He became the center of clinical diagnostics



So Tieck had an office, and this office set up duties that wanted to be fulfilled. One of the first and most enjoyable was an art trip. He was to accompany the director in a theatrical tour of Germany. Friendship, affection and humor, yes even health, everything came together to make this official act as easy as possible for him.

He felt fresh and strong, although he had had to endure many a seizure. The disease had gone with him to Dresden and had to be home, too. He had been suffering for weeks and months. At times gout paralyzed her arm and hand, making writing almost impossible; he felt inhibited in everything that was necessary to his life. Once again he tolerated, carried the pain with calmness, yes serenity, and used the pauses that were granted him. Again a regular visit to the baths was necessary. The next and most suitable was Teplitz. He needed it successfully in 1821, 1823, and 1824. These sufferings were now pushed back so far that he could think of another journey.

He was closer to his superior, whom he was to accompany. The house of the same was a meeting place of the educated and artistic society of Dresden. Here he not only found appreciation and understanding of his poetry, but also significant suggestions and, above all, the noblest friendship. So the official trip was twice as pleasant. In which he . On the seventeenth day of May, 1825, they left. The next destination, where one wanted to stay longer to get to know the theatrical conditions, was Vienna. The road passed through Teplice and the well-known Prague. With each mile, which they continued to travel in these serene, often seen, and yet always new landscapes, he felt freer, and again experienced those feelings, which had given him the poem early, “over travel no pleasure, if health goes with us “It was a test to him that he was not yet as old and lapsed as he had often believed in the moods of sickness and ill-humor. He forgot the fifty-two years of his age and the gloomy experiences, and with joyful amazement he wrote home that he felt that he had become younger since 1819.

He entered Vienna in a wide circle of old friends, new admirers and art comrades, and aristocratically brilliant societies. Again, literary enthusiasm went beyond the narrower limits. Everyone wanted to have read, to be educated and to show understanding for the literature. Everything that belonged to it became a public question; a famous poet was bound to cause a sensation.

Tieck got to know the Viennese literature; Grillparzer, whose amiable personality almost reconciled him with his tragedies, the much-cited Castelli, West, Kurlander, and Deinhardstein, the quick-witted playwrights. He made the acquaintance of Count Dietrichstein and the Hofrath of Mosel, who were at the forefront of the theater industry. He found many a well-known actor again, including Lange; He saw new talents in Anschütz and Sophie Müller, and the imperial Burgtheater also proved its reputation before him. The rich art treasures he admired as in the past, the city, the Prater with its colorful crowd. He also sought out F. Schlegel in his own circle of magic, and soon realized that here, too, his prophecy did not count as much as he himself believed.

In the higher societies his old acquaintance Hormayr received him with full exuberance. He was introduced to Princess Hohenzollern, Countess Salm, Count Zichy, Palfy and others. He became the center of their company, he was to read aloud, to talk, to dine, and to supper. He went from one hand to the other to be admired, and everywhere he had to bring out the side of fine social education and poetic amiability. With sincerely meant homage, he was met everywhere; they wanted to show that they knew how to honor a poet. But in the midst of this admiration, in the splendid circle of the ladies, in the radiant salons, he was sometimes seized by a poetic and human self-irony, which threatened to become all the more irresistible the less he was allowed to utter. In the strange mood he might have laughed at himself, where he had to seriously celebrate. The violent slaughtering of this mischievous tickle caused him almost physical discomfort. Now he was suffocating in the armchair almost to the fullness of fame, after which he often sighed eagerly as a young adolescent.

Next to Vienna, Munich was the most important tourist destination. They went over the Traunsee, Ischl, through the Salzburg. Munich was a place of painful memories for Tieck; he barely recognized it again. Some, with whom he had been wrong at that time, had died, others alienated; the city itself no longer bore its old character. Since then, the new Bavaria had risen, and a new one had sprung up beside old Munich. Here, too, the antiquarian, the popular, and much that reminded of the past, reverted to a glittering present. Stately buildings in the Greek style stood next to old Bavarian churches, galleries and collections were opened, an art school formed, Munich was to become a metropolitan residence. There was also a brilliant theater; the popular games had come down. We were proud to own the first tragic actor in Germany in Eßlair.

During one of the theater’s first visits, Tieck was introduced to King Max and the Queen in her box. The King was still the simple, bourgeois-simple man he had seen before. With benevolent good nature he talked to Tieck for a while. The next day he had an audience with the Crown Prince Ludwig, who had long ago made his enthusiastic interest in art and literature outstanding and popular. The prince greeted him as an old acquaintance, and began a literary conversation in which he said last: “A great honor for me to have your name! Hot too Ludwig. Great honor for me, to be called the same as a decent poet. ”

Of the newly ordered art treasures the travelers were no less used than by the social traffic. Tieck saw his literary friend Schlichtegroll again, he got to know Thiersch and Klenze, the creators of the Munich splendor buildings, and in the ministerial council Schenk a charming poet, who knew how to take him completely for himself.

From Munich we went to Stuttgart, where we once again admired the Boisserée collection of paintings. Then via Constance, Winterthur and Zurich to Schaffhausen and Strasburg. Here they saw the French actress George performing in one of the biggest tragic roles, as the mother of the Maccabees and Lady Macbeth. Finally they reached Karlsruhe and Manheim.

Winterthur had wished to touch Tieck in order to meet the Swiss writer Ulrich Hegner personally. Everything that this man had written appealed to him in a high degree, especially the excellent book Saly’s Revolutionstage, which Hegner had already given a letter to Tieck. The simple and natural feature of these writings had won him. He believed that he knew something of his own nature, and wished now, in a verbal interview, to hear many hints further elaborated. Expectantly, he hurried to visit the unknown friend. He found him in his old-fashioned house, the whole decor of which recalled the life of old Swiss life and proclaimed a traditional established custom. As he entered the room, a strong-limbed and corpulent man, who might have been in his sixties, plodded up from his chair. He had a broad, pale face and a cold look. In a quiet phlegmatic massive attitude, he approached him. But when he heard who the newcomer was, his face became animated, an eager conversation began, which ended with the invitation to stay longer, so that one could speak out completely. Tieck, of course, had to refuse, but asked to return with his traveling companion for today. In response to this unbiased word sudden the scene. The prospect of seeing an unknown, upscale man with no preparation on his side made the Swiss, who were used to old-fashioned courtesy, startled. He became embarrassed, cold and monosyllabic; the conversation faltered, he dropped the invitation; Tieck realized that it was time to retreat. He did not go about without indignation at the strange man, who stubbornly shut himself up at the very moment when he wished to communicate himself for the sake of an externality.

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In Karlsruhe Tieck saw the Rhenish house friend Hebel, whose great talent of folk poetry he admired. Those who wanted to get to know Hebel quite well, it would be best to visit him at the inn, where he used to sit in the middle of a beer and a pipe in the evening. He found the simple, childlike man he knew from the poems. In the conversation one came to the anecdotes of the “Rhenish house friend”. In a friendly tone asked Tieck: “But, dear man, why do not you write such pretty things?” With naively dry humor Hebel replied: “Jo, i wees nischt more.”

During a short stay in Manheim Tieck also found his oldest friend Bothe, who had caused him the first soul pain. He was known as a keen philologist. Wol had not seen him for thirty years. As he had externally changed, even in the friendly excitement he recognized him inwardly. The conversation came to the sonnet which Tieck had addressed to him, and, as he now judged him, he saw that only enthusiastic youthful enthusiasm could consider a friendship between two such opposite natures possible.

The next visit was to the theaters of Darmstadt and Frankfurt a. M., where Tieck also saw the Rath Schlosser and many other acquaintances. This was followed by a trip to the Rheingau, then they returned to Kassel, whose stage was also to be considered. For a short time they stayed in Hannover and Brunswick. Tieck was home again at the end of June. A stay of several weeks in Teplice immediately followed to strengthen and recuperate.

So ended this substantive journey. In the space of a few weeks, the most important thing came together. He had seen the Bohemian mountains, the Tyrolean and Swiss Alps and the Harz, the Danube and the Rhine in rapid succession. The most varied phenomena in art and nature had passed him by; he had gained an overview of the new German life.

The round trip through Germany had furnished the proof that Tieck’s poetic reputation was firmly established in general opinion. Everywhere old and new friends had gathered around him; The idea was expressed that next to Goethe the greatest of the living poets of Germany should be worshiped. It was recognized that he was the one who, according to Goethe, was once again able to give literature a new peculiar turn. But one did not alone celebrate the poet of a brilliant past. For in recent years he has emerged with some works , who proved that he would oppose the new age in a different way. The public had just received the first impression of his novellas.

The effect of these new phenomena was surprising. One was blinded, alienated; it was doubtful how one would understand these novellas, even if one had in mind the poet or the literature in which they intervened. And this stood in a wonderful contrast to them.

In recent times narrative poetry has always been the most receptive to the manifold changes of the public spirit. Often she comes out of the needs of the day, and has little other purpose than to serve entertainment. No poetic form sinks more easily down to the mediocre, ordinary, even mean. In his youth Tieck had to deal with a spit and Cramer, Schlenkert, and Meissner. They had passed with the day. But the need for a light meal, a momentary distraction, the enjoyment of the ordinary, had remained. It did not matter that the greatest spirits had converted literature; there were many who had learned nothing and forgotten nothing.

By the year 1820, the heyday of the new chivalric romances and Nordland heroes was coming to an end. Fouqué’s position as the ruler of the fashion literature shared with him another bizarrely teasing and misguided talent, E. T. A. Hoffmann. In the region of the story, where the terrible and the horror were at home, which was preferably considered romantic, he was the first. Here there were all imaginable figures of morbid imagination, the change of burning colors, which increased to dizziness. Everything ver turned into everything; Madness was the true sense of profusion at last, and life was filled with ghosts as horrible as they were scurrilous. The feverish heat of these nocturnal songs and devil’s elixirs passed to the public. it wanted to be seized and scared by the nervous shock. Hoffmann gave a replica of the “Phantasus” in the “Brothers in the Seraphs”, but only the caricature of them was able to recognize Tieck. Others wrote in a weakened manner in Hoffmann’s manner; but also the tales of Contessa and Weissflog were gladly and much read.

The convulsions were followed by relaxation. Now the watery brew of trivial spirits was very welcome. With the same greed, the readers devoured the shallow, immoral stories of Clauren, whose paperbacks overflowed Germany. His “Mimilis” and “Lislis”, his “Dijonröschen” and “Christpüppchen”, the hungry and lascivious descriptions of dinées and toilets; the broad representation of vulgar sensuality was not only applauded in the lending libraries, but also in those who were considered educated.

Finally, the historical novel with all its gravity came to the fore. He was the product of poetry, which turns to the past. The novels of the great unknown, the Waverley novels, had made an impression without equal, threatening to oust everything else. The German translators and booksellers were in heaps available for work, and the imitators hurried to follow in the new direction. Historical life and characters were required; Slaughterhouses, castles, costumes except for the garters, everything should be historical. In van der Velde and Tromlitz more than one German Walter Scott was found, who also quickly produced like the English, without possessing what made them great, the national foundation.

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These appearances of the daily literature lacked, which alone can give a lasting value, the creative idea, the deeper spiritual content, which makes the life to the life. And here was the strength of Tieck’s short stories.

He had not published his own poems since the second part of Fortunate. Now, in Wendt’s paperback book “Zum geselligen Freude” of 1822, the first novel, “The Paintings” was published; a second later, “The Engagement” in the “Berliner Taschenkalender für 1823”, several others were added in quick succession. Was the Tieck, who here represented the conditions of the present in a bright and keen light, the same, who had once sung the halo, the mystic twilight of the Middle Ages, and the moonlit magic night in drunken excitement? Was it really the poet of the “Genoveva”, the “Octavian” and “Phantasus” who proved the perversities of modern times with sober dialectics and irony? So one questioned himself doubtfully and questioningly. Hardly anyone wanted to recognize the old, familiar features in this picture. He seemed to have changed, to fall away. In himself there had to be a contradiction somewhere, an inconsequence, so incomprehensible did this surprising change seem. Or should she have her origin in a stubborn mood and caprice, in the apparent caprice of the romantic?

It must have been surprising to declare war on certain fashionable inclinations, which had just invoked him and claimed to have their source in his older poetry. In the novella, “The Paintings,” the An of painting, which sought to derive genius and profession from the piety and devotional worship of ancient art, struck by the most unequivocal irony. It was the time of the Deutschthümelei, the old German skirts and wide lace collar, the long, flowing hair and Sammetbaretts. The pious and bible sense of the old-timers was to come to life again with their harsh artistic style. A caricature had emerged, which called itself fatherland and old-German, in art pious and sacred. It was even more indignant when he dared to present in his second novel, The Engagement, the neo-modern, exclusive Christianity in its ambiguity. Circles were formed in which the secrets of Christian doctrine were better understood and felt to be deeper than those outside them, where it was thought to possess special enlightenments and pardons, which the unawakened seek in vain for nothing. Everything should be forced into a solely valid form of the Christian life, and art, science, and philosophy were believed not only to be able to do without it, but also to persecute it, because in them the wisdom and vanity of the world were mirrored.

If the description of such conditions provoked the accusation that Tieck was now pursuing the religious spirit which he had helped to awaken in the time of apostasy, then many who did not know his development might find this accusation acceptable. He and his friend Wackenroder had first spoken of the pious belief, the simplicity of old German art, with youthful enthusiasm. His “Sternbald” was the image of these ancient masters, and now became the archetype of these young old German artists, all of whom began to become Sternbaldisiren. But because art and artistic sense had first been rediscovered in the forms of the Middle Ages, did it follow that one had to turn away from the Greek work of art, as a pagan atrocity, with pious shudder? Was old German art the only one, art in general? If, in a time of impartiality, faith and art were conjoined together, if pious men had been excellent painters, then the imitators were right which artists claimed to be because they were pious, and believed to be pious, because they were square and wooden images of saints painted? Because Wackenroder’s artistic faith had been profound and true, was that the right thing to do, which thoughtlessly appealed to him? Was it a necessary consequence to approve of all distorted pictures because one recognized the archetype? It could not be doubtful of any free-eyed man that art-education itself was endangered by this thudding on genius and piety, in this worship of the one-sided in old German painting.

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It was the same with Tieck’s opposition to exclusive and presumptuous piety. He had rejected Catholicism if he were now to imprison himself in a puritanical system which was much more inconsistent than that which sought to abolish freedom in faith and threatened to declare war on science and art. He tried to rediscover the source of the eternal, inalienable religious feeling when he seemed to disappear in the sand, and now some of them, pretending to dig a new bed for him, wanted to shed it again. The limited enlighteners had reduced Christianity because they believed they could do without it; the limited zealots put it down, because it alone in its external gaze it really meant to possess. There were two opposing systems that had only one thing in common, intolerance.

Other Tadler wanted to find the irony with which Tieck treated these questions reprehensible. It was forgotten that the poet’s harshest weapons against the hated Enlightenment had been wit and irony. Should he, as a man, with so much more mature development and freer gaze, have dared not venture what he had dared to do as a youth under the applause and recognition of the unprejudiced? Or were the prejudices of the present so much better than those of the past?

Out of the circumstances arose the most productive novelties, which carried the irony in themselves. The collector of paintings, who is proud of his connoisseurship, is deceived by a gross fraud; in a time of musical openness, where everything sings and sings, the unmusical are the loudest; the self-righteous pious appear impartial; or if at last the guardian of the fools becomes a fool with them, it was not an arbitrary search, but an irony for which hundreds of examples from life could be picked. In these novellas he sketched a series of time-pictures which one could call ironic or dialectical, or social, for they contained all these constituents together. The musical exuberance of the twenties he presented in the “Musical Suffering and Joy”; the preference for Hoffmann’s ghost stories in the “magic castle”; the reappearance of miracles in the “miracle-addicts”; the self-lying, which for his illusions at last appears with devout zeal, in the “mysterious” and the “society in the country”. The question of how the moral element can develop in man or , it was necessary to consider whether and which intermediate stages were to be dealt with in another novel, the beginnings of which went back to its earliest times. As early as 1819, the first sheets of the “Junge Tischlermeister” were printed, but it was not until much later that he came to a complete conclusion. But this story had another side to it. It took over the representation and defense of the older German craftsmanship, which rises to silent art through silent diligence and artificial labor. In him as well as in the guilds he saw a time-honored and necessary element of German life, which he wanted to safeguard against the mechanical equalization of the growing factory industry.

The novels were everywhere based on a definite content and a firm view which was almost deliberately misunderstood, when it was argued that irony dissolves things in their dialectical play, and ultimately dissolves them, leaving the reader unsatisfied on barren and barren soil. Rather, the irony was used to develop the positive. He was wronged when he was reproached with coldness, restraint, and indifferent playing with his material. If he did not give himself up to these and lost, that would show his full poetic maturity. In this sure and creative activity, which at the same time reveals the nature of the material in the artistic form, lay for him the highest, the artistic irony itself. What proportion he took humanely on the most profound questions was already proved by the substances he himself used for the Novels chose. As it had been in his youth, when the religious riddles had filled him, it was only natural that the man who had learned so much in himself and others sought to solve it in a manner different from that of the man. 50] Young man. If he had conceived them with greater fervor then he was now able to answer them with greater depth and gentleness. In various lighting this content returned in the “engagement”, “poet life”, the “miracle addict”, in the “old man of the mountains” and above all in the “rebellion in the Cevennes”. Already in 1806 he became aware of this strange substance, which contained all those dark elements, but it was not until 1820 that he began editing it.