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In addition, other elements joined in with this circle, which appeared to be incompatible with it. Schlegel was in closer relationship with Iffland. He wished the performance of “Hamlet” after his translation, and could not deny Iffland his admiration as an actor. He also sought to win Tieck for the celebrated artist; but he could neither recognize him as a dramatic writer, nor could he tune into the admiration of his play; After all, he had caused the commentator to complain of this admiration. It was incomprehensible to him how one thought of Iffland’s great but always petty calculating talent of Fleck’s bold genius could prefer. As masterful as he might be in middle, temperate or comic roles, his playing was a painstakingly composed image of many small strokes that betrayed intention everywhere. Among these artificial details, nature was lost. Although Iffland showed himself friendly and accommodating, and also believed that his approval of the Sternbald had to be pronounced, Tieck could not trust him. He also thought he recognized calculation and manner, and repeated his view that he should not be drawn into the circle to which he did not fit; he is a two-sided nature that lacks inner truth.

But since Reichardt, too, had remained in constant contact with Iffland from Halle, and was no less favorably disposed to it, a common plan arose, in which Tieck was also involved. Reichardt wanted to bring a new opera to the Berlin theater, and no less importantly, Tieck would like to write the text. At first he proposed Shakspeare’s “What you want”, but then gave him a free hand. The world of fairy tales, which Tieck had reopened, his fantastically lyrical direction, some of his older songs, which in their rhythmic freedom seemed to meet the music, all had to speak for such an attempt. He himself had come up with the idea of ​​combining recitation with music in a spectacle.

He resumed a plan from earliest times, which he had similarly attempted to recast in the comedy The Deer. Shakspeare’s “Sturm”, Gozzi was not without influence. Now the musical fairy tale, “The monster and the enchanted forest”, in which the All Daytime and the miracle, prose and poetry countered in the dialogue and in the musical part. Composer and actor agreed, and dates have already been met. Iffland and Fleck should play the two main representatives of the prosaic world, the king and his minister. Everything seemed to be going smoothly when suddenly there was no talk of the eagerly desired opera. They had found decencies that one could not or did not want to pronounce. After a long time Tieck tacitly returned the manuscript, and Reichardt instead composed an ordinary magic piece by Kotzebue.

Later, it did not get any better with the tragedy “Karl von Berneck”, which a popular actor had chosen for his charity, and then dropped it without giving a reason. No less failed other plans in which Schlegel had also taken part, how one could influence the stage. In particular, one had to the establishment of ancient dramas, z. B. of “Oedipus”, intended for illustration.

A year later, in 1799, Steffens came to Berlin. Already in Jena he had heard Tieck’s name, and became acquainted with his poetry. Now he wished to meet him in person. One morning he went to see him in his apartment, the evening of the same day they met again in a company that Reichardt, who was temporarily in Berlin, had organized. Although this first contact between Tieck and Steffens was little more than an external encounter, they nevertheless shared enough with each other to obtain a lasting relationship. For Steffens, who was enthusiastic about the new natural philosophy, also sought only in another way the simple, the primordial, the nature.

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Finally, in another respect, the year 1798 had become significant for Tieck. A long-cherished hope came true. He married Amalie Alberti, and thus entered the circle of the relationship of Reichardt. In what excited, indeed visionary state he was at this time proved a singular event which he experienced. Full of yearning to see his bride again, he went to meet her on the Poststrasse to Hamburg, from where she was to come. He decided to wait for her in a lonely place near Tegel, a few miles from Berlin. Earlier, when she returned to her native city, he had escorted her to the same place. He knew the house, its surroundings, the way there exactly. Impatient, with an inkling of near-happiness, singing and saying verses, as the exuberance of the moment gave them, he hurried on. Then, as he had expected, he saw the tavern at the ditch on the right side of the road. He was startled; the house was behind Tegel, and in his opinion he had not yet reached this place; if he did not err, it was on the left, not on the right side of the road, and yet he saw it clearly in front of him! He saw the fence surrounding it, the well-known fat host in the door, the chickens in the yard. It could not be a mistake; only he searched in vain for a way across the ditch, which separated him from the house. He decides to jump; but he jumps too short and falls. He looks up, sees himself lying in the ditch, and nothing but field; the house with Wirth and Hühnern had disappeared. It had been a vision; his yearning had anticipated reality. Until He himself had to travel a considerable distance on the way.

After some interruptions, finally, the Zerbino had come to an end; He should appear at Frommann in Jena. The first idea, the design and a part of the execution belonged to a former time. This poetry was written in front of the “Puss in Boots” and then walked beside the “Opposite World”; later than both, she was now finished. As early as 1796 he had written down the first three Acts, the two following in 1797, and finally added the conclusion the following year.

In form and content she joined the other two satirical games. Even sharper, and even bolder, she expressed the same thoughts. It spread over a larger room, and was even more fantastic. Originally intended for the “folk tales”, he described it as a kind of sequel to the “Puss in Boots”. The enlightened world of prose appears completely organized in the state of King Gottlieb, who owes the throne to the patriotic zeal of the cat. In all spheres of activity here the Shildaic wisdom is at home, the folly of wisdom with all its abominations. The poet had fully described the circle from which the earlier comedies take out only one thing. The court and the state with its mechanism, the theater and the school, the scholars and the writers Philoso . Philosophy and poetry were presented as carriers of a vain, self-sufficient, and limited enlightenment. Again the buffoon and the old king, in whom poetry has come to be found in the childish old age instead of the patented education and understanding, are the representatives of a deeper opinion, and are therefore considered by all the enlightened and the useful citizens to be incurable fools. They are afflicted with a dangerous being, which threatens to attack as an epidemic disease. To this state of clattering activity, of factory-like activity in which education is produced, and marketed as an article of commerce, the quiet idyllic world of poetry comes face to face with its natural, original sounds of love and innocence, of pain and passion. Individual features, colors, and figures had crowded into that picture of enlightened life. Many things Tieck had seen and heard, which was more significant than the invention could have been. Thus a bright local color entered, although bitter personal satire was far from the character of the poet, and he only claimed the privilege of a fantastic joke for poetry.

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With that comedy, that youthful, storming humor had become saturated. Once more he poured himself into his most wanton, most curious ideas. Into the charming wilderness of poetic enthusiasm, into the garden of poetry, he led the erring knights of good taste, and then teasingly and mockingly drove them out to desolate steppes and sandy areas, where the wind chases the swirling dust clouds into the wise clairvoyants and brings them with them Rain of sand showered.

But this youthful bold treatment of life, the cheerful intuition and the fantastic pleasure, which had saved the poet from the gloomiest moods, there was an important turn to come.

In the hours of temptation Tieck had found consolation in his talents, in the belief in poetry, in inner self-assurance, without which he is unthinkable. Just then he recognized her, where the educated Tonangeber did not want to see her. This antagonism had challenged his humor, and dared to treasure the treasure of whose value those had no idea, mocking the empty and stale wisdom of the world. He believed in the moral power, the victorious power of pure enthusiasm, which spoke loud and clear from folk poetry, from the works of the great poets, from the creations of the old masters. He pointed to the eternal basic laws of life, of nature. Already in his writings, as in Wackenroder’s poetry, art had become religion. What poetry demanded for art, it had to occupy itself to a greater extent; she could not at all times act negatively or aggressively. With the conviction of this poetic belief, the need to believe grew.

Educated in the current version of Christianity, Tieck, like many others, was indifferent to the religious, to the traditional ecclesiastical forms. The need for consolation had brought him to this page. But he had not been able to recover the pain he was seeking. Only in poetry had he found divine foresight which neither the school nor the theological systems could give him. The more decidedly he turned away from the inadequate forms and formulas that left his heart empty and did not satisfy his feelings. His poetry was an unauf had been an auditory search for those deep thoughts and their corresponding expressions, which the ruling systems did not know or wanted to explain for something everyday.

In that mood, a book came into his hands that completed this movement. It was Jakob Böhme’s Morgenröthe. Their glowing rays fell upon darkly anticipated, as another, new appeared in their splendor the world. For the enlightened, Jakob Böhme’s name was considered a general term of religious enthusiasm, combined with absurdity, barbarism and aberration of all kinds. Tieck had mockingly tuned into this tone without reading one of his books. The spirit of contradiction was once again upset in him when he found that typeface in Maurer’s bookstore. He thought he had discovered a rich treasure trove of wit and jokes. But this mysterious spirit did not mock his, and no one should approach him with impunity. Soon he had to realize that he was not the ruler but the ruler. This chain of thought did not let him go, he had to follow her, even if he had not wanted. He concluded with the fullest devotion and devotion to this profundity, this original philosophy, which at the same time was also poetry. He had never felt more enthralled and humbled at the same time.

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This, too, was a system, but quite different from what one used to call it. It was not an artificially constructed building of paragraphs in which at last only limited minds were at home; it seemed to be the world itself. Here all the differences between faith and knowledge, understanding and fantasy disappeared, it was all in all one, an undivided whole, in which God’s spirit lived and breathed. From here he believed to understand Christianity, nature, philosophy. His faith had formerly been poetic, now he became a religious one. His consciousness rested in this element; Miracles and secrets became clear to him, while what was considered the ordinary to the world rose to wonder. Now the philosophical systems also excited his sympathy; He began to acquaint himself with modern philosophy and read the writings of Fichte and Schelling. And poetry, too, had to fertilize this new stream.

To the German philosophers then came the Spanish poets. Preferably he had previously read the Cervantes, and following his humorous inclination to make himself at home here. He wished to make the masterpiece in the real form in German literature. Cervantes did not fare much better than Shakspeare. One did not know him in his size, and the “Don Quixote” was read only in Bertuch’s adaptation or in Florian’s weakening. Although this material was not to be devastated, but the scent of poetry that hovered over it, had to dissipate under the hands of the editors. As early as 1797 A. Schlegel had heard of Tieck’s plan and expressed his encouragement in writing. Unger also wanted to take over a publishing article of this kind. Thus did Tieck begin with good courage, or, as he later saw it, not without carelessness, the translation. Although he had read the Don Quixote a lot, the knowledge of the Spanish language and literature was very poor in Germany. As a literature of Catholicism and legend it was infinitely distant from general sympathy. Spanish books were a great rarity ness; in order to obtain it, the widest possible mediation was needed; You had to go back to Spain itself. Everywhere there was a lack of reliable expenditure, and of the most common resources. Nevertheless, Tieck had completed the first volume of the translation in 1798 in Manuscript, and in the following year he appeared already in print.

But if one wanted to understand Cervantes, it was necessary not to get to know him alone, but also poetry earlier and later. One time had to explain the other. He therefore passed over to the dramatic poets, to Lope de Vega, Calderon, and the lyricists, and here lived a wealth of poetic and creative imagination, which not only nature in all its sensual splendor, but also the world of faith shining in the highest splendor pulled into her magic circle. Here, where the sensual and the suprasensual combined in a mystical manner, the wonders of poetry and of faith in the legend flowed together in one, the miracle was still miracles, still the object of faith and worship. These poems were perfectly suited to the religious movements which had gripped the poet more than ever. It used to be the force of nature and freshness, the folklore and immediacy which prevailed in the Middle Ages and its legends, which had appealed to him with suspicion; Now, in poetry, he turned to the religious faith of the past. But also the richness of the forms, the abundance of the most varied meters surprised him, and in the most varied refractions of the rays they made one appear feeling and passion. The measured dramatic form expanded through epic and lyrical interpolations; the full outpouring of various emotions broke through the narrow barriers of the drama. The same was true of Shakspeare, at least in for some pieces the narrative episode as a sort of chorus, as in the “Pericles of Tire,” for which Tieck had a special fondness.

In these moments he became aware of a substance which was capable of displaying all these sensations, the legend of Geneveva. Chivalrous fighting Christianity appeared here in the first youthful power, but in a still higher splendor the suffering faith, conquering in the end, beamed the miracle from heaven. Paganism, the wildness of natural passion are on the other side. The whole power of these contending forces could unfold.

Tieck had been reminded of this once before. When he visited Hamburg a second time in 1797, the painter Scales gave him a manuscript, containing a tragedy which treated the same substance. It belonged to the painter Miiller, whose name had been frequently mentioned in Goethe’s youth, and who had once had the courage to stand beside it. Since then he had broken with the fatherland; he had gone to Italy and disappeared for Germany. During his stay in Rome, he had given his friend the tragedy with the wish to renew his memory in the German literary world after twenty years. However, the drama was not new, but emerged under the direct influence of the “Götz”. Tieck had tried to read the manuscript, but given it to other circumstances, and deterred by its difficult nature, had not gotten beyond a superficial examination. Only the melancholy and popular song of Golo’s: “My grave was under pasture,” had made an impression on him, and his memory of more impressed, as the author had put these words as a motto on the title page. Without, however, pursuing these thoughts further, Tieck returned the drama to the owner.

A year later, among the folk-books he always eagerly sought, he learned the “Story of the Life and Death of St. Genevieve.” The legend awakened all his poetic power. Already at the end of the second part of the “Sternbald” he temporarily introduced the figure of the saints. Now she became the suffering heroine of a dramatic-religious poem. The material filled and dominated him, he drove him forward. The result was an epic drama that was not lacking in rich lyrical elements, which ignored all the demands of the theater and only wanted to express the mood of the moment. In the summer of 1799 Tieck had gone to Halle to spend a few weeks here with Reichardt. In Giebichenstein he wrote the prologue in which he had Saint Bonifacius complain that no one trusted God any more, that his names and apostles were called with ridicule and mockery, because they had followed the call of the preacher to them Desert sent. Then the first scenes followed. Even before the end of the year, the whole thing was completed in Jena.

It was a peculiar coincidence that in this period, when he lived in the wonders of romantic poetry, he met Voss in Halle, who by his nature could only have been the most resolute opponent of it. He had made a trip to Weissenfels to visit Novalis, whom he already knew, when Reichardt’s old friend Voss, at that time Rector in Eutin, arrived on a holiday trip to Giebichenstein. This coincidence was nothing less than agreeable to Reichardt. Already the hostility between Voss and Schlegel. In the “Jenaische Literaturzeitung” of 1796 and 1797 he had subjected the translation of “Homer” and Voss’ “Musenalmanach” to a critique which greatly offended them. Tieck was Schlegel’s friend, and in the “Archiv der Zeit” about the almanac he had not expressed any appreciation. Voss was educated by classical antiquity; he was one of the first masters in the knowledge of this; he lived in the simple ancient ideas and forms. In German literature he had especially attached himself to Klopstock and Gleim. His translations and idylls found favor with many; here, too, he had made a strict treatment of form the law, while the content of his poetry was sober. It was a proficient rationalist Low German nature. Like Nicolai, he feared Catholicism and obscurantism everywhere. For him there was neither that mysticism of believing poetry, nor the overblown humor prevailing in romantic poetry.

Reichardt wanted to avoid unpleasant personal relationships, and therefore sent a messenger to Tieck in a hurry, with the request not to return to Giebichenstein before leaving Voss. But the messenger met Tieck already on the way back, and this was not minded to evade the encounter. Near Giebichenstein he even met Voss himself and Reichardt, who was surprised to see his well-intentioned caution thwarted. A few words were exchanged, then every part of the way went. In the next conversation with Reichardt, Tieck declared that he would calm down that he would not only win Voss’s friendship, but would even require him to visit him, and follow him through the whole garden.

When the two opponents came together, Voss was cold and reserved at first. Tieck could not conceal himself; this gaunt, dry and stiff man, speaking in the keen tone of the scholar, did not make a favorable impression. Nevertheless, he was not deterred. Polite and obliging, not without irony, he approached him. Finally he overcame his brittle nature. Soon there was talk of Goethe. Voss could not refrain from blaming the hexameters in “Hermann and Dorothea”. Tieck quietly listened to these remarks, then replied dryly that there was also a seven-footed one among them. “What?” Voss snapped, “that would be! Let us have a look. “That was the moment Tieck had expected. They were in the garden; As he went to the house to fetch the book, Voss followed with hasty, impatient footsteps. The proof of the affirmation was indeed given, and Voss’s good humor was completely established. “You are an excellent young man!” He exclaimed. “How do I thank you!” In friendly traffic, they spent the following days of their stay in Giebichenstein.