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Friedrich Schiller

Friedrich Schiller in Weimar, reciting to the intellectual elite of the WeimarClassical period, including the poets Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Christoph

Wieland, and Karl von Knebel, and the philosophers Johann Gottfried von Herderand Johann Gottlieb Fichte. (Lithograph after a painting by Theobald von Oer)

Top left: Schiller letter to Johann Wolfgang vonGoethe. Bottom left:Goethe letter to Schiller.

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For over a quarter of a century, from the publica-tion of his first major dramatic work, The Robbers,in 1781, until his premature death at age 45 in

1805, Friedrich Schiller was at the very heart of a republi-can network of intellectuals which, under his guidance,profoundly transformed the intellectual and political cli-mate in the German states, providing the cultural andintellectual context for the fight for German unification.Moreover, through the rapid proliferation of his writingsinto other languages, in some cases almost simultaneouswith their appearance in German, Schiller had a decisiveimpact on the spread of republican ideas throughoutEurope and in the United States.

His poems and dramatic works, in particular, incorpo-rated the highest expression of the republican ideals ofhuman liberty and the dignity of man. These literaryworks formed the basis of the German language of thegreat Classical period. It was the works of Schiller, bothliterary and historical, which helped inspire the move-ment that would unite the numerous German territoriesagainst the tyranny of Napoleon, and create the basis forthe development of the German nation later in the Nine-teenth century.

Witnessing the depraved conditions of the countries ofEurope, which by and large were ruled by a coterie ofpetty oligarchs who treated their subjects like cattle,Schiller sought to use his poetic gifts to transform the

outlook of these subject populations, who had adoptedthe oligarchy’s view of themselves. A native of the Ger-man state of Württemburg, working almost exclusivelyin his native tongue, Schiller selected from the histories ofthe European countries, those events and leading individ-uals whose dramatic elucidation could inspire and elevateaudiences to a higher standpoint, from which they mightbreak the ideological chains that kept them in bondage.The inspiration of the American Revolution providedhim with a successful example of just such an effort.

Aghast at the effects of the French Revolution,Schiller made a conscious decision to avoid directinvolvement in political agitation, but rather, to devotehimself to shaping the general cultural environment inwhich any sound political life might take root. The dev-astation wrought by the revolution in France gave proofof the bankruptcy of the Enlightenment philosophy thathad infused the thinking of its authors. As Helga ZeppLaRouche describes the situation: “The French Revolu-tion represented a radical collapse of the philosophy ofthe Enlightenment which had dominated France in theEighteenth century, despite some republican tendencieshere and there. This collapse was no less dramatic thanthe failure of Communism in our time, i.e., it confrontedthe thinking people in the population with the fact that,obviously, the entire system of axioms upon which thethought of the Enlightenment had been based since

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and His FriendsA brief biography through letters and reminiscences of the ‘Poet of Freedom,’ who championed the sublime goodness of man in the turbulent years ofrevolutionary upheaval in Europe and America

by William Jones

A Celebration on the 200th Anniversary of the Poet’s Death

‘Nun kommt die Schillerzeit!’

Descartes, was based on false premises.”1 Schiller set outto change those very axioms.

At the same time, Schiller considered his writing adirect challenge to the forces of oppression, and as asource of inspiration for those prepared to do battle tooverthrow them. Most clearly did he express this in a let-ter to two Danish noblemen, Count Ernst Schimmelmanand Duke Friedrich Christian von Augustenborg, half-brother of the Danish king, when these two offered tofinancially support his literary work, and provide him arefuge in their native Denmark. “But how much moresublime is the enthusiasm that expresses itself in deeds,over that which must limit itself to having inspired tosuch deeds,” he wrote. “To arm Truth and Virtue withthat victorious energy which brings hearts under its sway,is all that the philosopher and the representative artist isable to do. How much different is it to realize the idealsof both in a beautiful life? Here, I must reply to you withthe words of Fiesco, in which he dealt with the artist’spride: ‘You have done, what I was only able to portray.’ ”2

And yet, with characteristic humility, Schiller vastlyunderstated the absolutely essential role of the artist ininspiring others to those deeds—a role which he in factundertook in a far more heroic manner than any of hiscontemporaries.

Schiller’s YouthJohann Christoph Friedrich Schiller was born in thetown of Marburg, in the duchy of Württemburg, regionof Swabia, on Nov. 10, 1759. His father, Major JohannKaspar Schiller, had served as a soldier in the army of theDuke of Württemburg, having seen action in TheNetherlands as well as in Bohemia during the SevenYears’ War. Schiller would later joke about how he wasalmost born in an army camp, since his pregnant motherbegan feeling the birth pangs while she was visiting herhusband at one of them. Young Fritz, as he was affec-tionately called by his father, often accompanied him tothe various military installations where he served. In aletter to Friedrich in 1791, Kaspar wrote: “That I wouldbe plagued with rheumatism in my advanced years is notsurprising. I have been on eight major campaigns, andeven that side on which I now suffer most has always hadto withstand the worst. Twice I was thrown from myhorse, and once I had to have a bullet removed from thatside.” After the unsuccessful battle of Lissa in Silesia, inwhich the forces of Württemburg were arrayed againstthe Prussian forces of Frederick the Great, Kaspar layoutdoors beside the fire, and when he fell asleep, it beganto freeze. In the morning, one side of him was frozen tothe ground, and he had to be pried loose with hot water!

Although largely self-taught, Kaspar had studiedmathematics and the natural sciences, helping during thewar with the medical care of the troops, and developing akeen understanding of crop cultivation. When the Würt-temburg Duke, Karl Eugen, established an agriculturalmilitary school at Solitude near Ludwigsburg in 1770,Kaspar was named superintendent. He would later writea book entitled Tree Cultivation in Germany, which hisson would publish.

Fritz was his father’s “golden boy.” Kaspar used theclassical principles of Quintillian, with its emphasis onrhetoric, for his early education. The family were alsoGod-fearing Lutherans. For most of his childhood,Friedrich dreamed of becoming a minister and preachingthe Gospel to his flock. He would dress up in a frock andcassock, choose a passage from Scripture, and elaborate onit for his family and friends. Once, he preached on the visitof Christ to the wedding feast at Canna, which broughtforth tears from his sisters. “It was always a very movingevent,” his sister Christophine later wrote, “to see theexpression of meditation on the beautiful face of the child,his pious blue eyes directed to heaven, the light yellowishhair that surrounded his fair features, and the small handsfolded in prayer giving the appearance of the face of anangel. His obedience, and his naturally tender feeling foreverything good and beautiful, were compelling. Alwaysgenerous to his sisters and to his friends, always ready toexcuse their faults, he was a favorite with all.”3

Even later in life, according to his friend GeorgAugust Pape, Schiller expressed a keen desire to “standbefore a congregation and to proclaim the most sublimetruths.” But by then, he had found his true pulpit in thestage, telling his sister-in-law Caroline that “the theaterand the pulpit are the only places where the power of theword rules.” Both theater and pulpit were places fromwhich the word would go forth, as he later would say, to“make people more spiritual, stronger, more loving,which would dissolve the narrow views of egoism,strengthen the spirit for greater sacrifices, and raise one’sentire existence into a more spiritual sphere, in whichvirtue stands as the achievement of a higher splendor.”

Schiller’s spontaneous generosity, which remainedwith him his entire life, was placed under strict restraintby his father. The young boy would often give awayitems which he felt he could do without, if someone elsehad need of them. Once, his father discovered that thebuttons on his shoes had disappeared, and that he wastying his shoes with a string instead, a result of generosityto some friend. When he started giving away his books,however, his father made him promise not to do it again,a promise which the young boy dutifully obeyed.

Schiller’s first poem is thought to have been composed

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when he was fourteen, on the daybefore his confirmation. His moth-er had admonished him not toengage in frivolous pastimes as heapproached that important event,and the admonitions inspiredSchiller to his first poetic endeavor.He had already worked on smalldramatic pieces as a child, cuttingout paper figures as characters inthese little dramas. At the time ofhis confirmation, two of these weretitled “The Christians” and “Absa-lon,” although no trace of either hasbeen preserved. His little sisterNanette, who died young in 1796,took after her brother, and, hidingfrom her father (who frownedupon girls participating in suchgames), worked on small pieces,too. Later, she often recited herbrother’s poems, and pestered himto get her into the theater as anactress; her death at age nineteenprevented this.

In 1773, the young Schiller wastaken into the Duke’s military academy, the Karlschule.His father informed Duke Karl Eugen that the boywished to be a minister, but the Duke said this wasimpossible, as there was no such training at the academy,and that Friedrich would have to study law instead.Much against his own inclination, Schiller entered theacademy to study law. Although the Karlschule had beenestablished by the Duke to provide education for promis-ing children in the province, the environment of a mili-tary academy must have been terribly oppressive forsomeone of Schiller’s sensitive nature. The young menlived an almost cloistered existence, shut up behind irondoors, in a regimen of strict military discipline, receivingvisits from family or friends only at certain prescribedtimes of the year.

Resistance to AutocracyMore than a century earlier, the 1648 Treaty of West-phalia had secured peace and stability in Europe after theThirty Years’ War. The principle of “the advantage ofthe other” espoused in the Treaty, had laid the ground-work for the long period of reconstruction, required inthe German states after years of devastation. The Treatyguaranteed religious freedom in the German states, or, atleast, the private expression of religion. The power of the

House of Habsburg, the true authors of the war, was sig-nificantly curtailed. But the territory of the Holy RomanEmpire, which was composed of today’s Germany, anumber of territories now part of Poland and Czechoslo-vakia, and the whole of today’s Austria, was a jumble ofover three hundred relatively independent, petty princi-palities situated between the Alps and the Baltic Sea, eachwith its own laws, its own courts, its own little army, itsseparate coinage, its tolls and custom-houses on the fron-tier, as well as its crowd of meddlesome and pedanticofficials, presided over by a prime minister who was usu-ally the unworthy favorite of his prince and, all too often,in the pay of a foreign court.

Nefarious deals would be struck among the princes ofthe realm, or between the princes and foreign powers. Inone perfidious example, 30,000 young men in the state ofHesse were conscripted to fight for the British in Britain’swar against the American colonies, a policy which wouldbe castigated in one of Schiller’s early works, Kabale undLiebe (Love and Intrigue). In 1757, Duke Karl Eugen ofWürttemburg agreed to sell France the services of 6,000soldiers to serve in her war against Prussia. There was anuproar in the state, and many soldiers deserted. TheDuke had sixteen of them summarily executed. KarlEugen also sent 2,000 men to serve as a military guard forthe Dutch East India company, for a price of 400,000

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Friedrich’s father was inmilitary service to theautocratic Duke KarlEugen of Württemburg(top, right). The Dukeforced Friedrich to studylaw at the Karlschulemilitary academy (right).Above: Friedrich’sparents, ElisabethDorothea and MajorJohann Kaspar Schiller.

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gulden. This regiment served for 24 years.There was strong resistance in many of the states to

such autocratic rule. One of those who strongly protestedwas the poet and publicist Christian Friedrich DanielSchubart, also a native of Württemburg. Schubart usedhis pen to protest the feudal order, and to promote therepublican ideals of the American Revolution. When hewas forced to leave Württemburg because of his politicalagitation, Schubart went to Bavaria, where he had to tan-gle with the Jesuits, who were intellectually hegemonic in the Catholic territories. Between 1774 and 1777,Schubart published the Deutsche Chronik, a combinationof cultural and political magazine. In it he offered a run-ning commentary on the progress of the RevolutionaryWar in America, based on regular reports received fromGerman correspondents in Philadelphia and New York.This republican firebrand was becoming a real thorn inthe side of the princes, and the Secret Consistory of theducal courts devised a plan to deal with him. On theassurance of a safe passage, Schubart was lured back toWürttemburg, where he was immediately apprehendedand charged with blasphemy. He was locked away, with-out a trial, in the fortress of Hohenasperg, where hewould remain for ten years. Karl Eugen and the otherprinces of the realm wanted Schubart’s example to send amessage to anyone wishing to follow in his footsteps.

Schubart was kept in solitary confinement for the firstyear, but Karl Eugen never succeeded in subduing his irre-pressible republican spirit. While in prison, he penned oneof his most powerful poems against despotism, “DieFürstengruft” (“The Nobles’ Tomb”), a work that had astrong effect on Schiller. After his release, Schubart went onto become the director of the Stuttgart Theater, where hestaged for the first time in that city a Mozart opera, thestrongly anti-oligarchical Marriage of Figaro, with librettoby the French republican and agent of the American Revo-lution, Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais. Schubartwould later compose a musical setting for Schiller’s poem,“An Die Freude” (“Ode to Joy”).

In 1775, the Karlschule was transferred to the city ofStuttgart, and the curriculum was expanded. Schiller wasthen able to transfer from the hated law school to the med-ical faculty, finding medicine a more appealing way toearn his living, one which would perhaps give him moretime for his true loves, drama and poetry. During his stu-dent years, he also began his study of philosophy, devour-ing the works of Gotthold Lessing, Moses Mendelssohn,and Johann Gottfried Herder. Leibniz became one of hisfavorite authors. He read extensively from his works,including the recent, posthumously published work, NewEssays on Human Understanding (1765), Leibniz’s polemicagainst British empiricist and Enlightenment ideologue

John Locke. At one point in his life, Schiller consideredwriting a poetical work titled “Theodicy,” which would bea philosophical poem written along the lines of Leibniz’sphilosophical treatise of the same name. He was also wellacquainted with contemporary German literature, withKlopstock, whom he loved, Goethe, and Heinrich Wil-helm Gerstenberg. By this time, Schiller had also devel-oped a keen interest in history, a subject that he would lat-er pursue professionally, and whose spirit would imbue allof his works. Plutarch’s Lives, a staple of the curriculum ofthe day, was already a great favorite of his.

Schiller’s interest in Shakespeare was first aroused in aclass on psychology, where his teacher, Jakob FriedrichAbel, used characters from Shakespeare’s Othello, recent-ly translated by Christoph Wieland, to underline the psy-chological conflict between passion and duty. After grad-uating from the Academy, Schiller was appointed regi-mental doctor in the service of the Duke of Württem-burg. It was also at this time that he wrote a number ofpoems, one of which, “Die Abend,” was published in thelocal Schwäbischen Magazin.

Many of the other students at the Karlschule, dissatis-fied with the narrow confines of the studies offered them,were also imbued with a love of literature and wished toengage in literary pursuits. Friedrich von Hoven, a life-long friend of Schiller’s, describes how Schiller and hisfriends would venture into the woods to compose theirworks: “We composed in all stillness, each working in thearea which he had chosen and as often as we found timeand opportunity to do so; we passed the compositionsamongst ourselves, mutually criticizing, reproaching andpraising each other’s works, certainly doing more of thelatter than the former.” Schiller, who was most attractedto the dramatic art, had composed a tragedy, “Cosmusvon Medici.” Those to whom Schiller had read the frag-mentary work, said that it contained some very movingscenes and beautiful poetry, some of which would laterfind its way into Die Räuber (The Robbers). Schiller’sfriend Gottfried Körner relates that, in 1773, Schiller hadalso worked on an epic poem entitled “Moses.” It wasduring this period that Schiller began writing Die Räuber,his first major dramatic work.

The Literary RebelThe subject matter of The Robbers, a study in skuldug-gery and treachery, was suggested by an article penned bySchubart, which appeared in the Schwäbischen Magazin,and was brought to Schiller’s attention by von Hoven.Schubart presented a story line, and issued a challenge toyoung authors to give it dramatic shape. In Schubart’sstory, a man has two sons, Wilhelm and Karl, one of

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whom is quiet in manner and pious, and the other ofwhom is spirited and raucous. They go to the university,where Wilhelm keeps tight control over himself, whileKarl engages in a riotous student existence with wine andwomen. In a free-spirited and generous manner, howev-er, Karl gives away his money to other students, endingup in debt.

An unhappy duel leads to a final break with his father,and Karl joins the Prussian Army. His stint in the army,serving in the wars of Frederick the Great, causes Karl toreflect on his own life. When peace comes, he returns tohis native province, much changed in appearance andcharacter. He adopts an assumed name and goes to seehow things are with his father. Under his new identity,he becomes a great favorite in a village not far from hishome. One day, he comes upon his father being robbedby highwaymen. He attacks them, killing all but one, andsaves his father’s life. The surviving robber reveals thatKarl’s brother Wilhelm had masterminded the crime,hoping to more quickly inherit his murdered father’sestate. The father wants to send Wilhelm to his well-deserved punishment, but Karl protests such treatment.Acquiescing to Karl’s plea, the father allows Wilhelm tolive on an isolated part of his estate, supported by a smallpension, and makes Karl his heir.

At the end of this recitation of events, Schubart issuedthe following challenge: “When will there then appearthe philosopher who will penetrate into the depths of thehuman heart, tracking down each deed to its very fount,and then, writing the history of the human heart, willtear away the deceptive veil from the face of the hyp-ocrite, and against him proclaim the rights of the guile-less heart?”4 Schiller accepted the challenge, and went farbeyond any before him in creating an entirely new genreof tragic hero.

Schiller’s Karl was a far more powerful spirit than thatenvisioned by the fiery Schubart. Instead of joining thearmy, Schiller’s Karl Moor, after a profligate student life,organizes a band of his friends to become highwaymen.The robbers, particularly their leader Karl, attain a repu-tation as “noble bandits,” in the style of SherwoodForest’s Robin Hood. While his deeds are often bloody,Karl’s spirit is one of noble rebellion against an oppressivesystem, which he is committed to combat. The band’sforays terrorize the local tyrants, who are deprived oftheir goods through the party’s brigandage.

Karl’s younger brother, Franz, follows Karl’s activitiesthrough the newspapers, and endeavors to paint an evenbleaker picture of his brother’s doings for his father, inthe hope of driving his father to transfer his affections—and estate—from the elder brother to himself. Schilleralso adds a love-interest for Karl, Amalia. Deeply in love

with Karl, and hardly conscious of his new life of brig-andage, Amalia helps to keep the fire of love for hisprodigal son burning in the heart of the despondentfather.

Hesitating to commit patricide, Franz has his fatherimprisoned. Karl returns and discovers the treachery of hisbrother, who kills himself before Karl is able to inflictvengeance upon him. All might be well—after all, Amaliastill loves Karl, and Karl, Amalia. But rather than convergeon a “happily ever after” ending, Schiller’s tragedy remainstrue to his concept of “shaking up” his audience, in order tobring them to a higher understanding.

Karl’s robber band intends to hold him to his oath ofalways being their leader, and refuses to allow him towithdraw into the easy existence of a landed proprietor.They had remained true to him rather than accept anamnesty, and Karl can not bring himself to forsake themnow. Unwilling to break his oath, Karl proceeds to killAmalia, because they can never return to the earlier, illu-sory happiness she dreams of, and prepares to turn him-self over to the authorities. “Grand and majestic in hismisfortune, and through misfortune, rendered better,returned to the path of excellence,” Schiller wrote. “Sucha man in Robber Moor will be mourned and hated,despised and loved.”5 Schiller drew inspiration for KarlMoor, his own “Don Quixote,” as he called him, fromanother noble character penned by Cervantes, the gentle-man-robber Roque.

The Robbers was a difficult play to digest. EvenSchiller, in his more mature years, when he was happy toleave his youthful works behind him, admitted that hisown situation in the tightly regimented existence of theKarlschule may have more than affected his shaping ofthe robber-hero Karl Moor. The cause of the wild revoltof a Karl Moor, that “prodigal son,” as Schiller first calledhim, who becomes an outlaw from the oppressive condi-tions of a feudal society in which a conniving FranzMoor could so well succeed, was not lost on Schiller’scontemporaries, especially young people, who themselvesfelt the oppression of the feudalistic social order. EvenGoethe, who never warmed to this youthful work, had toadmit that it would always find popularity among theyoung. Once freed from the regimented life of his mili-tary academy, however, Schiller would never again writeanything quite like it. As he himself explained in theintroduction to the Rheinische Thalia in the fall of 1784:“Unacquainted with people and with human destiny, mybrush, of necessity missing that balance between angeland devil, had to bring forth a monster, which, to thehappiness of the world, does not exist, and for which Iwould only wish immortality in order to establish foreverthe example of a birth, which brings into the world that

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unnatural combination ofsubordination and genius. Imean The Robbers.”6

As a boyhood friend,Georg Friedrich Scharffen-stein, explained, Schiller“wrote Die Räuber less forthe sake of literary acclaim,than to express to the worldhis strong, liberal feelingsagainst the ruling conven-tions of society. While insuch a mood, he would oftensay to me: ‘We have to writea book that will have to beburned by the hangmen.’ ”Schiller composed the playsecretly at night, often in theinfirmary, since all otherbuildings were dark afterlights-out had been sounded.In discussions with hisfriends, Schiller decided thatthe printed edition of DieRäuber would carry anengraving of a springinglion, with the caption “InTyrannos” (“Against Ty-rants”). This engraving didappear in the second print-ing, in 1782. Schiller had tohave the first edition of the work printed in secret, bear-ing the cost himself, in 1781.

As the text was circulating, it came to the attention ofthe imprisoned Schubart, who was totally excited by it. Heasked his prison warden, General Philip Rieger, to makecontact with the author, with the idea of setting up a meet-ing. Rieger suggested that Schubart write a review of theplay. Rieger arranged for Schiller, travelling under thepseudonym “Doctor Fischer,” to meet with Schubart, butdid not tell the prisoner who his visitor was. When theywere together in the fortress, Rieger turned to Schubartand asked him to read aloud his review of The Robbers.Schubart read it, and expressed the wish to some day meetthe author. Rieger clapped him on the shoulder, and said,“Your wish is fulfilled, here stands the author before you.”“Is is possible?” Schubart cried with joy. “This is the authorof The Robbers?” He then embraced Schiller warmly,kissed him, and tears of joy welled up in his eyes.

The play soon came to the attention of WolfgangHeribert Dalberg, the director of the Mannheim Theater,who expressed interest in having it performed. The pre-

miere was to take place in January 1782, and Schiller wasinvited to attend. Schiller knew that he would never beable to get permission from the Württemburg authoritiesfor such a trip. The play had been written without theirknowledge, as they would never have approved of suchactivity by the regimental doctor. Only Dalberg and oneother person were aware of Schiller’s presence at theMannheim performance.

The play was a rousing success. According to one eye-witness, “The theater was like an insane asylum, eyesrolling, fists shaking, feet stamping, impassioned shrieksin the theater. Strangers found themselves falling, sob-bing, into each others arms, women staggered, close tofainting, towards the door. There was a general uproarthat approached pure chaos. Out of this fog a new cre-ation was born.”7 Although Schiller was able to keep hisunauthorized absence hidden from the Duke, the author-ship of The Robbers did not long remain a secret. KarlEugen thought some of it downright subversive. Theplay featured characters who bore a marked similarity towell-known Württemburg figures, which caused

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Duke Karl Eugen jailed the republican poet Christian Schubart (above, right) forpublicizing American Revolutionary ideals, and opposing the Duke’s conscription of Hessianmerenaries (above). Schiller attacked conscription in his drama “Kabale und Liebe.”

Schiller followedSchubart’s outlinein drafting “TheRobbers.” Left:Scene from “TheRobbers,” KarlMoor withoutlaws. Far left:Friedrich as aregimental doctor,c. 1781.

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tongues to wag against the poet.When Schiller went a second time surreptitiously to

Mannheim, he was discovered by the Duke, who orderedhim incarcerated for two weeks. While not wishing tostifle the talent of his young regimental doctor—who hethought might be reined in to become of service to, andperhaps an ornament of, the duchy—Karl Eugen didintend to maintain strict oversight over the upstart’swork. In a meeting with Schiller, the Duke demandedthat he show him all the products of his Muse as theydeveloped. If Schiller violated this requirement, theDuke warned, he could be faced with imprisonment, likeSchubart. This was totally unacceptable to Schiller. Thesuccess of his first dramatic effort had given him confi-dence that he could earn his livelihood with his pen.Rather than submit to the Duke’s strictures, Schillerdecided, rather like Karl Moor, to take flight from hisoppressive conditions. Late in the night of Sept. 22, 1782,under cover of darkness, and after a final visit to hispatients at the hospital, Schiller mounted his horse and,with a friend accompanying him, crossed the borderfrom Württemburg to the neighboring state of Baden.

Republican in ExileIt was not clear where exactly Schiller was to go, and itwould be some time before he could find a more perma-nent home. The decided advantage of the decentralizednature of Germany at the time was that Schiller hadmerely to find a well-intentioned prince in one of thethree hundred petty states, willing to give him the free-dom to follow the lead of his creative Muse. Nevertheless,if Karl Eugen wished to wreak vengeance on his absentofficer, strings could be pulled within the extended fami-ly of the German princely elites to do just that. Schiller’sinitial concern was that the wrath of the Duke not fallupon his family. He was relatively confident, however,that despite the Duke’s autocratic nature, he was not oneto punish the father, who had been the his loyal servantfor many years, for the sins of the son.

In his wanderings, Schiller drew upon many friends,and acquired many more. One was Henriette von Wol-zogen, two of whose sons, Wilhelm and Ludwig, Schillerhad befriended at the Karlschule. After marryingSchiller’s sister-in-law, Wilhelm would later introduceSchiller’s work to the Russian court at St. Petersburg, andLudwig, as an adjutant to the Russian Czar during theGerman War of Liberation, would later play a role inimplementing the strategy that ultimately doomedNapoleon during his ill-fated invasion of Russia. Henri-ette offered to provide Schiller refuge while she attempt-ed (in vain, as it turned out) to achieve a reconciliation

with Karl Eugen. Meanwhile, Schiller lived under thealias “Doctor Ritter.”

Seeking a permanent place of refuge, Schiller consid-ered the newly created United States of America, whichhad recently won its independence from Great Britain, anevent followed closely by republican circles in Germany. Ina letter to Henriette on Jan. 8, 1783, Schiller wrote: “I havemade a major change in my plans, and as I initially wantedto go to Berlin, now I will perhaps turn to England. Butit’s still not certain, such a great desire I have to see theNew World. If North America is free, then it is just theplace for me to go.” But such was not to be.

Closer to home, Schiller cast his lot with the theater atMannheim, where he had first achieved success with TheRobbers. He had two new dramatic works in progress,one of which, The Conspiracy of Fiesco at Genoa, A Repub-lican Tragedy, was near completion. The theater directorDalberg, however, was never satisfied with the work, nomatter how often Schiller complied with his demand forchanges. Most likely, as would happen repeatedly withSchiller’s writings, Dalberg’s reticence had more to dowith the republican politics of the play, than with literaryconcerns. Delays in production led a frustrated Schiller toaccept the hospitality of Henriette at her country house atBauerbach, in the Franconian woods. It was here that heread the story of the Spanish prince Don Carlos, by theAbbé St. Real, which was to become the subject of hismost beloved work. Schiller began working on Don Car-los. He had already acquired two books that were of greatinterest to him, one on the Inquisition, which would haverelevance to the period of Don Carlos, and the other, amemoir of a prisoner in the Bastille, that horrible reposi-tory of human misery, soon be thrust upon the world’sattention by events in Paris. Also during this period, hisinterest was drawn to the high court drama of Mary Stu-art, Queen of Scots, who had been executed by her cousinQueen Elizabeth in 1587.

It was only recently, in 1779, that Nathan the Wise, thelast drama by Schiller’s mentor in aesthetic questions,Gotthold Lessing, had been published. Schiller consid-ered Lessing’s great work on art, Laocöon, “a Bible forthe artist.” While staying in Bauerbach, Schiller becameengaged in a discussion with a local Lutheran pastor,Johan Pfranger, over this latest Lessing work. Pfrangercomplained that the play had denigrated Christianity,while placing Judaism on a pedestal. Pfranger then com-mented that, of course, Schiller was probably an adherentof that group of free thinkers who deemed Christianitysomewhat superfluous. “Not at all,” Schiller said. “Quiteto the contrary. I’m just annoyed that so many Christiansmake so little out of their religion, while, as I see inBauerbach and Walldorf, the Jews are very fervent in

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their religious devotions!” Schiller would later editNathan for a new production at the Weimar Theater, andfor a highly acclaimed revival of the play in Lessing’sown Hamburg. Later, in 1792, Schiller’s father wouldrecommend that he consider writing a history of the Jew-ish people, “a masterly presentation of which would be ofgreat interest for Christianity.”

Even while he was impatiently awaiting the openingof Fiesco, Schiller was well advanced on a “bourgeoistragedy,” as he characterized it, his Kabale und Liebe.The play is set in a German state whose ruler supportsthe extravagant costs of his court and mistress, by hiringout his soldiers as mercenaries to the British, to help putdown the American Revolution—a reflection of the issuethat had so incensed Schubart. (In an ironic plot twist, themistress reacts by secretly selling her jewels to aid thefamilies of the conscripted mercenaries.) Then, in July1783, Fiesco was finally given its first performance inMannheim, and Schiller received a one-year contract,which included the performance of two new plays. In thespring of the following year, Kabale und Liebe was per-formed both in Mannheim and in Frankfurt.

Schiller’s position remained uncertain despite hisgrowing renown. His contract with the Mannheim The-ater was for one year only, and he was never quite satis-fied with the performers there, nor with the workingconditions. He was, however, expanding the circle offriends that could provide a more secure position in soci-ety, and a more permanent place from which to continuehis creative work. His most significant new friend wasChristian Gottfried Körner, a young lawyer living inDresden. Unlike Schiller, Körner had chosen the law as ameans to support himself (what Schiller would call his“Brotwissenschaft,” “bread-scholarship”). But Körner’sintellectual interests stretched far beyond the mustyworld of jurisprudence, and during a friendship thatwould last until Schiller’s death, Schiller continuallyencouraged his friend to spend more time in writingabout the great political and cultural issues of the day.Körner, in turn, worked to help secure a livelihood forhis poet friend.

The next major step which would propel Schiller intothe arena of the leading political circles of Germany, wasthe publication of Don Carlos. Although it would not becompleted for another three years, and first performed in1787 in Hamburg, it began to be serialized in a new jour-nal, Thalia, in 1786. The Thalia was the first of a series ofpublishing ventures that Schiller undertook during hislifetime, to raise the intellectual and cultural level of theGerman-speaking world. It was also with Don Carlosthat Schiller, in an attempt to enhance the dramatic effectof the unfolding action, decided to write in the iambic

meter of Shakespeare, which had been pioneered in Ger-many by the playwright Lessing, instead of the prose ofhis previous works—redrafting into poetic meter the ear-lier, already-published prose scenes. His immense satis-faction with the initial results of this attempt spurred himto create a drama of unprecedented beauty and power,which would inspire generations with its display of ideal-ism and self-sacrifice.8

While The Robbers had quite abruptly awakened theliterary public to this new star on the horizon of Germandrama, Don Carlos established Schiller’s permanent placein the literary firmament. Although the subject had beensuggested to him by Karl Theodor Dalberg, prelatebrother of the Mannheim Theater director, the setting ofthe play had been with him for a long time. Schiller hadmade a serious study of Fifteenth-century Spain, and waskeenly interested in the history of the Inquisition and theunsuccessful revolt of The Netherlands against Spanishrule. In Don Carlos, Schiller’s hero, the Marquis of Posa,is a nobleman, a Knight of Malta, who is imbued with alove for the people of The Netherlands and their republi-can spirit. He returns to Spain in the hope of recruitingthe young heir to the throne, his friend Don Carlos, tolead The Netherlands in revolt. Inadvertently detectingwhat he believes to be sparks of humanity in the auto-cratic King, Carlos’s father Philip II, Posa conceives ashort-cut to the liberation of The Netherlands, and shiftshis attention to recruiting Philip to his project. Big mis-take! The autocratic King, whom Schiller for dramaticreasons made more humane than he was in reality, wouldremain subservient to the Inquisition, and the Inquisitionwould brook no resistance. Meanwhile, Don Carlosbecomes confused by Posa’s shifting interest in his father,and the entire project starts to unravel from there on,leading to the tragic outcome, the martyrdom of Posaand the handing over of Carlos to the Inquisition. In thecourse of the drama, Schiller presents the young Queen,Elisabeth, as the one sublime figure not driven by con-flicting passions, whose emotional life proceeds from theelevated standpoint of reason.

Unlike The Robbers, or even Fiesco or Kabal und Liebe,Don Carlos became a favorite within German court cir-cles. Friedrich Wilhelm II of Prussia, who was deeplymoved by the famous confrontation scene between theMarquis of Posa and Philip II—where the Marquis dar-ingly demands of Philip, “Give them freedom ofthought!”—gave explicit orders that the play be per-formed at the National Theater in Berlin. Thus, withDon Carlos, Schiller began to exert a direct influence onthe higher political circles of the realm.

One of the individuals to whom Schiller had a chanceto read the initial sections of Don Carlos in early 1785 was

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Duke Karl August of Sachsen-Weimar-Eisenach, who was vis-iting his cousin in Darmstadt.The Duke was well known as apatron of the arts, and hadestablished in his ducal seat atWeimar some of the mostimportant figures in the culturallife of Germany, includingGoethe, Herder, and Wieland.The reading of Don Carlosgreatly increased Karl August’sadmiration of the young drama-tist, and Schiller soon foundhimself under the Duke’sbenevolent patronage. KarlAugust bestowed on Schiller thehonorary title of Weimar CourtCouncillor.

In April 1785, at the biddingof Körner, Schiller decided tomove first to Leipzig, and thento Dresden, to complete workon Don Carlos, and to seek amore permanent means of sup-port for his hitherto vagabond-like existence. His contract withthe Mannheim Theater wasnow over, and there seemed littledanger that his old nemesis, Duke Karl Eugen, had anyinterest in trying to apprehend the “deserter.” Dresdenwas also in the province of Sachsen-Weimar-Eisenach,where he knew he had some hope of patronage.

Körner helped finance Schiller’s trip to Saxony by hav-ing the publisher Georg Joachim Göschen buy the Thalia,and pay Schiller an advance. In Dresden, Schiller stayed atKörner’s home, in a cottage near a vineyard. It was herethat he completed Don Carlos. These days were amongstthe happiest of Schiller’s life up to that point, as attested byhis writing the famous “An die Freude,” the “Ode to Joy,”in which the joy of these happy days and his friendshipwith Körner were elevated and transformed by the poetinto a paean to the universal brotherhood of man.

The Elusive Cultural IconIn 1787, Schiller made his first journey to Weimar to cel-ebrate the birthday of Johann Wolfgang Goethe. Goethe,who was ten years older than Schiller, was the unofficialpoet laureate of the German-speaking world, andSchiller had been an admirer of his since his school days.In fact, Goethe had visited the Karlschule when Schiller

was a student there. Schiller had also been an enthusiasticadmirer of Goethe’s works, in particular, his “Gotz vonBerlichingen,” which was based on a theme frommedieval German history. Unfortunately, the renownedpoet was in Italy during the birthday celebration.

By this time Goethe was already something of a cul-tural icon, around whom a sycophantic cult had formedwhich Schiller found highly repulsive. Schiller comment-ed in a letter to Körner on August 12 that, “Goethe’s spir-it has shaped all those who belong to his circle. A proudphilosophical spite towards all speculation and investiga-tions, an attachment to nature even to the point of affec-tation, and a resignation to the five senses, in short, a sortof childish simplicity of reason characterizes him and hislocal sect.” Schiller was quite put off by this aspect ofWeimar cultural life, and his own developed view of theelevating role of art and culture was not immediatelycompatible with the far less rigorous and often down-right sensualist conception of the court camarilla aroundGoethe. It would take time before there was any warm-ing in the relationship between the two men.

Schiller did, however, have the opportunity to estab-lish a warm relationship with the aging Wieland, now

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Dresden lawyer andliterary critic ChristianKörner (right) becameSchiller’s lifelong friend.Left: Mannheim theaterdirector WolfgangHeribert Dalberg, whopremiered Schiller’s“Fiesco” and “Kabaleund Liebe.”

Schiller serialized“Don Carlos” inhis new journal“Thalia,” com-pleting it atKörner’s home inDresden. Left:Scene from “DonCarlos,” murderof Marquis Posa.Right: Schiller’s“An die Freude”(“Ode to Joy”) inthe “Thalia.”

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the poet emeritus of Germany, and with Johann Gott-fried Herder. Wieland opened the pages of his own mag-azine, Die Deutsche Merkur, to Schiller’s writings.

Traveling through Thuringia with his old schoolchum Wilhelm von Wolzogen, the two young bachelorsdecided to visit an old acquaintance of theirs, and acousin of Wolzogen, Luise von Lengefeld, who had twodaughters their age. The family had met Schiller brieflyin 1784, and were already enthusiasts for his poeticalworks, although somewhat frightened by the raw energyof The Robbers. They were pleased to find that the authordid not have the same abrupt character as Karl Moor, butwas a gentle, affable young man. The first meeting wassomewhat frosty, according to one of the sisters, Carolinevon Beulwitz (later married to Wilhelm von Wolzogen),who became one of Schiller’s first biographers. “Itamazed us that such a violent and untamed genius couldhave such a tender exterior,” she wrote. “Fiesco and manypoems from his anthology had a great appeal for us. Wewould certainly have said as much, but our encounterwas too short for much of a conversation to develop. Wejoked often later about the coldness of that firstmeeting.”9 Needless to say, the second encounter wasmuch more successful, and Schiller remained with thefamily for several months, in quiet writing and intellectu-al exchanges. With the younger daughter, Charlotte, hewould develop a much closer relationship, marrying herin 1790.

This was, of course, not the first time that Schiller hadfallen in love. Earlier in Mannheim, he had had seriousdesigns on Louisa Schwan, the daughter of a booksellerin Mannheim. When Schiller sought her hand in mar-riage, Louisa’s father was agreeable, provided thatSchiller find a more promising profession than that ofpoet and playwright. Faced with this impossible demand,Schiller had to withdraw the offer. Also, an unhappyinfatuation with the beautiful Henriette von Arnim ledonly to the impoverished poet spending more than hecould afford on gifts for this aristocratic paramour. WithCharlotte von Lengefeld, the situation was different.Here was a kindred spirit, for whom his poetic workshelped kindle the fire of love.

With a view to marrying Charlotte, Schiller had nowto think of supporting a family. He was also not uncon-cerned by the fact that his fiancée was a member of thenobility, while he remained a commoner—and, for thetime being, without any visible means of support. Reject-ing a return to his medical career, Schiller mooted the pos-sibility of a professorship. Since his school days, he hadbeen an ardent student of history, pursuing an intensestudy prior to his writing Don Carlos. Schiller now beganto work on the History of the Revolt of The Netherlands, as

an entrée into the academic world, a work which defini-tively established his reputation as an historian.

In September 1788, Schiller met Goethe for the firsttime. Through his aid, Schiller received an appointmentto a professorship at the University of Jena, also withinthe territory of the Weimar Duke Karl August. The rela-tionship was otherwise still cool. Goethe himself admit-ted later that he kept away from Schiller. “I avoidedSchiller, who, visiting Weimar, lived close by,”10 hewould write. Goethe was particularly incensed by TheRobbers, which he said was “hateful” to him.

But neither was Schiller attracted to the personality ofhis older colleague, whose poetic genius he neverthelessadmired. He wrote to Körner in February 1789: “Beingaround Goethe on occasion would make me unhappy.He has not a moment to give of himself even with hisclosest friends. You can’t get a grip on him. I think, infact, that he is egoistic to an unusual degree. He possessesthe talent to enthrall people, and by means of small andgreat solicitudes, binds them to himself; but he knowshow to always maintain his own independence. Hemakes himself known as a benefactor, but only like somedeity, without giving of himself. This seems to me a con-sistent and systematic manner of operation. One shouldnot let such a person in one’s presence. To me he is com-pletely hateful, although at the same time I love his spiritwith my whole heart, and think great things of him. Iview him as an arrogant prude, who must be made into achild in order to be humbled before the world . . . .”

And yet, recognizing that Goethe’s literary geniuscould be tapped for a higher purpose, Schiller began toformulate a long-term plan. Writing in September 1788,he said: “On the whole, that grand idea I had of him hasnot been diminished after making personal acquaintance.But I doubt if we will ever grow closer. Much in himwhich is of interest to me, that for which I still wish andhope for myself, has for him already run its course. He isso far ahead of me (less in years than in life experienceand self-development), that our paths will never con-verge. And his entire being is already from the beginningso differently shaped than mine; his world is not mine,our manners of representation appear fundamentally dif-ferent. Nevertheless, such a convergence is not definitelynor fundamentally ruled out. Time will tell.”

Storm Clouds on the HorizonBy 1788, however, storm clouds had already gatheredover Europe, with major convulsions about to hit Francethat would have serious repercussions throughout theContinent, not least in the nearby states of Germany.Schiller was a keen observer of events occurring across

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the border. Writing to Körner, he said, “If you don’t readthe Moniteur, I would highly recommend that you do so.There you have before you all the details of the negotia-tions in the National Assembly, and can observe theFrench with their weaknesses and their strengths.” Buthe was fast losing hope of any positive outcome of thisrevolution. In a letter to Körner on September 1787, hewrote: “[August] Bode has brought back a rather direpicture of Paris. The nation has lost all its energy and at arapid pace approaches its destruction. The convocation ofthe Notables itself was only a trick by the Government.Had they been convened five years earlier, it would haveprovided a counterweight. But five years later, there’s nochance. Parliament has no significance. Its sole activityconsists in school exercises, which they engage in and arequite happy when they go well, just like school boys. TheStamp Act is a measure that must find 1,000 obstacles inits implementations. In Paris, Beaumarchais is held incontempt by the better people.”

He corresponded regularly with friends in Francewho were able to give him an on-the-ground reading ofevents, and they were not encouraging to one who hadhoped that the raising of the banner of liberté would leadto the opening of a new era of Reason. Reports from hisfriend Wilhelm von Wolzogen, in Paris to study architec-ture, while cautiously optimistic, portrayed a dire situa-tion. In a letter to Charlotte in November 1788, Schillerexpressed his own profound skepticism over events in

France: “Wolzogen’s estimate of Paris underpresent circumstances couldn’t be otherwise.The object is still of such a magnitude for him,his inner sense has yet to adjust to it. He hasbrought a yardstick in order to measure acolossus. I certainly believe that he may, after alonger stay in Paris, ultimately come to theexact same conclusions, but he will do so fromcompletely different motives and from anoth-er standpoint. Whoever has a sense and aninstinct for the great world of mankind mustcertainly be plunged into this wide, grandioseelement; how small and insignificant our owncivic and political conditions are in compari-son. Mankind, when it is united, is always agrand being, however small the individuals orthe details may appear to the eye. And evenbecause of this it seems to me to be of importthat each detail and every individual beviewed from the standpoint of the whole ofwhich it is a part or, what is the same thing, toview it with a philosophical spirit.” In com-ments to his sister-in-law Caroline, who hadremarked on some of the beautiful speeches

given in the National Assembly, Schiller said: “It isimpossible that anything reasonable can come out of agathering of six hundred people.”

When the Bastille fell in July 1789, there was some joyexpressed among Schiller’s circle of friends. Carolinewrot: “An acquaintance read to us with enthusiasmabout the storming of the Bastille. We often rememberedlater, that when these conditions of tumult and turbu-lence were being followed closely by all of Europe, revo-lution inserted itself into everyone’s life, as the crumblingof this monument to a sinister despotism appeared to ouryoung eyes as a prelude to the victory of freedom overtyranny, and we were joyful that it occurred at the begin-ning of a beautiful relationship of the heart for us.”

Others, including Schiller and Körner’s mutual friendLudwig Huber (later the editor of the Allgemeine Zeitung,which was owned by Schiller’s publisher JohannFriedrich Cotta), also waxed enthusiastic. In a letter toKörner dated July 23, 1789, Huber wrote: “I don’t believethat we could experience a more interesting time than thepresent, and I will no longer forgive the anti-Gallicans, ifthey maintain their contempt for this nation.” A recentaddition to Schiller’s circle, who became a great friendand patron, and would later play a key role during theWar of Liberation, the prelate Karl Theodor Dalberg,was much more skeptical. He urged much caution withtheir enthusiasm for the events of France. “Kids,” he toldthem, “don’t be so certain that this will unfold well. Many

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Charlotte von Lengefeld (above) marriedFriedrich in 1790. Top right: Frieze ofCharlotte and Friedrich in the Jena churchwhere they were married. Right: Charlotte’ssister Caroline, who later married Schiller’sfriend Wilhelm von Wolzogen. Carolinewas one of Schiller’s first biographers.

Courtesy of William F. Wertz, Jr.

a storm can disrupt everything.” Körner, aswell as Schiller, was also skeptical about anygood coming out of this revolution. “What doyou think about the latest events in France?Now nothing is impossible there, and I wouldn’tbe surprised if France gets carved up into sev-eral smaller republics,” Schiller wrote to Körn-er. With the increasing atrocities carried out bythe British-manipulated revolutionaries,Schiller’s skepticism was soon transformed intoa feeling of horror. In a letter to the Lengefeldsisters on Oct. 30, 1789, he wrote: “Schulzobserved the King on the occasion when hewas to put on the cockade [symbol of Revolu-tionary France–WJ]. He held it in one handand had the other in his vest, clutching his hatunder his arm. When suddenly there wasapplause, and he thought that he had to clapwith them, but he didn’t know what to dosince both hands were full. At once he made adecision, took the cockade in his mouth, andapplauded heartily. Isn’t that a noble presenceof mind for a King of France?”

Later, in 1792, when Louis XVI stoodunder threat of execution, Schiller, thestaunch republican—who ironically wouldbe granted citizenship by the new FrenchRepublic later that year—considered writingon his behalf. In a letter to Körner onDecember 21, Schiller asked, “Do you knowanyone who can translate well into French, incase I would have need of such a person? Ican hardly withstand the temptation to get involved inthe dispute regarding the King, and to compose a trea-tise on the subject. It seems to me that such an under-taking is important enough to occupy the pen of a rea-sonable person. And a German writer who with libertyand eloquence pronounced on the dispute, would prob-ably make some impression on these misguided souls.Even if one individual from another country made apublic judgment on the matter, the first impression, atleast, would be to consider him a spokesman for hisclass, if not for his country; and I think that precisely inthis matter the French are not completely insensitive toforeign opinion.” Körner had a translator in mind, andurged Schiller that such a step had to be taken quickly,before the King’s fate was decided. But it was alreadytoo late. Before Schiller could complete the memoir, theKing had been condemned to death, and was executedon Jan. 21, 1793. Later, when Charlotte von Stein,another friend, still confident of a positive outcome ofthe French events, lauded the National Assembly as

“the Robbers,” Schiller became incensed at this compar-ison to his early work.

The Historian’s CraftBy this time, Schiller was already settled in an academicniche at the University of Jena. His presence there wassomething of a sensation. Even before his first lecture inMay 1789, he had completed his major historical work,the History of the Revolt of The Netherlands. Originallyconceived as a contribution to a series of essays thatSchiller was editing, titled the History of RemarkableRebellions and Conspiracies from the Middle Ages to RecentTimes, his own contribution became much too long to beincluded in the anthology, and was published as a sepa-rate book.

For his inaugural lecture at Jena in May 1789, the lec-ture hall could hold only 80 people, with standing roomfor 100 more. But, by the time Schiller arrived, the hallwas full, and people were lining up at the door. He

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The failure of theRevolution in Francemoved Schiller todraft his “AestheticalLetters” against theneo-Aristoteleanphilosophy ofImmanuel Kant(right). Far right:Kant’s “Critique ofPure Reason,” 1781.

The fall of the Bastille unleashes the bloody French Revolution.

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agreed to move to a larger hall down the street, whichcould seat 400 people. As the mass of students marchedthrough town to the other hall, the townspeople thoughtthat a fire had broken out, and the fire-guards were alert-ed! When they finally settled into the new hall, therewere still people standing outside the door. Schiller readhis lecture “What Is, and To What End Do We Study,Universal History?” He had been nervous about lectur-ing, and later wrote to Körner: “With the first ten wordsthat I firmly pronounced, I was again in control ofmyself, and I read with a strength and certainty of voicethat surprised me. Even those standing beyond the doorcould hear me quite well. My lecture made an impres-sion, and the whole evening you could hear people in thetown talking about it, and it really gained the attention ofthe students, the first example of this being done by anew professor.”

Schiller followed this with several other public lec-tures, initially writing out the lectures in advance. Later,feeling that this was taking up too much of his time, andfeeling more confident, he began to lecture freely.Although he considered these history lectures to be his“Brotwissenschaft,” he plunged into the work with hisusual gusto. Subsequent lectures included such subjectsas “Thoughts on the First Human Society,” “The Missionof Moses,” and “The Jesuit Government in Paraguay.”His interest in the ancient Greeks was reflected in hisrenowned lecture contrasting the laws of Solon’s Athenswith those of Lycurgus’s Sparta, as a paradigm for theconflict between republican and feudalist societies. Theselectures used their historical subjects to inspire the stu-dents to participate in the fight for human progress. Andyet, some of his friends, like Körner, criticized him forconcentrating so much energy on the study of history, tothe detriment of poetry and drama.

In response, Schiller wrote to Körner in January 1788:“Your low opinion of history seems to me unfair. Cer-tainly, it is arbitrary, full of gaps, and very often barren,but even the arbitrariness in it might stimulate a philo-sophical spirit to master it; the empty and barren chal-lenges a creative mind to bring it to life and to give it askeleton, nerves, and muscles. Don’t imagine that it ismuch easier to develop material you give yourself, thanthat which is prescribed by certain conditions.” Evenwhen he returned to the field of drama, his subjectswould be drawn from that same living sense of historywhich he had breathed into his purely historical works.He mused about writing a dramatic work on the greatSwedish king, Gustavus Adolphus, the hero of the Thir-ty Years’ War. Later, he would fasten on a less heroic fig-ure, the general Albrecht Wallenstein, in order to portraythat momentous period in the history of the German

people. He also considered writing a series of historicalplays on the kings of France, similar to what Shakespearehad done for the English kings, with his hero, Henry IVof Navarre—the paradigm of a monarch who had suc-cessfully overcome the religious strife that had devastatedEurope during the previous century—as a centralfigure.11 And then, with a view to his beloved Germany,he played with the idea of an epic drama based on thefeats of Frederick the Great, against whose armies hisfather had fought as a young man.

Schiller’s criteria for historical works were not limitedto nationalist themes, however. In a letter to Körner inOctober 1789, he explained his concept: “It is a poor andpetty ideal to write merely for one nation; for a philosoph-ical spirit such a limit is completely intolerable. Such aspirit cannot remain fixed on such a transitory, accidental,and capricious form of humanity, on such a fragment (andwhat more than that is even the most important nation?).He can only warm up to the task to the extent that thisnation or national event has importance for the progressof humanity. If this can be applied to an historical event,from whatever nation or period it may arise, if it can beconnected to the species, then it has all the requirementsto be of interest to the hand of the philosopher, and thisinterest thus needs no further embellishment.”

In 1790, Schiller negotiated with his publisher Göschento write a major work on the history of the Thirty Years’War, intended for a broader audience than his History ofthe Revolt of The Netherlands, and to be serialized in theHistorical Calendar for Ladies for the Year 1792. Althoughwritten for a journal aimed at the “gentler sex,” it was any-thing but light reading. Schiller dealt here with the mostfundamental event of modern German history, and hewished to pull from his study all the important lessons forthe present. The successes, and flaws, of the present systemof government in the German states, were all the result ofthe resolution of this conflict of three long, bloody decades.The importance of this story made itself felt when Schillera few years later would turn to a new tragedy, the Wallen-stein trilogy.

It was probably also at this time that Schiller devel-oped a keen interest in the life and work of BenjaminFranklin. Körner wrote Schiller in May 1790, thatFranklin’s Autobiography had been published, and mightbe appropriate for inclusion in the Universal Collection ofHistorical Memoirs he was then editing. Although a col-laborator on that project, Schiller had left the editorshipin others’ hands. A German edition of the Autobiographywould be published in 1792, translated by GottfriedBurger. In November 1794, the publisher Cotta sentSchiller a copy of a new biography of Franklin, especiallydesigned to introduce Franklin to young readers. Cotta

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felt that the biography would “meetwith Schiller’s approval.” Schillerwould incorporate Franklin’s experi-ments with electricity into his poeticalworks, the famous example being the“Götterfunken”—divine sparks—inhis “Ode to Joy.” Knowledge of Dr.Franklin’s experiments was wide-spread in Germany at the time.Goethe would later note, in a letter toSchiller, that Franklin’s lightning rodwould be a subject of his own scientif-ic inquiry. In 1798, Cotta offered topay to install a lightning rod onSchiller’s house, with the comment: “Iwould like to draw away the physicallightning from you and yours, so thatyou might divert from me the morallightning of worry and distress.” Cot-ta’s comments may well have influ-enced the passage in Schiller’s Deathof Wallenstein, where Wallensteincomments on the death of Max Pic-colomini: “On his pure head, thelightning was drawn off, whichwould else have shattered me.” Schiller was very fond ofthe new German word “electrifisieren,” which he usedfrequently in his poetry and letters.

Even in Don Carlos, the influence of the AmericanRevolution made itself felt. Posa’s famous statement, “Icannot be the servant of a king,” reflected many of theconcepts that had been formulated in the rebellion inAmerica. The figure of the Marquis of Posa, the aristo-crat who demands liberty of thought, could not but havebeen modelled on the real-life aristocratic lover of liberty,the Marquis de Lafayette, who had travelled to Americato help the colonies free themselves from British tyranny.

As Schiller’s spirit remained focussed on the grand his-torical vistas unfolding before him, his academic duties,and the petty conflicts inevitably associated with universitylife, grew more tedious for him. If he could find some phil-anthropist to support him, so he could do his own writing,he wrote to Körner, he would tell the university authoritiesto “kiss my ass.” Even though he always attracted greatcrowds, and was a favorite of the student body, he felt thathis student audience was not always capable of assimilatinghis more fundamental message.

Then, in December 1791, Schiller, whose health hadalways been frail, became seriously ill. It appears to havebeen a form of tuberculosis, and it would continue toplague him for the rest of his life. The illness forced himto abandon his university lecturing, and gave him a

forced leisure, which he spent in intense study of philoso-phy. In a letter to Körner in January 1792, Schiller wrotethat, thanks to his confinement, he would begin a studyof the works of Locke, Hume, and Leibniz. Schiller hadalready made a study of Leibniz’s polemic against Locke’sempiricism in the posthumously published New Essays onHuman Understanding.

It was a few months later that Schiller began a seriousstudy of the recently published works of the Königsbergphilosopher Immanuel Kant, the prime German repre-sentative of the British “Enlightenment” philosophy. Helaunched into a study of Kant’s primary philosophicalwork, the Critique of Pure Reason. This would be fol-lowed by, as they were published, the Critique of PracticalReason, and then the Critique of Judgment. It was primari-ly in his grappling with the conundrums posed by Kant,that Schiller was able to develop his own radically differ-ent ideas about the nature of man’s intellect and its rela-tionship to nature. As Helga Zepp LaRouche describesSchiller’s use of Kant: “The conclusion which Schillerdrew from this collapse of the Enlightenment, was thathe had to develop a completely new conception of Rea-son, one based on his ideal of Art and aesthetics, and thusa notion of Reason with a qualitatively different mean-ing. For Kant, who wrote his Critiques of pure and prac-tical reason at approximately the same time, the Enlight-enment was the release of individuals from their ‘unen-

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The Weimar Classic.Cultural developmentin Germany centeredin Weimar, drawingin poets like ChristophWieland (left) andJohann Wolfgang von Goethe (right).Below: Schiller’shouse in Weimar.Bottom, left: Schillerwith Goethe, 1804.

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cumbered minority.’ Schiller, to the contrary, connectedhis notion of aesthetic Reason once again directly to thetradition in which Reason is the source of creativity.”12

‘Create Citizens for a Constitution’Schiller’s inability to lecture created serious financial diffi-culties for him. He had been so ill that rumors of his deathwere circulating widely throughout Europe. It was thenthat the two Danish noblemen, Friedrich Christian ofAugustenborg and Count Ernst Schimmelman, informedof Schiller’s predicament by the Danish poet Jens Bagge-sen, and with a growing enthusiasm for Schiller sparkedby Baggesen’s reading to them from Don Carlos, sentSchiller the offer of a three-year stipend, to enable him tocontinue his writing. They even proposed he relocate toCopenhagen for the conduct of his literary activity.

Schiller was overjoyed, both by their offer, and by theirenthusiasm for his work. He determined to dedicate to theAugustenborg duke a series of letters, in which he woulddevelop his ideas for launching a program for the moraleducation of the population, which had shown itself to beso degraded during the recent French events. Later,Schiller decided to thoroughly rework these letters forpublication. These became the celebrated Letters on theAesthetical Education of Man, his fundamental commentaryon the state of political affairs in Europe, and the solutionin the realm of philosophy to the unfolding crisis.*

While the published Aesthetical Letters are much morewidely read, and his thought more rigorously developed,than the original letters to Augustenborg, the originalsprovide a rather frank commentary on the events of theday. “The attempt by the French people, to assert thesacred rights of man and to win for itself political freedom,has only revealed their inability and unworthiness, and hasplunged not only that unhappy people, but a significantpart of Europe and an entire century, back into barbarismand slavery,” he wrote. “The moment was most favorable,but it found a depraved generation, which was not equalto it and did not know how to appreciate it, nor to makeuse of it.” He deemed out of the question the possibility ofany important political change coming any time soon:“Indeed, I am so far from believing in a beginning of aregeneration in political life, that the events of our timerather rob me of all hope of such for centuries to come.”

And yet, it was in the realm of culture that the seedshad to be laid for an eventual rebirth of a genuine politi-cal movement dedicated to human freedom. “Should onenow cease to strive for this? Should even the most impor-

tant of all human endeavors be relegated to a lawless con-tingency, to blind accident, while the realm of reason inevery other sphere seems to be increasing?” he wrote. “Byno means, noble Prince. Political and civil freedomremain everywhere and always the most sacred of allgoods, the most worthy goal of all efforts and the greatcentral issue of all culture . . . but this glorious structurecan only be established on the firm basis of an ennobledcharacter; you must begin to create citizens for a constitu-tion, before you can create a constitution for the citizens.”

In 1793, Schiller was finally allowed to return to hisnative Württemburg, to visit his aging parents. He had achance to renew old acquaintances, including Friedrichvon Hoven, now a doctor in Ludwigsburg. The two dis-cussed the events in France, which were approachingmuch closer to the vicinity of Württemburg than anyonehad imagined. Von Hoven wrote of Schiller: “He is quiteconvinced that the French Republic will cease as rapidlyas it was formed, that the republican constitution willsooner or later change into anarchy, and the only salva-tion for the nation will be the appearance of a strongman, coming from wherever he may, to exorcise thetumult, reintroduce law and order, and hold the reins ofthe government tightly in his hand, even if he has tomake himself the absolute master of not only France, butalso of other parts of Europe.”

During Schiller’s visit, Schiller’s old nemesis, DukeKarl Eugen, died. Schiller bore him no ill will. He visitedthe Duke’s gravesite with von Hoven, and commented:“He had great failings as a regent, and greater failings asa man. The former were overshadowed by his greatqualities, and thoughts of the latter must be buried withthe dead; and so I’ll tell you, now that he is lying here, ifyou hear someone speak unfavorably of him, don’tbelieve him. He who does so is not a good man, or at leastnot a noble one.”

Schiller had already abandoned the idea of becomingthe editor of a political journal. His publisher JohannFriedrich Cotta had proposed this to him in 1794, andSchiller had seriously considered the idea, but in the endrejected it. Writing to Cotta on May 19, Schiller said:“Meanwhile I have discovered that even this more limitedundertaking [of publishing a political quarterly rather thana monthly–WJ] may raise considerable objections. As formyself, I must admit that I would not have chosen a politi-cal writing career out of inclination, but rather as a specula-tive venture. And since I could never neglect something onwhich I place my name, such a task would have required agreat deal more time and effort than any other venture.”

Instead, Schiller agreed to launch a cultural magazine,beginning the following year. It would be called DieHoren (after the Horae, Greek goddesses of order in

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* See “A Reader’s Guide to Schiller’s Letters on the Aesthetical Educa-tion of Man,” page 80, this issue.

nature). The magazine was to mobilize all the greatminds of the age. By September, he felt that he hadalready organized Goethe and Herder, Johann GottlobFichte, Körner, the poet Friedrich von Matthison, JohanJacob Engel, the teacher of the Humboldt brothers, aswell as the Humboldt brothers themselves, Wilhelm andAlexander, and a group of lesser lights, including thebright but treacherous Schlegel brothers, August Wilhelmand Karl Wilhelm Friedrich, who were later instrumen-tal in the creation of the Romantic movement. Schillerthought the elder brother August Wilhelm possessedsome talent; the younger brother had already become abitter critic of Schiller, and would soon bring his brotherover to his side. The two Schlegels would become the cen-ter of a massive campaign to try to destroy Schiller whilehe lived, and to besmirch his reputation after his death.

Most dramatic of all was the conquest of Goethe,which established the most solid and fruitful collaborationin German—perhaps in world—literary history. Schillerhad sent to Goethe some of his latest productions, thepoem “Die Götter Griechenlands” (“The Gods ofGreece”) and “Die Kunstler” (“The Artists”)* in which anattentive mind could find certain allusions to Goethe. TheWeimar cultural patriarch had also a great interest in thestudy of the natural sciences. In July 1794, he came to Jenato attend the monthly meeting of a natural science associa-tion of which both he and Schiller were honorary mem-bers. Schiller, perhaps knowing that Goethe would bethere, also attended the meeting. The two began to discussGoethe’s ideas on the metamorphosis of plants. Schiller,trained in medicine, showed himself to be well-versed inthe subject, much to Goethe’s surprise. They became soinvolved in the discussion that they decided to continueback at Schiller’s house. “I expounded enthusiastically onthe metamorphoses of plants, and with many characteris-tic strokes of the pen, I traced before his eyes a symbolicplant,” Schiller wrote. “He listened and observed all thiswith keen interest, and with a decisive power of compre-hension; when I finished, he shook his head and said. ‘Butthat is not empirical, that is an idea.’ I stopped short, a bitannoyed. For the point that divided us was thus indicatedin the most rigorous manner.”

And so the conversation led to a more philosophicaldiscussion of fundamental questions. Although Goethenever accepted Schiller’s philosophical standpoint, he waswon over by the force of Schiller’s personality. Goethewent on in his description: “The first step was thus taken,Schiller’s power of attraction was great, he captivated all

who came within his purview; I partook of all his viewsand promised to contribute to Horen many things whichstill lay hidden within me; his wife, whom I had beenaccustomed to love and to admire since she was a child,played her part to create a lasting understanding; all ourmutual friends were overjoyed, and so we sealed, by thatgrand, and perhaps never quite settled struggle betweenobject and subject, a pact that remained unbroken, andwhich for us and others has effected much good.”13

Schiller was also pleasantly surprised with the results.In a letter to Körner on Sept. 1, 1794, he wrote: “On myreturn I found a warm letter from Goethe, who had nowfinally taken me into his confidence. Six weeks ago wehad a long and wide-ranging discussion about art and thetheory of art and had each explained the quite differentways we had come to our main concepts about art.Between these concepts there was an unexpected agree-ment, that was all the more interesting in that they actu-ally proceeded from the greatest differences in our pointsof view. Each could give the other something that itlacked, receive something in return. Since that time, theideas disseminated by Goethe have taken root, and henow feels a need to rely on me, and the road, which he upuntil now has traveled alone and without encourage-ment, he will continue in company with me.”

Raising the Banner of FreedomSchiller now set about his most ambitious publishing pro-ject yet. He had been at the helm of at least six journalsprior to this, but Die Horen was intended to create a revo-lution in thought in Germany, and throughout Europeoverall. This was the culmination of the political taskSchiller had set himself in the Aesthetical Letters. Heintended to involve all the serious and committed intellec-tuals in the German cultural world. Even Immanuel Kant,sitting in his cozy little world in Königsberg on the BalticSea, was invited to participate. But the psychologicallyblocked professor had not quite gotten over the attacksmade on his system by Schiller in “On Grace and Dignity”and, more rigorously, in the Aesthetical Letters. Althoughcordial and formally encouraging, Kant, who had men-tioned Schiller’s critique of him in his Religion in the Lightof Reason, never contributed anything to the magazine.Schiller would later say of this German representative ofthe so-called “Enlightenment”: “There is always some-thing in him which, like Luther, reminds you of a monk.He has opened the gates of the monastery, but can neverquite escape its imprint.” He also commented that Kantcould “never free his wings from life’s muck.”

Writing in September 1794 to Cotta, whom he wishedto recruit as the publisher of the new journal, Schiller

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* See translation, in “Schiller’s Thought-Poetry: ‘The Artists,’ ” page49, this issue.

was enthusiastic. “For our part, there is no longer anydifficulty, and already we have pulled together a societyof writers, which no other journal has yet been able toexhibit. Goethe, Herder, Garve, Engel, Fichte, FriedrichJacobi, Matthison, Woltmann, Genz in Berlin, and stillfour or five others, whose names are not yet known bythe general public, but who will yet play a role in the lit-erary world, are, in addition to myself, participants in thisproject,” he wrote. One of the contributors, Wilhelm vonHumboldt, had even decided to take up residence inJena, in order to be close to Schiller, and to assist him inthe undertaking.

Schiller’s prognosis about the French Revolution—that it would have consequences far outside Franceitself—proved to be all too accurate. Already in 1792, thegreat European powers, Austria, Prussia, Russia, andGreat Britain, had invaded France on several fronts.Believing that resistance would collapse within a matterof weeks or months, they were astounded by the ability ofRevolutionary France to create entire armies almost fromscratch. None of them had yet experienced the tremen-dous organizational capabilities of the great LazareCarnot through his famous levée en masse, mobilizing theentire population as a “people in arms,” which not onlyallowed France to foil the attacks from abroad, but per-mitted it to expand outside its own borders. In July 1793,the city of Mainz, seat of the Archbishop of Mainz, one of

the Electors of the Holy RomanEmpire, was occupied by theFrench. In 1794, French troopsoccupied several German states onthe left bank of the Rhine. In 1797,these regions would be formallyannexed to France. The Frenchpresence also placed significantpolitical pressure on all the states ofsouthern Germany. The Germannation was fast becoming occupiedterritory.

Patriotic Germans now foundthemselves in a dilemma. Thosewho were favorable to the ideals ofthe Revolution, not yet aware ofhow those ideals were being per-verted at that very moment, had tochoose between these revolutionaryideals, and the occupation of theircountry by a foreign power. Some,like Schiller’s friend Georg Forster,for example, felt it fitting to serve inwhat was effectively a puppet gov-ernment set up by the French in

Mainz, a move condemned by Schiller.It was in this atmosphere that Schiller launched his new

publication, true to the commitment he had expressed inhis letter to Augustenborg, “to arm Truth and Virtue withthat victorious energy which brings hearts under its sway.”Writing in the announcement of the first issue of DieHoren, he wrote: “At a time when the near sounds of warfrighten the Fatherland, where the battle of political opin-ion and interests renews this war in almost every circle,and all too often frightens off the Muses and the Graces,where neither in the conversation nor in the writings ofthe day is there refuge from this all-persecuting demon ofpolitical criticism, it is perhaps a bold, as well as useful taskto invite the much distracted reader to a diversion of acompletely opposite character. But the more the restrictedinterest of the present puts the human spirit in a state oftension, confines it and subjugates it in thralldom, themore urgent will be the need for that which is purelyhuman and elevated above the popular themes of the day,to place the spirit again in freedom, and to unite the politi-cally divided world under the banner of Truth and Beau-ty.” The correctness of Schiller’s view would not be mani-fest until it came to fruition after his death in the War ofLiberation, when a generation educated by his work wasprepared to wage an effective fight against the armies ofNapoleon, using Schiller’s republican ideals to mobilizethe population in their effort.

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Die Horen. Schillerassembled the leadingthinkers of Germany tocontribute to his newClassical journal,including his friends,philologist andstatesman Wilhelm vonHumboldt (right) andphilosopher JohannGottfried Herder (left).

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Schiller tried to engage and elevate the nascent Romantics, including (left toright) the brothers August Wilhelm and Friedrich Schlegel, and Johann Fichte.

The Power of the Greeks

It was at this time, when he had finally succeeded inestablishing a close relationship with Goethe, thatSchiller also benefitted from his intimacy with Wilhelmvon Humboldt. Humboldt’s wife, Caroline von Dachero-den, had been a friend of the Lengefeld sisters. In 1792,Schiller had published in Thalia, the chapter of a bookHumboldt was writing on The Limits of State Action,under the title “How Far Should the State Extend ItsConcern for the Well-Being of Its Citizens?” This wasthe result of Humboldt’s experience while serving in adiplomatic position in Paris at the height of the revolu-tionary events. Humboldt’s great love, however, wasClassical Greece, an interest which he shared withSchiller. Humboldt had gained proficiency in AncientGreek, even translating Aeschylus’s Agamemnon andworks by the Greek poet Pindar.

In 1793, Humboldt moved to Jena to be with Schiller,and thus expand his own horizons. He brought Schiller agreat deal of comfort and stimulation: “In the most livelyexchange of ideas,” Caroline von Wolzogen wrote, “andthe most intimate friendship, life for [Schiller] would bemore graceful and richer in a thousand different spiritualaspects. Every evening the two would become engrossedin philosophical and aesthetical discussions, that wouldoften drag on till late in the night.”14 The correspondencebetween the two during times when Humboldt wasaway, or after he moved from Schiller’s side to becomeinvolved in the requirements of day-to-day political anddiplomatic life, indicate the great breadth and depth oftheir relationship.15

Humboldt was certainly not much of a poet, and hiswriting was often too dry for Schiller’s taste. But his pro-found knowledge of Greece, its literature and its lan-guage, was for Schiller an invaluable resource, on whichhe drew to perfect his art. Humboldt was also a rigorouscritic, and he would offer his comments on Schiller’sworks as they were being produced, often leading tochanges, and always with a depth of understanding andhigh appreciation that few others possessed. Humboldttruly loved Schiller, ranking him as the greatest of poets,above Goethe or Shakespeare, whom he admired mostamong the moderns.

In an August 1797 letter to Körner, after Humboldthad moved from Jena and was about to visit Körner inDresden, Schiller explained the importance of Humboldtfor him: “He is highly qualified to keep company with,he has that unusual purity of interest in the subject athand, he awakens every slumbering idea, forces one tothe sharpest clarity, but avoiding any one-sidedness, andhe repays any effort that is expended in making your

ideas clear, through the rare ability to grasp them andexamine them.”

Later, in 1803, after many years of physical separation,Schiller would write nostalgically to Humboldt abouttheir days together: “It is strange how we were so galva-nized by each other during those years 1794 and 1795,when we could philosophize together and feel the jolt ofthat intellectual friction that each generated through theother. Those times will always be unforgettable for me,and if I presently find myself transposed into that joyouspoetic activity, and feel on the whole much better, I canassure you, dear friend, that the lack of such anencounter of the spirits as existed between us at thattime, has made me feel that much older.” Even withGoethe the relationship was never quite so close as it waswith Humboldt.

Stimulated by Humboldt, Schiller decided to masterthe Greek language, of which he had learned the rudi-ments at the Karlschule, although he never had theleisure to seriously pursue that desire. He did pursue astudy of Greek drama, however, which was to exert amajor influence on his next dramatic undertaking, theWallenstein trilogy.

Schiller was closely involved in editing the Horen. Hesaw his task as establishing a new cultural paradigm,looking back to the Greeks not merely to blindly imitatethem, but to create new works for the present whichstood on their shoulders. As he wrote in marginal com-ments on Humboldt’s “On the Study of the Ancients,Especially the Greeks”16: “In the first period there werethe Greeks. We stand in the second. The third is still tobe hoped for, and then we will not need to wish theGreeks to return.”17

Schiller applied his rigorous ideals to the editing of thenew journal. He counselled many young poets, encourag-ing them in their work, criticizing their mistakes, andpublishing them when they came up with suitable contri-butions. This included a flurry of young woman poets,like Amalia von Imhoff and Sophie Moreau, many ofwhom, unfortunately, would later be sucked into the vor-tex of the Romantic movement fomented after Schiller’sdeath, particularly after the passage of the Carlsbaddecrees in Germany in 1819. Although the Schlegelbrothers were already his sworn enemies, Schiller alwaysattempted to bring the elder brother August Wilhelmback to the path of Reason, publishing his translations ofDante and Shakespeare, as well as some of his theoreticalworks. The later Romantic poets Friedrich von Harden-burg (Novalis), Jean Paul Richter, and Friedrich Hölder-lin, as well as the philosophers Fichte, Schelling, andHegel, who would come to found the so-called Idealistphilosophy—the complement in philosophy to Romanti-

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cism in the arts—all came within Schiller’s purview, andhe attempted to give them all some direction.

Fichte was invited to contribute to the Horen, but hisfirst submission was far below what Schiller was willingto accept. Schiller attempted to reject the article gently,but Fichte was unreconcilable. In a draft of a response toFichte which he never sent, Schiller expressed his con-cerns about Fichte’s comportment in words that revealSchiller’s own attitude toward the Romantic “Zeitgeist”:“Nearly every line that has in recent years flowed frommy pen, bears this character [disdain of contemporaryopinion–WJ], and if I likewise for ulterior reasons which Ihave in common with other writers, can not remain indif-ferent over whether I have a large or small readership, Ihave at least captured it in the only way that is consistentwith my nature and my character; not through cozying upto the spirit of the age do I win over the public, but by seeking,through a lively and daring exhibition of my manner of repre-sentation, to surprise, intensify, and agitate it. That a writerwho travels this path cannot be the darling of the public, isin the nature of things; for one loves only what releasesone, not what causes tension; but for all that, he has thesatisfaction of knowing that he is hated out of wretched-ness, and envied out of vanity, attacked with enthusiasmby spirits with verve, and adored in fear and trembling byslavish souls. I have never really sought to inquire aboutthe good or bad effects of my literary activity but exam-ples of both have obtruded upon me uninvited—and thishappens to this very day.”18 [Emphasis added.]

The Spirit of AmericaAlthough Die Horen was devoted primarily to art and lit-erature, Schiller also encouraged historical articles ofadvantage to the reader. In July 1795, he wrote to the his-torian Johan Wilhelm von Archenholz, asking him tocontribute an article on the American RevolutionaryWar: “Have you ever considered putting together a short,concise picture of the American Revolutionary War? Iknow nothing in recent history that, under the hand of amaster craftsman, would have such a universal attrac-tion.” Archenholz was a prominent military historian,who had already published in his own history journal,Minerva, an article on the unjust imprisonment of theMarquis de Lafayette. In 1793, from his prison at Magde-burg, Lafayette had written to Archenholz, explaininghis actions during the heyday of the French Revolution.Although critical of the Marquis for not being moreaggressive in attempting to gain control of events inParis, Archenholz became instrumental in the movementto mobilize public opinion in Germany to free him. In1796, Archenholz published in Minerva a letter to

Lafayette from Lafayette’s son, George WashingtonLafayette, who had gone to live with George Washingtonin Philadelphia after his father’s arrest.

Lafayette had been captured in Germany by Prussiantroops and placed in a Prussian prison. In October 1794,Schiller himself had received an anonymous letter relatingthe capture of Lafayette, comparing the French Marquisto Schiller’s own Marquis of Posa, and urging Schiller tohelp obtain his release, or at least, an amelioration of theconditions under which he was held. Several months ear-lier, however, the Prussians had turned Lafayette over tothe Austrians, who threw him into a dungeon in Olmutz,where he was imprisoned for five years.

Schiller’s keen interest in the American Revolutionwas well known to his friends. In 1797, he was given bythe German engraver Johann Wilhelm Muller, anengraving commemorating the death of the AmericanGeneral Joseph Warren at the Battle of Bunker Hill. Theengraving was based on a painting by John Trumbull, theartist son of the Revolutionary War-era Governor ofConnecticut, who had served in the Continental Army.The engraving was a topic of discussion between Schillerand Goethe, who appreciated the artistic qualities of thepainting upon which the engraving was based.

It was at this time that Schiller was beginning to workon Wallenstein. He was greatly assisted by the advice andcriticism of Goethe. By now, the two men had developeda close working relationship, unprecedented in the histo-ry of culture. Schiller had been Goethe’s primary criticand consultant as Goethe developed his Wilhelm Meistertrilogy, often incorporating Schiller’s observations, ormaking changes suggested by him. In turn, the elderman performed the same function for the younger.When Schiller wrote the first draft of his poem “Ibykus,”for example, Goethe pointed out that cranes never flyalone, but always in flocks. Schiller then rewrote thepoem to reflect that important point, changing the title to“The Cranes of Ibykus.” Later, in 1797, the two menwould embark on a poetry competition of sorts, witheach engaging the other in reviving the medieval balladform, leading to new and wonderful creations from thehands of both.19

In 1795, the two poets decided to launch a directprovocation, by jointly issuing a collection of couplets,titled “Xenien,” under both their names, with no indica-tion of which poet had authored which of the epigrams.These witty and often biting couplets lampooned specificindividuals of German culture and art, causing an uproarin the German intellectual world, which delighted theauthors, who were happy to see the well-aimed barbs hittheir mark. In that vein, Schiller would comment toGoethe in a letter of June 1799, that “the only relationship

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with the public that can’t be a source of regret, is that ofwar, and I am also very much in favor of attacking dilet-tantism with every weapon.”

It was Schiller who first saw the overriding impor-tance of Goethe’s work on the drama Faust, which hethought would become the elder poet’s greatest master-piece. But Goethe had a myriad of interests, both artisticand romantic, that pulled him in all directions, and hecould never maintain concentration on it. Schiller’s prod-ding would put Goethe back on track, only to be soondiverted by some other interest. This trait of Goethe’salways infuriated Schiller. Goethe did not finish the firstpart of Faust, with which Schiller was familiar, until1808, three years after Schiller’s death. The second partwould not be completed until 1832, and was publishedposthumously.

A Call to ArmsThe Wallenstein trilogy was the culmination of manyyears of study begun by Schiller when preparing his his-torical works, and it would prove to be one of the longestand most difficult to compose. Schiller had not written adramatic work since the completion of Don Carlos in1787. Now, his study of the Thirty Years’ War, an histori-cal event which had become of central importance tohim, as it was for the German nation, rekindled his inter-est in that period as the setting for a new drama.

The central figure was not to be the heroic GustavusAdolphus, whom Schiller so much admired, but rather afar less heroic—and, therefore, more difficult—figure asthe subject of tragedy: General Albrecht Wenzel Wallen-stein, the Duke of Friedland. Wallenstein was the onecommander in the service of the Habsburg Emperor whohad proven his skill against the Swedish armies. But,after fifteen years of fighting, he was prepared to throwin his lot with the forces of Sweden and the GermanProtestants to end the devastating religious warfare.

Schiller was at the time engaged in his study of theworks of Sophocles and the Greeks. He wished withWallenstein to replicate the epic proportions of the Greektragedies, in which the tragic outcome has less to do withthe miscalculations of the hero, than with the grand lawsof destiny. In Wallenstein, the awesomeness of the taskthat Wallenstein set for himself—to lead the army of theEmperor against the Emperor, and thus end the wars ofreligion—only served to magnify the horror of the deed,when Wallenstein ultimately failed and was assassinated.Schiller explained the difficulties of dealing with the sub-ject in a letter to Goethe on Nov. 28, 1796: “Fate still playstoo small a role, and the actual missteps of the hero toolarge a one, in his misfortune. But I comfort myself

somewhat with the example of Macbeth, where also des-tiny has much less to do with his destruction, than theman himself.” However, Schiller’s learned friend Hum-boldt assured him that, in the final product, he hadachieved his goal: “You have transformed Wallenstein’sfamily into a House of Atreus [of Aeschylus’s Oresteiatrilogy–WJ], in which destiny abides, where the occu-pants are put to flight, but where the onlooker lingerslong and willingly at the desolate scene.” With the deathof Wallenstein, the only man in the Imperial Army whocould conceivably have put an end to the fighting, thewar would continue for another fifteen years. The resultswere still very much present in Germany duringSchiller’s day. In Austria, seat of the Habsburg ImperialFamily against whom Wallenstein had been prepared torevolt—and the place where Schiller had the greatest dif-ficulty getting his work past the censors—Wallensteinwould not be performed until 1814!

Schiller wrestled with Wallenstein for seven years. Thedrama was of such length that it had to be divided intothree parts, each performed on a separate evening. Theplay dealt with war and warriors. Its first, introductorypart, Wallenstein’s Camp, whose metrical form distinguishedit from the other parts, took place wholly in an army camp,and the dramatis personae were all soldiers, from general tolowliest private. Here, undoubtedly, Schiller used thefamiliarity acquired by his many trips with his father. Theplays included musical interludes, and some of the poemshe composed for this part were set to music. Wallenstein’sCamp would later serve as the model for the camp scene inGiuseppe Verdi’s opera La Forza del Destino.

It was with Wallenstein, more than with any other pro-duction by Schiller, that Goethe would make his greatestcontribution. During the course of its composition, andparticularly as Schiller was coming to the point where thework could be performed, the two regularly discussedthe play, scene by scene, deliberating on the meter, char-acters, and problems of staging. They even took into con-sideration the actors they would be working with, sinceWallenstein placed great demands on their diction, enun-ciation, and vocal carrying power. Goethe’s work withSchiller on the trilogy was so extensive, that he knew theentire work by heart.

Produced at a time of great turmoil in Germany, Wal-lenstein became a patriotic rallying point for resistance toNapoleon. The play premiered in Weimar on Oct. 12,1798, with Wallenstein’s Camp. The second part of the tril-ogy, The Piccolomini, was staged there in January 1799.When the third part, The Death of Wallenstein, was pre-miered on July 2, 1799, King Friedrich Wilhelm III ofPrussia himself journeyed to Weimar from Berlin, to seeit presented under the direction of its author.

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Goethe had prepared reviews for the press inadvance of the premieres, to be sent out immediatelyfollowing the performances. The second staging ofWallenstein took place in Berlin, where the director ofthe Berlin Theater was Schiller’s old friend AugustWilhelm Iffland, who had created the character KarlMoor at the Mannheim Theater many years earlier.Iffland was concerned that certain passages wouldnot be acceptable to the Prussian authorities. In par-ticular, he feared that Wallenstein’s Camp, whichshowed a cynical and lawless band of mercenaries sotypical of the Thirty Years’ War, would not play wellin a “garrison state” like Prussia. But, contrary toIffland’s concerns, the play was a rousing success. Theother two parts of the trilogy were so popular withthe Berlin public that, by 1803, Iffland was willing topresent Wallenstein’s Camp, too.

Lyndon LaRouche once described the effect ofgreat drama as follows: “[You] take within yourselfthe full cultural experience, by trying to relive, inyour own mind, as on a stage. It’s like what a greatdramatist does, like Schiller does, or Shakespearedoes; or, Shakespeare does with the English histo-ries, for example take these conditions in your mind,re-enact them in your mind. Not as something youcomment on, but as if you were reliving it, as a greatdramatist does, with a historical drama.”20 Theeffect of this “reliving” of such an event in Germanhistory as that described in Wallenstein was over-whelming. Schiller’s drama tapped into the deepestemotional recesses of the nation. The play’s messagebecame a rallying cry to defend the nation by arms if nec-essary, and it had a cathartic effect on the soldiers whowould soon be going to war. In October 1805, a numberof non-commissioned officers were given free tickets to aperformance. There were also many Prussian officers inattendance. The famous “Reiterlied,” one of the poemsauthored by Schiller, was sung, followed by another pop-ular military air, “In Praise of War.” The latter was takenup by the audience, who knew it well, after which therewere hurrahs for the King and the Prussian Army. Later,Schiller’s influence within the military was noted in a dif-ferent context by the aging General von Yorck, himself alate convert to the cause of the Prussian reforms, com-plaining that “every young ensign now wants to play theMarquis Posa to his superior officers.”21

With Wallenstein, Schiller’s reputation as Germany’sgreatest writer was now undisputed, and his influencereached into the courts of many countries. In 1802,through the efforts of Dalberg, Schiller was raised to thenobility. The Imperial edict conferring the title stated:“In particular, his excellent poems have given to the Ger-

man language and to German patriotism new life, so thathe has definitely provided great merit to the GermanyFatherland and its reputation.” Schiller was not himselfparticularly concerned about the title of nobility, but hewas not averse to accepting it, because the lack of a titlerestricted his ability to move freely at the court ofWeimar. His wife, although from an aristocratic familyherself, had also been restricted from participation incourt events, because she was married to a commoner.Schiller was eager to change those circumstances, morefor her sake than his.

In 1803, the King of Sweden, Gustaf Adolf IV, trav-elled to Weimar to see a production of the Death of Wal-lenstein. His real reason for the trip was to attempt tomobilize the German states to resist the encroachmentsof Napoleon. The King met with Schiller, and presentedhim with a ring, as a tribute to Schiller’s praise in the His-tory of the Thirty Years’ War of his ancestor, the greatSwedish King Gustavus Adolphus, who had intervenedin Germany to come to the aid of the Protestant statesduring the Thirty Years’ War. Schiller wrote to Körner

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The Wallenstein trilogy. Principal actors in the Thirty Years’ War:Sweden’s Gustavus Adolphus (above, right), and General AlbrechtWallenstein (above, left). Below: Scene from “Wallenstein’s Camp.”

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on September 12: “This is thefirst bird of this type that hasever flown into my house; mayothers soon follow.” And theysoon did.

In May 1803, Schiller wasinvited to a reception in Erfurtby a group of Prussian officerswho had seen Wallenstein. Hewrote to Körner on May 12:“The Prussian officers in Erfurthave invited me to a festival inErfurt, and I have attended. Itwas for me a great time to findmyself in the midst of a grandmilitary group, for there werearound 100 officers altogether,among whom I found some ofthe old majors and colonels mostinteresting.” Schiller was knownto the Prussian officers by morethan his poems and theatricalworks. Almost the entire vonWolzogen family—Wilhelm,Ludwig, and young August—were in uniform, and they werestrong proponents of Schiller’sworks. In preparing for the death of the character MaxPiccolomini, Schiller had asked Ludwig to describe whatit was like to be in the midst of battle, because he wantedto portray the death of his young idealist Max on the bat-tlefield. But Schiller found it impossible to replicate onstage the shooting, and the shouting, and the cannonades,described by Ludwig.

New Vistas at the EndWith the success of Wallenstein, Schiller was at the pinna-cle of his art. From there, until the end of his life in 1805,he rapidly composed at least one new masterpiece ayear—in 1800, Mary Stuart; in 1801, The Maid of Orleans;in 1803, The Bride of Messina; and, in 1804, William Tell.His death cut short work on his last drama, Demetrius.During these years, he was also occupied with produc-tions at the Weimar Theater, reworking dramas by Les-sing and Shakespeare for performance there.

Schiller had been fascinated by the story of Mary Stu-art ever since his Mannheim days. This drama about thedynastic struggle under the Tudors, allowed him to probethe problems of the religious divisions in the British Islesfollowing the death of Henry VII, and to tread on someof the ground which Shakespeare had trod before him in

his history plays. It also enabled him to exhibit some ofthe liturgical differences between Protestantism andCatholicism, sympathetically portraying on stage bothMary’s confession, and her receiving Holy Communion(which in some places had to be cut to get past the cen-sor!). An English colleague of Schiller’s who was living inWeimar, Joseph Mellish, translated the play for an Eng-lish audience as it was being written.

When Schiller turned his attention to the problems ofFrance, he focussed not as one might have expected onHenry IV of Navarre, but on Joan of Arc, the heroine ofFrench liberation from the English during the Fifteenthcentury. This was also Schiller’s way of rescuing Joan fromthe disrepute into which she had been thrust by a cynicalattack on her by Voltaire, that imp of the Enlightenment.Schiller took the poetic liberty of giving Joan a love inter-est, and a moment of doubt, in order to provide an oppor-tunity for her to overcome real human weakness, in theprocess of mobilizing her spirit to fulfill its divinelyordained mission. Schiller compared the lyrical beauty ofthe language in his Maid of Orleans to that of an opera.

In 1803, Schiller produced The Bride of Messina, fol-lowing the example of Goethe, who in his 1786 Iphigeniaat Taulis had attempted to replicate the Greek form mostclosely with a subject from Greek myth. Then, in 1804,

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The republican idealismof Schiller’s writingsinspired opposition toNapoleon’s occupationduring the 1813-1814War of Liberation (left).Below: Prussianmilitary reformers (leftto right) Gerhard vonScharnhorst, Neihartvon Gniesenau, BaronKarl vom Stein.

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Schiller produced that masterpiece of republican drama,William Tell.

Schiller chose these incidents from the historical tradi-tions of the different European nations, because they hadparticular significance in exposing the psychologicalproblems impeding political change. The unfinishedDemetrius, a drama from Russian history, was situatedduring the “Time of Troubles” (1604-1613), when thecountry found itself without a Czar. Russia had become afocus of attention for Schiller because of its significance asan ally of Germany in the coming conflict withNapoleon. Schiller was also becoming a favorite amongmany of the members of the ruling Romanov family,thanks to the work of his brother-in-law, Wilhelm vonWolzogen, who was now an aide to the Germanprincesses who had married into the Romanov family.There may also have been some thought on Schiller’s partof preparing the Russian ruling family for the importantdecisions they would have to make in the coming years.The secret of Schiller’s Demetrius was that the dynasticissue was not of primary significance: the “false”Demetrius could achieve legitimacy as a ruler, if heacquired the qualities of a statesman. For Schiller, therequirement for leading a nation was statesmanship, nomatter what one’s pedigree.

William Tell was an idea that Goethe had long playedwith, and had discussed often with Schiller. In addition,Schiller was being pressured by the Berlin Theater direc-tor Iffland to provide him with something that wouldhave broad public appeal. Iffland had staged Schiller’sBride of Messina, the closest Schiller came to replicating theform of an actual Greek tragedy, but it did not have thesame success as Schiller’s other plays. William Tell, howev-er, with its folk-like setting, became one of the most popu-lar of Schiller’s works. Schiller determined that Tell wouldbe his gift to Iffland, and would premiere in Berlin.

Receiving the first scenes, Iffland was overjoyed. But, ashe received subsequent ones, he became increasingly con-cerned, primarily because of the political content of theplay. Indeed, Iffland may even have received word fromthe Prussian censors—who would, of course, be keeping awatchful eye on anything appearing on the Berlin stage—that parts of the play were unacceptable. Always aware ofthe vicissitudes of censorship in the different Germanstates, Schiller agreed to blunt some of the sharper con-frontations between the oligarchs and the freedom fight-ers. But this delayed the opening in Berlin, and thereforethe premiere of Wilhelm Tell was held in Weimar. Fitting-ly, the delayed Berlin premiere would be performed onAmerican Independence Day, July 4, 1804.

Of all his plays, Wilhelm Tell most clearly expressedSchiller’s republican ideals. It also most strongly reflected

the influence of the American Revolution. In the famousRütli Oath, one sees reflected the views of the signers ofthe Declaration of Independence, who pledged theirlives, their liberty, and their sacred honor, to assert the“inalienable rights” of man. One of the parts of the playwhich Iffland found most problematic was the famousdeclaration by Stauffacher at Rütli, “There is a limit tothe tyrant’s power!” There was also a limit to Schiller’spatience, however, and this scene remained as written. Ina letter to Iffland on April 14, Schiller said: “I couldn’tformulate it in any other way without contradicting thespirit of the work; for once you have chosen a subject likeWilliam Tell, you must necessarily play on certain stringswhich don’t always sound pleasant to every ear. If thepassages that you now mention cannot be spoken in thetheater, then Tell cannot be played at all at this theater,since its entire focus, as innocent and just as it is, mustcause scandal.”

Earlier, at the end of 1803, Schiller had received aninvitation from the King and Queen of Prussia to visitthem at the Royal Palace at Potsdam, just outside Berlin.He had spoken with the royal couple before, at theWeimar premiere of The Death of Wallenstein. The meet-ing was part of an effort by friends of Schiller to bringhim to Berlin, which was clearly becoming a larger arenafor his activity. The recent death of Herder, and Goethe’soccasional flights into a hermit-like existence, madeSchiller’s Weimar seem a very small place.

Schiller made the trip in May 1804. While in Berlin,he had the opportunity to meet for the first time some ofthe Berlin humanist circle descended from the intellectu-al networks of the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. Hewas already acquainted with Mendelssohn’s son Abra-ham, with the composer Zelter, and with the Humboldts,but many of the Berlin intelligentsia knew Schiller onlythrough his works. In Berlin, he had the opportunity tosee performances of both The Maid of Orleans and Wal-lenstein—as both were playing over the same fortnight.

Schiller met with the King and Queen, and with Cabi-net Minister Karl Friedrich Beyme, during his weeks inBerlin. He also met with Prince Louis Ferdinand, whowas already an enthusiastic supporter of resistance toNapoleon. Louis Ferdinand would lose his life two yearslater, leading his troops in battle against the French atSaalfeld. The King and Queen assured Schiller thatarrangements could be made for him to move to Berlin,or, barring that, to have him spend some part of the yearin Berlin, and to induct him into the Berlin Academy ofSciences. There was even discussion of appointing himhistory tutor to the young Crown Prince, later KingFriedrich Wilhelm IV. In a letter to Körner on June 16,after concluding his visit, Schiller wrote of a possible

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move to Berlin: “I have felt the need to move to a strangeand larger city. On the one hand, I am determined towrite for a larger public. My dramatic works shouldinfluence them, and I see myself here in such a limitedenvironment, that it’s a miracle how I somehow canachieve something for the larger world outside.” His sis-ter-in-law also remarked how Schiller “in later life con-sidered himself suitable for public office, and believed thathe could do this with great interest and to some benefit.”

Despite the assurances he had been given in Berlin,however, Schiller never received a reply to his lettersrequesting clarification of the financial arrangements.Perhaps his republican spirit was too great a challenge tothe Prussian aristocracy. It would also be some timebefore the government, pressed by outside events, decid-ed to mobilize the people for total war against Napoleon,thus permitting the fulfillment of long-planned andmuch-needed liberal reforms.

There were also pressing personal reasons for Schillerto be hesitant about such a move. Charlotte was not excit-ed by the thought of leaving her native region, and shewas pregnant with another child. Schiller’s health, alwaysprecarious, was another consideration. The poet who hadwritten so wonderfully about the Swiss mountain folk,had never seen the Alps; the author of the sea-faringFiesco, had never seen the sea. His physical condition hadalways made long journeys life-threatening ventures. Atthe same time, the Duke of Weimar, learning of Schiller’sfinancial predicament, agreed to raise his stipend. InAugust, another daughter, Emilie, was born.

In November, Schiller’s brother-in-law, Wilhelm vonWolzogen, accompanied the Crown Princess of Russia,Maria Pavlovna, who had married the son of the Duke ofWeimar, to Weimar. There were great celebrations.Schiller composed “Die Huldigung der Kunste”(“Homage to the Arts”) in her honor. Von Wolzogen hadintroduced both the Crown Princess and her mother, theQueen Dowager, to Schiller’s dramas in St. Petersburg.Even Czarina Elizabeth, a German princess from Badenwho had become the wife of the new Czar Alexander I,was now a fervent admirer of Don Carlos. When Schillercompleted William Tell, he had sent a manuscript to vonWolzogen in St. Petersburg for a reading before theQueen Mother, deftly eliminating the scene referring tothe regicide, since the husband of the Queen Mother hadbeen slain by an assassin.

By the spring of 1805, Schiller was again seriously ill.He was working with Johann Heinrich Voss, the youngson of the German translator of Homer’s epics. YoungVoss had himself recently translated Othello for perfor-mance at the theater in Weimar, and Schiller was review-ing the translation. Voss would become the companion of

his final days. Both Schiller and Goethe were now seri-ously ill, and both considered the possibility that one orboth of them might soon die. On March 1, the two metfor the last time. Voss, who was present, describes thescene: “They fell into a warm embrace, and kissed eachother in a warm, tender kiss, before either of them couldsay a word. Neither of them spoke of their own or theother’s maladies, but both enjoyed with a cheerful spiritthe unadulterated joy of being again united.”

On May 8, Schiller fell into a semi-conscious state. Atone point, when he was approached by his sister-in-lawCaroline, he clasped her hand warmly, saying, “Alwaysbetter, always cheerful.” Then, on the morning of May 9,Schiller quietly passed away. His wife Charlotte wrote:“He was fantasizing quite a bit about soldiers, about war-riors. He mentioned Lichtenberg’s name many times.Then he went into a deep sleep. He awakened once.Then he gently expired—such was his death.”

For Goethe, the loss was devastating. He commentedthat half of him had died with the loss of Schiller.Although he would live on for many years, reveringSchiller’s memory, and would finish his Faust, his exis-tence and, undoubtedly, his productions would be thepoorer without the watchful eye and tender solicitation ofhis noble friend. When his granddaughter, Ottilie, latercommented that Schiller’s poetry often bored her, the oldgentleman wryly remarked, “You are too wretched andtoo earthly for him.”22 In 1823, while preparing the pub-lication of the letters between himself and Schiller,Goethe wrote to Wilhelm von Humboldt: “His letters arean unending treasure . . . and as one can by means ofthem make great progress, so must they be read againand again in order not to fall backward.”23

Schiller was no more, but his works would live on toinspire generations to come. In the following year, 1806,Napoleon annexed a greater portion of the states westof the Rhine, forming a French-controlled Confedera-tion of the Rhine. On October 14, he defeated thePrussian Army at Jena, marching triumphantly intoBerlin. It would take years of occupation and furtherhumiliation for the Prussian government, following thedestruction of Napoleon’s Grande Armée in its retreatfrom Moscow, to gather the courage to take up armsagainst the invader. Faced with ultimate destruction,the King finally gave the Prussian reformers the leewaythey needed to make fundamental changes in the oli-garchical system, and to mobilize the population in awar of liberation against Napoleon—although thesereforms were subsequently overturned when the Euro-pean oligarchy reconsolidated its power at the 1815Congress of Vienna. Throughout the War of Libera-tion, however, when the spirit of freedom would

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become a rallying cry for the German people, the wordswould be Schiller’s.

These words would be translated into all the lan-guages of the world, and would be heard in theaterseverywhere. Schiller had given to each European nation aclassic to embrace and love, and to hold high as an exam-ple of the great ideals to which it might aspire; and to allnations, a corpus of work which each might call its own.The words would be set to music, in Lieder and in choralsong. They would be set by Beethoven in his Ninth Sym-phony, and, thus adorned as the culmination of thatgrand symphonic ode to human brotherhood, would ringforth in every corner of the world as the universal song offreedom.

Years later, another German poet, Heinrich Heine,who would take up the cudgels against the Romanticistlot which had fought Schiller during and after his life-

time, wrote in The Romantic School a tribute to hisunequalled predecessor, whose works would be thesolace of Heine’s own final days:

“Schiller wrote for the great ideas of Revolution, hedestroyed the spiritual Bastille, he raised the temple of free-dom, and indeed that very great temple, which shouldencompass all nations, just like a single community ofbrethren: he was a cosmopolitan. He began with thathatred against the past which we see in The Robbers, wherehe is like a little Titan, who has skipped school, drunksome schnapps, and thrown stones through Jupiter’s win-dows; he concluded with that love of the future, whichalready blossomed forth in Don Carlos like a forest of flow-ers; and he himself is the Marquis Posa, simultaneouslyprophet and soldier, who fights for what he prophesies,and, under a Spanish cloak, carries the most beautiful heartthat ever loved and sorrowed in Germany.”24

1. Helga Zepp LaRouche, “Beauty as a Necessary Condition ofHumanity,” Fidelio, Winter 1994 (Vol. III, No. 4).

2. Except where otherwise noted, all quotations are from SchillersWerke Nationalausgabe (Collected Works of Schiller, National Edi-tion) (Weimar: H. Bohlaus Nachf., 1943- ), 22 vols. All quotationshave been translated from the German by the author.

3. Caroline von Wolzogen, Schillers Leben (Life of Schiller) (Stuttgartund Tubingen: J.G. Cotta, 1851).

4. Friedrich Schiller, Die Räuber, Erläuterungen und Dokumente (TheRobbers, Commentary and Documents), ed. by Christian Grawe(Stuttgart, Philip Reclam jun., 1976).

5. Ibid.6. Ibid.7. Ibid.8. Schiller was quite taken with the iambic meter. On March 10,

1789, he wrote to Körner: “All sorts of ideas are rolling aroundalthough somewhat fuzzy in my head, but there will appearsomething clear for all this. But what meter ought I to choosefor it? Is it difficult to guess which I would definitely choose?None other than ottave rime. Everything else, except for theiambic, I will detest until the day I die, and how pleasantlymust the solemn, the sublime, play in such light fetters! Howmuch will the epic gain through the tender, gentle form ofbeautiful rhyme! One must know how to sing, as the Greekbards sang the Iliad, as the gondoliers in Venice sang the stan-za of ‘Jerusalem Delivered.’ ” Schiller’s friend Streicher wrotein 1784: “He believed that here iambic meter would be themost suited for the dignity of the action as well as that of thecharacters [of Don Carlos–WJ]. In the beginning this made forsome difficulty, since for two years he had not written anythingin bound verse. Now he must order his phrasing rhythmically;in order to create a meter that flowed, he had first to thinkrhythmically. When the first scene of Don Carlos was thusarrayed in metric garb, Schiller saw himself that it was not onlythe most appropriate for this drama, but, as it even lifted com-mon expressions to a higher plane, so would it even moreenhance the sublimity and the beauty of the more significantpassages.”

9. Caroline von Wolzogen, op. cit.10. Der Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe (Correspondence

Between Schiller and Goethe), ed. by Emil Staiger (Frankfurt amMain: Insel Verlag, 1966), Introduction.

11. Schiller authored an historical treatise on “The History of theFrench Agitation Which Preceded the Reign of Henry IV,” buthe never started a dramatic work on this hero of his.

12. Helga Zepp LaRouche, op. cit.13. Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe, op. cit., Introduction.14. Caroline von Wolzogen, op. cit.15. For Humboldt’s appreciation of Schiller, see Wilhelm von Hum-

boldt, “On Schiller and the Course of His Spiritual Develop-ment,” in Friedrich Schiller, Poet of Freedom, Vol. II, ed. byWilliam F. Wertz, Jr. (Washington, D.C.: Schiller Institute, 1988).

16. Wilhelm von Humboldt, “The History of the Decline and Fall ofthe Greek Republics. Introduction: Concerning the Greek Char-acter in General, and the Ideal Persuasion of the Same in Particu-lar” (1808), trans. by Patricia Noble, Fidelio, Summer/Fall 2002(Vol. XI, No. 3-4).

17. Der Briefwechsel zwischen Friedrich Schiller und Wilhelm von Hum-boldt (Correspondence Between Friedrich Schiller and Wilhelm vonHumboldt), ed. by Siegfried Seidel (Berlin, Aufbau-Verlag, 1962),Introduction.

18. Friedrich Schiller, Werke und Briefe in zwölf Bänden (FriedrichSchiller, Works and Letters in Twelve Volumes) (Frankfurt amMain: Deutscher Klassiker Verlag, 1998- ).

19. See Rosa Tennenbaum, “1797, The ‘Year of the Ballad’—In thePoets’ Workshop,” Fidelio, Spring 1998 (Vol. VII, No. 1).

20. Lyndon H. LaRouche, Jr., “The Crucial Role of the United Statesin Saving Civilization Today,” address to an international confer-ence of the Schiller Institute, Sept. 24, 2004, Wiesbaden, Germany,in Executive Intelligence Review, Oct. 8, 2004 (Vol. 31, No. 39).

21. Quoted in Sir John Robert Seeley, The Life and Times of Stein(Boston: Roberts Bros., 1870).

22. Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe, op. cit., Introduction.23. Ibid.24. Heinrich Heine, The Romantic School, translation available at

http://www.memberships.aol.com/abelard2/heine.htm

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