All this may help you to assuage your sorrow, The poem brings us back into ourselves. We feel it both, the thrill and joy of love, We speak it, knowing what the other kens: Together, bonded, is our lasting worth, A secret known to us secures our bliss. Orphisch [Deep Orphic Words]? If so, it shows both poets operating within similar conventions, while at the same time transcending them.
Schlegel was in reality dedicating this poem to Caroline: Professor Schlegel in love? Of that we can be less certain. A joint bond of sympathy and purpose unites them, but strong personalities can unfold and dominate the common endeavour. Does this describe the association in Jena from to ? Yet what was it that enabled people of the most disparate backgrounds to coalesce; what was the cement that bonded them socially and intellectually: It is not even possible to bring all these characters together in one place unless we use the convenient—if endearing—chronological liberties and rearrangements that Penelope Fitzgerald employs for Novalis in her novel The Blue Flower.
Novalis was based at the mining academy in Freiberg in Saxony, then the salt inspectorate in Weissenfels, and was only an occasional visitor in Jena. Only August Wilhelm and Caroline Schlegel and Schelling were actually domiciled in Jena for the whole period of to Fichte, Tieck and Schelling actually wrote nothing for it, Schleiermacher and Dorothea Veit relatively little, Caroline contributed only anonymously, leaving Novalis and above all the brothers Schlegel as authors, with a few associated friends joining in towards the end.
The original contexts and contiguities were soon lost sight of.
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In the course of publication history the three original octavo volumes of the Athenaeum were recontextualised and their contents scattered. Enshrined in editions of Novalis, Friedrich and August Wilhelm Schlegel, as we have them now, it is often hard to envisage the mixture of plan and improvisation that is the essence of a literary periodical. It was in Berlin that he had the oversight of the Shakespeare translation and where he negotiated with Unger, its publisher. Reichardt himself was persona non grata in Berlin, but his house at Giebichenstein near Halle, romantically overlooking the river Saale, was, as already mentioned, a meeting-place at various times for most of the Romantics.
He doubtless gave Schlegel recommendations to various societies in Berlin, and Schlegel, gregarious and sociable by nature, would have taken them up. These contacts in themselves showed that Berlin was quite a different place from Jena or even Weimar: Some, like those restricted to the aristocracy, admitted only their own kind. It was no doubt there that he met the redoubtable and influential Friedrich Nicolai, publisher and sturdy defender of the Enlightenment, ever on the lookout for young talent.
It was here that Friedrich Schlegel first met the three Tiecks, Ludwig, Sophie and Friedrich, who were to play a prominent part in the affairs of the extended Schlegel family. Ludwig, who was to survive them all, was also the closest associate of both Schlegel brothers, but Sophie the writer and Friedrich the sculptor would intervene disproportionately in the artistic and emotional life of August Wilhelm.
For all of these works appeared anonymously. It may be that Friedrich was too preoccupied with his intellectual exchange with Schleiermacher, or Tieck with his close friend and co-writer of those outpourings, Wilhelm Heinrich Wackenroder, soon to die tragically young and to be the first in that Romantic necrology. Writing in , Schlegel would claim that he was the first to draw attention to Tieck and give him his due, and this was largely true.
Tieck would have agreed with his correspondent that the English had no real idea of Shakespeare, but he may have been less prepared when Schlegel dropped his guard and asked: He had met her in the summer of in the salon of Henriette Herz. Chafing under a loveless marriage—she had been married off to the banker Simon Veit and had two sons both in their turn to become leading Romantic painters —she had been attracted to this witty and brilliant younger man, while he, crushed since his teens under the weight of books, suddenly felt the forces of a belated youth bursting forth.
While nobody would call Dorothea a beauty, her bright dark eyes compensated for conventional good looks, and her conversation and letters betrayed a sharp mind, and a skill with words. As yet there was no question of separation or even divorce. Friedrich and Dorothea lived in open liaison not yet under one roof: If there were not enough scandal adhering to a relationship with a married woman seven years older than himself, her being Jewish added an extra element of piquancy. He needed an outlet for his own writings, now that Die Horen —to which he had no access as it was—had finally collapsed.
In a long letter of 31 October, to August Wilhelm, he set out his views on a remedy to the situation. He had a publisher in mind, Friedrich Vieweg in Berlin. That was the practical part. Who were to be the contributors? Themselves of course, perhaps Fichte or Novalis or Schleiermacher; they were to ask Tieck and hoped for Goethe. It was to represent the closest association, the union of two minds. There was to be an absolute consensus between them on matters of content perhaps with Caroline mediating in cases of disagreement. That would explain why even the groups of fragments that are a distinguishing feature of the Athenaeum , form entities in themselves, in the same way that the disparate items of criticism are marshalled into a coherent corpus.
It did not mean that the brothers put their all into this enterprise. There was clearly enough copy available for the number without the need for them to extend themselves. This might suggest a publication that took notice only of its own kind. It did not share his stated aim of breaking down the barriers between learned and literary discourse.
The focus was to be on art and philosophy, not, by implication, on political affairs, history, or religion, although these might feature under different guises. There was no interdict on contemporary events such as Schiller had imposed, although the journal was in no direct sense political, either. There is much in the Athenaeum that is impudent, much that contemporaries did not like and said so, but nothing that is directly seditious.
The whole Jena establishment, Schiller even, received theirs. This is the great triad of modern poetry, the inmost and most sacred circle of the classics of modern poesy. He was not entirely averse to this odorous incense offering, displeased as he was at the otherwise unenthusiastic reception of Wilhelm Meister which the Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung had taken no notice of. For Friedrich was fast learning that running an avant- garde periodical involved not only the high ground of an elite and its intellectual risk-taking.
One had to contend with more mundane matters, the tergiversations of a publisher, a diminishing stock of copy, and the hostility of the general public. Volume Two, once the practical matters were sorted out, was to be more varied, with more poetry and a large section of art criticism. Its message, set out stringently in the introduction and in larger print, for emphasis was mastery of the aesthetic and artistic basics, entering the temple forecourt propylea , before proceeding to the inner sanctum of art, which could only be achieved by a proper study of ancients and moderns alike.
This would, as said, not become evident until late in Moving as they did between the main residence in Dresden and the summer palace at Pillnitz, a few miles upstream, the Ernsts somehow provided a base for their extended family. They knew the same aristocratic circle of friends that Novalis frequented. Passing through Leipzig, he met the young Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling who was successfully negotiating for a post as professor extrordinarius of philosophy at Jena. As an experienced critic, he encouraged him to send a copy of the novel to Goethe.
pavlov's dog | Cemre Yeşil & Maria Sturm »For Birds' Sake« • PiB – Photography in Berlin
His main business in Berlin was, however, to negotiate with his fellow-Hanoverian and now famous actor-producer August Wilhelm Iffland. He had renewed his acquaintance with Iffland at a guest performance earlier that year in Weimar. On 25 and 26 August, for just two days, the circle was united in Dresden.
There, as in so many reactions to the Dresden collections, the beholders saw only what seemed essential, what struck the senses, what seized and overpowered the beholder with awe and reverence and the frisson of religious devotion. Again Goethe in made a long list of the Dresden paintings and included almost none that the Schlegel group was impressed by. The lighting could contribute. Inspecting the statuary by torchlight, as the Romantics and also Schiller did, softenedcontours and accentuated forms.
The collection assembled by the Electors of Saxony, mainly up to , was an eighteenth-century creation and as such suitably eclectic. The other convert from the Schlegel family was to be the daughter of the staunchly Protestant Ernsts in Dresden, Auguste von Buttlar. It was in Dresden that Friedrich died in , in the arms of his niece, and it is here that he is buried. In a letter to Novalis, of some considerable frankness, Caroline dropped her guard and took stock of the situation. The Athenaeum had in her view come to a standstill. It had in any case been a mistake for the brothers to have got involved with a journal, and August Wilhelm should not have become a professor.
Ultimately, all this was to cost August Wilhelm his health and his marriage. For all that, university lecturing was not merely a matter of holding forth. When lecturing on aesthetics, he appeared on the lecture lists under philosophy with Fichte and Schelling. Ast handed his notes over to Karl Christian Friedrich Krause, later a philosopher influential in the Hispanic world, and these are the only full transcripts to survive. The other lectures we must assume to be lost. It is even fair to say that these two pieces of art criticism are what put his personal stamp on the periodical.
Whereas academic freedom was something that the nineteenth-century universities had to fight hard to achieve, Fichte in the eighteenth believed it was already his by right. None of these was an issue to which the Schlegel brothers, one already a professor and the other aspiring to be one, could be indifferent. This was only the beginning. Fichte had seized the opportunity of becoming co-editor of the Philosophisches Journal in In his former colleague Friedrich Karl Forberg sent him a contribution that seemed to postulate a moral and religious existence without the necessity of a belief in God.
Alarmed at what seemed to be the reduction of faith to a mere incidental, but reluctant to stifle philosophical debate, Fichte decided to append an essay of his own, setting out the notion of a world order dependent on the idea of God. Otherwise, Saxon students would be forbidden attendance at Jena. This was the main Saxon ducal house dictating to its Ernestine laterals in Thuringia. In considerable haste, he penned a brochure, extending to pages of print, his Appellation an das Publikum that came out in January , in 2, copies and with a double impress, Jena and Leipzig.
As it was, only Hanover followed the example of the Saxon and Thuringian courts. The ban on Hanoverian students studying in Jena, and the possible silencing of its star professor, would still have serious consequences for the university, the town, and the state at large. In , with his famous Speeches to the German Nation , events would be on his side, but not now. He wrote to the minister Voigt stating that he would rather seek dismissal than accept censure.
Carl August, a dislike of intellectual demagoguery deep in his heart, found this a convenient means of being rid of a turbulent professor.
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And so, on 1 April , having had students in the previous semester, Fichte found himself dismissed, shunned and humiliated. For a while, until he found suitable quarters for his family, Fichte actually shared lodgings with Dorothea in the Ziegelstrasse, an act of kindness but also of some forbearance, for Fichte held strongly anti-Semitic opinions. Life returned to normal in Jena and Weimar.
Other pressing plans, of which part two of the Athenaeum was but one, crowded in. Schlegel took note of one thing. Under different circumstances, this had also been the pattern of Die Horen. Ein Roman von Friedrich Schlegel. Intellectually, philosophically, the novel belongs in the world that Schleiermacher, Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel himself inhabited, where history, science and nature Novalis , religion and morals Schleiermacher and love Schlegel were elevated to universals and absolutes.
These novels had plots of a sort , whereas Lucinde was episodic and unsequent. The reader might be drawn inexorably to scenes where the newly emancipated flesh and sportive sexual encounters caught the attention, not the philosophical and Intellectual arguments. Dorothea had given up everything for the man whom she adored and worshipped, her civil status, her reputation and her material security. Caught between her religion and his, she did not wish to affront further her family by baptism, the necessary step to marriage. Moreover her estranged husband demanded custody of both of their sons should she take this step.
Both Caroline and Dorothea wished that the novel had never been published, setting out as it did what was intimate and private and beyond articulation. This was the germ of the Jena circle. It was the Berlin fraction that was initially so much in favour of this togetherness, for they were already accepted in the circles that mattered to them and—not insignificantly—they were dealing with publishers there. Caroline, no doubt speaking for all in Jena, had no intention of removing to a city that she did not know, with her husband a professor in Jena, as was Schelling.
They had their own circle of friends and acquaintances, the publisher Frommann and his open hospitality, or the Paulus family. In Jena, one could meet Goethe, usually over from Weimar on visits of two weeks at a time. Friedrich entrusted the Athenaeum to Schleiermacher, and it is in letters to him that we learn the most of events in Jena. Nearly all of the number was ready by July of that year, and the rest, for the remainder of its short existence, was effectively edited from a distance. Religion was to be the keynote of Jena. Already in May of that year Friedrich had told his brother August Wilhelm that the time had come to found a new religion.
Schiller they did not visit, and they affected indifference to the first performance of his Wallenstein in Weimar, while the whole group fell out of their chairs with laughter at his Lied von der Glocke [Song of the Bell]. Everyone seems to have known except August Wilhelm himself.
He maintained excellent outward relations with Schelling, the man who was in reality cuckolding him. What was one to expect when Friedrich Schlegel in a fragment declared nearly all marriages to be but concubinage? We need however to see all this in perspective. The literary feuds of the years to about —and we are not concerned here with rehearsing all of their tiresome and repetitive details—were just that: They were a Battle of the Books brought up to date.
They bore only the most tenuous of links with those seditious political libelles that both scandalized and delighted pre-Revolutionary France or with the hurly-burly of Grub Street in London. Goethe and Schiller in their Horen had wanted to be above the political fray. The Xenien waged war inside the Republic of Letters, while the Athenaeum steered clear of politics altogether, at most wrapping its historical and social discourse in poetry and myth.
This was all to change once the Romantics had dispersed, the Schlegel brothers to France, and especially after , when poetry and art would be invoked to counter the humiliations visited by Napoleon on the German nation. The hack-writer Garlieb Merkel had spread a rumour that Duke Carl August had reprimanded the editors of the Athenaeum.
Already in the Romantics in Jena and Berlin had a foretaste of more scurrilous lampoons when Daniel Jenisch in his Diogenes Laterne , with singular nastiness, caricatured Friedrich and Schleiermacher for their association with Jewish women Dorothea and Henriette Herz, respectively. Kotzebue had a history of calumniations, and to these he now added Friedrich Schlegel. Friedrich Schlegel should of course never be quoted out of context, and this Kotzebue knew. At its best, it had a wide distribution 2, subscribers and had maintained high standards of writing, as opposed to specialised scholarly discourse; and it had been a major force in the dissemination of Kant.
Both he and Fichte came up with ideas, with slightly different emphases, for a so-called Kritisches Institut , a review journal that would reflect a more systematic ordering of knowledge and would accommodate the various encyclopaedic ambitions that the Jena circle entertained. Its editorial board was to consist of both Schlegel brothers, Schleiermacher, Schelling, Tieck, and August Ferdinand Bernhardi, the Berlin schoolman and husband of Sophie Tieck, who was proving himself useful as an editor and reviewer.
The break-up of the Jena circle put paid to the project. It would in any case have been difficult to tie some of its editorial board down, notably Tieck, who had promised contributions for the Athenaeum and had never delivered. Schlegel, for his part, was to find himself setting out the order and subdivisions of knowledge, not in a review journal, but in his lectures in Jena and Berlin. The last part of the Athenaeum appeared in March of Caroline then fell seriously ill. Dorothea, a shrewd, although hardly objective observer of humanity and its frailties, tried to be even-handed towards her sister-in-law.
Despite the differences in their personalities and backgrounds, Caroline had been the first to recognize Dorothea publicly and to ensure her acceptance in Jena circles. August Wilhelm, she continued, had not been an easy partner to live with, but he loved Caroline after his own fashion and in a way that she never did in return.
She had never been open about her relationship with Schelling, who had kept up a front of politeness to August Wilhelm while disliking him in private. Christoph Wilhelm Hufeland, the great Jena doctor and father of macrobiotics, treated her according to his tried and conventional methods, but Schelling, who in addition to the nature philosophy that he professed also had some knowledge of medicine, insisted that Hufeland try the fashionable therapeutics of the Brownian method. Brownism or Brunonism, named after the Scottish doctor John Brown, saw health as the median state of excitability, based on the fundamental doctrine of life as a state of excitation produced by external agents upon the body, and perceived disease as consisting in excess or deficiency of such stimulants.
Novalis was also a Brownian. An elaborate charade was set up, with Schelling leaving first for Saalfeld, a convenient half-way house. On May 5, Caroline and Auguste left, accompanied as far as Saalfeld by Schlegel, after which they were to proceed independently to Bamberg. Schlegel returned to Jena, taking a detour via Leipzig, while Schelling, of course, was waiting in Saalfeld and saw Caroline and Auguste to quarters in Bamberg. Early in July, all three of them were in Bocklet, the Paulus family from Jena also.
There was no secrecy, for on 6 July Schelling wrote to Schlegel that Auguste had taken ill. Schelling apparently used Brownian methods, including the standard stimulant of opium, to try to bring her back to health. It was to no avail. On 12 July, she died, aged She was buried in the churchyard at Bocklet. She returned to Bamberg with Schelling, Schlegel hurrying there as soon as he heard the news. The accident of this Franconian journey, calamitous for all who took part in it, had brought him to the same South German cultural landscape that Wackenroder and Tieck had already experienced in , both of them Berlin Protestants brought face to face with the aesthetic splendours of the rite.
Auguste he had loved as his own daughter and it was to him that the extended Jena circle expressed their condolences. Now was the time for his friends to recollect his genuine paternal affection, not to consider whether this had been on his side only. Yet this stiff, formal, professorial man loved children and wished to have children of his own. Caroline and Schlegel travelled to Gotha, where her close friend Luise Gotter took her in. From now on they journeyed together, even slept under the same roof. Their letters remained friendly and tolerant, as they had been all along; but the marriage was over.
The Jena circle was effectively at an end. The Tiecks had left in June; Schelling continued as a professor, not in any close association with the Schlegel brothers, but not estranged from them either. But Jena, as a metonymic association of minds as they had known it, was over. Yet it was only as Schlegel shook off these idle polemics, the irksome attendants of the Jena association that he could turn, symbolically as well as in reality, to face the challenges of that new nineteenth century.
He announced, also in the same letter, the Ehrenpforte , of which he was to be so inordinately proud and which would go on to take pride of place in his Poetische Werke in In a sense that had its justification, for it showed what he could do, and all in a comic vein: One senses his urge to display versatility and if need be virtuosity. It was part of a self-image that his autobiographical sketch of around sought to perpetuate. The Athenaeum , which, as we saw, was for August Wilhelm a joint enterprise and only one of several undertakings, contained some short and more ephemeral pieces of comment and criticism by him that had little sense outside of their original context, and these he never re-edited.
The lectures that he gave in Jena seemed to have served if anything as drafts for later series in Berlin; but most of this material was never edited in his lifetime. The edition of his poems was, however, different, those Gedichte von August Wilhelm Schlegel , that came out in April of Although the Athenaeum did contain certain of his more important poems, there was evidence that he was also writing poetry for a different audience, one more generally receptive and perhaps less aesthetically discriminating than the readership of an avant-garde periodical.
It may be significant that when his Gedichte first appeared in , copies were immediately sent to Duke Carl August, Goethe, and Schiller. These poets, too, were the names that his Jena lectures were beginning to enshrine and that his Berlin lectures were to canonise. There was even a sonnet called Das Sonett that was both a poetic and also a prosodic demonstration of the Petrarchan form.
The second of these poems they might know if they were also readers of the Athenaeum , but the other one was new. Carl addresses his surviving younger brother, classical-style, from the land of the dead. One may guess at its motivation: Also perhaps the wish to show the world that the Schlegels were not all bookmen, but men of action as well. For the generally elegiac tone of the poem does not exclude a certain expansiveness of detail, the raising of the Hanoverian regiment, the touching farewell scene, with his only mention of both of his parents: Aber vor allem die Mutter, die liebende Mutter!
Wie ich mich innerlich schalt, mir sagte die ahnende Seele: My good pious father gave me his heartfelt blessing, Sisters crowded around, brothers embracing me. But our so loving mother, I broke down in tears on her bosom, Only just tearing myself from her arms in confusion. How I reproached myself later, for a sixth sense foretold me Never again would I answer your dearest greetings.
But our mother could not hold back the urge that possessed her Just to see her beloved son this once more. She made her way, her daughters came with her, Looked down on the square from the window, the ranks all assembled, I stood with my brothers in arms, and though I could see her, I never raised an eye, to preserve my composure.
I went through the lines and hurried them on, took orders, Passed them on, immersing myself in military business, Mounted my horse, taking the lead of the marching column, And only looked homeward when we were outside the gate. The fifes and drums drowned out any sad thoughts that I might have And the song of the men who were greeting the morning. All this in verses of elegiac couplets. It is a good poem, almost the only one by him that breathes genuine feeling.
Above all it had combined the poetic with the real and autobiographical. Carl Schlegel had died in the symbolic year , and Neoptolemus in the elegy recalled how the political turmoil and chaos of the revolutionary years had brought ever more dead to join him in the realm of the shades. This, at least, would be a sentiment that could appeal to the Goethe of Hermann und Dorothea. In , in its reissue in his re-named Poetische Werke. Schlegel of course would never have begun an elegy seemingly in mid-sentence, as Euphrosyne does. That was the privilege of genius.
Following the Odyssey the Iliad rather less , it was also private and domestic, with characters who displayed a heart-warming sincerity and directness. As a renewal of Homer, it had an unforced epic tone, and its rhythm was unconstrained by any too punctilious adaptation of the ancient hexameter. They did not however represent the sum of the elegiac tradition, and so Friedrich Schlegel reminded him of the thematic variety of the much less-known and imperfectly edited Greek elegy all in extracts translated by August Wilhelm.
These poems were learned and replete with allusions: It was that philological, learned side of the Schlegel brothers that has travelled rather less well. Nevertheless it formed part of their sense of poetic continuities, their ultimately Herderian awareness of the historical rhythms and patterns of rise and fall, efflorescence and decay, that record the Alexandrian desiccations as here as well as the new risings of sap.
Goethe had an explanation. Reflecting over twenty years later, in Campagne in Frankreich , he recalled the general laxity in the writing of hexameters when, as a distraction from the Revolutionary Wars of , he first sat down to retell the story of Reynard the Fox in classical verse, as Reineke Fuchs. It is also certain that they disagreed on the extent to which metre may have priority over sense.
Goethe where possible allowed himself to be guided by the natural rhythm of the language rather than its purely metrical patterns. He himself saw none of these activities in isolation. He never put himself into compartments. All areas of endeavour had their place but were also interdependent: It was a style that he had developed earlier in the decade: They could be expressed as a philosophical principle, referring all art forms to an original ideal or model, from which all else emanated, a neo-platonic or Hemsterhuisian notion of beauty, the outward manifestation seen as but a mirror image of the inner.
These notions informed the staid verses of those didactic or poetological poems, Prometheus or Pygmalion , of which Schlegel was so proud. This, too, would guarantee its autonomy and also the validity and truthfulness of human feelings. Schlegel had formulated these ideas in the lectures that he gave at Jena. His hearers may in any case not have been aware of the extent of his borrowings from existing material. An example was his use of his Horen essay as the source for his notions on language, not substantially altered.
His ideas on euphony and musicality in language drew on his opening contribution to the Athenaeum , Die Sprachen [The Languages]. Sections on Greek poetry had been copied straight from his brother Friedrich. The passage on Shakespeare was little advance on Eschenburg. All contain elements of the others. A didactic poem like Die Kunst der Griechen [The Art of the Greeks] was both a threnody for a lost past and also a statement positing the centrality of Greek culture for a post-classical age.
Friedrich Schlegel, too, while editing the and numbers of the Athenaeum , had privately been catching up on his reading of the sixteenth and seventeenth-century Italian and Spanish classics. That at least was the theory: For August Wilhelm, Dante had seemed preferable, despite his eccentric theology.
At least the characters in the Inferno had flesh and blood. True, much offended the sensitivities Ugolino, for instance , but it was preferable to the exsangious creations of Der Messias and by extension, his model, Milton. Its two major reviewers were, not surprisingly, Schlegel and Voss. There was therefore much that Schlegel did not like: For there were absurdities in Klopstock, not least his imagined link between Greek and German fanciful ideas involving the Thracian Getae.
This Schlegel could easily rectify. If one wanted brevity, better examples could be found in Aeschylus rather than in Homer, on whom Klopstock seemed to be fixated. True, English and French had their limits as poetic languages, but Italian certainly did not. He could now see much in perspective: Klopstock had also lived in an age unfazed by manifest improbabilities, happily linking druids and bards, German and Celt, Greek and Goth as one linguistic community. This in its turn was an olive branch to the same Grimm whom Schlegel had exquisitely torn to pieces in his massive review of He would now learn that the great mother language, Sanskrit, followed Greek, Gothic perhaps as well had its poetry survived.
In , but addressing the specialist audience of his fellow-Sanskritists and linguisticians in his Indische Bibliothek , Schlegel had been yet more even-handed towards Klopstock, to Goethe and Schiller also, knowing that neither Klopstock nor Schiller were alive to appreciate this irenic gesture. It still had its gaze firmly fixed on the works of art themselves and the things to be observed as one stood in front of them. Only after this necessary analysis did the discourse merge into poetic utterance.
But there were also immediate differences between the Romantics and Goethe. Their remarks reflected existing hierarchies within art discourse or engaged with these. Historical painting ranked as superior to landscape or seascape, genre or still life. Venetian, Bolognese, and French schools stood in that order of esteem. Generally these connoisseurs followed their own dictates and looked or overlooked as they chose.
If that meant more Venetians and almost no Dutch, well and good.
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The dialogue and the poems he had written, the descriptions of paintings were by the said lady. One can draw inferences from the respective contributions of the three interlocutors in the conversation: Louise, generally accepted as being Caroline herself, Waller, who is August Wilhelm, and Reinhold, a kind of collective figure for the remaining friends. Waller summed up the general consensus—quoting Herder or Hemsterhuis in all but name—that statuary was not a mere question of shape or contour or mass or repose.
The whole conversation was, however, called The Paintings , and so the visitors walked on towards the painting galleries, their real goal. These were in reality scattered, but the essay conveniently assembled them, one Italian Salvator Rosa , one French Claude , one Dutch Ruysdael. Total coverage was not their aim. They were content to dispraise a Claudesque painting by Hackert as being essentially lifeless if it suited them. Instead they attempted a close, sometimes quite technical, analysis of the three paintings. This could be seen increasingly in the accounts of Correggio, who was beginning here his advance in Romantic esteem to become the equal of Raphael.
There were outright condemnations, too, that amounted to blanket rejections of schools or centuries: Louise confessed to tears. Was she in danger of becoming Catholic? But art never lost its autonomy. It was not so suffused with feeling as to become something vague and indefinable. It did not inhibit further analysis of the supporting figures , but it raised two important issues. The first was the close relationship of the fine arts to poetry.
August Wilhelm saw the matter less extravagantly. This was also the uncle of Auguste von Buttlar speaking, displeased at her embrace of Rome. There was his Flaxman essay as well. The engravings, first produced by Tommaso Piroli in Rome in , were expensive and copies were initially hard to come by. It was not long in coming: Gone were the reservations that he had expressed but a few years ago. In those sections where Dante went beyond the powers of human expression, Flaxman used geometrical figures circle, triangle , themselves mystical symbols of the godhead, and passed beyond mere representation.
In that sense, this Athenaeum essay was entering regions where Goethe already had reservations and later was to see merely superstition. Their effect was of necessity limited, for students did not flock to Schlegel as they did to Schelling and as they had done to Fichte, and it is only through the initiatives of two promising and intelligent young men, Ast and Savigny, that we have any record at all. Even then they have only handed down to us those lectures now called Philosophische Kunstlehre [Philosophical Art Theory]. These contain sections dealing with German literature, but they are presumably different from the lectures on the history of German poetry now lost that he also announced.
In keeping with other German universities, Jena had been offering lectures on aesthetics not necessarily under this exact title for decades. Schlegel could therefore be seen as a versatile and reliable colleague in both classical and modern literatures and was also the man best suited to inject the central tenets of transcendental idealism into the academic teaching of aesthetics.
Aesthetics, as the philosophical study of human awareness of art and beauty, dealt with such absolutes, themselves the absolute aims of humanity. As man becomes aware of his ultimate purpose, so he grows in his awareness of art and beauty. Art is by this definition no mere accessory, has no ancillary function, is no frill or furbelow.
These are ideas firmly rooted in Schiller or Fichte. On one level, this meant setting out the history of aesthetics from Plato and Aristotle to Baumgarten, Winckelmann and Kant. We study Homer, he said, because he was closest to this primeval poetry before it became the preserve of a chosen few and was changed into art.
Although climate and physical or phonetic differences lead to disparity, all language is by nature rhythmical, musical or image-laden. Image is the essential of myth, and myth is the product of the powers of human expression. Here Schlegel first developed the basically anthropological ideas human figure, oracle, fate, belief in life after death, the golden age that were to form part of his Romantic mythology but also informed his later Bonn lectures on ancient history.
Again, there were many prefigurations here of his later Berlin and Vienna lectures. It was to be followed by another gap in the Romantic ranks when early in Novalis succumbed to the tuberculosis that had been undermining his frail constitution. Auguste dosed with opium against the diarrhoea that was killing her her mother was to die in identical circumstances nine years later ; Novalis, a Keatsian phthisic, not in Rome but in wintry Weissenfels. Significantly, they did not include his radical Die Christenheit oder Europa [Christendom or Europe], a vision of history too controversial for readers in the new nineteenth century.
Despite differences, personal between Caroline and Dorothea, ideological between Friedrich Schlegel and Schelling, the former Romantic circle was nevertheless able to show a united front when it suited, as in the two volumes called Charakteristiken und Kritiken in During the Athenaeum years one would hardly have known that the map of Europe was being redrawn or that tumultuous events were happening, in the far-off Mediterranean or Egypt, so absorbed had these men and women of letters been with matters of the mind or wars with literary rivals.
We hear much more now of the threats, real or imagined, of armies on the move, of real captures and quarterings imposed on the civil population.
The Life of August Wilhelm Schlegel
In , Caroline experienced the political repercussions of the times at first hand in Harburg, with the cession of the Hanoverian lands to Prussia. Yet the postal service still functioned. During the peace interludes Friedrich and Dorothea travelled unhindered to Paris and set themselves up there, relying on the diligence to get letters, proofs and packets of books from one land to another. It was in more ways than one a repetition of the journey in the same direction she had once made from Mainz. She was, as then, accompanied by August Wilhelm, now as ever linked by bonds of friendship and respect, devotion even.
Their marriage was over. There remained still a strong residue of the affection, solicitude and camaraderie that had once been the mainstay of their relationship. He was still helping her financially. She, as before, could still be relied upon to pass on her critical and practical insights and her encouragement, as Schlegel sought to forge for himself a career as a dramatist and as a public lecturer in Berlin.
It was she who advised him not to break with his publisher Unger over a breach of contract with the Shakespeare edition, shrewdly noting that no-one else would take on this enterprise with a litigious translator. It also represented a leave-taking from Jena and its associations. The Schlegel brothers wrote no novellas, but they knew that Goethe had consciously revived this Renaissance narrative form in , and they were to see its explosive expansion during their own lifetime. The essay is part of the Romantic discovery and rehabilitation of Italian and Spanish literature as sources of original, vital poetry, that saw Cervantes placed on the same scale of esteem as Dante and Shakespeare.
While going through the requisite rites of mourning he emancipated himself once and for all from mentoring and tutoring. This Johnson did with some nobility. The Germans, it seems, had been less generous to their downtrodden artists. Schlegel clearly did not wish to kick a fallen man, but neither did he wish to write a hagiography. His aim was to be fair, even if fairness involved the occasional severity.
Thus his essay should not be read as a direct reply to the points raised by Schiller. The times had not been favourable to him, says Schlegel, in that the period of his greatest influence was the immediate aftermath of the Sturm und Drang, in the s, not the high-pitched turbulence of the s. He was after all still close to Weimar. In , when reissuing the essay, he marred its generally even-handed tone with querulous and carping comments on Schiller, who was no longer able to answer. He sought for two things that in many ways cancelled each other out: Popularity was fine, but it could have the effect of depressing the level of quality, of being poetically all things to all men.
This paradox also contained a fatal contradiction. This service to poetry, says Schlegel the historian of the romance form, cannot be praised too highly. There had been great poetry nevertheless, such as that ballad Lenore , that Schlegel could not praise enough, that had taken the English by storm. Even if he never himself attempted a translation of this play, he was not willing to compromise the standards of Shakespearean rendition that he himself had established in theory and even more so in practice.
He runs, for the god drives him and drives his routed squadron Over the sea, the god who, scorning vain jewelry, Struck, at last, and reached the weakling in imposing armor. Mingling joyously, the shining band rushes down To the deserted valley, much like an aged mother When, after years have passed, a child thought lost Returns again to her bosom, alive, a grown young man. But her soul is clouded with grief and joy comes too late to her. Wearied by hoping, and she barely understands What her loving son says to her in his gratitude; So seems the earth of their homeland to the returning band.
But they ask in vain for their groves, these pious Athenians, And the friendly door no longer welcomes the victor As it once received the wanderer when, joyously. He returned from the islands, and the sacred citadel Of Mother Athena rose, far-shining, over his yearning head. And soon the husband seeks and finds the place of his own Home under the ruins; his wife weeps, with her arms Around his neck, remembering the loved place where they slept; The children ask where the table is at which they sat In lovely row, watched over by their fathers, the smihng gods of the home.
The people raise tents, old neighbors are reunited now, And near the dwelling place of their reviving hearts They lay out airy houses for themselves on the hills. So they live now, for a while, like their free ancestors. They who knew their strength and believed in the coming day And moved from mountain to mountain like wandering birds, with song, Lords of the awesome forests and far-wandering streams.
And again the constant Mother Earth receives her noble Folk, as before, and under sacred, beneficent heaven They softly sleep as the young winds blow around them, Mildly as before, and the sound of iHssus rises Through the plane trees, and, foretelhng new and better Days, inspiring greater deeds, the waves of the sea-god Roar by night from afar, send happy dreams to the loved ones.
And golden flowers bud and bloom again, at last, In the trodden fields; the olive trees are green. Now tended by pious hands; and on the plains of Colonus The Athenian horses graze again, peacefully. Look I The forest serves the creator, and Pentelicus, Like other neighboring mountains, gives him marble and ore; Alive, like himself, and happy and great, his work springs from His hands, and, like the sun, it succeeds for him easily. Fountains rise in the air, and over the hills, in clean And guided courses, a spring leaps into glittering basins; And around them shines, like celebrating heroes At the conmion cup, a row of dwellings; the resplendent Prytaneum rises high; the gymnasiums are open; The temples of the gods ascend, and that of Zeus, A bold and sacred design, climbs through the air toward the gods From its happy grove; and there are many heavenlike halls!
Mother Athena, your glorious hill grew high And prouder out of its sorrow, and it blossomed for many years, And to you, O god of the sea, your loved ones, gathered in joy. Often sang thanks from the headland where the laurel grows. Will my eyes never see them? Ah, on the thousand Paths of the green earth the ardent searcher will never find Your godhke forms, and was it for this I learned your speech.
The saga of your past, that my always mourning soul Should rush down blindly to your shades before its time? Where your sacred hill covers its lonely head with clouds, To Parnassus will I go, and when, in the dark of the oaks. The glimmering spring of Kastalia meets me, wandering, I will pour from a blossom-scented cup, there on the rich. Springing green, water mixed with tears, and with it, all you sleepers, I shall make a death oflFering. There in the quiet valley, near Tempers overhanging rocks, 1 will Hve with you, and there, O glorious names, I will call you at night, and when you storm in anger Because a plow has profaned your graves, I will atone With the voice of the heart and with pious song, O holy shades.
Until my soul is wholly accustomed to Hfe with you. Then will your acolyte ask much of you, O dead. And of you, the living, as well, you high powers of the skyi When you pass by carrying your years over the ruins, You in undeviating course, for often this labyrinth Under the stars dismays me, like chill winds at the bosom. So that I search for counsel, and no longer do The prophetic groves of Dodona speak comfort to those in need. And dumb is the Delphic god, and lonely and empty lie The paths where once, led lightly by his hopes, A questioner could chmb to the seat of the honest seer.
But there is light on high, it speaks to mankind even today, Full of bright meanings, and the voice of the great thun- derer Calls: Do you think of me? And the sorrowful waves of the sea-god Resound: Do you never think of me as before? For the gods rest happily in feeling hearts, and today, As always, the inspiring powers gladly guide A striving man, and over the hills of the homeland The encompassing atmosphere rests and rules and stays So that a loving people, gathered in its father's arms.
May be humanly happy again and possess a spirit in com- mon. Men are bound to their own tasks Alone, and in the roaring workshop each can hear Only himself. They work hke savages, steadily. With powerful, restless arms, but always and always The labor of the fools is sterile, like the Furies.
So it will be until, awakened from anxious dreams, The souls of men arise, youthfully glad, and the blessed Breath of love blows in a newer time, as it often did For the blossoming children of Hellas, and over freer brows The spirit of nature, the far-wandering, shines for us again In silent, hngering divinity from golden clouds. Ah, do you linger still? And must God-created men Live always, O day, as if they were in the depths of the earth, All lonely there below, while ever-living spring Dawns unsung over the heads of the sleepers?
Not any longerl Already I hear, in the distance, A festive choral song on the green hill and its echo in the grove, Where the breasts of the young lift happily and where the souls of the people Quietly join in a freer song for the honor of The god to whom the heights and the valleys are sacred; For where a youthful, growing stream runs gaily on Under the flowers of the land, and where on sunny plains The rich grain and the orchard ripen, there, in festival. Even the pious wear crowns, and on the hill of the city A heavenly hall of joy, seemingly man-made, shines. For life is now full of godlike sensibility.
And everywhere, O Nature, you appear again As perfection to your children, and as from mountain springs Your blessings flow into the waking soul of the people. Ah, then, O joys of Athens, O great achievements in Sparta, O precious springtime in Greece, when our holy harvest comes, When it ripens, O glorious spirits of all the ancient world, Come back and see that the year's perfection is near!
Then our festival will honor you, long-gone days! Conceal the griever From peering day! And crown with eternal leaf, you groves Of laurel, the hill of your dead ones there at Marathon, Where the youths died in victory. Ah, there on the fields of Chaeronea, Where the last Athenians ran away with their weapons. But you, O immortal sea-god, if the song of the Greeks No longer rises from the waves to please you, as before. Still sound for me often in my soul, that over your waters The fearless, lively spirit, like a swimmer, may move In freshness and strength and understand the speech of the gods.
Change and becoming, and if this destructive, raging time Should seize my head too firmly and the needs and errors Of mortal men should rock my life with blows. Let me remember then the silence of your depths. Bliiht Jonien, ist es die Zeit? Deiner Inseln ist noch, der bliihenden, keine verloren. Alle leben sie noch, die Heroenmiitter, die Inseln, Bliihend von Jahr zu Jahr, und wenn zu Zeiten, vom Abgrund Losgelassen, die Flamme der Nacht, das untre Gewitter, Eine der Holden egriff und die Sterbende dir in den Schoos sank, Gottlicher, du, du dauertest aus, denn iiber den dunkeln Tiefen ist manches schon dir auf und untergegangen.
Auch die Himmhschen, sie, die Krafte der Hohe, die stillen. Wenn die allverklarende dann, die Sonne des Tages, Sie, des Orients Kind, die Wunderthatige, da ist, Dann die Lebenden all' im goldenen Traume beginnen, Den die Dichtende stets des Morgens ihnen bereitet, Dir, dem trauern- den Gott, dir sendet sie froheren Zauber, Und ihr eigen freund- liches Licht ist selber so schon nicht, Denn das Liebeszeichen, der Kranz, den immer, wie vormals Deiner gedenk, doch sie um die graue Loke dir windet.
Dann sendest du iiber das Land sie, Dass am heissen Gestad die gewittertrun- kenen Walder Rauschen und woogen mit dir, dass bald, dem wandernden Sohn gleich, Wenn der Vater ihn ruft, mit den tausend Bachen Maander Seinen Irren enteilt und aus der Ebne Kayster Dir entgegenfrohlokt, und der Erstgeborne, der Alte, Der zu lange sich barg, dein majestatischer Nil izt Hochher- schreitend aus fernem Gebirg, wie im Klange der Waffen, Sieg- reich kommt, und die offenen Arme der Sehnende reichet.
Dennoch einsam diinkest du dir; in schweigender Nacht hort Deine Weheklage der Fels, und ofters entflieht dir Ziirnend von SterbHchen weg die gefliigelte Wooge zum Himmel. Sage, wo ist Athen? Stiegen dort die Saulen empor und leuchteten dort nicht Sonst vom Dache der Burg herab die Cot- ter gestalten?.
I Rauschte dort die Stimme des volks, die stiirmisch- bewegte, Aus der Agora nicht her, und eilten aus freudigen Pforten Dort die Gassen dir nicht zu geseegnetem Haf en herun- ter? Leicht aus spricht er das Wort, und schnell, wie der flammende Bergquell, Wenn er furchtbar umher vom gahrenden Atna gegossen, Stadte begrabt in der purpurnen Fluth und bliihende Garten, Bis der brennende Strom im heiligen Meere sich kiihlet, So mit dem Konige nun, versengend, stadteverwiistend, Stiirzt von Ekbatana daher sein prachtig Getiimmel; Wehl und Athene, die herrliche, fallt; wohl schauen und ringen Vom Gebirg, wo das Wild ihr Geschrei hort, fliehende Greise Nach den Wohnungen dort zuriik und den rau- chenden Tempeln; Aber es wekt der Sohne Gebet die heilige Asche I Nun nicht mehr, im Tal ist der Tod, und die Wolke des Brandes Schwindet am Himmel dahin, und weiter im Lande zu emdten, Zieht, vom Frevel erhizt, mit der Beute der Perse voriiber.
Blutige Boten, Erschlagne des Heers, und berstende Schiffe Wirft die Racherin ihm zahllos, die donnemde Wooge, Vor den Thron, wo er sizt am bebenden Ufer, der Arme, Schauend die Flucht, und fort in die fliehende Menge gerissen, Eilt er, ihn treibt der Gott, es treibt sein irrend Geschwader tJber die Fluthen der Gott, der spottend sein eitel Geschmeid ihm Endlich zerschlug und den Schwachen erreicht' in der drohenden Riistung. Aber liebend zuriik zum einsamharrenden Strome Kommt der Athener Volk und von den Bergen der Heimath Woogen, freu- dig gemischt, die glanzenden Schaaren herunter Ins verlassene Thai, achi gleich der gealterten Mutter, Wenn nach Jahren das Kind, das verlorengeachtete, wieder Lebend ihr an den Busen kehrt, ein erwachsener Jiingling, Aber im Gram ist ihr die Seele gewelkt und die Freude Kommt der hoffnungsmiiden zu spat und miihsam vemimmt sie, Was der liebende Sohn in seinem Danke geredet; So erscheint den Kommenden dort der Boden der Heimath.
Denn es fragen umsonst nach ihren Hainen die Frommen, Und die Sieger empf angt die freundliche Pforte nicht wieder, Wie den Wanderer sonst sie empfieng, wenn er froh von den Inseln Wiederhekrt' und die seelige Burg der Mutter Athene I t ber sehnendem Haupt ihm fernherglanzend heraufgieng.
Aber wohl sind ihnen bekannt die verodeten Gassen Und die trauemden Garten umher und auf der Agora, Wo des Portikus Saulen gestiirzt imd die gottlichen Bilder Liegen, da reicht, in der Seele bewegt, und der Treue sich freuend, Jezt das liebende Volk zum Bunde die Hande sich wieder. Aber Gezelte bauet das Volk, es schliessen die alten Nachbarn wieder sich an, und nach des Herzens Gewohnheit Ordnen die luftigen Wohnungen sich umher an den Hiigeln. Schon auch sprossen und bliihn die Blumen malig, die goldnen, Auf zertre- tenem Feld, von frommen Handen gewartet, Griinet der Olbaum auf, und auf Kolonos Gefilden Nahren friedlich, wie sonst, die Athenischen Rosse sich wieder.
Siehl und dem Schaf- fenden dient der Wald, ihm reicht mit den andern Bergen nahe zur Hand der Pentele Marmor und Erze; Aber lebend, wie er, und froh und herrlich entquillt es Seinen Handen, und leicht, wie der Sonne, gedeiht das Geschafft ihm. Brunnen steigen empor und iiber die Hiigel in reinen Bahnen gelenkt, ereilt der Quell das glanzende Beken; Und umher an ihnen erglanzt, gleich festhchen Helden Am gemeinsamen Kelch, die Reihe der Wohn- ungen, hoch ragt Der Prytanen Gemach, es stehn Gymnasien offen, I Gottertempel entstehn, ein heihgkiihner Gedanke, Steigt, Unsterblichen nah, das Olympion auf in den Ather Aus dem seeligen Hain; noch manche der himmlischen HallenI Mutter Athene, dir auch, dir wuchs dein herrlicher Hiigel Stolzer aus der Trauer empor und bliihte noch lange, Gott der Woogen und dir, und deine Liebhnge sangen Frohversammelt noch oft am Vorgebirge den Dank dir.
O die Kinder des Gliiks, die frommen I wandeln sie fern nun Bei den Vatem daheim, und der Schicksalstage vergessen, Drii- ben am Lethestrom, und bringt kein Sehnen sie wieder? Sieht mein Auge sie nie? Dort im schweigenden Thai, an Tempes hangenden Felsen, Will ich wohnen, mit euch, dort oft, ihr herrlichen Nahmen! Her euch rufen, bei Nacht, und wenn ihr ziirnend escheinet, Weil der Pflug die Graber entweiht, mit der Stimme des Herzens Will ich, mit frommen Gesang, euch siihnen, heilige SchattenI Bis, zu leben mit euch, sich ganz die Seele gewohnet.
Fragen wird der Geweihtere dann euch manches, ihr TodtenI Euch, ihr Le- benden auch, ihr hohen Krafte des Himmelsl Wenn ihr iiber dem Schutt mit euren Jahren vorbeigeht, Ihr in der sicheren BahnI denn oft ergreiffet das Irrsaal Unter den Sternen mir, wie schaurige Liifte, den Busen, Dass ich spahe nach Rath, und lang schon reden sie nimmer Trost den Bediirftigen zu, die prophe- tischen Haine Dodonas, Stumm ist der delphische Gott, und einsam liegen und ode Langst die Pfade, wo einst, von Hoff- nungen leise geleitet, Fragend der Mann zur Stadt des redlichen Sehers herauf stieg.
Denn es ruhn die Himmlischen gem am fiihlenden Herzen, Immer, wie sonst, geleiten sie noch, die begeistemden Krafte, Gerne den strebenden Mann, und iiber den Bergen der Heimath Ruht und waltet und lebt allgegenwartig der Ather, I Dass ein liebendes Volk, in des Vaters Armen gesammelt, Menschlich freudig, wie sonst, und Ein Geist alien gemein sei. Ans eigene Treiben Sind sie ge- schmiedet allein, und sich in der tosenden Werkstatt Horet jeglicher nur und viel arbeiten die Wilden Mit gewaltigem Arm, rastlos, doch immer und immer Unfruchtbar, wie die Furien, bleibt die Miihe der Armen.
Achl und sau- mest du noch? Dann, dann, o ihr Freuden Athens! Hin nach Hellas schaue das Volk, und weinend und dankend Sanftige sich in Erinnerungen der stolze Triimiphtag. Aber bliihet indess, bis unsre Friichte beginnen, Bliiht, ihr Garten Joniens! Aber du, unsterblich, wenn auch der Grie- chengesang schon Dich nicht feiert, wie sonst, aus deinen Woogen, o Meergott!
Tone mir in die Seele noch oft, dass iiber den Wassem Furchtlosrege der Geist, dem Schwimmer gleich, in der Starken Frischem Gliike sich iib', und die Gottersprache, das Wechseln Und das Werden versteh', und wenn die reissende Zeit mir Zu gewaltig das Haupt ergreifft und die Noth und das Irrsaal Unter Sterblichen mir mein sterblich Leben erschiittert, Lass der Stille mich dann in deiner Tiefe gedenken.
Cold the Walls stand And wordless, in the wind The weathercocks are rattling. And all around, from sanctum to sanctum. Runs the refreshing, the now-melodious stream, Till the house and its cold blue shadows. And a marveling seized The souls of the smitten and night Was over the eyes of the best. For man can do much; he compels with his art The flood and the rock and the fury of fire; Man is puffed up and heeds not The sword, but many a mighty one Lies there struck down by the gods, and almost Resembles the hunted— which, Urged by sweet youth.
Roams unrestingly over the mountains and feels Its strength in the noonday heat. But when holy Twilight descends with the dancing zephyrs, and. With the cooler ray, the spirit of joy Comes to the soulful earth, then it succumbs. Unaccustomed to beauty, and slimibers in wakeful sleep Before the approach of the stars. For with many The hght faded out of their eyes at the sight of the friendly, The god-sent gifts from Ionia, From burning Arabia; but never Once did the soul of those sleepers Rejoice at the lovable teaching, the lordly psalms, though a few Watched.
And often they journeyed Contented among you, you dwellers in beautiful cities. Sat at the contests, the games where the hero invisibly. Secretly sat as of old with the poets. Watching the wrestlers and smilingly praising, Himself full of praise, the gravely indolent children. O what a ceaseless loving it was and still is! For we still, though divided, think of each other. Dwellers upon the glorious isthmus. But if you And this must be said , if you ancients Spoke not the Word, whence should it come?
So we name you in all your Holy necessity, Naturel from whom, as though stepping Fresh from the bath. The limbs of the god-bom appear. Yet almost we live like the orphans. All is as it was, perhaps— only that tenderness Comes not again, though young lovers, Wistful of childhood, are strangers no more in the house. Threefold they live like the first Sons of the morning. And faith was not given Vainly into our hearts; Not us, but you also it safeguards, you Children of destiny, truly, and there Where the sanctities are, the arms of the Word Which you left for us fumblers and gropers at your de- parture.
There we shall find you, good spirits; and often. When the holy vapor swirls round us, We marvel and know not how to unriddle it. You spice our breath with your nectar And then we exult or more often we fall Darkly to brooding— for he whom you love overmuch Rnoweth no rest until he be one of you. Therefore, good spirits, encircle me hghtly, Let me remain, for much still remains to be sung. Thus, too, with all things.
Denn manchen erlosch Das Augenlicht schon vor den gottlichgesendeten Gaben, Den freundlichen, die aus lonien uns, Auch aus Arabia kamen, und froh ward Der teuern Lehr und auch der holden Gesange I Die Seele jemer Entschlafenen nie, Doch einige wachten. Und sie wandelten oft Zufrieden unter euch, ihr Biirger schoner Stadte, I Beim Kampfspiel, wo sonst unsichtbar der Heros Ge- heim bei Dichtern sass, die Ringer schaut' und lachelnd Pries, der gepriesene, die miissigernsten Kinder.
Ein unaufhorlich Lie- ben wars und ists. Aber wenn ihr, Und dies ist zu sagen, Ihr Alten all, nicht sagtet, woher Wir nennen dich: Zwar gehn wir fast, wie die Waisen; Wohl ists, wie sonst, nur jene Pf lege nicht wieder; Doch Jiinglinge, der Kindheit gedenk, Im Hause sind auch diese nicht fremde. Sie leben dreifach, eben wie auch Die ersten Sohne des Himmels. Und nicht umsonst ward uns In die Seele die Treue gegeben. Nicht uns, auch Eures bewahrt sie, [ Und bei den Heiligtiimern, den Waffen des Worts, I Die scheidend ihr den Ungeschickteren uns, Ihr Schicksals- sohne, zuriickgelassen, Ihr guten Geister, da seid ihr auch, Oftmals, wenn einen dann die heilige Wolk umschwebt, Da staunen wir und wissens nioht zu deuten.
Ihr aber wiirzt mit Nektar uns den Othem Und dann frohlocken wir oft oder es bef aUt uns Ein Sinnen, wenn ihr aber einen zu sehr liebt, Er ruht nicht, bis er euer einer geworden. Darum, ihr Giitigenl umgebet mich leicht, Damit ich bleiben moge, denn noch ist manches zu singen, Jetzt aber endiget, selig- weinend, Wie eine Sage der Liebe, Mir der Gesang, und so auch ist er Mir, mit Erroten, Erblassen, Von Anfang her ge- gangen. Doch Alles geht so. There it is that on feast days go The swarthy women Upon silken ground, At the time of March When night is equal with day.
And over slow passes. Heavy with golden dreams, Drift wild airs bringing sleep. But let one hand me, Full of the dark hght. That I might rest; for sweet Sleep would be, under shadows. It is not good Soulless to be, with mortal Thoughts. Yet good Is converse, and to say The heart's meaning, to hear much Of days of love, And events, the doing of deeds. But where are the friends? Bellarmin With the companion?
Many a one Bears shyness, timid to go to the source; The beginning of riches is truly In the sea. They, the seafarers, Like painters, assemble The beautiful of the earth, and do not disdain Winged war, and suffer To live alone, yearlong, under The leafless mast, where the night is not lit up With the glow-lamps of the town's feast days. Nor the playing of strings nor innate dancing. The river goes out. The sea, though, Takes and gives recollection, And love, too, fixes the eyes intently.
What endures, however, poets create. Nicht ist es gut Seellos von sterb- lichen Gedanken zu seyn. Wo aber sind die Freunde? Bellarmin Mit dem Gefahrten? Was bleibet aber, stiften die Dichter. But where danger is, there Arises salvation also. In darkness dwell The eagles, and fearless across the abyss Go the sons of the Alps On hghtly built bridges. Therefore, since all round are upheaped The summits of time.
And those that dwell nearest in love Must languish on uttermost mountains, Give us then innocent water, pinions give us, to pass Over with constant minds and again return. So I spoke, when swifter Than I had fancied, and far. Whither I never had thought to come, A Genius bore me away From my house.
In the twilight The shadowy woods darkened as I went And the yearning brooks of my home; No more did I know these lands. Yet soon in fresh radiance. Mysterious In the golden smoke. Swiftly sprung up With the tread of the sun, Asia bloomed out before me. But high in the light Blossoms the silver snow, And, witness to life everlasting. On attainless walls The immemorial ivy grows, and upborne Upon living columns of cedars and laurels Are the solemn, The divinely built palaces. But about Asia's portals. Running hither and thither In hazardous wastes of sea Ripple shadowless ways enough, Yet the seaman knoweth the isles.
Yet bountiful In the needier house Is she nonetheless. And when out of shipwreck or in Lament for his home Or the departed friend. One of the strangers Draws near to her, she hears it with joy, And her children. The voices of the warm glade And the rock-dwelling breezes And the rocks too, they hear him, and lovingly The echo rings out to the lament of the man.
And the watchful man viewed well The face of the god As, at the mystery of the vine. They sat together, at the hour of the banquet, And quietly prescient in his great soul The Lord spake death and the last love; For never enough Had he of words for telling of kindness At that time, and gladdening. When he saw it, the wrath of the world. For all things are good. Of that There were much to be said. And the friends saw How he gazed forth victorious, The most joyful of all, at the last. Yet they mourned, as now It was grown evening, astounded, For in their souls the men weighed A mighty decision, but they loved Life under the sun, and they would not leave The face of the Lord and their homeland.
Inwrought was that As fire in the iron, and at their side Went the shadow of the Beloved. Therefore he sent them The Spirit, and the house trembled. And the storm of God Rolled far-thundering over their fateful heads. Where brooding Were gathered the heroes of death Now as he, in departure, Once more appeared before them. No good Had it been later, cleaving abruptly And truthless, the work of man, and it was joy From now on To dwell in loving night and maintain Steadfast in simple eyes Abysses of wisdom.
And deep On the mountains too Living images flourish. Yet it is dreadful how far and wide God endlessly scatters the living. Dreadful it is to leave The face of dear friends and to wander Far over the mountains alone. When the Heavenly Spirit, Known before in communion, Was single in meaning; and though it was never foretold them, Yet by their very Hair did it seize them. As, hastening away into the distance, God of a sudden looked back, and conjuring Him to remain, naming the evil, Bounden henceforth as with golden cords.
They gave one another their hands. It is the cast of the Sower, as he seizes The wheat with his spade And flings across to the clear grain. Driving it over the threshing floor. The husks fall at his feet, But in the end cometh the com. And no evil it is if something Is lost and the living sound Fades from our speech, For heavenly labor is like to our own. The Highest would not have AH at one time. So long as the pit bear iron. And Etna ghttering resin, So I have riches To fashion an image and see in the semblance Christ as he had been.
But when one spurred himself on, And sadly speaking on the way where I was weaponless. Overpowered me, so that I marveled and an impostor Would be moulding an image of God- Visible in anger did I once See the sovereigns of heaven. Not that I were To become anything, but to learn. Kindly they are, but most Hateful to them as long as they reign Is falsehood, as there dwells Himianity then no more among men. For they do not reign, rather Fate Reigns more immortally.
And when ascends higher The heavenly pageant of triumph. The exulting Son of the Most High, Like to the sun itself, is named by the mighty An emblem, and here is the staff Of song signaling down. For nothing is common. It wakens the dead Who are not yet caught by the rawness of death. But many shy eyes Wait to behold the Hght.
They would not Blossom forth in the sharp radiance. Though the golden bridle guideth their courage. But when, As from swelHng eyebrows Forgetful of the world. Quietly shining strength falls From the Holy Scriptures, Rejoicing in grace They yield themselves to calm vision. Quiet is his sign In the thimderous sky. And One stands beneath it His life long.
For Christ Hves yet. But the heroes, his sons. All are come and the Holy Scriptures From him, and the deeds of the earth Have illumined the hghtning till now, A contest unwaning. But he is there. For his works Are known to him from everlasting. Too long, too long already Has the glory of the Blessed been viewless. For each of the Blessed demand sacrifice. Yet if one were passed over Ne'er did it bring about good.
We have served the earth our mother And of late we have served The light of the sim Unwittingly, but the Father who rules over all Loves best that the constant Letter be fostered, And enduring existence Interpreted well. With this is accordant The song of my people. Wo aber Gefahr ist, wachst I Das Rettende auch.
So sprach ich, da entfiihrte Mich schneller, denn ich vermutet I Und weit, wohin ich nimmer Zu kommen gedacht, ein Genius mich Vom eigenen Haus. Denn alles ist gut. Vieles ware Zu sagen davon. Und es griinen Tief an den Bergen auch lebendige Bilder. Doch furchtbar ist, wie da und dort Unendlich hin zerstreut das Lebende Gott. Nicht alles will der Hochste zumal. Zwar Eisen traget der Schacht, Und glii- hende Harze der Atna, So hatt ich Reichtum, Ein Bild zu bil- den, und ahnlich Zu schaun, wie er gewesen, den Christ, Wenn aber einer spornte sich selbst, Und traurig redend, un- terweges, da ich wehrlos ware, Mich iiberfiele, dass ich staunt und von dem Gotte Das Bild nachahmen mocht ein Knecht— Im Zome sichtbar sah' ich einmal Des Himmels Herm, nicht, dass ich sein soUt etwas, sondern Zu lernen.
Giitig sind sie, ihr Verhasstestes aber ist, Solange sie herrschen, das Falsche, und es gilt I Dann Menschliches unter Menschen nicht mehr. Denn sie nicht walten, es waltet aber Unsterblicher Schicksal und es wandelt ihr Werk Von selbst und eilend geht es zu Ende. Die Toten wecket Er auf, die noch getangen nicht Vom Rohen sind. Es warten aber Der scheuen Augen viele Zu schauen das Licht. Still ist sein Zei- chen I Am donnernden Himmel.
Und Einer stehet daninter Sein Leben lang. Denn noch lebt Christus. Er ist aber dabei. Denn seine Werke sind Ihm alle bewusst von jeher. Zu lang, zu lang schon ist Die Ehre der Himmlischen unsicht- bar. Dem f olgt deutscher Gesang. Ripened the fruit, in fire cast, baked And tried on the earth, and it is the law That all go back into it, like snakes, Prophetic, dreaming on The hills of the heavens.
And there is so much Like a burden Of logs on the shoulders That has to be borne. Though the roads Are not right. For discrepant, As horses, go the tethered Elements and the immemorial Laws of the earth. And ever A longing strains after the fetterless. But there is so much That has to be borne. And one must be true. Let us look not before, though, Nor after. May we be rocked, rather, as A boat is cradled at sea.
Aber bos sind Die Pfade. Und immer Ins Ungebundene gehet eine Sehnsucht. Vieles aber ist Zu behalten. Und Noth die Treue. Vorwarts aber und riikwarts woUen wir [ Nicht sehn. Uns wiegen lassen, wie Auf schwankem Kahne der See. Voices calmly wending filled And aired is the ancient Bliss-wont hall; fragrant above green carpets floats The happy cloud, stand gleaming wide, Of ripest fruit abundant, and of golden-wreathed bowls.
Well meted out, resplendent rows Uprising here and there aside of the Smoothed ground, the tables. For, coming from afar Hither, at eventide, Loving guests have bid themselves. Dawn fills my eyes. Well-nigh I deem This celebration's prince. Him, to behold That smiles upon a day's great labor: Although you will deny your strangeness And, wearied by your glorious course, Cast down your eyes, forgotten, softly shaded. And will take on a friendly shape, O Widely Known, Yet bends the knees your awe. Nothing outstrips you; But this I know: Wisdom may show me many a thing, but Where a god enters as well A more luminous day wiU break.
Yet not xmheralded he comes: And he whom neither flame nor flood deterred Need not be vainly startled by this stillness, now That neither man nor spirit yields to order. Downstream to sleep, at the sounding of peace. But, days endeared of innocence, you also bring Today, O loved ones, the celebration, and The spirit blossoms in this quiet round; And hasten forth I must, although, O friends, my locks are gray, an eternal youth Preparing the wreaths for the feast. And many a one I would gladly ask; but you.
Concerned, stem but friendly, for mankind, who Far off beneath Syrian palms, Close by that city, would sit by the well: The com fields mstled, quietly the cool Air breathed in the shade of the sacred mountains. So did loving friends shade you, Like faithful clouds tempering Your rays cast toward man. A mortal doom, amidst your words, was to fold A darker shade around you, dreadful fate. So transient Is what Heaven proffers; but not in vain therefore, For but lightly a god will touch, knowing What are our limits, the human abode.
Nor can we reckon the moment. Then, too, Hcense may walk unleashed, Blasphemers shall reach the holy spot From distant parts, exercising their frenzy To strike at a fate; yet gratitude Does not come straight in the wake of divine gifts: It must be won through ordeal. Had not the giver been thrifty always, Surely the sacred treasures of our hearth Would have turned all to destruction. Even so, much was granted us from above. And the shores, and the floods of the sea. Before your eyes the stars Teach you, who shall never become their equal.
Of the eternally living, however. Whence joy flows, and song, One came, a son, valiantly calm. And now we behold him. Knowing his father, now That, to hold his celebration. The high Spirit of the World Has descended toward us. Too great he was to be the lord of ages; Too far his realm to be ever exhausted. Even so, one day a god may choose labor To be like the mortals, sharing their fate.
For it is decreed that all shall recognize each other. And language hold sway once silence has returned. Yet where the Spirit liveth we venture forth. Contending for the best. Thus I judge it best —When the painter has at last achieved his likeness And stepped, masterful, from his workshop, lord of love only— That equity reign All the way from earth to heaven. Man has experienced much since the dawn. Ever since speech began, and mutual notice; But song follows apace. And the vision of time, divinely unfolding. Sign of the Spirit, lies before us, bonds of aUiance Fastening his might to the powers of nature.
Not him alone, but the unborn generations This token proves: Yet as a final token, O holy powers, This very day of celebration testifies For you, a mark of love. You, unforgettable one, at time's decline, Our celebration's youthful prince. No sooner wiU This race lie down imtil You, promised ones, each single one Of you, immortal beings, to pronounce Your heaven's bounties, have arrived In our house. Fragrant breezes Are your herald. The steaming downs announce you And the ground, still resounding with tempests. Now the cheek is refreshed with hope And in front of the opened bouse The mother sits with her child.
Regarding this utter peace. And fewer seem the agonies. A harbinger has caught the soul, A promise sent, of golden light. Keeping the aged from dying. Well wrought from above are The savors of life. For all is pleasing now, But most of all Simphcity: This, nothing else, is the shape of gods. You grieved, O Mother, like The Honess when. Nature, You lost your children. Too eagerly loving, you suffered their loss. When robbed of them by a foe Whom you almost took for your own son, A satyr mingling with gods. Thus you did much of your building And buried many a thing.
For you are hated by those whom You, powerful beyond time. Had drawn forth into hght. Now you know and, knowing, relax: For gladly rests down below. So it may ripen, the anxiously caring world. Denn feme kommend haben Hieher, zur Abendstunde, Sich liebende Gaste beschieden. Nichts vor dir, [ Nur Fines weiss ich, Sterbliches bist du nicht. Ein Weiser mag mir manches erhellen; wo aber Ein Gott auch noch erscheint, Da ist doch andere Klarheit.
Das ist, sie horen das Werk, Langst vorbereitend, von Morgen nach Abend, jetzt erst, Denn un- ermesslich brausst, in der Tief e verhallend, Des Donnerers Echo, das tausendjahrige Wetter, Zu schlaf en, iibertont von Friedens- lauten, hinunter. Und manchen mocht' ich laden, aber o du, Der freundlichemst den Menschen zugethan, Dort unter syrischer Pahne, Wo nahe lag die Stadt, am Brunnen geme war; Das Komf eld rauschte rings, still athmete die Kiihlung Vom Schatten des geweihetenGebirges; I Und die lieben Freunde, das treue Gewolk, Umschatteten dich auch, damit der heiligkiihne Durch Wildniss mild dein Straal zu Menschen kam, o JiinglingI Ach' aber dunkler umschattete, mit- ten im Wort, dich I Furchtbarentscheidend ein todtlich Verhang- nis.
So ist schnell Verganglich alles Himmlische; aber umsonst nicht; Denn schonend riihrt des Maases allzeit kundig Nur einen Augenblick die Wohnimgen der Menschen Ein Gott an, imver- selm, und keiner weiss es, wenn? Auch dart alsdann das Freche driiber gehn Und kommen muss zum heilgen Ort das Wilde Von Enden fern, iibt rauhbetastend den Wahn, Und trif t daran ein Schicksal, aber Dank, Nie folgt der gleich hemach dem gott- gegebenen Geschenke; I Tiefpriif end ist es zu f assen.
Des Gottlichen aber empfiengen wir Doch viel. Und es lehret Gestim dich, das Vor Augen dir ist, doch nimnier kannst du ihm gleichen. Denn langst war der zum Herm der Zeit zu gross Und weit aus reichte sein Feld; wann hats ihn aber erschopfet? Einmal mag aber ein Gott auch Tagewerk erwahlen, Gleich sterblichen und theilen alles Schicksal. Schicksalgesetz ist diss, dass alle sich erfahren, Dass, wenn die Stille kehrt, auch eine Sprache sei. I Wo aber wirkt der Geist, sind auch wir mit, und streiten, Was wohl das Beste sei. So diinkt mir jezt das Beste, Wenn nun vollendet sein Bild und fertig ist der Meister, Und selbst ver- klart davon aus seiner Werkstatt tritt, Der stille Gott der Zeit und nur der Liebe Gesez Das schonausgleichende gilt von hier an bis zum Himmel.
Und das Zeitbild, das der grosse Geist entfaltet, Ein Zeichen liegts vor uns, das zwischen ihm und andem Ein Biindnis zwi- schen ihm und andem Machten ist. Nicht er allein, die Uner- zeugten, Ew'gen Sind kennbar alle daran, gleichwie auch an den Pflanzen Zulezt ist aber doch, ihr heiligen Machte, fiir euch Das Liebeszeichen, das Zeugnis Dass ihrs noch seiet, der Festtag.
So hast du manches gebaut, Und manches begraben, Denn es hasst dich, was Du, vor der Zeit Allkraftige, zum Lichte gezogen. Nun kennest, nun lassest du diss; I Denn gerne fiihllos ruht, Bis dass es reift, furchtsam- geschaftiges drunten. Assmann, Jan Isis und Osiris. Bauer, Markus ; Rahn, Thomas Hrsgg. Assmann, Jan Jehova-Isis: The mysteries of Egypt and the quest for natural religion in the age of Enlightenment.
Egypt and the fabrication of European identity. Los Angeles , pp. Assmann, Jan Kalendarische und messianische Geschichte. Kittsteiner, Heinz Dieter Hrsg. Assmann, Jan Konstellative Anthropologie. Janowski, Bernd ; Liess, Kathrin Hrsgg. Der Mensch im Alten Israel.
Neue Forschungen zur alttestamentlichen Anthropologie. Assmann, Jan Kulte und Religionen. Berlin ; New York , pp. Assmann, Jan Kulturelle und literarische Texte. Oexle, Otto Gerhard Hrsg. Assmann, Jan Kunst und Rituale: Die neue Kraft der Rituale. Apocalypticism in the Mediterranean World and the Near East. Le temple, lieu du conflit. Actes du colloque de Cartigny Le monde de la Bible, , pp. Assmann, Jan Leben im Mythos. Assmann, Jan Leitkultur und doppelte Mitgliedschaft.
Assmann, Jan Literatur zwischen Kult und Politik: Assmann, Jan ; Blumenthal, Elke Hrsgg. September in Leipzig. Hornung, Erik ; Schweizer, Andrea Hrsgg. Die Weisheit der Schlange. Assmann, Jan Maat und die gespaltene Welt oder: Assmann, Jan Magic and theology in Ancient Egypt. Assmann, Jan Magische Weisheit. Assmann, Jan Martyrdom, violence, and immortality: Dying for the Faith, Killing for the Faith. Leiden; Boston , pp. Assmann, Jan Martyrium, Gewalt, Unsterblichkeit. Religion, Martyrium und Gewalt.
Ma'at - Konfuzius - Goethe. Assmann, Jan Monismus und Monotheismus - alte und neue Friedensangebote. Monismus, Monotheismus und Gewalt. Assmann, Jan Monotheism and its political consequences. Leiden ; London , pp. Assmann, Jan Monotheism and polytheism. Iles Johnston, Sarah Hrsg. Religions of the Ancient World. Assmann, Jan Monotheismus. Assmann, Jan Monotheismus als Politische Theologie. Formen und Funktionen im Assmann, Jan Monotheismus der Treue. Die Gewalt des einen Gottes. Assmann, Jan Monotheismus ohne Mose? Assmann, Jan Monotheismus und Gewalt.
Assmann, Jan Monotheismus und Ikonoklasmus als politische Theologie. Assmann, Jan Monotheismus und die Sprache der Gewalt. Das Gewaltpotential des Monotheismus und der dreieine Gott. Freiburg — Basel — Wien , pp. Annales, 54 , Nr. Assmann, Jan The Mosaic distinction: Israel, Egypt, and the invention of paganism. Representations, 56 , pp. Assmann, Jan Mose gegen Hitler. Die Zehn Gebote als antifaschistisches Manifest. Thomas Mann Jahrbuch, Nr. Assmann, Jan Mose und der Monotheismus der Treue. Assmann, Jan Moses as Go-Between: Cultural Exchange in Early Modern Europe.
Berlin-New York , pp. Assmann, Jan Moses und Echnaton. Assmann, Jan Moses und Echnaton: Religionsstifter im Zeichen der Wahrheit. Assmann, Jan Myth as historia divina and historia sacra. The Shapes of Culture and the Religious Imagination. Essays in Honor of Michael Fishbane. Assmann, Jan Mythen, politische. Handbuch der politischen Philosophie, Bd. Assmann, Jan Narrative Inversion. Assmann, Jan Neith spricht als Mutter und Sarg. Revue des sciences religieuses, 89 , pp. Assmann, Jan Ocular desire in a time of darkness. Urban festivals and divine visibility in Ancient Egypt.
Assmann, Jan Offenbarung und Gewalt. Ars Brevis, , pp. Assmann, Jan Palast oder Tempel? Journal of Near Eastern Studies, 31 , pp. Assmann, Jan Periergia: Egyptian reactions to Greek Curiosity. Cultural borrowings and ethnic appropriations. Assmann, Jan Pictures versus letters: Assmann, Jan ; Baumgarten, Albert I. Studies in Honor of Moshe Barasch. Assmann, Jan Political theology: Religion as a legitimizing fiction in antique and early modern critique. Assmann, Jan Politik und Religion. Assmann, Jan Politik zwischen Ritual und Dogma. Saeculum, 35 , pp.
Assmann, Jan Politisierung durch Polarisierung. Assmann, Jan Preservation and presentation of self in Ancient Egyptian portraiture. Der Manuelian, Peter Hrsg. Assmann, Jan Primat und Transzendenz. Problems and Priorities in Egyptian Archaeology. Assmann, Jan Protestantismus und Erinnerungskultur. Assmann, Jan Pythagoras und Lucius: Assmann, Jan ; Bommas, Martin Hrsgg. Assmann, Jan The Ramesside tomb and the construction of sacred space. Strudwick, Nigel ; Taylor, John H.
Past, present and future. Past Present and Future. Die Gegenwart des Holocaust. Die Weltgeschichte — das Weltgericht?. Assmann, Jan Religio Duplex. Die Ringparabel und die Idee der 'doppelten Religion'. Nathan der Weise von Gotthold Ephraim Lessing.
Assmann, Jan Religion und Gerechtigkeit. Ein Symposium zu Ehren von Elke Blumenthal. Assmann, Jan Religion zwischen Gewalt und Dialog. Heute von Gott sprechen. Assmann, Jan Resurrection in Ancient Egypt. Theological and Scientific Assessments. Das 'Denkmal memphitischer Theologie' als Auslegung der heliopolitanischen Kosmogonie. Rezeption und Auslegung im Alten Testament und in seinem Umfeld. Ein Symposion aus Anlass des Geburtstags von Odil Hannes Steck.
Les sagesses du monde. Der Alte Orient und das Politische. Die Konstitution sozialen Sinns jenseits instrumenteller Vernunft. Assmann, Jan Sammlerin Isis: Sammler — Bibliophile — Exzentriker. Assmann, Jan Schrift und Kult. Assmann, Jan Schriftbildlichkeit: Assmann, Jan Schuld und Unschuld des Vergessens. Assmann, Jan Schuld, Zeit und Gewissen. Steiner, Beate ; Bahrke, Ulrich Hrsgg.
Der "innere Richter" im Einzelnen und in der Kultur. Klinische, soziokulturelle und literaturwissenschaftliche Perspektiven. Klagenfurt ; Wien , pp. Assmann, Jan Semiosis and interpretation in ancient Egyptian ritual. Zu Martin Bernals "Black Athena". Merkur, , pp. Hahn, Alois ; Kapp, Volker Hrsgg. Assmann, Jan Sieben Funktionen der Hieroglyphenschrift. Sinn in der Antike. Orientierungssysteme, Leitbilder und Wertkonzepte im Altertum. Assmann, Jan Solar discourse. Ancient egyptian ways of worldreading. The World of the Coffin Texts. Assmann, Jan State and religion in the New Kingdom.
Assmann, Jan Stein und Zeit. Assmann, Jan Sternzeit und Steinzeit: Gendolla, Peter ; Schulte, Dietmar Hrsgg. Was ist die Zeit?. Assmann, Jan Text und Ritus. Wien ; Milano , pp. Assmann, Jan Textanalyse auf verschiedenen Ebenen: Theokratie und theokratischer Diskurs. Die Rede von der Gottesherrschaft und ihre politisch-sozialen Auswirkungen im interkulturellen Vergleich. Assmann, Jan Theological responses to Amarna. Egypt, Israel, and the Ancient Mediterranean World. Studies in Honor of Donald B. Theologie in Israel und in den Nachbarkulturen.
Dankrede zum Thomas-Mann-Preis Thomas Mann Jahrbuch, 25 , pp. Assmann, Jan [Time]. The art bulletin, 95 , pp. Sehnsucht nach dem Ursprung Zu Mircea Eliade. Wiedergeburt und Kulturelles Erbe. Reincarnation and Cultural Heritage. Sankt Augustin , pp. Assmann, Jan Tod und Kultur. Die Wahrheit der Begegnung. Anthropologische Perspektiven der Neurologie. Voss, Christiane ; Engell, Lorenz Hrsgg. Assmann, Jan Tod, Staat, Kosmos: Brandt, Reinhard ; Schmidt, Steffen Hrsgg.
Kodifizierung und Kanonisierung von Recht in der Alten Welt. Paideuma, 48 , pp. Assmann, Jan Tradition, writing and canonisation. Structural changes of cultural memory. The formative past and the formation of the future. Collective remembering and identity formation. Grizelj, Mario ; Jahraus, Oliver Hrsgg. Assmann, Jan Translating gods: Religion as a factor of cultural un translatability.
Budick, Sanford ; Iser, Wolfgang Hrsgg. Figurations of the Space Between. Assmann, Jan Unio liturgica. Studies in the history of Mediterraneans and Near Eastern religions,. Evangelische Kommentare Religion und Gesellschaft, 16 , Nr. Assmann, Jan Urkatastrophen und Urverschuldungen. Assmann, Jan Verborgene Weisheit. Wenzel, Uwe Justus Hrsg. Was ist eine gute Religion? Assmann, Jan Vergeltung und Erinnerung. Burkert, Walter ; Stolz, Fritz Hrsgg. Hymnen der Alten Welt im Kulturvergleich.
Assmann, Jan Vertikaler Sozialismus. Assmann, Jan Viel Stil am Nil? Geschichten und Funktionen eines kulturwissenschaftlichen Diskurselements. Assmann, Jan Vom Poly- zum Monotheismus: Assmann, Jan Was ist so schlimm an den Bildern? Hornung, Erik ; Keel, O. The return of religion and other myths: Assmann, Jan When justice fails: Jurisdiction and imprecation in Ancient Egypt and the Near East". Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 78 , pp.
Assmann, Jan Wort und Text. Entwurf einer semantischen Textanalyse. Basel ; Frankfurt , pp. Proceedings of the Eine Reaktion auf Peter Burkes Thesen. Der Ursprung der Geschichte. Die Begegnung mit dem Fremden. Wertungen und Wirkungen in Hochkulturen vom Altertum bis zur Gegenwart. Die Erfindung des inneren Menschen. Rechtskodifizierung und soziale Normen im inmterkulturellen Vergleich.
Krotzinger, Susi ; Rippl, Gabriele Hrsgg. Zeichen zwischen Klartext und Arabeske. Schleier und Schwelle I: Assmann, Jan Zwangsneurose oder Fortschritt in der Geistigkeit. Frick, Eckhard ; Hamburger, Andreas Hrsgg. Ein Dialog zwischen Philosophie und Psychoanalyse. Assmann, Jan The cultural memory of Le Sacre du printemps. Danuser, Hermann ; Zimmermann, Heidy Hrsgg. The Rite of Spring Reconsidered. Historische Zeitschrift, , pp. Gegenwelten zu den Kulturen Griechenlands und Roms in der Antike. Jahrbuch des Historischen Kollegs , , pp. Von der Steinzeit bis zur Moderne.
Zur Geschichte und Genese eines Mythos. Means and Myths of Transmission in Western Esotericism. Schleier und Schwelle II: Religionen und ihre zentralen Themen. Innsbruck ; Wien , pp. Gruber, Gernot ; Borchmeyer, Dieter Hrsgg. Mozarts Opern, Band 1. Beinlich, Horst Bemerkungen zum Schabaka-Stein. Beinlich, Horst The Book of the Faiyum. Beinlich, Horst Carte geografiche, elenchi topografici, processioni, testi di esecrazione. Beinlich, Horst Das Buch vom Fayum. Die Entstehung der Welt. Katalog zur Ausstellung in der Kunsthalle Leoben, Regensburg ; Leoben ; Mannheim , pp.
Beinlich, Horst Das Totenbuch bei Tutanchamun. Beinlich, Horst Datenbank der Ritualszenen. Gundlach, Rolf ; Rochholz, Matthias Hrsgg. Royal versus divine authority. Acquisition, legitimization and renewal of power; 7. Beinlich, Horst Die Nilquellen nach Herodot. Beinlich, Horst Fragmente dreier geographischer Listen. Beinlich, Horst Horus von Edfu in Philae. Beinlich, Horst Horus-Schu im Information aus zweiter Hand: Wege zu Athanasius Kircher. Beinlich, Horst Konkordanz der Tutanchamun-Kataloge. Beinlich, Horst Noch einmal zu Horus Mati im Beinlich, Horst Osiris in Byblos?
Die Welt des Orients, 14 , pp. Beinlich, Horst Verzeichnis der Zitate in H. Beinlich, Horst Von der Spitze zur Basis. Geburtstages von Karl Richard Lepsius vom Beinlich, Horst Wiedergeburt aus dem Wasser. Antike Welt, 5 , pp. Beinlich, Horst Zur Deutung der sogenannten Osirisreliquien. Beinlich, Horst Zwei Osirishymnen in Dendera. Beinlich, Horst Zwischen Tod und Grab: Suggestions for adapting the Leipzig Glossing Rules. Lingua Aegyptia, 17 , pp. Birch, Samuel Researches relative to the connection of the deities represented upon the coins of egyptian nomes with the egyptian pantheon.
The numismatic chronicle, 2 , pp. Bommas, Martin Der Tempel des Chnum der Continuity and Change in the Egyptian Cult of the Dead. Burial customs in Roman Egypt. Breccia, Evaristo La tomba dipinta di Such el-Wardian. Budek, Jana Die Sonnenlaufszene. Kemet, 9 , Nr. Budka, Julia Ankh-Hor revisited: Study, documentation and publication of forgotten finds from the Asasif. Budka, Julia The Asasif revisited: Lazaridis, Nikolaos ; Kousoulis, Panagiotis Hrsgg. Proceedings of the Tenth International Congress of Egyptologists.
Leuven ; Paris ; Bristol, CT , pp. Das Kloster am Isisber. Kemet, 8 , Nr. Kemet, 13 , Nr. Pictograms or pseudo script? Non-textual identity marks in practical use in ancient Egypt and elsewhere. Proceedings of a conference in Leiden, 19 - 20 December Two Funerary Enclosures from the Reign of Aha, Wiener Zeitschrift zur Kunde des Morgenlandes, , pp. Budka, Julia Between Thebes and Elephantine: From the Delta to the Cataract. Studies Dedicated to Mohamed el-Bialy.
Leiden - Boston , pp. Budka, Julia Bevor das Wasser kommt. Kemet, 15 , Nr.
Budka, Julia Das Asasif. Kemet, 15 , pp. Kemet, 10 , Nr. Befund, Kontext und Versuch einer Deutung. Mylonopoulos, Joannis ; Roeder, Hubert Hrsgg. Sokar, 10 , Nr. Budka, Julia Der Gott Osiris. Budka, Julia Die Dynastie auf Sai Island. Neue Puzzlesteine als Ergebnisse der Feldkampagne Sokar, 14 , Nr. Kemet, 11 , Nr. Nilkataraktes im Februar Sokar, 12 , p. Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak. Leuven ; Paris ; Dudley, MA , pp. Budka, Julia Die Kultpyramide. Bickel, Susanne ; Loprieno, Antonio Hrsgg. Basel Egyptology Prize 1. Kemet, 12 , Nr. Verfremdung, Realismus oder Propaganda?
Berlin, August Budka, Julia E. Budka, Julia Echnaton und Aton treu ergeben. Budka, Julia Egyptian cooking pots from the pharaonic town of Sai island, Nubia. Budka, Julia Egyptian impact on pot-breaking ceremonies at el-Kurru? The fourth cataract and beyond. Proceedings of the 12th International Conference for Nubian Studies. Leuven ; Paris ; Walpole, MA , pp.
Budka, Julia Felsinschriften am dritten Katarakt. Bader, Bettina ; Ownby, Mary F. Functional aspects of Egyptian ceramics in their archaeological context. Leuven ; Paris ; Walpole, Ma , pp. Budka, Julia Festival pottery of the New Kingdom: Kousoulis, Panagiotis ; Lazaridis, Nikolaos Hrsgg. Budka, Julia Fortdauer und Unsterblichkeit.
Herausforderungen eines kulturwissenschaftlichen Paradigmenwechsels in den Altertumswissenschaften. Budka, Julia H. Der Antike Sudan, 15 , pp.