Wilhelm Alfred Braun - Types of Weltschmerz in German Poetry
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Wilhelm Alfred Braun >> Types of Weltschmerz in German Poetry
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8 TYPES OF WELTSCHMERZ IN GERMAN POETRY
BY
WILHELM ALFRED BRAUN, Ph.D.
SOMETIME FELLOW IN GERMANIC LANGUAGES AND LITERATURES, COLUMBIA
UNIVERSITY
AMS PRESS, INC. NEW YORK 1966
Copyright 1905, Columbia University Press, New York
Reprinted with the permission of the Original Publisher, 1966
AMS PRESS, INC. New York, N.Y. 10003 1966
Manufactured in the United States of America
NOTE
The author of this essay has attempted to make, as he himself phrases
it, "a modest contribution to the natural history of Weltschmerz." What
goes by that name is no doubt somewhat elusive; one can not easily
delimit and characterize it with scientific accuracy. Nevertheless the
word corresponds to a fairly definite range of psychical reactions which
are of great interest in modern poetry, especially German poetry. The
phenomenon is worth studying in detail. In undertaking a study of it Mr.
Braun thought, and I readily concurred in the opinion, that he would do
best not to essay an exhaustive history, but to select certain
conspicuously interesting types and proceed by the method of close
analysis, characterization and comparison. I consider his work a
valuable contribution to literary scholarship.
CALVIN THOMAS.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, June, 1905
PREFACE
The work which is presented in the following pages is intended to be a
modest contribution to the natural history of Weltschmerz.
The writer has endeavored first of all to define carefully the
distinction between pessimism and Weltschmerz; then to classify the
latter, both as to its origin and its forms of expression, and to
indicate briefly its relation to mental pathology and to contemporary
social and political conditions. The three poets selected for
discussion, were chosen because they represent distinct types, under
which probably all other poets of Weltschmerz may be classified, or to
which they will at least be found analogous; and to the extent to which
such is the case, the treatise may be regarded as exhaustive. In the
case of each author treated, the development of the peculiar phase of
Weltschmerz characteristic of him has been traced, and analyzed with
reference to its various modes of expression. Hoelderlin is the idealist,
Lenau exhibits the profoundly pathetic side of Weltschmerz, while Heine
is its satirist. They have been considered in this order, because they
represent three progressive stages of Weltschmerz viewed as a
psychological process: Hoelderlin naive, Lenau self-conscious, Heine
endeavoring to conceal his melancholy beneath the disguise of
self-irony.
It is a pleasure to tender my grateful acknowledgments to my former
Professors, Calvin Thomas and William H. Carpenter of Columbia
University, and Camillo von Klenze and Starr Willard Cutting of the
University of Chicago, under whose stimulating direction and
never-failing assistance my graduate studies were carried on.
CONTENTS
Chapter I--Introduction 1
Chapter II--Hoelderlin 9
Chapter III--Lenau 35
Chapter IV--Heine 59
Chapter V--Bibliography 85
CHAPTER I
=Introduction=
The purpose of the following study is to examine closely certain German
authors of modern times, whose lives and writings exemplify in an
unusually striking degree that peculiar phase of lyric feeling which has
characterized German literature, often in a more or less epidemic form,
since the days of "Werther," and to which, at an early period in the
nineteenth century, was assigned the significant name "Weltschmerz."
With this side of the poet under investigation, there must of necessity
be an enquiry, not only into his writings, his expressed feelings, but
also his physical and mental constitution on the one hand, and into his
theory of existence in general on the other. Psychology and philosophy
then are the two adjacent fields into which it may become necessary to
pursue the subject in hand, and for this reason it is only fair to call
attention to the difficulties which surround the student of literature
in discussing philosophical ideas or psychological phenomena. Intrepid
indeed would it be for him to attempt a final judgment in these bearings
of his subject, where wise men have differed and doctors have disagreed.
Although sometimes loosely used as synonyms, it is necessary to note
that there is a well-defined distinction between Weltschmerz and
pessimism. Weltschmerz may be defined as the poetic expression of an
abnormal sensitiveness of the feelings to the moral and physical evils
and misery of existence--a condition which may or may not be based upon
a reasoned conviction that the sum of human misery is greater than the
sum of human happiness. It is usually characterized also by a certain
lack of will-energy, a sort of sentimental yielding to these painful
emotions. It is therefore entirely a matter of "Gemuet." Pessimism, on
the other hand, purports to be a theory of existence, the result of
deliberate philosophic argument and investigation, by which its votaries
have reached the dispassionate conclusion that there is no real good or
pleasure in the world that is not clearly outweighed by evil or pain,
and that therefore self-destruction, or at least final annihilation is
the consummation devoutly to be wished.
James Sully, in his elaborate treatise on Pessimism,[1] divides it,
however, into reasoned and unreasoned Pessimism, including Weltschmerz
under the latter head. This is entirely compatible with the definition
of Weltschmerz which has been attempted above. But it is interesting to
note the attitude of the pessimistic school of philosophy toward this
unreasoned pessimism. It emphatically disclaims any interest in or
connection with it, and describes all those who are afflicted with the
malady as execrable fellows--to quote Hartmann--: "Klageweiber
maennlichen und weiblichen Geschlechts, welche am meisten zur
Discreditierung des Pessimismus beigetragen haben, die sich in ewigem
Lamento ergehen, und entweder unaufhoerlich in Thraenen schwimmen, oder
bitter wie Wermut und Essig, sich selbst und andern das Dasein noch mehr
vergaellen; eine jaemmerliche Situation des Stimmungspessimismus, der sie
nicht leben und nicht sterben laesst."[2] And yet Hartmann himself does
not hesitate to admit that this very condition of individual
Weltschmerz, or "Zerrissenheit," is a necessary and inevitable stage in
the progress of the mind toward that clarified universal Weltschmerz
which is based upon theoretical insight, namely pessimism in its most
logical sense. This being granted, we shall not be far astray in
assuming that it is also the stage to which the philosophic pessimist
will sometimes revert, when a strong sense of his own individuality
asserts itself.
If we attempt a classification of Weltschmerz with regard to its
essence, or, better perhaps, with regard to its origin, we shall find
that the various types may be classed under one of two heads: either as
cosmic or as egoistic. The representatives of cosmic Weltschmerz are
those poets whose first concern is not their personal fate, their own
unhappiness, it may be, but who see first and foremost the sad fate of
humanity and regard their own misfortunes merely as a part of the common
destiny. The representatives of the second type are those introspective
natures who are first and chiefly aware of their own misery and finally
come to regard it as representative of universal evil. The former
proceed from the general to the particular, the latter from the
particular to the general. But that these types must necessarily be
entirely distinct in all cases, as Marchand[3] asserts, seems open to
serious doubt. It is inconceivable that a poet into whose personal
experience no shadows have fallen should take the woes of humanity very
deeply to heart; nor again could we imagine that one who has brooded
over the unhappy condition of mankind in general should never give
expression to a note of personal sorrow. It is in the complexity of
motives in one and the same subject that the difficulty lies in making
rigid and sharp distinctions. In some cases Weltschmerz may arise from
honest conviction or genuine despair, in others it may be something
entirely artificial, merely a cloak to cover personal defects. Sometimes
it may even be due to a desire to pose as a martyr, and sometimes
nothing more than an attempt to ape the prevailing fashion. To these
types Wilhelm Scherer adds "Muessiggaenger, welche sich die Zeit mit uebler
Laune vertreiben, missvergnuegte Lyriker, deren Gedichte nicht mehr
gelesen werden, und Spatzenkoepfe, welche den Pessimismus fuer besonderen
Tiefsinn halten und um jeden Preis tiefsinnig erscheinen wollen."[4]
But it is with Weltschmerz in its outward manifestations as it finds
expression in the poet's writings, that we shall be chiefly concerned in
the following pages. And here the subdivisions, if we attempt to
classify, must be almost as numerous as the representatives themselves.
In Hoelderlin we have the ardent Hellenic idealist; Lenau gives
expression to all the pathos of Weltschmerz, Heine is its satirist, the
misanthrope, while in Raabe we even have a pessimistic humorist.
This brief list needs scarcely be supplemented by other names of poets
of melancholy, such as Reinhold Lenz, Heinrich von Kleist, Robert
Southey, Byron, Leopardi, in order to command our attention by reason of
the tragic fate which ended the lives of nearly all of these men, the
most frequent and the most terrible being that of insanity. It is of
course a matter of common knowledge that chronic melancholy or the
persistent brooding over personal misfortune is an almost inevitable
preliminary to mental derangement. And when this melancholy takes root
in the finely organized mind of genius, it is only to be expected that
the result will be even more disastrous than in the case of the ordinary
mind. Lombroso holds the opinion that if men of genius are not all more
or less insane, that is, if the "spheres of influence" of genius and
insanity do not actually overlap, they are at least contiguous at many
points, so that the transition from the former to the latter is
extremely easy and even natural. But genius in itself is not an abnormal
mental condition. It does not even consist of an extraordinary memory,
vivid imagination, quickness of judgment, or of a combination of all of
these. Kant defines genius as the talent of invention. Originality and
productiveness are the fundamental elements of genius. And it is an
almost instinctive force which urges the author on in his creative work.
In the main his activity is due less to free will than to this inner
compulsion.
"Ich halte diesen Drang vergebens auf,
Der Tag und Nacht in meinem Busen wechselt.
Wenn ich nicht sinnen oder dichten soll,
So ist das Leben mir kein Leben mehr,"
says Goethe's Tasso.[5] If this impulse of genius is embodied in a
strong physical organism, as for example in the case of Shakespeare and
Goethe, there need be no detriment to physical health; otherwise, and
especially if there is an inherited tendency to disease, there is almost
sure to be a physical collapse. Specialists in the subject have pointed
out that violent passions are even more potent in producing mental
disease than mere intellectual over-exertion. And these are certainly
characteristic in a very high degree of the mind of genius. It has often
been remarked that it is the _corona spinosa_ of genius to feel all pain
more intensely than do other men. Schopenhauer says "der, in welchem der
Genius lebt, leidet am meisten." It is only going a step further then,
when Hamerling writes to his friend Moeser: "Schliesslich ist es doch nur
der Kranke, der sich das Leid der ganzen Welt zu Herzen nimmt."
Radestock, in his study "Genie und Wahnsinn," mentions and elaborates
among others the following points of resemblance between the mind of
genius and the insane mind: an abnormal activity of the imagination,
very rapid succession of ideas, extreme concentration of thought upon a
single subject or idea, and lastly, what would seem the cardinal point,
a weakness of will-energy, the lack of that force which alone can serve
to bring under control all these other unruly elements and give balance
to what must otherwise be an extremely one-sided mechanism. Here again
the exception may be taken to prove the rule. It is not too much, I
think, to assert that Goethe could never have become so uniquely great,
not even through the splendid versatility of his genius, but for that
incomparable self-control, which he made the watchword of his life. And
in the case of the poet of Weltschmerz the presence or absence of this
quality may even decide whether he shall rise superior to his beclouded
condition or perish in the gloom. The conclusion at which Radestock
arrives is that genius, as the expression of the most intense mental
activity, occupies the middle ground, as it were, between the normal
healthy state on the one hand, and the abnormal, pathological state on
the other, and has without doubt many points of contact with mental
disease; and that although the elements which genius has in common with
insanity may not be strong enough in themselves to induce the transition
from the former to the latter state, yet when other aggravating causes
are added, such as physical disease, violent emotions or passions,
overwork, the pressure or distress of outward circumstances, the highly
gifted individual is much more liable to cross the line of demarkation
between the two mental states than is the average mind, which is more
remote from that line. If this can be asserted of genius in general, it
must be even more particularly and widely applicable in reference to a
combination of genius and Weltschmerz. We shall find pathetic examples
in the first two types selected for examination.
Having thus introduced the subject in its most general bearings and
aspects, it remains for us to review briefly its historical background.
Weltschmerz is essentially a symptom of a period of conflict, of
transition. The powerful reaction which marks the eighteenth century--a
reaction against all traditional intellectual authority, and a struggle
for the emancipation of the individual, of research, of inspiration and
of genius--reached its high-water mark in Germany in the seventies. But
with the unrestrained outbursts of the champions of Storm and Stress the
problem was by no means solved; there remained the basic conflict
between the idea of personal liberty and the strait-jacket of
Frederician absolutism, the conflict between the dynastic and the
national idea of the state. Should the individual yield a blind,
unreasoned submission to the state as to a divinely instituted arbitrary
authority, good or bad, or was the state to be regarded as the conscious
and voluntary cooeperation of its subjects for the general good? It was,
moreover, a time not only of open and active revolt, as represented by
the spirit of Klinger, but also of great emotional stirrings, and
sentimental yearnings of such passive natures as Hoelty. Rousseau's plea
for a simplified and more natural life had exerted a mighty influence.
And what has a most important bearing upon the relation between these
intellectual currents and Weltschmerz--these minds were lacking in the
discipline implied in our modern scientific training. Scientific
exactness of thinking had not become an integral part of education.
Hence the difference between the pessimism of Ibsen and the romantic
Weltschmerz of these uncritical minds.
In accounting for the tremendous effect produced by his "Werther,"
Goethe compares his work to the bit of fuse which explodes the mine, and
says that the shock of the explosion was so great because the young
generation of the day had already undermined itself, and its members
now burst forth individually with their exaggerated demands, unsatisfied
passions and imaginary sufferings.[6] And in estimating the influences
which had prepared the way for this mental disposition, Goethe
emphasizes the influence of English literature. Young's "Night
Thoughts," Gray's "Elegy," Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," even "Hamlet"
and his monologues haunted all minds. "Everyone knew the principal
passages by heart, and everyone believed he had a right to be just as
melancholy as the Prince of Denmark, even though he had seen no ghost
and had no royal father to avenge." Finally Ossian had provided an
eminently suitable setting,--under the darkly lowering sky the endless
gray heath, peopled with the shadowy forms of departed heroes and
withered maidens. To quote the substance of Goethe's criticism:[7] Amid
such influences and surroundings, occupied with fads and studies of this
sort, lacking all incentive from without to any important activity and
confronted by the sole prospect of having to drag out a humdrum
existence, men began to reflect with a sort of sullen exultation upon
the possibility of departing this life at will, and to find in this
thought a scant amelioration of the ills and tedium of the times. This
disposition was so general that "Werther" itself exerted a powerful
influence, because it everywhere struck a responsive chord and publicly
and tangibly exhibited the true inwardness of a morbid youthful
illusion.[8]
Nor did the dawning nineteenth century bring relief. No other period of
Prussian history, says Heinrich von Treitschke,[9] is wrapped in so deep
a gloom as the first decade of the reign of Frederick William III. It
was a time rich in hidden intellectual forces, and yet it bore the stamp
of that uninspired Philistinism which is so abundantly evidenced by the
barren commonplace character of its architecture and art. Genius there
was, indeed, but never were its opportunities for public usefulness more
limited. It was as though the greatness of the days of the second
Frederick lay like a paralyzing weight upon this generation. And this
oppressing sense of impotence was followed, after the Napoleonic Wars,
by the bitterness of disappointment, all the more keenly felt by reason
of this first reawakening of the national consciousness. Great had been
the expectations, enormous the sacrifice; exceedingly small was the gain
to the individual.[10] And the resultant dissonance was the same as that
to which Alfred de Musset gave expression in the words: "The malady of
the present century is due to two causes; the people who have passed
through 1793 and 1814 bear in their hearts two wounds. All that was is
no more; all that will be is not yet. Do not hope to find elsewhere the
secret of our ills."[11]
This then in briefest outline is the transition from the century of
individualism and autocracy to the nineteenth century of democracy.
Small wonder that the struggle claimed its victims in those individuals
who, unable to find a firm basis of conviction and principle, vacillated
constantly between instinctive adherence to old traditions, and
unreasoned inclination to the new order of things.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: "Pessimism, a History and a Criticism," London, 1877.]
[Footnote 2: Ed. von Hartmann: "Zur Geschichte und Begruendung des
Pessimismus," Leipzig, Hermann Haacke, p. 187.]
[Footnote 3: "Les Poetes Lyriques de l'Autriche," Paris, 1886, p. 293.]
[Footnote 4: "Vortraege und Aufsaetze zur Geschichte des geistigen Lebens
in Deutschland und Oesterreich," Berlin, 1874, p. 413.]
[Footnote 5: Act 5, Sc. 2.]
[Footnote 6: "Goethes Werke," Weimar ed. Vol. 28, p. 227 f.]
[Footnote 7: _Ibid._, p. 216 f.]
[Footnote 8: In view of Goethe's own words, then, the caution of a
recent critic (Felix Melchior in _Litt. Forsch._ XXVII Heft, Berlin,
1903) against applying the term Weltschmerz to "Werther," would seem to
miss the mark entirely. Werther is a type, just as truly as is Faust,
though in a smaller way, and the malady which he typifies has its
ultimate origin in the development of public life,--the very condition
which this critic insists upon as a mark of Weltschmerz in the proper
application of the term.]
[Footnote 9: "Historische und politische Aufsaetze," Leipzig, 1897. Vol.
4.]
[Footnote 10: As early as 1797 Hoelderlin's Hyperion laments: "Mein
Geschaeft auf Erden ist aus. Ich bin voll Willens an die Arbeit gegangen,
habe geblutet darueber, und die Welt um keinen Pfennig reicher gemacht."
("Hoelderlin's gesammelte Dichtungen, herausgegeben von B. Litzmann,"
Stuttgart, Cotta, undated. Vol. II, p. 68.) Several decades later Heine
writes: "Ich kann mich ueber die Siege meiner liebsten Ueberzeugungen
nicht recht freuen, da sie mir gar zu viel gekostet haben. Dasselbe mag
bei manchem ehrlichen Manne der Fall sein, und es traegt viel bei zu der
grossen duesteren Verstimmung der Gegenwart." (Brief vom 21 April, 1851,
an Gustav Kolb; Werke, Karpeles ed. Vol. IX, p. 378.)]
[Footnote 11: "Confession d'un enfant du siecle." Oeuvres compl. Paris,
1888 (Charpentier). Vol. VIII, p. 24.]
CHAPTER II
=Hoelderlin=
A case such as that of Hoelderlin, subject as he was from the time of his
boyhood to melancholy, and ending in hopeless insanity, at once suggests
the question of heredity. Little or nothing is known concerning his
remote ancestors. His great-grandfather had been administrator of a
convent at Grossbottwar, and died of dropsy of the chest at the age of
forty-seven. His grandfather had held a similar position as
"Klosterhofmeister und geistlicher Verwalter" at Lauffen, to which his
son, the poet's father, succeeded. An apoplectic stroke ended his life
at the early age of thirty-six. In regard to Hoelderlin's maternal
ancestors, our information is even more scant, though we know that both
his grandmother and his mother lived to a ripe old age. From the poet's
references to them we judge them to have been entirely normal types of
intelligent, lovable women, gifted with a great deal of good practical
sense. The only striking thing is the premature death of Hoelderlin's
great-grandfather and father. But in view of the nature of their
stations in life, in which they may fairly be supposed to have led more
than ordinarily sober and well-ordered lives, there seems to be no
ground whatever for assuming that Hoelderlin's Weltschmerz owed its
inception in any degree to hereditary tendencies, notwithstanding
Hermann Fischer's opinion to the contrary.[12] There is no sufficient
reason to assume "erbliche Belastung," and there are other sufficient
causes without merely guessing at such a possibility.
But while there are no sufficient historical grounds for the supposition
that he brought the germ of his subsequent mental disease with him in
his birth, we cannot fail to observe, even in the child, certain
natural traits, which, being allowed to develop unchecked, must of
necessity hasten and intensify the gloom which hung over his life. To
his deep thoughtfulness was added an abnormal sensitiveness to all
external influences. Like the delicate anemone, he recoiled and withdrew
within himself when touched by the rougher material things of life.[13]
He himself poetically describes his absentmindedness when a boy, and
calls himself "ein Traeumer"; and a dreamer he remained all his life. It
seems to have been this which first brought him into discord with the
world:
Oft sollt' ich stracks in meine Schule wandern,
Doch ehe sich der Traeumer es versah,
So hatt' er in den Garten sich verirrt,
Und sass behaglich unter den Oliven,
Und baute Flotten, schifft' ins hohe Meer.
* * * * *
Dies kostete mich tausend kleine Leiden,
Verzeihlich war es immer, wenn mich oft
Die Kluegeren, mit herzlichem Gelaechter
Aus meiner seligen Ekstase schreckten,
Doch unaussprechlich wehe that es mir.[14]
If ever a boy needed a strong fatherly hand to guide him, to teach him
self-reliance and practical sense, it was this dreamy, tender-spirited
child.[15] The love and sympathy which his mother bestowed upon him was
not calculated to fit him for the rugged experiences of life, and while
probably natural and pardonable, it was nevertheless extremely
unfortunate that the boy was unconsciously encouraged to be and to
remain a "Muttersoehnchen." But even with his peculiar trend of
disposition, the result might not have been an unhappy one, had the
course of his life not brought him more than an ordinary share of
misfortune. This overtook him early in life, for when but two years of
age his father died. His widowed mother now lived for a few years in
complete retirement with her two children--the poet's sister Henrietta
having been born just a few weeks after his father's demise. But it was
not long before death again entered the household and robbed it of
Hoelderlin's aunt, his deceased father's sister, who was herself a widow
and the faithful companion of the poet's mother. When the latter found
herself again alone with her two little ones, whose care was weighing
heavily upon her, she consented to become the wife of her late husband's
friend, Kammerrat Gock, and accompanied him to his home in the little
town of Nuertingen on the Neckar. But this re-established marital
happiness was to be of brief duration, for in 1779 her second husband
died, and the mother was now left with four little children to care and
provide for.
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