and alone, to seek his fortune in the great market of life.

The Grand Duke Paul of Russia, with his young princess, niece to the Duke of Würtemberg, was visiting Stuttgard. All the city and neighbourhood were astir with the festivities. In the midst of these on the 17th of September-the flight was planned. 'Among Schiller's friends was a young, generous-hearted musician, by name Andrew Streicher. This young man had become Schiller's confidant, and enthusiastically sharing the feelings of the poet, accompanied him in his flight; and the vehicle which contained our adventurers rolled away through the darkest of the city gates. At midnight, on the left, about a mile from the road, by the light which streamed from the illuminated windows of the ducal castle, Schiller could clearly perceive the home of his parents. A suppressed "O meine mutter!" escaped him, as he sank back in the carriage. So fled Schiller from the capital of Würtemberg, empty of purse and without hope, careless whither he went, so that he got beyond the reach of turnkeys and Grand Dukes, and commanding officers." The grating thraldom of his youth was now among the things of the past-the deliverance for which he had long sighed was completed. Schiller was now in his twenty-third year.

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Such were the circumstances of Schiller's early life. Through these and who shall say to what extent by the help of these ?-he grew to be the man he was. And was not that ordeal worth undergoing which presented in the end so noble a result?—this purification worth the purchase of all that suffering? Yes, surely; a thousand times, yes!

"Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate;

Who ne'er the mournful midnight

hours,

Weeping upon his bed has sate,-
He knows ye not, ye heavenly powers."

little while, "are now dissolved. The public is now all to me; my study, my sov'ran, my confidant. To the public I from this time belong; before this, and no other tribunal, will I place myself; this alone do I reverence and fear, Something majestic hovers before me, as I determine now to wear no other fetters but the sentence of the world, to appeal to no other throne but the soul of man."

Our fugitives reached Manheim in safety. Fearing to remain so near Stuttgard, they pushed on to Frankfort... With scarcely means to meet the expenses of the journey on foot, early one morning they set off, over one of the most striking roads in Europe. At last, however, they reached Frankfort, where Streicher received thirty florins from his mother. The two friends now took up their residence at an inn at Oggersheim, sharing one chamber and one bed. Here Schiller wrote "Cabal and Love;" and, also, in November, completed his "Fiesco," already partly composed. These were both published in 1783, and soon after were represented in the Manheim Theatre with universal admiration.

While Schiller was residing at Oggersheim, a generous lady, Madame Von Wolzogen, whose sons had been fellow students of his, offered him the shelter of her home at Baurbach. Thither Schiller was but too glad to go. His only sorrow was that he must part from the faithful Streicher. The friends bid each other farewell. "After fifty years," says a German biographer, "the musician was filled with sadness when he recalled the moment in which he left that truly kingly heart-the noblest of the German poets-alone, and in misfortune."

On a December evening, 1782, our homeless poet was received beneath family were from home, but no comfort the hospitable roof at Baurbach. The was wanting to him. Reinwald, the bookseller, who knew his secret, supplied him with books, and occasionally enlivened his solitude with his com

returned, however, and with her her daughter Charlotte. This girl presently found a place in our poet's fancy. There was a kindly feeling on both sides, but it does not seem to have culminated in any abiding attachment.

The success of the dramas "Fiesco" and "Cabal and Love" brought about some change in the estimation in which Schiller was held by his superiors. The Duke relinquished the idea, of further persecuting a man whose writings had gained him the esteem and affection of every true German: and the Count Dalberg perceived that the time had come when he might, at one stroke, second the pretensions of a man whom he still called friend, and give his theatre the advantage of a connection with the most popular dramatist of the day. Schiller was accordingly invited to Manheim as poet to the theatre. He addressed himself to the duties of this post, with all the ardour and determination of a longcherished ambition. Here at the house of Meir, he once more beheld Streicher-this time with a joyful countenance and words of hope and congratulation.

Here, at length, he had reached his true distinction. Here was work of which he felt pleasure, and a holy joy in the doing a furthering impulse, not a harsh restriction, to the free development of his inmost nature. At any rate, Schiller could now live, and was even in a fair way of realising the life poetic. Surrounded by a circle of friends who honoured him, acknowledged a subject of the Emperor Palatine-thus no longer having any cause to fear the duke, and well satisfied with the moderate income awarded him, Schiller looked forward into the future, with new eyes and a lightened heart.

In Germany the theatre holds a very different place, in relation to society, to what it does in this country. It is there regarded as a moral and educational agent, here simply as an apparatus for amusement. Consequently there its exhibitions are attuned to the tastes of a higher and better cultivated class than here. They talk of it

becoming so, but rather, they had received a new direction, a direction, if not the highest, yet that in which there was the greatest liberty and the widest scope. Laying down for himself and others (as we are told he did) the principle that the stage should take its rank with the church and the school among the primary institutions of the state; he felt proud of his own connection with the theatre, and exerted himself to the utmost in promoting its ends.

Here, situated thus pleasantly, and intensely occupied with manifold studies, the image of Charlotte Von Wolzogen ever hovered in his memory. He longed for a perfect union with some being, in whom he could repose all his thoughts and emotions. «Το be linked to one," he writes, "who shares with us joy and sorrow; who meets us in our emotions and supples to our humours; at her breast to release our souls from the thousand distractions, the thousand wild wishes and unruly passions, and drown all the bitterness of fortune in the enjoyment of domestic calm;-ah! such were the true delight of life." For him, he now thought, the chosen one was Charlotte Von Wolzogen. He openly proposed for her to her mother, but without success. The happiness of the girl could not be entrusted to one in whose worldly position there was still much to excite doubts and fears. Convinced at last of the hopelessness of his case, his passion sought a new object, and presently found one in the person of Margaret Schwan, the daughter of the bookseller to whom he had sold "Fiesco" and "Cabal and Love." She was of a cheerful disposition, and beautiful person, "rather devoted," say the German biographers, "to the world, to literature, and to art, than to the tranquil domestic joys." She was then nineteen years old, and it was about the autumn of 1784 that she first "gained possession of a heart still somewhat too inflammable for constancy." Indeed, it appears that some wilder and less spiritual passion than either Margaret or Charlotte had inspired, had influenced him in the interval. To this he alludes with regret, in one of his letters, some years afterwards.

About this time appeared the first number of the "Reinische Thalia," en

riched by three acts of "Don Carlos." The new journal was principally devoted to dramatic literature, such as theatrical criticism, essays on the drama, poetry, and the details of representation, the history of the theatre, &c. A portion of its pages were open to general literature and poetry. It was continued up to 1794. This periodical, without yielding Schiller any great pecuniary advantage, by no means increased his favour with the actors. The freedom of his strictures was highly displeasing to them; he in turn being greatly offended by the manner in which his verses were mangled on the stage.

At this period, says his biographer, Schiller knew not what it was to be unemployed. Yet the task of composing dramatic varieties, of training players, and deliberating in the theatrical senate, or even of expressing philosophically his opinions on these points could not wholly occupy such a mind as his. There were times when, notwithstanding his own prior habits, and all the vaunting of dramaturgists, he felt that their scenic glories were but an empty show, a lying refuge, where there was no abiding rest for the soul. The "Thalia," besides its dramatic speculations and performances, contains several of his poems, which indicate that his attention, though officially directed elsewhere, was alive to all the common concerns of humanity; that he looked on life not more as a writer than as a man. While improving in the art of poetry, in the capability of uttering his thoughts in the form best adapted to express them, he was likewise improving in the more valuable art of thought itself; and applying it not only to the business of the imagination, but also to those profound and solemn inquiries which every reasonable mortal is called to engage with."* "The Philosophic Letters," written about this time, contain evidence enough of the truth of this last statement, and the additional advantage of presenting Schiller's intellectual powers in a somewhat new point of view. To give any account, however, of Schiller's numerous writings, beyond recording the mere fact of their publication, and the peculiar circumstances in which they were

* Carlyle's "Life of Schiller."

brought forth, is altogether beyond our present design.

The charms of Manheim, once to him so great and alluring, began to fade in the eyes of our poet. Notwithstanding that his amiable nature, his genius, manliness, and virtue, had endeared him to a large circle of friends; notwithstanding that Dalberg was still his warm friend, and that he saw and conversed daily with Schwan and his Margaret, he began to view his situation with less and less content. The theatrical world turned out to be quite other than the paradise he had imagined it to be. He wished for a wider sphere of action, and one in which he should not be dependent on the vicissitudes of the public taste, or subject to the harassing annoyances of inefficient representation. Accordingly he determined to leave Manheim, and an opportunity soon presented itself. The first number of his "Thalia" happened to arrive at the court of Hesse Darmstadt, while the Duke of Sachsen Weimar was there. That prince, being introduced to the genius of Schiller by the perusal of the first acts of "Don Carlos," expressed his delight with the production by transmitting to the author the title of Councillor of the Duchy of Weimar. The honour paid to men of art and literature, at the court of Weimar, excited Schiller's admiration, and gave a new turn to his ambition. newly acquired dignity strengthened this feeling, and doubtless accelerated his departure from Manheim. At Leipsig resided some of the poet's most substantial friends, and a vast number of ardent admirers. This town, moreover, was the centre of activity both in commerce and literature; it seemed to offer a wide field for the noblest endeavour; and hither, accordingly, he directed his steps. Previous to going he wrote to his friend Huber :

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His

'This, then, is probably the last letter I shall write to you from Manheim. The time from the 15th March has hung upon my hands, like a trial for life : and, thank heaven! I am now ten whole days nearer you. And now, my good friend, as you have already consented to take my entire confidence upon your shoulder, allow me the pleasure of leading you into the interior of my domestic wishes.

"In my new establishment at Leipsig, I purpose to avoid one error, which has plagued me a great deal here at Manheim. It is this: no longer to conduct my own housekeeping, and also no longer to live alone. The former is not by any means a business I excel in. It costs me less to execute a whole conspiracy, in five acts, than to settle my domestic arrangements for a week; and poetry, you know yourself, is but a dangerous assistant in calculations of economy. My mind is drawn different ways; I fall headlong out of my ideal world, if a holed stocking remind me of the real world. "As to the other point, I require for my private happiness to have a true, warm friend, that would ever be at hand like my better angel; to whom I could communicate my nascent ideas in the very act of conceiving them, not needing to transmit them as at present, by letters or long visits. Nay, when this friend of mine lives without the four corners of the house, the trifling circumstance that, in order to reach him, I must cross the street, dress myself, and so forth, will of itself destroy the enjoyment of the moment, and the train of my thoughts is torn in pieces before I see him.

"Observe, my good fellow, these are petty matters; but petty matters often bear the weightiest result in the management of life. I know myself better than perhaps a thousand mothers' sons know themselves; I understand how much, and frequently how little, I require to be completely happy. The question, therefore, is, Can I get this wish of my heart fulfilled in Leipsig?

"If it were possible that I could make a lodgement with you, all my cares on that head would be removed. I am no bad neighbour as perhaps you imagine; I have pliancy enough to suit myself to another, and here and there a certain knack, as Yorick says, at helping to make him merrier and better. Failing this, if you could find me any other person who would undertake my small economy, everything would still be well."*

Schiller arrived in Leipsig at the time of holding the world-famed fair. His name got abroad, and the populace eagerly pressed to see the man who

* "Carlyle's Life of Schiller."

His

had touched 'everybody's heart. feelings respecting this manifestation of his popularity were not all of a pleasant character. Writing to Schwan, he says, "It is a peculiar thing to have an author's name. The few men of worth and mark, who on this account offer their acquaintance, and whose esteem confers a pleasure, are too greatly outweighed by the swarm who, like flesh-flies, buzz around the author as a monster, and claim him as a colleague on the strength of a few blotted sheets of paper. Many cannot get it into their heads that the author of the "Robbers" should be like any other mother's son. They expected at least a cross, the boots of a postillion, and a hunting whip!"+

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After some alternations respecting the adoption of some other profession than literature, he determined to complete his "Carlos," and continued his contributions to the "Thalia;" among which latter may be mentioned, as having been written at this time, the Hymn to Joy," the most beautiful and spirited lyrical production he had yet achieved. Meanwhile he had venhad ventured to ask the hand of Margaret Schwan. The letter, freighted with this request, and written in a manly and right noble spirit, may be read in "Carlyle's Life of the Poet." Margaret and he, however, were not destined for each other. Whatever Schwand's reply might he-and about this authorities are disagreed-it is certain no further steps were taken to bring about the marriage. The friendship existing between all parties concerned continued unabated.

Finding that Leipsig did not answer all his expectations, and perhaps to solace himself for the disappointment in which his courtship of Margaret had ended he yielded to many invitations, and took his departure for Dresden towards the close of the summer. Schiller here found warm friends in Körner and his wife Minna Stalk, who had been lately married. Körner's house was romantically situated on the banks of the Elbe, near Loschwitz. A summer-house in the garden, surrounded by vineyards by vineyards and pine-woods, became Schiller's favourite place of resort, and was surrendered to his use. Here the com

"Bulwer's Sketch of the Life of Schiller."

pletion of "Don Carlos was effected. On its publication it was received with immense enthusiasm. In the closet and on the stage it equally excited the pleasure and approbation of learned and unlearned.

"Amidst all this popularity," says his biographer, he was still drifting at large on the tide of life; he was crowned with laurels but without a home. His heart, warm and affectionate, fitted the domestic blessings which it longed for, was allowed to form no permanent attachment; he felt that he was unconnected, solitary in the world; cut off from the exercise of his kindlier sympathies; or if tasting such pleasures, 'snatching them rather than partaking of them calmly.' The vulgar desire of wealth and station never entered his head for an instant; but as years were adding to his age, the delights of peace and continuous comfort were fast becoming more acceptable than any other; and he looked with anxiety to have a restingplace amid his wanderings,-to be a man among his fellow men." The only chance of realizing these strong desires, Schiller knew lay in the most persevering diligence in the vocation he had chosen. He never plied his tasks with more ardour than at Dresden; but his enthusiasm was rather fretted away on a multiplicity of minor performances than concentrated on any great work. The most famous of his lyrical pieces written about this time was the "Free thinking of Passion." It is said to have been inspired by an attachment to Sophy Albrecht, a young actress whom he had met previously to his visit to Dresden. She was now one of the most celebrated actresses of the town. Schiller visited at her house on familiar terms; and there one evening, after the play was over, another entanglement was thrown across his dubious path. The poet was introduced to a young, blue-eyed stranger, of exquisite form and fascinating expression of countenance. The girl smiled, blushed, kissed her bouquet, and threw it to Schiller, who, unsuspecting, received it with enthusiasm. "Her mother,” says one of his biographers, "was by all accounts an artful and abandoned person, who did not scruple to put to profit the beauty of her daughter. She saw in the admiration of so dis

tinguished a poet the means of widening Julia's already lucrative notoriety. Schiller was accordingly lured into an intimacy which occasioned the most serious anxiety to his friends.

"They, however, did their best to dispel his infatuation and tear him from a connection which they considered disgraceful to his name, ruinous to his means, and injurious to his prospects: finally, they succeeded in their appeals. He appears, indeed, to have become aware of the treachery practised on him, and, after many a struggle between reason and passion, at last he tore himself away." "* What are these anecdotes worth? what do they illustrate? Simply," as Carlyle says, "that love could excite even Schiller to madness, as indeed all gods and men."

૬

Having in the interim written the romance of the "Ghost Seer," many pages of which owe their vivid colouring to the fair Julia, he began to think of history. His mind was already tutored to its requirements by the historical studies he had undergone in the composition of his plays; and his tendency to the vocation of the historian was, doubtless, further augmented by the necessity which he increasingly felt for some substantial basis of fact-some external reality— on which he could repose his mind amidst his manifold conflicts and wanderings. "The love of contemplating things as they should be began to yield to the love of knowing things as they are." The poet, therefore, resolved to become a historian. The designs which he meditated in this department of human inquiry were vast and comprehensive, too great indeed for any one writer to achieve. Many of them, we are told, never reached a describable shape, and very few even partial execution. What he did accomplish worthy of record, we have in the "Revolt of the Netherlands," and the "History of the Thirty Years' War."

To visit Weimar, the Athens of Germany, had long been one of Schiller's earnest wishes. He arrived there in July, 1787. Göethe was not visible (why, will hereafter appear), but Herder and Wieland received him with open arms. With the latter was

*"Bulwer's Sketch of the Life of Schiller."