical effrontery of empty reasoning, it would be strange, indeed, were they not to become friends of Christianity.

As yet I cannot say anything similar about myself and my new vocation; but in faithfulness and perseverance I shall not be found wanting; and when I have acquired a degree of self-confidence and freedom from restraint, proportionate to the extent of order which I have now introduced into my new office, I trust that my teaching will not remain without fruits. I have been lecturing since the 22nd. Quite satisfied I cannot possibly feel with my beginning, yet I have gained the assurance that I shall not come to a standstill. You will readily imagine that I only note down the leading thoughts, and that otherwise I speak extemporarily, and I shall persevere in this plan; for although I do, indeed, sometimes omit certain things that I ought to have said, or I find when I return from the lecture, that I might have placed the whole matter in a clearer light, I feel, at the same time, that I shall improve in regard to these points. My Philosophical Ethics give promise of shaping themselves into a very good whole, and, indeed, this is more likely to take place under the present circumstances, than under any others, because of the constant elaboration of the subject. The same holds good of my Introduction to the Study of Theology. My Lectures on the Fundamental Doctrines suffer, indeed, somewhat in consequence of the others, and assume a fragmentary character; but their chief object, to teach men to seek for the idea underlying the conception, I trust they will attain. My functions as preacher have not yet commenced, and, in fact, I am glad of the little delay; for I should otherwise have felt myself too much overwhelmed just at the beginning. As it is, I can now and then give a little time to the third volume of Plato. Adieu, dear friend. God bless you now and for ever.

Schleiermacher to Henrietta Herz.

[CCXXIX.] Halle, 15th November, 1804.

… . I cannot beg you too urgently and too often, my dear Jette, not to look so much into the future. With such energy as you possess, you could not fail to feel conscious of your power to bear and to control each event as it occurs, were you not so much depressed by your anticipation of coming events. Your sufferings consequently arise from your habit of condensing all your difficulties. It is easy to see through one pane of glass, but through ten placed one upon another we cannot see. Does this prove that each one is not transparent? or are we ever called upon to look through more than one at a time? Double panes we only have recourse to for warmth; and just so it is with life! We have but to live one moment at a time. Keep each one isolated and you will easily see your way through them; but if you will arbitrarily double them, then let it be only to warm yourself with sunny prospects towards Rügen… . .

All my friends desire a little advice from time to time; and when I can thus be of comfort to them, I am glad that they apply for it. If I do not ask for any in return, it is because, merely by the fact of being my friends, you afford me guidance.

Schleiermacher to E. and H. von Willich.

[CCXXX.] Halle, 21st November, 1804.

How I wish I could to-day say a word to all those whom I love! To each one the same, viz., that I feel how their thoughts are with me to-day more especially, and that their love is my highest good, without which neither the world nor anything in it would have any value in my eyes. To you both, more especially, you beloved ones, I say it. You know how my heart cleaves to you, how I behold in you the realization of the most beautiful union that I know, introduced in a peculiar manner into the circle in which I live; and how, while all that regards myself is uncertain and incomplete, I always look to you and feel satisfied. Not in the year that commences to-day, but in the ensuing one, I hope to see you. The beautiful summer time I spent with you has given life new value in my eyes. I have experienced with regard to you all how far more fresh and enlivening is the effect produced by communion face to face, than by even the most intimate interchange of thought from a distance; and my new sphere of activity, which is one of no little importance, has also created new ties for me. With you, in you, and for you, and all our other dear ones, then I live, and the world must be content with what I can do for it in the way of my vocation.

Henriette von Willich to Schleiermacher.

[CCXXXI.] 25th November, Sunday morning.

It is only to-day that I am writing to you in reality, but in the long interval my spirit has often been with you, and answered your dear letters; and it so happens that I am able to write to you on my much-loved Sunday morning. From my earliest youth Sunday morning was always very precious to me. While I was at school in Greifswald, this was the only morning I had to myself, and on which I could prosecute my favourite occupations. I always kept it very quietly and unobtrusively. I was generally alone in the schoolroom, where I could hear the tones of the organ and of the human voices from the church close by. Among the many books around me, I had selected a few in which I read on these occasions—mostly old devotional works. I cannot describe to you what my feelings were; how inexpressibly happy, and yet how sad, and how much those hours of quiet devotion elevated my being, and inspired me with an earnestness that followed me through the bustle of the whole ensuing week. Now I feel what those hours were to me; they appear to have been the preparation for my present life. At present, I often go to church with Ehrenfried on the Sunday, and afterwards we talk over the sermon, and I tell him what touched me most, and he tells me in his turn with which parts he was satisfied, and with which not—and this is like a second service to us… . .

We are never happier than when we are quite alone together, and yet there are few days that we find it possible to be so; but then we have so much to chat about, and to read and to write, that it always seems to us that the day has taken wings to itself, and we long for an hour to devote to our absent friends. It seems so strange that time should slip away thus—for, after all, what have I to do?

I will describe to you our life as well as I can. It is our intention to rise at five in the morning, but as yet it has very rarely been carried out. When we have got lights, and have dressed, we go into the parlour, where we find the fire burning in the stove, and the breakfast table ready laid. Ehrenfried then reads aloud a chapter in the Bible, or some other serious book—at present we are reading Plato. Your Discourses on Religion we have finished, and also a delightful book, “Die Herzensergiessungen eines kunstliebenden Klosterbruders,” by Tieck and Wackenroder. You may imagine how I value these hours, and how my mind communes with yours during the reading. You will also, I am sure, feel gratified at the thought that we have chosen your writings for our edification and refreshment, and that they do us so much good. The early morning is in itself so delightful, everything without so dark and tranquil, but the mind of man so revived and wide awake. When it is daylight I begin my little household business. You ask me how I feel as head of a family, and how I get on in my vocation? The feeling of being the housewife, who takes care of the whole household, and who may arrange everything according to her own will and pleasure, is, I think, always precious to a woman, and I also value it very much, and am proud of the dignity. But the special household occupations do not afford me particular pleasure, though they are by no means irksome to me.

[CCXXXII.] 26th November.

… . How I value your letter, how I feel and prize your love; were I only not so often troubled with the thought that I ought to have made more progress since all the happiness and good fortune that has fallen to my lot, and that you must believe that I am growing faster in good than is really the case. How often I long for your presence, that you might participate in our quiet life, and witness my great and unmerited happiness! Oh, dear Schleier, great as it is, how shall I ever become deserving of it! Thank God, and love Him with my whole heart and my whole soul,—that I can and will.

Schleiermacher to E. and H. von Willich.

[CCXXXIII.] 6th January, 1805.

It is kind of you, dear daughter, to have introduced me, by your letter, to your home life, for some time may still elapse before I am able to become an eye-witness of it. That time passes quicker than we calculate, that in general we do not carry out as much as we intend, is a common experience, and must therefore also be that of housewives, and more especially of young ones. Very seldom, and in special cases only, have I ever succeeded in carrying out my intentions to the full, or in exceeding them, and since I have been in Halle, I believe it has not once happened to me.

Plato is not good morning reading. Very few parts are in their entirety comprehensible or agreeable to women. Ehrenfried ought first to peruse the volume alone, and then to read aloud to you, with the necessary explanations, such passages as he thinks would be likely to please you. On your side, dear Ehrenfried, I wish you would in reading mark such passages as seem to you difficult to understand or incorrect, or in any other way defective. Your remarks would be very welcome to me, as I contemplate bringing out, in a couple of years, an improved edition of this, my literary firstling.

Farewell, dear friends; continue to love me.

[CCXXXIV.] No date.

… . I am quite surprised that I should have let so long a time pass without indulging in a little chat with you. It is true, that a new friend, and one who can only remain a short time with you, is a very time-consuming luxury, and of such you will find an account in my letter to our Lotte. It is another acquisition, for which I am chiefly indebted to the Monologues. How often already have I not had reason to thank the happy instinct which induced me to write that exposition, and the blessing goes on increasing! However, I am also beginning to taste some of its bitters, but I will bear them patiently. The little book has, I do not know how, got into the hands of the students here, and this causes me great annoyance; for I know they will connect it with that empty word—philosophy, and vapid mysticism, which begins to be the fashion with the cleverest heads among them, and which I am endeavouring to counteract, but with little success.

I was half and half hoping to get letters from you to-day, but the hope has failed, and also that of receiving a few lines full of the renewed maternal joy of our excellent Lotte. Do not let me wait long. You must not keep a debtor and creditor account with me; but, taking into consideration what a laborious and outwardly unsettled life I lead, you must write to me as often as your hearts prompt you to do so. I am very often with you in spirit, as you cannot but know, you dear ones, who have been the first to make life of value to me again.

Farewell, and let me have a happy hour soon, and write me much joyful news after all these storms.

Schleiermacher to Henriette von Willich.

[CCXXXV.] Halle, 1st March, 1805.

… . How willingly would I not be with you to witness your glorious life! Kind, dear soul! No father can think oftener, and with warmer, and more heartfelt affection of his dearest daughter, than I think of you; nor in greater measure draw renewed youth from participation in her sweetest happiness.

Well, by the time the ensuing year is as far advanced as the present, I hope to be able to determine when I can pay you my visit. Oh, God grant that it may not be alone, but with the excellent Eleanore! What exquisite joy you and our admirable Charlotte have caused me by bestowing upon this beloved woman the deep and tender affection, which has suddenly been kindled in your hearts, and by the bewitching tones of sisterly friendship in which you address her! How rich am I not through you all, you dear people, and how I delight in the thought of bestowing all these riches on Eleanore, and of introducing her into this sunshiny heaven of friendship and love! I alone might have been too little for her; but with this help I may hope to heal all her wounds, and to crown her life with unfading flowers.

[CCXXXVI.] 12th.

Within the last few days I have once more had an opportunity of preaching. I quite long for the time to come when I shall be able again to give utterance to the most sacred truths from my own pulpit, and I think, when I shall have Eleanore here, a new and beautiful spirit will pervade my sermons, and they will all be what, hitherto, only the best have been. I wonder if Ehrenfried does not feel the same when he is working at your side? It cannot be otherwise, for everything grows brighter in the presence of love.

I bid you adieu, sweet daughter, with a look of sincere satisfaction into your dear, clear eyes. You and Ehrenfried know that my spirit dwells with you.

Schleiermacher to E. von Willich.

[CCXXXVII.] No date.

About a week ago, I preached here for the first time, but only for another, not from my own pulpit, the prospects of doing which are still far distant. However, on this occasion a great pleasure came to me through Steffens, who had accidentally been informed of my preaching, and came to church to hear me; and afterwards, with the most lively enthusiasm, wished me joy of my noble vocation, which he maintained was the only one in which a man might place himself at once in the centre of his subject, and give full utterance to his thought; wherefore the religious aspect of things is a necessary correlative of the scientific aspect, which is never more than half completed—just as I have expressed the relation in my ethics. Steffens’ profound and inexhaustible mind, joined to his childlike and amiable nature, so susceptible of every generous emotion, gives me new pleasure every time I spend a few hours with him; and the more so, as wherever the extreme points of nature and science touch each other, our views always coincide.

Lecturing becomes day by day more easy to me; and though I take less time for preparation, I feel that my mode of arrangement and of expression has become more lucid; and the ethics, as well as my treatment of doctrinal theology, will, I hope, produce good effects. Nevertheless, I dread every new course. This summer I am to begin hermeneutics; to fetch up the interpretations from the depths of the subject, is no slight undertaking, and one in which I have no practice, and yet in less than two months I shall be obliged to commence. But then this will be the only new course of lectures which I shall deliver this summer, for Plato will press very hard upon me. I am glad that you are reading this author in such a sensible way with Jette, and I often think of this while at work. In the third volume, also, she will find many deep and noble views, and many thoughtful and subtile meditations.

Schleiermacher to Henrietta Herz.

[CCXXXVIII.] Halle, 27th March, 1805.

A few days ago, I should have liked so much to have written to you and all my dear ones, while still under the influence of the enthusiasm awakened in me by an excursion to the Petersberg with Steffens and two of his most intimate friends. On my part it was, in fact, a mad freak to undertake it; for we only started on the Saturday, and did not return until the Sunday morning, just an hour and a half before I was to enter the pulpit, to deliver a discourse in honour of the memory of the Queen, at which, I had reason to suppose, the greater part of the Academy would be present. But I am grateful to my instincts, which often impel me to commit such mad pranks; for it is long since I enjoyed so much pleasure. I believe I have not for some time spoken to you about Steffens; and as I have in the interval learnt to know him more intimately, I can now speak of him very differently. You know, dear friend, that if I am not modest, neither am I presumptuous; but never have I with such sincerity of heart placed another man as high above myself in every respect as I do this one, whom, were it seemly between man and man, I could almost adore. First of all, his marriage is a true marriage in the highest sense. Outwardly this is not so apparent, but inwardly it is a beautiful truth. With what enthusiasm he speaks of their connection! with what childlike simplicity he cites to his more intimate friends traits illustrative of her depth of feeling, of her religiosity, of her originality! and always with tears in his eyes! And then the man is altogether so indescribably attractive—as deep, as spontaneous, and as witty as Friedrich Schlegel at his best. But though he philosophizes with still greater animation than the latter, and even in our, to him, foreign tongue⁵ expresses himself with burning eloquence, he is not only always just and entirely free from party spirit, but through and through sanctified and gentle in the sense in which I honour and love the quality. Picture to yourself the greatest natural philosopher of the times turning away, with tears in his eyes, from the sunset, which we witnessed from the mountain! But he is also a true priest of nature. It was the first time since his marriage, that is to say, for about two years, that he had been separated from his wife for four-and-twenty hours. You may imagine how full of her he was; and then our encampment under the old rocks, and the glorious prospect from above, and the delicious freshness of the air, and the freedom from all restraint! The holiest earnestness and the most extravagant mirth alternated so wonderfully, and were blended into a whole so beautiful, as is rarely experienced in life. And in this state we were the whole of Sunday, at dinner at Steffens’, in the evening in Giebichstein.⁶ There is also between Steffens and myself a wonderful harmony, which is a great source of pleasure to me, and is, as it were, a new guarantee to me of the soundness of my views. When, animated by the first breath of spring. Nature in its infinitude embraced us like a holy temple vault, bore up, penetrated, lent wings to every thought, and germinating spring fecundated our spirits, as it did nature around us. I have a testimony of the impression this night made upon him, in a letter to his dear friend, Mrs. Herz. [The one in the text.] It was the reflection of his own purity that made me appear to him in a glorified light during these truly holy hours. Never did the deep religiosity of his morality strike me more forcibly. The Saviour was with us, as He had promised to be ‘when two or three are gathered together in His name.’ … . It was past midnight; and the following forenoon, between nine and ten o’clock, Schleiermacher was to appear in the pulpit. The subject of the oration required to be treated with the utmost delicacy. We awoke after a few hours’ sleep, and had still a walk of a mile and a half before us. There had been frost in the night. The preceding warm days had melted the snow, and had made the road almost impassable. Schleiermacher, who was an excellent pedestrian, walked briskly in advance along the rough road and cloddy fields. We could hardly keep up with him. We perceived that, in spite of his swift pace, he was sunk in deep meditation, and we did not disturb him. Arrived at home, I had but just time to change my dress before church. When I appeared there among my colleagues, a general commotion took place. ‘Ah!’ they exclaimed, ‘as you have come, we may also, we presume, expect to see Mr. Schleiermacher!’ His pedestrian tour, immediately previous to his delivering the oration, was known through the town, and the fact of our having spent the night at a tavern had not escaped comment. Early in the morning a message had been sent to his house, and as it was little more than an hour before service was to begin, and the bells had already commenced ringing, and he had not returned home, people seemed to expect, and some even to hope, that he would not return at all. I remained silent, and let the gentlemen talk. Schleiermacher went up into the pulpit. Every one who has heard him knows how imposing his composure and earnestness were in the pulpit. His discourse gave evidence of the careful artistic arrangement of all the parts, which was his distinguishing characteristic as a preacher. The thoughts were lucid, the subject worthily treated. In spite of the outward calmness, nay, even apparent coldness, of his delivery, he, nevertheless, produced a deep impression, and every one present must have left the church with the conviction of the in our conversation, he gives expression to moral ideas, they are always mine, and as much as I understand of nature and give utterance to on the subject, always coincides with his system. Even those who listen to us are struck by the way in which we work into each other’s hands, and in which our views meet in the centre, though we start from opposite sides—a proof that it is entirely and purely the existing inward harmony that leads to the result… . .

Schleiermacher to Henriette von Willich.

[CCXXXIX.] Halle, 6th April, 1805.

… . And now let me turn to you, dear, sweet daughter, and dwell upon your perfected happiness, which still, when I think of it, brings tears of joy to my eyes. The highest consummation, the crowning dignity, of your life has come to you, beloved child of my heart! How shall I express to you my paternal joy! Every thought of you is a prayer and a blessing in the name of love and holy nature. I forget myself in gazing at your image with the new happiness beaming from your eyes, exultingly, proudly, and yet meekly! And how pure, how holy, and how naturally the first maternal feelings must spring up in your noble heart! Ah! how I thank you for being willing to be my daughter; you have thus conferred a happiness upon my life which I can compare with no other; it is a peculiar, singularly beautiful, and lovely blossom added to the glorious wreath which happy destiny has twined for me. And there is nothing artificial in this bond between us, but I am as really and truly your father, as your natural parent could possibly have been!

Yes, you will be a happy mother in every respect. I prophesy it and stake my prophetic spirit on the issue… . . In a true marriage like yours, with minds ingenuous and free from care, and hearts pure and loving, education is an easy matter. It starts with the confiding trust that good must beget good; it aims at nothing more than a gentle stimulation of the noble germ, which can hardly fail to be present, and desires not unnecessarily to interfere and to constrain in every particular. Oh, dear Jette, we will frequently talk of this during the present happy time, and I feel certain that we shall always agree, and that our imaginings on this noble subject will also meet and embrace each other like parent and child.

And now, for a bit of news. On Wednesday next I contemplate going to Barby, to visit the Herrnhut school, where I spent three of the best years of my youth, during which my love of knowledge and my religious feelings first developed themselves. At that time the school was located in a different place, which I also intend to visit on my return from Silesia, and Barby was then the seat of the Herrnhut University, to which I subsequently resorted, and at which my inner life and thoughts grew, until they burst asunder the fetters of the dead letter, and eventually drove me out of the congregation into the world. At that place I shall spend the holidays; and, if possible, I will partake of the holy communion with the congregation on Maundy Thursday, and remain there long enough to share in the glorious religious services of the brotherhood on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. You may imagine what feelings and memories will throng in upon me on those occasions. They will be delightful days to me, I hope! … .

Schleiermacher to Charlotte von Kathen.

[CCXL.] Halle, 5th May, 1805.

Poor friend, how long you are made to drink of the bitter cup of sorrow, and how often you have been forced to put it anew to your lips, after you thought it already drained!⁷ In such cases, alas! your absent friend can afford no help and little consolation. He can do no more than share in your anxieties and suffer with you, and when it comes to the worst, feel the bitterest sorrow of all, at a time when he may hope that you have already got over the first shock. May the hope which, after such long anxiety has come at length to cheer your birthday, prove lasting and increasing! and may I soon be apprised of it! After so many relapses, I cannot help feeling very anxious. It often seems to me, that I ought to remind you how you had at one time yielded up the little angel into the hands of his heavenly Father, and how, even after his first recovery, you used to feel as if he were only come back for a time to comfort you, and would soon be called away again. Hard, indeed, it would be were you not to keep him after so much suffering—very hard! But I confidently hope that my Charlotte’s self-control and pious resignation will not fail, should Heaven determine otherwise in regard to the sweet child. I am only anxious that you should not feed yourself too much upon hope, so that should the dreaded blow come, its unexpectedness may not prove too overwhelming. And are you sure that you do not neglect the necessary care of yourself? A suffering child is, at the time, an all-absorbing object to a mother, and I fear, therefore, that you may not often enough recall to mind that you are the mother of the other children also, and that as such you must spare yourself and take care of yourself.

I did not know, dear friend, that your birthday fell on Easter Monday, yet I thought much of you that day during my solitary journey; for the Easter festival, I must tell you, I spent with the Herrnhuters in Barby. Delightful, sanctified days they were to me, full of wonderful memories and many enjoyments of the present. Formerly the seminary or university of this congregation was in Barby, and hence I went forth from the community to follow my own path, and came here to Halle, it may now be about eighteen years ago. At present the brotherhood’s educational institution for boys, which was formerly in Lusatia, is located in Barby; to this my father entrusted me four-and-twenty years ago, and while there I became a member of the congregation, impelled by a true inward desire. The locality, therefore, recalled vividly to my mind the opening and the close of my career within the congregation. Even the rector of the institute, from whom I first learnt Greek and Hebrew, and who loved me like a father as long as I was under his care, was still alive; and, though an old man of seventy-seven, was still active and cheerful, and heartily rejoiced to see me again. Then there was the beautiful service on Good Friday, based altogether on the great idea of the Atonement, and consisting of the reading of the whole history of the Passion, without any sermon, and only interrupted at intervals by appropriate sacred music and a few verses of a hymn, and concluded at the hour of Christ’s death with an impressive prayer.

On the Saturday was the love-feast at the grave of Christ, and on Easter morning the celebration of the Resurrection at sunrise in the churchyard. Verily, dear Charlotte, there is not throughout Christendom, in our day, a form of public worship which expresses more worthily, and awakens more thoroughly the spirit of true Christian piety, than does that of the Herrnhut brotherhood! And while absorbed in heavenly faith and love, I could not but feel deeply how far behind them we are in our church, where the poor sermon is everything, and even this is hampered by meaningless restrictions, while, on the other hand, it is subject to every change in the times, and is rarely animated by a true and living spirit.

It will soon be my duty to institute divine service here, which is to present a pattern, and to act as a stimulus, to new and far-spread generations of religious teachers; but how wretchedly cramped am I not as to means, and how much I deplore that I cannot transplant hither the best and most attractive elements of what I witnessed at Barby! I might have had one other gratification while there, had I ventured to ask for it. They would not have refused me permission to partake of the Lord’s Supper with the congregation, but I would not ask for what I knew to be contrary to rule. Nowhere is the form of communion so edifying as there.

On Easter Monday already I accomplished the half of my homeward journey, my old rector having accompanied me a good bit beyond the town. The next morning, while moving rapidly onwards in enjoyment of the most delicious weather, and leaving the bearer of my portmanteau panting and groaning far behind me, delightful memories of the days just past blended with affectionate longing for you all, my excellent friends. While dwelling on my loneliness in the world, and on my separation from those whom I believe form the truest Christian community which exists in the outward world, I consoled myself with the thought of the secret and scattered Church to which we all belong, and of the common spirit that animates us, and of our piety and our love for one another. Do you not feel, Charlotte, how I then thought of you more especially; you, the purest and most holy among us all.

Henriette von Willich to Schleiermacher.

[CCXLI.] 16th May.

How shall I thank you for all the gladness that you pour into my heart? As you feel it, none of my friends have felt or participated in my happiness. Ah, how I love you for it, even more tenderly than before! When I feel blessed and content, I see your eyes fixed on me with fatherly affection. Ah! dearest, what a happy creature I am! What a treasure your letter is to me! It is so unutterably grand and beautiful to feel oneself a mother, to be a mother. God be praised and thanked that I feel it, and that it has so deeply moved me! It gives me such pleasure to think that you know and understand so well the state of my mind, for I can only imperfectly express it. Good father, my heart clings to you; you are intimately bound up with my whole happiness, with my every feeling. You will also be a second father to my child; you must love it very much. I shall not stop my entreaties until you promise that you will adopt my child among your children, and that you will place it very near your heart, and I promise in return, that I will not force or over-educate the young soul, but honour the individual nature of the child. What a blissful time the little creature’s first period of utter helplessness will be to me! I will throw off every other care, and be exclusively its nurse and handmaid.

Schleiermacher to Henriette von Willich.

[CCXLII.] Halle, 13th June, 1805.

How were it possible, dear Jette, that, with the exception of our Ehrenfried, any one should feel and participate in your happiness as I do? It is not only in name that I am your father, you dear, dear daughter, but in the very depths of my heart; how, then, could anything have made a stronger and more solemn impression on me than even this? Is it not a matter of course that I should love the little creature with a parent’s love? I do so already, and feel pleasure at the thought that I may possibly be able to do something for it directly, during those years when it is supposed to be a great art to know how to treat young minds, but when, according to my opinion, the whole secret is truth and love. He who is not saved from evil by these, or reclaimed by them, even should a germ of corruption already have developed itself, for him there is no remedy. You see, dear Jette, how I enter into your maternal life, from its first beginning till the period of its last sorrow, and of its sweetest harvest-time of joy. The prospect of meeting you once more, is the brightest spot on which my eyes at present dwell. Should destiny favour us all, as in so many respects it favours you two, the young mother will soon have an opportunity of presenting her dear babe to me, and she will rejoice at the tenderness with which I shall take it for my own, and at the confidence with which, with prophetic sight, I shall then already greet it as a new temple and organ of the higher spirit. Surely, dear friends, if all marriages were like yours, all children would be a joy to their parents, and the good spirit that would breathe around them in early infancy, would continue to live in them. When I reflect upon the matter, it always seems to me that the usual over-straining in regard to education arises solely from a bad conscience, i. e., from the consciousness that the example shown to the children is not such as it ought to be; wherefore else should there be so much restless activity? I think, dear little Jette, that there is no need of your taking the resolution not to over-educate your child. You cannot be otherwise than good, because your goodness has found its anchorage ground in the noblest love, and the richer and more blessed your life becomes, the brighter will your worth shine forth; and our Ehrenfried is a man of firm character, long and deeply rooted in everything that is just and holy; and your union will be to the end as lovely as from the commencement it has seemed to us all. The more distinctly you feel this, the more the beautiful harmony of your lives is revealed to you in calm happiness, the less you will ever think of over-educating your child, or ever experience the necessity of guarding against this; and all sentimental exaggeration of the natural feelings, every tendency to devote yourself exclusively to the life and duties of a mother, will remain as foreign to you as all other affectation. Farewell, dear daughter, I must have a little chat with your Ehrenfried, and unfortunately my time is very limited.

Schleiermacher to E. von Willich.

[CCXLIII.]

Yes, dear brother, a blessed life lies before you, and will in time unfold itself more beautifully still, and reveal riches which are as yet hidden in the future, and each of its joys, and each of its beauties, I will make my own, as long as I remain among you. Everything else in regard to myself is still shrouded in darkness, but my joy in you, and in all our friends, is a bliss such as perhaps few persons are able to understand.

I want to write you a long letter about my various undertakings, but more especially about my lectures, and the interest which I myself, as well as my auditors, take in them. I am teaching hermeneutics, and am endeavouring to raise that which has hitherto been nothing more than a series of disconnected and unsatisfactory observations into the dignity of a science, which shall embrace the whole language as an object of intellectual discernment, and penetrate from without into its innermost depths. As a matter of course, my first attempt has not been successful, as I have had no previous works to serve me as guides, and I am more especially in want of a number of examples and vouchers, for I have never taken notes with a view to this object, and cannot indeed make any such collection with a salutary result, until I shall have before me the whole system, which is only gradually developing itself as my lectures progress. In future, however, the collecting of such notes shall always be a secondary object with me when reading, and as I contemplate delivering a course of exegetical lectures next winter, and shall continue these during a year and a half, I hope that by the time I am to repeat the present course, I shall have been able to collect sufficient materials. You see I am working myself deeper and deeper into my vocation, and with real zest. But for this very reason, I shall most likely do nothing else, except continue Plato; and when, as is often the case, the conviction forces itself upon me, that I shall hardly survive the completion of this work, I feel quite grieved that so many things that I have been planning will have to be left undone.

I wish that it would suit your plan of reading, soon to begin my sermons; the new edition, which is required, will give me an opportunity of introducing emendations, and I would be much pleased if you would mark such passages as may seem to you obscure, or ill-arranged, or otherwise unsatisfactory. And when reading them to Jette, I wish you would make her speak to you about them as she does about your own, and let me hear what she says also.

Schleiermacher to Charlotte von P——.

[CCXLIV.] Halle, 15th July, 1805.

… . A recent occurrence which has taken place here has kept me painfully occupied for some time. A young man from Berlin, of whom I was very fond, came hither with his children and his wife, who had been educated here, and whom he had learnt to know and to love here, to pay a visit to her adoptive parents and to the friends of her girlhood, and while here she died. In him I saw grief in a beautiful and holy form; and I knew nothing more consolatory to say to him, than that in seeing him in his sorrow, I could not but wish that I were in a position to lose what he thus felt the loss of. It must be a far heavier trial for a man to lose the wife of his heart, than for a mother to lose a child. A child is, after all, but an offshoot from the living plant; but a wife is the crown, the innermost heart, whence buds forth into life everything that blooms, and ripens, and shelters. With her everything is gone; and all that follows can only be remembrance, a shadow of life. And yet I wish daily, with a heavy heart, that our friend may be spared the deep sorrow that has so long been impending over her. How much she must have suffered again, poor dear, since her letter in which she expressed her hope that the lovely child was improving—a hope which I do not even now venture to entertain! To yield up a child to the grave and to heaven, to bury all the hopes of the most holy love, must, indeed, cause deep and bitter anguish.

Yesterday I was at Weissenfels, where I made the acquaintance of two brothers of Novalis. The younger seems to have a thoughtful and serene mind, and is certainly the most like the deceased, whom we both value so highly. The elder has already written a good deal in imitation of his brother. I do not know what he may be in reality, but he offends me by a self-sufficient and repellent manner, which can hardly be favourable to a calm observation of men and nature, and of the workings of the latter within the human mind and without it.

I am glad that you like Novalis so much, and more especially the Fragments. A great deal of what he has written is, indeed, of so strictly scientific a character, that its immediate significance may not be fully comprehended by you, and much of what he has said was, perhaps, not sufficiently mature for publication; but the spirit that pervades the whole, the childlike simplicity combined with deep insight, is no doubt that which attracts you. So also it is probably those passages in my Discourses that bear upon prevalent opinions and vices which, happily, are unknown to you, that are the least comprehensible to you. Quite recently I have derived a new and very great pleasure from these Discourses, in consequence of my sister Lotte having read them for the first time. I had endeavoured to prevent her doing so, and wished her to wait and read them with me, lest she might otherwise misunderstand and misinterpret many passages. But her pious heart has been so simply and beautifully touched by the devout spirit in the book, that I may say that few things have for a long while afforded me so much satisfaction as the manner in which she has expressed herself in reference to it, and the hope that this gives me that she will in future be able to understand all my works. When you are reading this, dear friend, I shall probably be on the way to my sister. Although I shall be back in five weeks, I feel as if I ought to take regular leave of all my dear ones. I have still much upon my heart to say to you especially, but I must reserve it for another time. Think of me sometimes, and fancy me rejoicing in the sublime majesty of my native mountains, and with foolhardy boldness shunning no danger that promises the enjoyment of a beautiful prospect; and then, again, picture to yourself the happy, quiet days with my Lotte in Gnadenfrei. In the meanwhile, farewell, dear friend, and if you can, prepare for me the pleasure of finding a few affectionate words from you on my return.

Schleiermacher to Henrietta Herz.

[CCXLV.] Halle, 27th July, 1805.

… . . For what I did during my journey you must not upbraid me, dear Jette. It was not possible for me to do otherwise. It came over me so strong in the mountains that I could not resist, but felt impelled to proceed upwards; and I am sure I was better able to bear the fatigue while in a state of great physical excitement, than if I had proceeded leisurely downwards, had left Konopak in the lurch, and had abandoned my plan, thereby causing my sister and brother mortal anxiety, and rushing into more certain destruction, by getting iced through in a lumbering vehicle, while giving myself up to deadly passivity. Besides, dear Jette, anything that we undertake after mature deliberation—and the doctor himself advised the journey, though aware of my state of health—ought to be considered an obligation incurred; and in this case I could do nothing less than carry out mine calmly, bearing you all in my thoughts the while. And I conscientiously took every precaution in regard to my health that circumstances would admit of. All the pictures which you present to my imagination passed a thousand times before my mind, and, nevertheless, I acted as you have been informed. Must I, then, not have a good conscience? … But it will come to this at last, if not immediately, and though I may not know how. All of you, whom I love best, and even my dear Lotte, whom I feared to lose so soon, will survive me, and I feel with you the deprivation and the grief you will experience. But, dear Jette, let us in the meanwhile cling to each other, and live together healthily and joyfully. Sometimes, when I look upon myself as the centre of the loveable circle that surrounds me, I feel what you must all feel in like manner, that it is not my personality that forms this centre, but the spirit that dwells alike in us all. Let us rejoice in this, and ever become more clearly conscious of it; to you my loss will then be no more than the loss of an organ is to the body; it is always missed, because the same life that animates the whole animated it; but the loss does not destroy life itself. You know how sacred I hold the beautiful aggregate, and therefore, also, myself as part of it; and you may rest assured that I shall not render myself guilty of wilfully destroying it.

Schleiermacher to Henriette von Willich.

[CCXLVI.] Halle, August 4th, 1805.

Had you satisfied your longing to commune with your father, dear child, and sent forth your sweet loving words, I should have had the great pleasure of finding them here to greet me on my return; as it happened, I was back in Halle several days before your letters were even written, and I was just on the point of knocking at your door and asking for your welcome back, when it came without being asked for; and you cannot but know, dear daughter, what heartfelt joy it has occasioned me. Yes, verily, the affection we bear to each other is a great treasure, to me as well as to you. Through you I have learnt to know in rich measure that sweet tie which I had long accustomed myself to think would never in the course of nature bind me to another being, and your loveable childlikeness will never vanish, as it does in the case of so many women; but you will ever remain the child of my heart; and the joy and the blessing of this relationship will ever remain to us.

… . About my journey, I shall by degrees bring out one thing and another; in the meanwhile, I can only give you a brief sketch of the whole; and in so doing, I must, in order to touch upon the best, begin with the worst, and tell you that during our pedestrian tour through the mountains, we were by no means favoured by the weather, and were most shabbily treated just when we were upon the highest summits. In addition to this, our longest and most interesting day’s journey I went through under intense suffering from cramps in the stomach; yet I did not give in, or allow the state of my health to cause us one hour’s delay, nor did the difficulties and sufferings in any way impair my enjoyment; and now they seem as nothing compared with the glorious and lasting impression which the sight of nature in its sublimity has made upon me. After this came other pleasures: making acquaintance with my brother’s humble home, but pleasing and happy domestic life, with a kind, loving, cheerful wife, full of mental energy; my introduction to her and to my half-sister, who is now here with me; the improved health not only of the latter, but also of my dear Lotte, whom I found together with her in Schmiedeberg, and who was far better and more cheerful than I ventured to expect; and the ease with which my unknown relatives accustomed themselves to me, and learnt to love me; then my stay with Lotte in Gnadenfrei, which was, however, very short; and, lastly, my having now in my younger sister a friendly heart always near me, and my being thus relieved from total solitude; all this has made me very, very happy, and whenever I have felt most so, I have wished that all my dear ones could be with me, and you, dear friends, in particular, have been in my thoughts.

Henriette von Willich to Schleiermacher.

[CCXLVII.] 4th August, 1805.

I am looking forward with much pleasure to the letter that will announce to us your return to Halle; how I wish it would come soon! I have lived much with you in thought of late; my heart has often spoken to you, and has felt your loving response; and why I did not afford myself the further pleasure of writing what I felt and thought, I cannot tell. A great many things have been passing through my mind latterly; I feel that my intellect is expanding and is being enriched; it seems to me that I have learnt to understand the world better—the visible and the invisible world—and their mutual relations. Thoughts and feelings come suddenly upon me, which are not indeed quite new to me, but which I seem to have made more my own. It is one of my greatest delights to exchange thoughts with my Ehrenfried upon matters sacred and deep, and yet near to us; he understands me though I cannot fully express what I mean, and he brings light into my confused ideas. Often I long for you, want to write to you, but it seems such a poor means of communication compared with actual presence, when the word goes from heart to heart; and what I want to speak to you about is not sufficiently matured to be written. If you were with us, if I beheld your dear face, that inspires so much confidence—oh, my dear father, we must meet soon again! … . How delightfully I picture everything to myself! Sometimes I feel quite alarmed at the thought that after all it may not happen as I expect; but this feeling is only transitory. I know that the best, the eternal, will ever be with me in life, such as I picture it to myself; and as regards the things of this world, I shall ever gain more and more tranquillity. How merciful has God been to us hitherto in this respect also! our life is not disturbed by one discordant tone… . . Next spring will bring together many who love each other. I wonder if you will come with the one who is dearest to you of all? Shall we be allowed to shed tears of joy with you? Oh, your rich heart needs not the sunshine of happiness to make it throb with life and warmth! your inner life will be full of energy under all circumstances… . .

My soul often craves for a clear consciousness of the nearness of God. He bestows upon me blissful moments, in which I feel joy in Him and love to Him, and strength and energy for every duty; but then, again, I am so often apathetic, and as if inwardly dead. And when I awake from this state, I am very desponding, and feel myself unworthy of yours and Ehrenfried’s love and of my happiness. My beloved, oh, how deeply beloved Ehrenfried, always raises me up again; when resting on his bosom, my heart feels light again; I am able to smile at my sorrows, to look anew healthily into life, and to resume my activity… . .

I have missed the post, and am glad that I have thus an opportunity of adding a few more words. What I said above about the apathy which sometimes overcomes me was, I am afraid, very obscurely expressed. I must tell you something more about it, for, perhaps, you are not aware that I am subject to such fits, and I must not let you think me better than I am in reality. Living such a happy life with my Ehrenfried, possessing such rich treasures, ought I not always to be strong and free, and to receive joyously into my soul the many blessings that are offered to me, happy one, in preference to so many others? And yet, I let so many escape without enjoying them. I know that very often it is physical indisposition that robs me of my freedom and causes my waywardness; but I do not feel as if it were physical; then follows discontent with myself, and I become melancholy and remorseful, until my dear, kind Ehrenfried reconciles me again with myself and exhorts me to have patience with myself. To feel oneself mentally free and healthy in each moment of life must be delightful! Ah! when the heart longs for intimate and true communion with the unseen, and the wish is granted, and we feel ourselves in consequence happy and elevated, then the soul overflows with joy, but also with sorrow for the time that has been allowed to go by without any such uplifting of it—at the thought that this glorious life, this life of life, has been so long dead within us. On these occasions I feel a certainty that a time will come when such a frame of mind shall ever be mine — my feelings are not overwrought, but hushed and tranquil, such as may pervade a whole life. With many people it is different; they appear to me so excited, so passionate in their higher moods, that I cannot conceive them capable of the most exalted spiritual enjoyment, except at rare intervals and during periods of ebullition.

Dear father, I dare say what I have written is very confused; but it is right that it should be so, for many things are still confused to me, and I may speak to you as your child.

I am full of joy, dear Schleier, for to-morrow, if the weather be good, we are to go to Rügen, to Lotte Kathen. As a wind-up, I shall have a good gambol in the fields with the children. From my childhood I have always been fond of harvest time… . .

Schleiermacher to Henrietta Herz.

[CCXLVIII.] 15th August, 1805.

Have I already told you that I have also made Goethe’s acquaintance? Immediately after my return I saw him first for an hour, at Wolf’s; the next day he went to Lauchstädt. The day before yesterday I dined with him and a large party at Wolf’s; yesterday they started together on a little excursion; and after their return he will, I believe, remain a fortnight longer here, during which time I hope I shall see him frequently. The first time we met he was already very friendly to me, but a regular talk we have not yet had together; for on that occasion Gall was the topic of the day, and at the party there were too many people present. Steffens has delivered three public lectures against Gall, on which the world will no doubt pass some strange strictures. Do write and tell me if you should hear anything about them in Berlin. Steffens laughs and says that he is sure that my last sermon, which was similar in tendency, will be equally criticized, and give rise to the same vexation of spirit.

[CCXLIX.] Halle, 23rd August, 1805.

… . . About Goethe I can tell you no more than I have already said. When Mina Wolf went over to tell him that I was there, he was lying on the bed reading, but said, “Ah, that is a noble friend, I must go to him at once;” and he did come very soon, and treated me as an old acquaintance, and I treated him in like manner; so far you get with him very soon. But the subjects I should like the most to discuss with him, I have not yet been able to broach. The first time he was full of Gall and Schiller, and the second time there were too many persons present to allow of my taking exclusive possession of him. But I hope soon to be able to tell you more, provided I have not displeased him. They say he returned yesterday with Wolf. All who have known Goethe formerly agree in saying that he has changed very much to his disadvantage, in the same sense as it may be said of his works and of his opinions on art. But in like manner as his works are still glorious productions, so is he also still one of the noblest and most amiable personages that one can behold.

[CCL.] 26th.

Goethe returned last night with Wolf, and to-day already I have been invited to meet him, and that without any other company, so that now we shall probably have a good deal of conversation, and in my next I shall have more to relate. For the rest, Goethe is not to that extent in favour of Gall as to make our differing estimate of him a barrier between us. You may also conceive that I did not make a direct attack upon Gall from the pulpit, but merely alluded to the evil sentiments that prevail and that are exhibited in individual matters, and what I said I applied equally to knowledge of men, to action upon men, and to judgment of men. You will, perhaps, perceive from this, that no particular part of the sermon was directed immediately against Gall, but the whole bore upon him. However, people interpreted certain expressions as being particularly pointed against him, though they were equally applicable to every physiognomist of the old school. Had I time I would write down the whole sermon for you.

[CCLI.] No date.

… . In regard to Louis Börne⁸ you are partly in the right and he is partly in the right, and I am not at all wrong. Kindly inclined towards him I have always been, but he is indifferent to me. How is it possible to take a greater interest in a man than he takes in himself? He undertakes nothing, trifles away his time, neglects his studies, ruins himself by laziness, and takes it all very composedly, merely saying that such is, once for all, his nature, and if he were to force himself into anything else, matters would not be the least better. How is it possible to produce any effect upon a man who thus reasons away his own power of will? I do not know whether he will go to destruction; many characters rescue themselves from this condition; but while he is in it, there can be no question of exercising any influence over him, or taking any interest in him. In addition to this he is affected and false. Thus, for instance, he pretended to me that he was going to Francfort with the greatest reluctance, and that he feared that he should suffer from dreadful ennui there; whereas Mrs. Reil assures me that he was as delighted as a child at the thought of going. That he should complain of being melancholy, I can understand; but not that you should pity him for it. What reason has a young man, who has everything he wants, to be melancholy? His melancholy arises out of his idleness, which is enervating him. You may write every word of this to him; indeed, I shall repeat it to him myself when he comes back. Pitied he is to be if he continue in this way, but helped he cannot be unless he helps himself.

[CCLII.] No date.

Between Louis Börne and me, dear Jette, such as we are, no relations could ever have been established. He loves and pets his own idleness and vanity, and he demands of other people that they shall likewise pet him, and if they do not, he arrogantly overlooks them. The latter he cannot do in regard to me, and the former I cannot do in regard to him; for idleness and vanity in young people are disgusting and hateful in my eyes. This is, in fact, what has separated us. An interesting person, if you so choose to call him, he may perhaps be, but more than this I think he will never be; more especially as I have never discovered in him any real decided talent, on which I might base a hope that it would at last gain the mastery, and work a new spirit in him.

Schleiermacher to E. and H. von Willich.

[CCLIII.] 18th October, 1805.

Perhaps you have already heard from Mrs. Herz the dreadful news of the unexpected change that has taken place in Eleanore’s feelings. I do not know whether any one can form to themselves an idea of my state; it is the deepest, most crushing sorrow—the pain will never leave me—the unity of my life is rent asunder; but whatever can be made of the ruins, I will make of them… . .

Anxious about you, dear daughter, I was beforehand, but I have been still more so since this dreadful communication; I felt as if in every direction one tragic event must follow another. Thank God, our friend Herz has just written to inform me of your happy confinement. In the midst of my misfortune I feel this joy deeply, but I cannot, as yet, find words to express it. Your lovely image, with the sweet babe, will often stand before me and comfort me. Greetings to all—writing is like death to me; I cannot continue.

[CCLIV.] 28th October.

A couple of hours after I had despatched my letter to you, I received yours, dearest friend, with the first glad tidings from yourself. Your second also came, unfortunately, too late; I did not receive it until the 25th, and could not, therefore, formally present myself among you on the solemn day. Nevertheless I was surely with you, for I am much with you every day. My tenderest, fatherly love I bestow upon the little being! May this love be numbered among the blessings that meet it on all sides on its entrance into life; when I shall see it, and trace your united features in its face, and bless it with tears of joy, God only knows! I shall not fear to appear before you. I do not think that my looks will sadden you too much, and I stand greatly in need of seeing all those whom I love; but I do not know how I shall manage it in these sad times, that weigh so heavily on all, and with the pressure of my occupations which, if I would at all keep myself erect, I must lean on for support, holding them sacred and attending to them diligently. Only let me soon have a confirmation of the good news, that you will not be obliged to leave Jette and the child to follow the army. May you be allowed to enjoy your happiness undisturbed!

Within the last week the lectures have recommenced. According to my own judgment, I am delivering those on ethics in a freer and more lucid manner than formerly, and my audience is pretty numerous. The course of Dogmatics, however, is only attended by a very small number of auditors, but these are very receptive, and I hope to say and to effect much good; and when I repeat the course, greater numbers will be sure to come. I am also delivering publicly, to an audience of about a hundred persons, a course of exegetical lectures on the Epistle to the Galatians. If but half the number remain to the last, I shall be well pleased. It is most fortunate that these lectures give me so much to do, that the academical church service is at last to commence, and that I have my Nanni here.

Henriette von Willich to Schleiermacher.

[CCLV.] October.

I knew it, beloved father, that even in the midst of your grief you would rejoice at my happiness, and would think of me, and of the innocent babe. From the moment I heard the sorrowful tidings, I longed much for the first words from you, though I did not venture to hope that they would give a less painful idea of your state of mind. Dear father, I know not such grief, yet I can well conceive how deep, how dreadful, yours must be. That we, who love you so tenderly, can give you no comfort, is very distressing! How beautiful it is in you, that your heart is still open to our affection and our joys! Could you but come to us! How I feel when I hold my little daughter in my lap, or lay her to my breast, you will not expect me to describe—how could I? It is such an all-absorbing love, deep, deep in my heart—a longing desire to screen the little creature from every pain, every suffering, and to take all upon myself. Every cry goes through my heart, each look seems to me so touching. One evening, in particular, I felt so strange. I was still somewhat weak; H. B. was playing softly but so sweetly on the piano. I felt as if my whole being was dissolving, and floating towards heaven with the child. It was a very blissful state… . .

[CCLVI.] November.

I cannot allow Ehrenfried’s letter to depart without enclosing a few lines. I have had many long and confidential chats with you in thought, but my time has been so much taken up that I have not been able to write. Were it not my babe, that is the chief impediment, I would think it hard. I cannot tell you how glad I am that it is a pleasure to you to get letters from me. I love you so tenderly! Your last words were so kind, but so sad. What a heart is yours! so much love in the midst of so much sorrow! Ah, were you but happy! I feel always as if I must implore you to be so, as if it were in your own power. Ah! do not give yourself up too much to grief; do not renounce joy for your whole life. Dearest, I feel as if a good angel must come to you one day, and plant in your heart new joy and the hope of new happiness, not taking away your pains suddenly, but healing them gently. My dear father, sleep sweetly; I must say good night; I dare not sit up later, though my heart would fain dwell longer in communion with you.

Schleiermacher to E. von Willich.

[CCLVII.] 26th November, 1805.

I am quite dismayed, dear friend, when I think that for very nearly a whole month I have not written to you or Jette. But it has come so naturally, that I am almost tempted to say that it is right. The pain at the bottom of my heart is ever lifting up its voice throughout the day, and I am ever endeavouring to smother it with more work; but were I to attempt to write, I should be unable to keep it down, and should be upset for the rest of the day. In the evening it will break forth in spite of all; and, however late and fatigued I may go to my bed, which I dread, I find my grief wide awake; and, though I extinguish the light, my sorrow will not allow itself to be enveloped in darkness. You see, dear friend, if I would live, I must spare myself as long as I am in this state. Were I, before going to bed, to sharpen the sting, I should get no sleep at all, and I get little enough as it is; and I should have a still harder struggle in the morning, to obtain sufficient mastery over myself to forget my pain, and to throw myself entirely into my work. Yes, could I write to you without thinking of myself, how many letters would you not have received, you, dear friends? But to do this, I confess, I am still too weak; however, I trust the time will come.

Now let me tell you of a delightful hour which I spent yesterday. I had preached once more, after a long interval, and afterwards we dined at Steffens’, together with Reichardt. I had some letters to despatch, and therefore went home after dinner, accompanied by Steffens. As soon as we found ourselves alone, he thanked me so heartily, and with so much emotion for my sermon, which he said had produced a very strengthening effect on himself and his excellent wife, that I was deeply moved, and felt a kind of mournful happiness steal over me. He next spoke of the clear and truthful character of my mind, which nothing could disturb; and I then broke through my reserve, and told him of my misfortune and my inward desolation. Until then I had seldom seen him alone, and never at an opportune moment for opening my heart to him. It was an elevating hour. Within me the deepest sorrow and the highest joy embraced each other under a transparent veil. Yes, dear brother, I feel distinctly that in myself I am nothing now; but I am the organ of so much that is beautiful and holy—a focus in which all the joys and all the sorrows of my beloved friends are concentrated; and as such I honour myself, and therefore I live. Therefore, also, I must endeavour to prevent the sorrows of my life from spreading over and darkening the double vocation that has fallen to my lot. Therefore, also, I wish to tell you a great deal about my labours; but, after all, what I have to say is simply that they grow and thrive, and afford me much satisfaction.

[CCLVIII.] 1st December.

It is very good of you to give me an account of your professional duties also, and I am glad you feel that in my hearty sympathy with your sweetest joys, I do not forget your office and the gladness that you must experience in seeing that a blessing attends it. The present increase of occupation can hardly be pleasant to you. Such separate acts performed among people with whom you can enter into no closer relations, cannot effect much. But to draw ever nearer to the flock that has been intrusted to one, that I consider the prime duty. With the power of so doing, you are especially endowed, and I am sure that even the less cultivated members of your congregation will gradually learn to understand you better. As regards myself, I see clearly that no congregation will ever suit me so well as an academical one; but I shall first have to form it here, and it will never be very numerous. To teach scientific principles from the academical rostrum, and at the same time to place myself in the pulpit within the sphere of an uneducated audience (except it were country people, with whom I believe I could manage it), would be excessively difficult to me. But I have a lively hope that by means of the connection between my sermons and my lectures, I shall be able to bring clearly home to the minds of the students the true relations between speculation and piety, and from both places alike, from the pulpit as from the professor’s chair, I trust I shall be able to enlighten their minds and to warm their hearts.

As yet, however, it is, alas, but a hope; for my preaching to the university has not commenced. Through my lectures on doctrinal theology, my views in regard to separate points of Christianity are developing themselves more clearly, but I am persuaded that when, in a couple of years hence, I shall publish a little handbook on the subject, it will be an offence to the Jews, and foolishness to the Greeks. My short exegetical course has been of great use to me in regard to the philology of the New Testament; and as it continues to be numerously attended, I may hope when I begin a regular course, next term, that I shall not lack hearers. But what trouble these two courses do give me; and it is but too true that I now require two hours to do that which formerly I could do in half an hour. The night is far advanced, and I must conclude.

Schleiermacher to Henriette von Willich.

[CCLIX.] December 2nd, 1805.

Dear Jette, if you only knew what a comfort you are to me, and what a soothing image of you is conjured up before me by each word expressive of your joy as a mother, and of your sympathy as a daughter! I see you before me in all your tenderness and with your loveliness, enhanced by the presence of the dear babe in your arms. Nay, with such a daughter, and such friends as you all are to me, I cannot succumb even to the greatest of sorrows—for joy will vindicate its rights. The sorrow does not indeed give way to the joy, but both overspread the entire being; and in my case I feel distinctly that the joy emanates alone from my friends, and from all the beauty and goodness that beam upon me from the world, for in myself I cannot keep it fresh and living; but I am quite content to live through and in you all. Dear Jette, your words do me so much good, and so also your sweet affection for me. I am so moved that I must cease, but let me embrace you with the tears, in which my sorrow and my joy are streaming forth. Kiss your sweet babe for me, and to your Ehrenfried also give a hearty brotherly embrace.

Schleiermacher to Charlotte von Kathen.

[CCLX.] Halle, 2nd December, 1805.

A long while already, dear kind Charlotte, I have in my possession your letter, through which your friendly, gentle spirit gazes at me as clearly as out of your sweet eyes; and also your dear present, which I so often looked forward to with pleasure, and I have not yet said a word of thanks to you. But it is constantly so with me now: I cannot give utterance to my feelings; they all seem driven back. My grief shrinks, recoils from the sound of its own voice, when I make an attempt to speak it out, and refuses to be expressed except in the faintest tones. Could I but take your hand, dear friend, and press it to my full heart! Ah, I do so even from this distance, and I feel how you strengthen me! You remind me so sweetly of that in which I can rejoice with you, and indicate to me a sacred place of refuge. Yes, dear friend, I will cling to everything beauteous that draws me sympathetically towards itself, and working lovingly and diligently, as best I can, I will gradually use up my life.

In sorrow and in tears the work of your hands, destined for me, was begun and completed. Thank God, that your maternal anxieties have been so happily set at rest, and that you can now press your little darling to your heart with confident hope… . .

Would you see me, such as I am in daily life? I would fain conduct myself so that no one should suspect what a shock my life has sustained; and as far as men are concerned I succeed very well: but with women it will not do; they have too keen a perception of what passes in the heart. On the very day that I received the painful tidings, a lady friend of mine from Berlin was here. She had been at my house the previous evening, and I had spoken with such joyful confidence of my future life. To this friend I first opened my heart the ensuing day, while accompanying her some miles on her way back to Berlin. I afterwards returned home on foot, along the same road that I had trod a fortnight previously—oh, with what different feelings! To my kind sister I never mention the sad event—just because I see her every day; and, happily, I have not been obliged to communicate it to her, as she learnt it from a friend who received the account as soon as I did. Even with him I rarely touch upon the subject. Steffens, that loveable, glorious man, is the only one here to whom I felt as if I must speak; besides, his wife, as he told me, had observed that for some time my face had borne traces of deep grief. I labour a great deal, but achieve very little. At the writing-table my work is most irksome to me; but in the professorial chair and in the pulpit I feel myself quite free: from those holy places, devoted directly to a vocation bearing upon society in general, the sorrow, that touches the individual alone, is excluded—those are true places of refuge. Every word that comes from a friend also refreshes and strengthens me. The Willichs have done a great deal for me; and you also, dear Charlotte, are to me a supporting angel.

Henriette von Willich to Schleiermacher.

[CCLXI.] 21st January, 1806.

… . I should like so much to tell you a great deal about my Henriette, that you may learn to know her before you see her, though it may, perhaps, be difficult. She is just now sleeping sweetly! I am sitting close to her cradle writing to you—it is such a delight to be near her! I have just been reading Valérie, a French novel. The many delicate pictures which it contains, and which are so simply drawn, have made a lively impression on me; and one of them, which pleased me more especially, is constantly recurring to my mind. Yes, dear father, my life is very happy; ever filled with love and care of my babe, to whom almost all my outward activity is devoted. But when she is resting in sweet slumber, then my cares also go to rest, and with my whole free soul, I give myself up to the occupations I like best—to writing, reading, and needlework. But when the little one is awake, I am too restless, too much interrupted—my eyes are always turning towards her; and my desires, and the sweet fancy that she would be more comfortable still in my arms, always take me back to her… . .

Ah, I must pour out my complaints to you, and tell you how wretched it is, that in connection with the sweet babe, I discover a great tendency to jealousy in my heart. In regard to Ehrenfried, I have never felt that; he is so entirely mine. In respect to my friends, I have not either experienced much jealousy, because my estimation of myself makes me feel my inferiority to them, and because I am always hoping and endeavouring to work myself up to a level with them. But in regard to my darling, it is otherwise; the very thought that she might possibly love some one else better than me, or feel more happy with some one else, if it be not my Ehrenfried, actually makes me feel as if I were suffocating. Alas, this feeling may eventually fill my heart with bitterness! But, perhaps, it only arises out of my intense longing, in my love for the child, to obtain a sign of its tenderness, of its return of my affection, of its special love for me, while the little innocent still looks at us all with the same eyes, and gives no other preference to her doting mother than she gives to any one that cradles her tenderly and carefully in their arms. Perhaps I shall not have this feeling when the babe learns to stretch out her little arms towards me, and to call me by the sweet name of mother… . .

Schleiermacher to Henriette von Willich.

[CCLXII.] Halle, February, 1806.

Pity me a little, dear Jette, because I can never get to write to you all as much as I wish, which would do me more good than you can well conceive. But so it is, no joy departs alone; each one takes another along with it, and how much more must not this be the case with the greatest and brightest of all life’s joys! The cause of my not writing is really entirely owing to this. On the one hand, I feel that I had better be silent about my grief even to you; on the other hand, the sense of suffering intrudes into all that I have to think of and to do, and keeps everything back. During the last couple of weeks in particular, I have felt a heartache and a dejection which I cannot describe. Grief must have a peculiar life of its own, that surges and swells, and has its ebb-tide and its flood; for I know of nothing outward that can have excited it at this moment, more especially… . .

Well, then, I will go to you for strength, and be not uneasy lest the reaction should afterwards be too great; for when I return from my visit to you, I shall have to begin my new course of lectures, and shall enter at once into the busy life which entirely absorbs me, and in connection with which I have already met with a success that has had a very beneficial effect upon me. Dear child, let me beg you not to be too much saddened when you see me; do not let it overcome you; forget that your father is not happy, in order that the sweet image he has formed to himself of his happy daughter may not be dimmed; and try to think that I shall be much pleased, nay truly happy, while among you all. But, above all things, entreat our friend Herz, who really seems to have economical scruples, to come with me; we shall otherwise lose so many delights. I will also once more entreat her to set these aside.

But how will it be, little Jette? Will you also be jealous of me if I enter thoroughly into the life of your little daughter, and she is friendly to me, and grows fond of me? It is a dangerous matter. You know that the love between grandparents and grandchildren is particularly tender… . . Ah! dear child, I look forward with indescribable joy to seeing both the little Jettes! Here, I have also a little child, in which I take a great interest, my dear Steffens’ little Clara—such is to be her name, for she is not yet christened.

[CCLXIII.] 28th February.

Unfortunately, my letters were not sent by the last post, and, in consequence, my fatherly greetings and blessing for your birthday will probably not reach you until the day has past. Beloved and happy daughter, in whose contemplation, in whose affection, I feel so content, whom God has blessed so bountifully—what can I wish for you but that you may retain what you have? that you will remain what you are, I know, and in this lies the promise that you will also become more than you are, that you will go on steadily developing yourself more independently and more beautifully, and that you will thus also continue to react beneficently on those whom nature has placed around you. Among these I reckon myself; for just as your little daughter helps to form you, as you must feel, so you contribute to my culture. I thank God that He allowed me to find you, before He took so much away from me, and that you have given yourself to me as a daughter so freely and heartily. The purest and noblest love of my heart pours itself out upon thee, and I feel it, I am to thee all that a father can be to a daughter who is a wife and a mother, in the sense that thou art. Oh! remain ever my joy and my pride, dear child, for I feel that I live in you and in Ehrenfried, and in your noble union. I hope soon to see you in spite of all difficulties, but I reckon upon hearing from you once more in the meanwhile.

Schleiermacher to E. von Willich.

[CCLXIV.] No date.

I should have written to you sooner, dear Ehrenfried, had I not been anxious to await the decision in the matter concerning Bremen, which I cannot, however, even now report to you. I take it for granted that you have heard something about it from our friend Charlotte Kathen. Let me now relate to you how I have regarded it from the beginning. You know that divine service in the university church has not yet commenced, because of the repairs required in the organ. In November last the minister was here, and spoke a great deal about pushing on these, but in December the authorities again converted the hardly finished church into a granary. Towards the end of the year the proposition from Bremen was sent to me. The first preliminary inquiries I set aside at once. But they were repeated urgently from various quarters; I heard much good about Bremen, about the piety of the inhabitants and their good-nature, and great love and reverence for their pastors; the life in and for a regular congregation attracted me greatly; in this place I saw that the prospect of war would destroy for an indefinite period my sphere of action as far as preaching was concerned; I reflected upon the fact that if the university had felt any real interest in the matter, the evil might easily have been remedied, and that my academical activity was also hemmed in and impeded by all kinds of paltry obstacles and petty fault-finding; I also took into consideration how heavily and slowly everything progresses that I now work at, and finally I took a decided resolution. I wrote to the minister and also to privy-councillor Beyme, that, although I was upon the whole well pleased here, I should decidedly accept the call to Bremen, if guarantees were not given me that the obstacles in the way of the performance of divine service for the academy should be speedily obviated, and if I were not at once appointed a member of the faculty of theology.

From the character of the reply given to this I conceived that I should be able to judge whether the authorities were sufficiently in earnest regarding the object held in view in appointing me to think it worth their while to exert themselves to keep me here. If not, I should be glad to get away, the sooner the better; whereas, in the contrary case, that is, if everything were as it ought to be, I would never desire any other sphere of influence than my present one. The privy council has now declared itself ready to do everything in its power to satisfy my demands, which it acknowledges to be just. From the minister and the university authorities I have as yet had no communication, and I am, therefore, still in some measure undecided; more especially as I am doubly reluctant to give up my professorship, because I still entertain the hope that I may in time regain my former working powers. In short, I desire very much to remain here, but only on condition that my entire sphere of activity be speedily opened to me. Whether I shall be a gainer, from the pecuniary point of view, by remaining here, is a question. I have put forward no claim in regard to money, because it is against my nature to do so; but it would be nothing more than just if they were to allow me a salary when I enter the faculty, as hitherto I have had none in my quality of professor. Our meeting again, also, in a certain measure, depends upon this; but should I eventually go to Bremen, I should not, at all events, be able to leave this until after the close of the lectures, and in that case the few weeks more which the circuit by way of Stralsund and Rügen would take would be of no importance.

At my lectures I have a good many very regular and attentive hearers. I know that some who attend the lectures on ethics are not afraid of devoting three or four hours to the repetition and discussion of a single lecture, and rejoice at finding the subject becoming ever clearer to them. So also among those who attend the lectures on doctrinal theology, there are several who have, to my great satisfaction, expressed themselves to the effect that it is only now that they understand the true significance of Christianity. This is truly encouraging, and the more so as it is a proof to me that I am more lucid than I thought I was. Poor Plato, on the contrary, would fare far better in Bremen. In regard to this, as to all my other literary undertakings, the prospects here are very unfavourable, more especially if I begin exegesis also, which I must and will do some day. Altogether, I see before me in the next three years a mass of work which will hardly allow me to think of any other undertaking… . .

My letters have been so long detained that I am now able to tell you that I have had an answer from the minister, who likewise promises to do all that he can; and it is almost certain that I shall remain here.

[CCLXV.] Halle, March, 1806.

… . I know not how much I have written to you about the Bremen affair. The very first answer I received from Berlin rendered it probable that my demands would be acceded to, and soon after the matter was settled. But in the meanwhile the people of Bremen proved themselves so fully in earnest, and showed me from all sides so much confidence and affection, that it was with quite a heavy heart that I wrote to decline their proposal; and since then they have made me munificent offers of an increase of salary to the amount of several hundred dollars. In Berlin I have preferred no claims in regard to money, as I should never think of changing my sphere of action for the sake of money, and, therefore, the present offer from Bremen does not either in the least tempt me. Nevertheless, I hope that the authorities in Berlin will soon think of making an addition to my salary… . . Reimer has also quite unexpectedly proposed a new edition of the Discourses, and also of the Sermons, for the Michaelmas fair. Had it not come so suddenly, I would have requested you and other friends to let me have their remarks on particular passages. I have just finished revising the first Discourse, and have only altered one passage considerably; but various little corrections always suggest themselves, and these are the most disagreeable. Important alterations I should, in every case, hesitate to make, lest the character of the book should be changed. I shall not, either, this time, put my name on the title-page. It seems to me as if the incognito actually belonged to the style of the book. Any one writing under his own name could not possibly speak thus.

Henriette von Willich to Schleiermacher.

[CCLXVI.] 13th March, 1806.

Your dear words reached me on the morning of my birthday, my beloved father. Before your letter arrived, my baby had brought me pretty flowers and other presents from my dear ones… . . When I realize to myself that you are really coming, I am out of myself with joy: how delightful it will be! I am always thinking of it. But I must speak to you openly on a certain subject. You know how from my heart the confidential “thou” has flown into my pen when writing to you; and when addressing you in all sincerity of feeling as my father, I cannot speak otherwise. But when you are here, I shall not always be able to address you thus, nor can I always call you father. Therefore, that both ways of addressing you (in the third as well as the second person) may become natural to me, I shall also, in my letters, use the one or the other as it may happen. And you are my friend as well as my father, are you not, dear Schleier? Pray do not laugh at me, for I should really feel very much embarrassed were I to be guilty of a slip of the tongue in the presence of strangers. I should at once become conscious of the difference between us—you the great author, the celebrated professor, and I the little Pastorinn, as they often call me.

Schleiermacher to Henrietta Herz.

[CCLXVII.] 14th March, 1806.

What Johannes Müller said about the Christmas Festival⁹ gives me no pleasure: it sounds too much as if he had calculated upon its being repeated to me. A comparison with Plato is verily too great an honour for that little book; that he must reserve until he sees my philosophical dialogues. But what he says about the conversion of history into allegory, is a misunderstanding which is very disagreeable to me, but for which, I trust, I am nowise to blame… . .

Henriette von Willich to Schleiermacher.

[CCLXVIII.] April, 1806.

I will not attempt to describe to you how sorry I am, my dear, dear Schleier, to find my glad hope disappointed: we both know what joy we felt in the prospect of meeting again, which we have now lost. How exultingly I should have laid my babe in your arms! How full of high significance and deep emotion would the moment have been to me, when I beheld your eyes resting lovingly and with a blessing on the little creature! Ah, I cannot tell you what an intense satisfaction it would be to me, should you learn to love my child very much, should it become one of your favourites among children. In affection to you, I am sure it will be like me.

[CCLXIX.] Poseritz (in Rügen), May, 1806.

You must share my joy at the spring, my beloved father! Since yesterday I live entirely in the delightful feeling that at last it has come to us with its flowers—that my babe is inhaling its fragrance, and is blossoming forth in it, and that her existence is intimately interwoven with it—sweet spring, and sweet baby. We have been here since yesterday, and to-day the weather is delightful, the air balsamic, and everything is budding and developing itself to the eye. I have been longing very much for bright and genial days, and I should be so glad to spend many such here with my little girl. It seems to me that, like the flowers, she also would bloom more freshly here than shut up within the walls of the town. The beautiful images that surround her cannot pass before her eyes without producing an effect. This morning we put a nosegay in her little hand while she was still asleep; her first look fell lovingly upon the flowers, and when I came in to her again, she was already busily engaged with them. Early in the morning I go into the garden with her, and her eyes rest so seriously and thoughtfully upon every object, that she can hardly find time to play and laugh with me. Dear Schleier, I can think of little else than the child at present.

Schleiermacher to Henriette von Willich.

[CCLXX.] No date.

Dear Jette, I know it is a little eternity since any of you heard from me; but I hope that, since my journey to Berlin, you have had accounts of me from our friend Herz, and that you know at least that I am well. That I have often turned in thought to Stralsund and Rügen, with a heart full of loving yearning towards you all, and particularly towards you, dear child, and your wee, wee Jette, you will believe without my telling you.

You will perceive, dear little Pastorinn, that I have already again adopted the familiar thou, and shall very likely never get the better of the habit when writing to you. If, therefore, it be not particularly disagreeable to you, let me go on with it.

The journey to Berlin was but poor compensation for the delight I had promised myself among you all. I was wonderfully dissipated, and saw a great many people, which was partly occasioned by my having gone thither in company with my friend Steffens; but I enjoyed very little of the society of my most intimate friends, and did not even show my sister as many of the sights of Berlin as I had desired. I have recently returned from a very different kind of tour, in the Harz Mountains, undertaken with Steffens and some young people, pupils of us both. This will, at least, give you a good standard of measure for my health. In nine days we traversed very nearly fifty miles on foot, wandering through the mountains in all directions, and very frequently along dangerous footpaths; and I was the briskest of all, ever in advance, above the earth and under it; yet I was able, immediately after our return, to burrow myself into the midst of a heap of work which is daily accumulating. It was a delightful tour. We were very much favoured by the weather, and in addition to the satisfaction of the scientific object we held in view, we enjoyed ourselves gloriously. I dare say there was not another among us through whose mind passed so many strange thoughts as through mine. The quiet of such a pedestrian tour—for I never speak much while walking—enables me to give myself up to all the thoughts that move me most; and as on the occasion in question my inward cogitations were constantly interrupted by the scenes and company around me, the fermentation was never exhausted, but recommenced again at every interval of quiet. Dear child! how much sorrow, how much joy, how much tender melancholy passed through me then! How willingly would I not have ended my life through one of the many little dangers that beset our path! And yet, on the other hand, what love of life I felt, when I became conscious of how I live in you, in all our friends, and in my vocation!

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Footnotes

1. The family into which Steffens had married. ↩

2. Heinrich Steffens. Was ich erlebte. ↩

3. The passages between brackets have been added by the translator. ↩

4. At this period Eleanore had renewed her relations with him.—TRANS. ↩

5. Steffens was a Norwegian. ↩

6. The reader may find it interesting to compare with this, Steffens’ account of the same incident.—TRANS. “At the same time (as he was appointed professor) Schleiermacher had been nominated preacher to the University. An old church was arranged as university church; and when the Queen Dowager died, Schleiermacher was called upon to deliver an oration in honour of her memory. It was in the month of March. A lovely spring day lured us to the Petersberg, the day before the one appointed for the oration. We spent the night at the inn, in the village of Ostrow. This night will be to me ever memorable. Never did we draw nearer to each other, or look so deeply into each other’s hearts. Never did Schleiermacher seem to me intellectually greater, morally purer. Even to this day that night appears to me one of the most remarkable of my life, as if sanctified. In the background lay the delightful day we had enjoyed, the wide-spreading, fertile landscape with its villages, nothingness of all earthly rank, even the highest, in comparison with the divine destiny of man. My colleagues could not but express approbation, nay, even admiration, of the discourse. The idea that he who had delivered extemporaneously, and with perfect self-confidence, so well-digested, artistically arranged, and lucid a discourse, could have spent the preceding hours in frivolous and dissipated frolic, must have appeared to all as perfectly absurd, and I believe that the rumour produced no lasting effect.” ↩

7. One of her children was again dangerously ill. ↩

8. Ludwig Börne, then still called Louis Baruch, being destined to follow the medical career, was, on the fervent entreaties of his father, received into the house of Dr. Herz, there to prosecute his studies. After the death of Herz the youth, then only seventeen years of age, conceived so violent a passion for the beautiful widow of his master, though she was three-and-twenty years his senior, that, finding that his feelings were not returned, he twice attempted to commit suicide. Henrietta Herz, though reproving with gentle dignity the folly of the youth, continued, nevertheless, ever after to evince a friendly interest in him, and was, therefore, anxious to secure for him the friendship of Schleiermacher. See Fürst, Henriette Herz, Ihr Leben und ihre Erinnerungen.—TRANS. ↩

9. A little book written by Schleiermacher. ↩