The way in which Schlegel takes Caroline's decision enlightens us not only as to the theories of the Romanticists, but as to the manner in which the leaders of the school applied them in their own lives. August Wilhelm not only gives his consent, but continues to keep up a friendly correspondence with Schelling, and in literary matters the two men render each other valuable assistance. Caroline herself maintains the friendliest relations with Schlegel long after he is aware of the relation in which she stands to Schelling. She writes to him in May 1801: "Will you, please, decide a dispute between Schelling and me? Are these hexameters (Schelling's) worth anything? I consider the last lines awkward, but he maintains that they are good." Schlegel actually visited the couple at Munich, in company with Madame de Staël.
Thus even very serious personal disagreements and ruptures could not divide those whom fellowship of ideas and a common endeavour to promote them, united. The Romanticists considered personal liberty an inalienable right, and respected it in others while demanding it for themselves.
But we learn something else besides the fact that the Romanticists were very changeable in their loves, and perfectly regardless of social ties; and that something is, that their women were superior to them in everything but talent, and that what the men did was to drag them down to their own level. We see the strong-minded, energetic Dorothea, who is so keenly sensible of the pettiness of the purely literary endeavours of the Romanticists, slowly change, see her reluctantly admire Lucinde, then write novels herself in the prescribed style, and finally follow Friedrich to Vienna and become a Catholic along with him. Or look at the high-spirited, enthusiastic, resolute Caroline, who, as a young widow not much over twenty, attempts to revolutionise the Rhineland. So unflinching is she then, that she compromises herself recklessly, and risks the life and well-being of those dearest to her with absolute regardlessness. Friedrich writes to August Wilhelm: "I shall never forgive her heartlessness in being ready to beguile you, her friend, into that vortex of ignoble dangers and worthless characters." Only a few years later we see this same woman writing anonymous reviews, favourable or unfavourable, of her husband's wretched dramas, and entirely absorbed in literary intrigues. Ever and anon her spirit is momentarily stirred by a breath wafted from the old times. Then we feel how changed she is. Writing to her daughter in October 1799, after giving her a quantity of family news, the last item of which is: "Hofrath Hufeland has returned, with wife and children," she exclaims: "But what sorry trash is all this! Buonaparte is in Paris! Think of that, child! All will go well again. The Russians have been driven out of Switzerland; they and the English will be obliged to capitulate with disgrace in Holland; the French are making way in Swabia; and now comes Buonaparte. Rejoice with me, or I shall think that you are entirely taken up with frivolities and have no serious thoughts at all." Then, almost in the same breath, literary gossip: "Tieck is here and we are much together. You would never believe all that these men take it into their heads to do. I will send you a sonnet on Merkel. He has been running about Berlin, telling that the Schlegels have received a reprimand from the Duke on account of the Athenæum, &c. So Wilhelm and Tieck set to work the other evening and wrote a wicked sonnet in his honour. It was splendid to see the two pairs of brown eyes flashing at each other, and the wild merriment with which the perfectly justifiable squib was concocted. Dorothea and I almost rolled on the floor with laughter. She knows how to laugh, which will recommend her to you. Merkel is done for; he will never recover it. There will be a terrible uproar.... Schelling is attacking the Allgemeine Litteraturzeitung with all his might. These quarrels, however, are of no importance to you; but Buonaparte and the Russians most certainly are." It is as though she strove to keep the larger interests alive in her daughter, feeling that they were dying in herself. Soon she marries Schelling, and conforms to all the established conventions of that great clerical stronghold, Bavaria.
Many great men have vainly attempted to teach the women they loved to share their interests. To my mind no worse accusation can be brought against gifted men, no surer sign of their weakness adduced than this, that, far from raising the women who have given themselves to them and followed them, they have dragged them down, taken from them their highest interests and noblest sympathies, and given them small and mean ones in exchange. From such a charge the Romanticists cannot free themselves. They treated the great women given them by the gods as they did the great ideas which were their own heritage; they took from them the noble, liberal-minded social and political enthusiasm by which they were naturally characterised, and made them, first Romantic and literary, then remorseful, and finally Catholic.
[1] Plitt: Aus Schelling's Leben, i. 282. "I can bear it no longer; I must live once more, must let my senses have free play—these senses of which I have well-nigh been robbed by the grand transcendental theories to which they have done their utmost to convert me. But I too will now confess how my heart leaps and the hot blood rushes through my veins; my word is as good as any man's; and of good cheer have I been, in fair weather and in foul, since I became persuaded that there is nothing real but matter. I care not for the invisible; I keep to the tangible, to what I can taste and smell, and feel, and satisfy all my senses with. I have no religion but this, that I love a well-shaped knee, a fair, plump bosom, a slender waist, flowers with the sweetest odours, full satisfaction of all desires, the granting of all sweet love can ask. If I am obliged to have a religion (though I can live most happily without it), then it must be the Catholic, such as it was in the olden days, when there was no scolding and quarrelling, when all were kneaded of one dough. They did not trouble about the far-off, did not look longingly up to heaven; they had a living image of God. The earth they held to be the centre of the universe, and the centre of the earth was Rome. There the great vicegerent sat enthroned, and wielded the sceptre of the world; and priests and laity lived together as they live in the land of Cocagne; and in the house of God itself high revelry was held."
[2] Köpke: Tieck's Leben, i. 193.
[3] Florentin, pp. 65, 80, 170, 195, 230, 310.
[4] Haym, Die romantische Schule, 509, 525, 663, &c.
[5] Caroline, i. 254, 259, 261.
[6] Caroline, i. 393.