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The Father to the Son in Göttingen.
[CCCCXXXVI.] Berlin, 8th August, 1827.
My dear son, I have long been wishing to write to you, but I have been overwhelmed with business, partly of a very disagreeable kind, and also with visitors, some very dear to me, others indifferent, and thus I have been prevented… . . The enigmatical expressions of Nicolovius I do not know how to solve; for even though he ascribe to me a hundred times the paper which I suppose you allude to, I do not see how this affords any explanation in regard to his official relations. except in as far as it shows generally that the contest is still raging with a certain fierceness, and that it is not likely soon to come to a conclusion. Should you, in the meanwhile, have seen in the papers that “the twelve”—for thus we are generally called here—have received a reprimand, do not picture this to yourself as something very dreadful. The person I pitied the most was President von Bassewitz, who had received the disagreeable mission to read the reprimand to us. Very severe things were indeed said in it; but I have already sent in a written defence, and the whole affair has not caused me a moment’s uneasiness, and the less so, as it was announced so long beforehand, that no one was taken by surprise… … I shall also be glad when the Semester draws to a close, for I feel more overworked than usual. And now farewell, dear son, and let me soon have pleasant news from you.
[CCCCXXXVII.] Berlin, Wednesday, 29th August, 1827.
… . I also have been greatly affected by Canning’s death. Such a man, in such a place, is a rare phenomenon; and, holding in view the present state of Europe, we must confess that it is long since so much has depended on a single individual. However, the fact that his system is maintained even after his death, and that there seems not to have been any serious attempt to overthrow it, denotes considerable progress.
Respecting my own affairs, everything is still in the old state, and probably will remain so. What I most regret is the time that seems to have been spent in vain. However, there is no knowing what may be prevented and what may be prepared by such opposition. All send their love, and are looking forward with pleasure to your coming. Therefore, keep yourself bright and cheerful, and come to us thus. Some improvement I do discern in you in this respect; but it is not yet the right thing. As long as you continue to account for your inward state by reference to your outward position and circumstances, and, consequently, to look to the latter for assistance, you have not reached the proper point; because as long as this is the case, you are wishing, and not willing. Willing is to wishing, what the proverb, “Hope puts no man to shame,” is to the proverb, “Hoping and waiting makes many a fool.”
Schleiermacher to Henrietta Herz.
[CCCCXXXVIII.] Berlin, 1827.
Dearest Herz, you may conceive in what a state of bustle I must be living, since I have not written to you before this. It is with my writing to you as with my working at Plato: over and over again I determine to do so, and yet I leave it undone; so that the Republic gets on even slower than my grandfather’s wood, which was carried into the house by an old invalid, who lugged in one log every half-hour.
It is true, if you could be invisibly in my room, you would probably often inquire, “But, Schleier, what are you doing now, in reality?” There is a kind of leisurely inward putting things to rights, which I cannot do without, though I envy all those, and I believe you are of the number, who can get on without anything of the kind. Towards our dear L——, I am as great a sinner as towards you, and yet she stands even in greater need of a cheering word than you do. You must console yourselves with the assurance that I am much with you in spirit, and that I sincerely sympathize with you in your various cares and troubles. I feel quite vexed that you should have spent my birthday—on which you must know, we missed you much—in the midst of the worst confusion, when it is so difficult to have one settled thought, and still more so, to be conscious of any strong feeling.
The most urgent matters on which I am at present engaged are the lectures on Church history, which I have only delivered once before, and which lead to numerous researches which I cannot resist, though by far the smallest number is turned to present account; and in addition to this, the labour connected with the commission for the reform of the hymn-book, to which I devote myself very assiduously—the secret of my industry being that I wish as soon as possible to get out of this commission, as I can feel no pleasure in the relations it forces me to keep up, since we have all fallen out about the question of the ritual. This matter becomes daily more complicated; E—— and his party are growing more and more violent, and affairs may still take a tragic turn. What distresses me the most is, that if anything should happen to me, Jette and the children will be the greatest sufferers after my death. For, after all, I am no General Foy. However, I cannot alter my conduct on account of these considerations, and with this assurance I must conclude, as I must not write on the fourth page. God bless you, my dear Herz. Everything between us remains as it ever was.
Schleiermacher to Charlotte von Kathen.
[CCCCXXXIX.] Berlin, 18th December, 1827.
Dearest sister, I wish I could describe to you how, in spite of all the inexpressible blessings that God showers upon me, I am still a troubled individual, and how the pressure of business often prevents me from enjoying with all my heart, as I ought to do, even the sweetest gifts that God has bestowed upon me. What place you hold among my treasures I trust you know. However, you are not included in the complaint to which I have just given utterance, inasmuch as I often think of you with heartfelt joy, and thank God with all my soul for having given you to me as a sister. In like manner I thank you for the token of affection that you sent for my birth-day, which was again so rich in remembrances of this kind coming from all sides, that I ask myself how it is that I am so favoured. When the year is drawing to a close, as at present, I look back with a sense of humility to the manifold ways in which the grace and mercy of the Lord have been manifested in our family; and my gratitude gathers strength from comparison with the many sorrows that we see around as. Thus lately two young men have been called away in quick succession, who I hoped would in the future have worked much good in the profession which they shared with me, and one of whom was intimately connected with our family. They have been taken away, and I—who can do so little in the future, most of whose work has been done, for my present activity is but an echo of the past—I am left.
Another complaint that recurs often, with no little bitterness, is, that the general stupidity of mankind obliges me to waste so much time and strength unnecessarily; for it is this stupidity which, on the one hand, causes everything connected with public affairs to be overlaid with formalities, and on the other hand, leads to numerous foolish acts, frequently originating in high quarters, which I am obliged to combat with all my might, within my own circle at least. It seems hard that so much of this should fall to my lot; and this year more especially has abounded in such annoyances. Few would believe how little excitement there is to me in such controversies, and how deeply I deplore that so large a portion of life, which might be spent much more agreeably, should be consumed in this way. It is with my intercourse with absent friends especially that this state of things interferes; but this makes the hope of meeting them once more face to face all the more delightful; and when I think of your coming to see us, it is as if a bright star arose towards which I look with longing heart. Ah! do try to realize your project! … .