The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. III | Page 7

1. THE MILITARY ACADEMY IN STUTTGART
WHERE SCHILLER WAS EDUCATED]
[Illustration: 2. THE THEATRE IN MANNHEIM IN 1782 WHERE
SCHILLER'S "THE ROBBERS," "FIESCO," AND "LOVE AND
INTRIGUE" WERE FIRST PLAYED]
During the years 1795-1800 Schiller wrote a large number of short
poems in which he gave expression to his matured philosophy of life.
His best ballads also belong to this period. Pure song he did not often
attempt, his philosophic bent predisposing him to what the Germans
call the lyric of thought. Perhaps his invalidism had something to do
with it; at any rate the total number of his singable lyrics, such as _The
Maiden's Lament_, is but small. As a poet of reflection he is at his best
in _The Ideal and Life, The Walk, The Eleusinian Festival_, and the
more popular Song of the Bell. The first-named of these four, at first
called The Realm of Shades, is a masterpiece of high thinking, charged
with warm emotion and bodied forth in gorgeous imagery. Its doctrine
is that only by taking refuge in the realm of the Ideal can we escape
from the tyranny of the flesh, the bondage of Nature's law, the misery
of struggle and defeat. Yet it is not a doctrine of quietism that is here
preached, as if inner peace were the supreme thing in life, but rather
one of hopeful endeavor. The Walk, one of the finest elegies in the
German language, is a pensive retrospect of the origins of civilization,
loving contemplation of Nature giving rise to reflections on man and
his estate. The Song of the Bell, probably the best known of all
Schiller's poems, gives expression to his feeling for the dignity of labor
and for the poetry of man's social life. Perhaps we may say that the
heart of his message is found in this stanza of _The Words of Illusion_:
And so, noble soul, forget not the law, And to the true faith be leal;
What ear never heard and eye never saw, The Beautiful, the True, they
are real. Look not without, as the fool may do; It is in thee and ever
created anew.
In 1797--Hermann and Dorothea was just then under way--Goethe and
Schiller interchanged views by letter on the subject of epic poetry in

general and the ballad in particular. As they had both written ballads in
their youth, it was but natural that they should be led to fresh
experiments with the species. So they both began to make ballads for
next year's Musenalmanach. Schiller contributed five, among them the
famous Diver and The Cranes of Ibycus. In after years he wrote several
more, of which the best, perhaps, are The Pledge, a stirring version of
the Damon and Pythias story, and The Battle with the Dragon, which,
however, was called a romanza instead of a ballad. The interest of all
these poems turns mainly, of course, on the story, but also, in no small
degree, on the splendid art which the poet displays. They are quite
unlike any earlier German ballads, owing nothing to the folk-song and
making no use of the uncanny, the gruesome, or the supernatural. There
is no mystery in them, no resort to verbal tricks such as Bürger had
employed in Lenore. The subjects are not derived from German
folk-lore, but from Greek legend or medieval romance. Their great
merit is the strong and vivid, yet always noble, style with which the
details are set forth.
[Illustration: THE CHURCH IN WHICH SCHILLER WAS
MARRIED]
We come back now to the province of art in which Schiller himself felt
that his strength lay, and to which he devoted nearly all his strength
during his remaining years. The very successful performance of the
complete Wallenstein in the spring of 1799 added greatly to his prestige,
for discerning judges could see that something extraordinary had been
achieved. Weimar had by this time become the acknowledged centre of
German letters, and its modest little theatre now took on fresh glory.
Schiller had made himself very useful as a translator and adapter, and
Goethe was disposed to lean heavily on his friend's superior knowledge
of stage-craft. In order to be nearer to the theatre and its director,
Schiller moved over to Weimar in December, 1799, and took up his
abode in what is now called the Schillerstrasse. He was already
working at Mary Stuart, which was finished the following spring and
first played on June 14, 1800.
In Mary Stuart, as in Wallenstein, Schiller focused his light on a
famous personage who was the subject of passionate controversy. But
of course he did not wish to make a Catholic play, or a Protestant play,
or to have its effect dependent in any way on the spectator's

pre-assumed attitude toward the purely political questions involved. So
he