Novalis had a mystical experience, while contemplating Sophie's grave. There, as he recorded in his diary, "I was indescribably happy- moments of flashing enthusiasm - I blew the grave away like dust - her presence was palpable - I believed she would step forward at any minute."
In the two months prior to his experience, Novalis practised a form of `active imagination', engaging in various spiritual disciplines the aim of which was to prepare him for his breakthrough. These were, in part at least, strenuous attempts to curb his sexual fantasies while maintaining a strict focus on his love for the deceased teenager with whom he hoped to soon be rejoined in death. A diary of the time records a struggle between "sensuous imaginings" and his determination to maintain his "engagement in a higher sense." Novalis, like other, later dark romantics - Wagner and Mahler come to mind - sought in death a release from life's illusions; yet it was only in a higher, spiritual union, that his sexual hunger could be allowed free expression. One product of this tension are the' mystico-erotic Hymns to the Night (1800), one of the few of the poet's works published in his life time. In the third hymn we find a poeticized account of Novalis' grave experience.
In preparation for his mystical encounter, Novalis visited Sophie's grave frequently, poured over her letters and mementos, and read spiritual and mystical literature. How much his vision of Sophie was a product of his own powerful imagination is debatable, and the fact that sophia is Greek for wisdom, union with which is the central aim of mystical practice, cannot have escaped the attentive reader. That he practised conjuring her image up is clear from passages in his diary. A week before the vision, he recorded seeing her in profile, sitting beside him on his sofa, wearing a green scarf. One inspiration was a letter from his brother Carl, who spoke of a sudden yearning to die, brought on by a thunderstorm. He spoke of the "genuine sincerity" with which he contemplated being struck by lightning, the flash transporting one to "the eternal embrace of our beloved ones."
Death, for Novalis, meant transfiguration, an ecstatic escape from time and space, a notion shared by many Romantics, and captured in the canvases of the Romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich. Whether this was so, or whether the grave meant sheer oblivion, Novalis did not have to wait long to find out. In 1798, Novalis met Julie von Charpentier, and his obsession with Sophie had apparently abated enough for him to become romantically involved with her. Their engagement, however, was doomed. Although his literary career was beginning to blossom (he had already met Goethe, and in Jena Novalis was the centre of a circle which included Ludwig Tieck, the Schlegel brothers, Friedrich Schelling and Friedrich Schliermacher) the tuberculosis that destroyed his brother was ravaging his own delicate frame. He continued to write and to fulfill his duties as an inspector of the Saxon salt mines but in October of 1800 his lungs suffered a major collapse. His health declined and on 25 March 1801 - four years and six days after Sophie's death - he and his beloved met in what we must assume was a more lasting union. At the age of 28, Novalis died.
E. T.A. Hoffmann
Perhaps the most romantic of the Romantics was a strangely self-divided individual whose wild dual personality and bouts of alcoholic excess were complemented by a meticulous concern for social duty and a work schedule that would daunt even the most disciplined character. Ernst Theodore Amadeus Hoffmann was by day a respected juror and civil servant, holding at different times in his life positions with the civil administration in Poland and the Prussian Supreme Court in Berlin. By night, however, he was something very different. A considerable graphic artist, Hoffmann was also a composer. Although most of his music is lost today, he is known to have written ten operas (one of
In the two months prior to his experience, Novalis practised a form of `active imagination', engaging in various spiritual disciplines the aim of which was to prepare him for his breakthrough. These were, in part at least, strenuous attempts to curb his sexual fantasies while maintaining a strict focus on his love for the deceased teenager with whom he hoped to soon be rejoined in death. A diary of the time records a struggle between "sensuous imaginings" and his determination to maintain his "engagement in a higher sense." Novalis, like other, later dark romantics - Wagner and Mahler come to mind - sought in death a release from life's illusions; yet it was only in a higher, spiritual union, that his sexual hunger could be allowed free expression. One product of this tension are the' mystico-erotic Hymns to the Night (1800), one of the few of the poet's works published in his life time. In the third hymn we find a poeticized account of Novalis' grave experience.
In preparation for his mystical encounter, Novalis visited Sophie's grave frequently, poured over her letters and mementos, and read spiritual and mystical literature. How much his vision of Sophie was a product of his own powerful imagination is debatable, and the fact that sophia is Greek for wisdom, union with which is the central aim of mystical practice, cannot have escaped the attentive reader. That he practised conjuring her image up is clear from passages in his diary. A week before the vision, he recorded seeing her in profile, sitting beside him on his sofa, wearing a green scarf. One inspiration was a letter from his brother Carl, who spoke of a sudden yearning to die, brought on by a thunderstorm. He spoke of the "genuine sincerity" with which he contemplated being struck by lightning, the flash transporting one to "the eternal embrace of our beloved ones."
Death, for Novalis, meant transfiguration, an ecstatic escape from time and space, a notion shared by many Romantics, and captured in the canvases of the Romantic painter Caspar David Friedrich. Whether this was so, or whether the grave meant sheer oblivion, Novalis did not have to wait long to find out. In 1798, Novalis met Julie von Charpentier, and his obsession with Sophie had apparently abated enough for him to become romantically involved with her. Their engagement, however, was doomed. Although his literary career was beginning to blossom (he had already met Goethe, and in Jena Novalis was the centre of a circle which included Ludwig Tieck, the Schlegel brothers, Friedrich Schelling and Friedrich Schliermacher) the tuberculosis that destroyed his brother was ravaging his own delicate frame. He continued to write and to fulfill his duties as an inspector of the Saxon salt mines but in October of 1800 his lungs suffered a major collapse. His health declined and on 25 March 1801 - four years and six days after Sophie's death - he and his beloved met in what we must assume was a more lasting union. At the age of 28, Novalis died.
E. T.A. Hoffmann
Perhaps the most romantic of the Romantics was a strangely self-divided individual whose wild dual personality and bouts of alcoholic excess were complemented by a meticulous concern for social duty and a work schedule that would daunt even the most disciplined character. Ernst Theodore Amadeus Hoffmann was by day a respected juror and civil servant, holding at different times in his life positions with the civil administration in Poland and the Prussian Supreme Court in Berlin. By night, however, he was something very different. A considerable graphic artist, Hoffmann was also a composer. Although most of his music is lost today, he is known to have written ten operas (one of
Similar Books
