It is gratifying that so many of you, having noticed my sermon topics announced in the last church newsletter, have made the special effort to be here for my remarks on Friedrich Schiller. I figured it would be quite the draw, although I have to confess, I have reason to believe that mine is the only sermon on Schiller being given this morning in Wayland, so I pretty much have all you Schiller fans to myself.

Of course, there is the chance that a few of you … well, can’t imagine why in the world anyone in Wayland or anywhere is preaching on Friedrich Schiller on this or any other morning. There is a reason. I am preaching on Schiller by popular demand.

Not overwhelming demand. But there was this one person….

It happened five years ago, on Question & Answer Sunday, an annual event that will come up again before long on the Sunday after Easter, as always. Congregants get to put whatever questions may be on their minds on 3” by 5” cards, and Kimi, Polly, the intern, and I try to answer them.

But what if you arrived in church with no question in mind? And what if the first hymn that morning was #327, “Joy, Thou Goddess,” which goes to the tune of the Ode to Joy that is sung in German in the fourth and final movement of Beethoven’s ninth and final symphony.

The English words that are usually sung to this tune begin, “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee, God of Glory, Lord of Love.”  But Hymn 327 begins, “Joy, thou goddess, fair immortal, off-spring of Elysium, mad with rapture, to the portal of thy holy fane we come!” A fane, by the way, is a temple.

Anyway, this set off a few questions in somebody’s mind. The card itself has long since sunk into the depths of one of the piles of important papers that stand like stalagmites about my offices here and at home. But what it said was something like, “Did Schiller really write those words? They sound like something from contemporary paganism. Is this another UU ‘borrowing’? What did Schiller himself believe?”

As you will no doubt see again this year, there are always some questions that leave us all stumped, and that one sure did. So I promised that I would find out and report back. Well, here I am, although the answer about the hymn itself isn’t as simple as I had expected. Because, on the one hand, the words in the hymnbook really are a good translation of the words Schiller wrote. For once, it wasn’t we who did the borrowing, it was Henry Van Dyke. And our rendition is almost word for word, using an 1873 translation by Edgar A. Bowring, published in London. The only line they changed is the seventh, replacing “All mankind are brethren ever” with “humankind is one forever.”  And they left out the comma after “fair” in the first line. But basically, those are the words the chorus sings and Schiller wrote. The pagan, goddess-worshipping aspect is really there in the original.

On the other hand, there are other aspects in the original, too. The compilers of the hymnbook selected certain sections of the poem and not others, of necessity After all, the poem has ninety-six lines, of which we sing sixteen. And for singing in church, some choices are obvious, like leaving out a part about suckling at Nature’s breast.

But the poem also contains a fair number of references to God the heavenly Father, for Schiller was a Christian, of a certain, universalistic sort. In fact, he and his parents once hoped he would have a career in the ministry. But his father’s autocratic employer, a duke, having opened a boarding school and having spotted young Schiller’s intelligence, enrolled the thirteen-year-old to train for the law. Schiller hated the law. By the time he left school eight years later, he had shifted to a new department and trained as a doctor, a role he did not like much better.

He did like writing, though, and while still at school he began a novel that became a play that became a sensation. The play was called “The Robbers,” about an anti-hero so soured by the corruption and tyranny in his society that he turns to crime and violence, only to realize the error of his ways. In the closing scene, repentant, he goes to turn himself in to a poor man so the latter can gain the reward to support his family.

It was written that “The theater was like a madhouse, rolling eyes, clenched fists, hoarse outcries from the audience. Strangers fell sobbing into each other’s arms. Women staggered to the door nearly fainting. There was general confusion….” [Ungar 34]

Schiller was serving at the time as a military physician in Stuttgart, but he made it to Mannheim twice to see his play performed. This was discovered by the Duke, who ordered him to stop his writing or go to jail. Instead, Schiller fled. In the years that followed, he wrote several more plays, essays on art, religion, and aesthetics, some histories while he taught history, and then more plays, notably historical dramas. Having been of weakened health ever since a serious illness mid-career, he died in 1805 at forty-five.

His plays were written in blank verse, and he also wrote many others poems, some of which were set to music by Schubert and others. Longtime members will recall the spring the choir’s special performance was of “Nania” by Brahms, the words to which are Schiller’s. As is so often the case, Schiller drew on classical mythology:

Even beauty must die!
That which subdues men and gods
does not move
the steely heart of Stygian Zeus.
Only once did love touch
the ruler of the underworld
and still upon the threshold,
sternly he recalled his gift.
Aphrodite does not tend
the lovely youth’s wound,
torn by the savage boar
in his graceful body.
The immortal mother does not save
the godly hero
when, dying at the Scaean gate,
his destiny he fulfils [sic].
But she rises from the sea
with all Nereus’ daughters
and the lament for the exalted son
goes up.
Behold, the gods weep,
all the goddesses weep
that beauty must fade,
that perfection must die.
Even to be an elegy in the mouth of the beloved
is glorious
for the ordinary
goes down unsung to Orcus
[“the home of the dead, beneath the earth” -- Webster’s].
-- Friedel Becker, trans.

In another translation, the final lines are these:

Lo, all the gods now are weeping and weeping is every goddess
That the beautiful wanes, that the perfect must die.
Glory is also to be a song of sorrow of loved ones,
For, what is vulgar goes down songless to echoless depths.
-- Alexander Gode, trans. [Gode & Ungar, 157]

But, thanks to Beethoven, Schiller is best remembered for the “Ode to Joy,” which he himself did not think very well of. But Beethoven loved it, and long wanted to make musical use of it, which in the end he did so grandly.

This may be a dumb idea, but I’m going to read the whole poem, in the same translation as our hymnbook uses, stopping (at least in the in the early lines [in later lines, the interjections were extemporaneous]) to note some of Schiller’s characteristic themes:

Hymn to Joy

Joy, thou Goddess, fair, immortal,
[yes, in his theology there are goddesses as well as gods, and Joy, which is the vitalizing force of all the universe, is female]
Offspring of Elysium [which is heaven in Greek mythology],
Mad with rapture [for like his cohort Goethe, Schiller was a Romantic, eager to escape old conventions, like the strict regimentation of his school days],
To the portal
Of thy holy fane we come!
Fashion’s laws, indeed, may sever [convention being cruel and divisive],
But thy magic joins again [and this is a central goal of life in Schiller’s religious outlook: to unite, to create an ever-more-inclusive world community];
All mankind are brethren ever
‘Neath thy mild and gentle reign. [We are divided by the foolishness of fashion, of class distinctions, of nationalistic chauvinism, of racism, and the rest. Schiller does not have a political plan to overcome that – he believes the work happens by a sort of magic, by an inner turning of the spirit, opening individuals up to our commonality, to the love, compassion, and joy we should share.]

Chorus: Welcome, all ye myriad creatures!
Brethren, take the kiss of love!
Yes, the starry realms above
Hide a father’s smiling features. [There you go: along with the goddess, a god as well, a loving god. As another translation puts it, “above the starry vaults / a good father must dwell.” – Richard Wigmore, trans.]

He, that noble prize possessing –
He that boasts a friend that’s true,
He whom woman’s love is blessing,
Let him join the chorus, too.
[By the way, Schiller was married himself, and the father of four.]
Aye, and he who but one spirit
On the earth can call his own! --
[On the other hand,]
He who no such bliss can merit
[if you can’t even feel you are your own person],
Let him mourn his fate alone!

Chorus: All who nature’s tribes are swelling
Homage pay to Sympathy;
For she guides us up on high,
Where THE UNKNOWN has his dwelling.
[So now we have another goddess, capital-S Sympathy, who transports us to the divine. Isn’t this true? Though I don’t know about those swelling tribes. In any case, Schiller moves on to sing the praises of Nature:]

From the breasts of kindly Nature
All of Joy imbibe the dew;
Good and bad alike, each creature
Would her roseate path pursue.
‘Tis through her the wine-cup maddens,
Love and friends to man she gives!
Bliss the meanest reptile gladdens! --
Near God’s throne the Cherub lives!

Chorus: Bow before him, all creation!
Mortals, own the God of love!
Seek him high the stars above, --
Yonder is his habitation.

Joy, in Nature’s wide dominion,
Mightiest cause of all is found;
And ‘tis Joy that moves the pinion,
When the wheel of time goes round;
From the bud she lures the flower –
Suns from out their orbs of light;
Distant spheres obey her power,
Far beyond all mortal sight.

Chorus: As through Heaven’s expanse so glorious,
In their orbits suns roll on,
Brethren, thus your pious race run,
Glad as warriors all-victorious!

Joy from Truth’s own glass of fire
Sweetly on the Searcher smiles,
Lest on Virtue’s steeps he tire,
Joy the tedious path beguiles.
High on Faith’s bright hill before us,
See her banner proudly wave!
Joy, too, swells the Angels’ chorus, --
Bursts the bondage of the grave!

Chorus: Mortals, meekly wait for Heaven!
Suffer on in patient love!
In the starry realms above,
Bright rewards by God be given.

To the Gods we ne’er can render
Praise for every good they grant;
Let us, with devotion tender,
Minister to Grief and Want.
Quench’d be hate and wrath for ever,
Pardon’d be our mortal foe –
May our tears upbraid him never,
No repentance bring him low!

Chorus: Sense of wrongs forget to treasure –
Brethren, live in perfect love!
In the starry realms above,
God will mete as we may measure.

Joy within the goblet flushes,
For the golden nectar, wine,
Ev’ry fierce emotion hushes, --
Fills the breast with fire divine.
Brethren, thus in rapture meeting,
Send ye round the brimming cup, --
Yonder kindly Spirit greeting,
While the foam to Heaven mounts up!

Chorus: He whom Seraphs worship ever,
Whom the stars praise as they roll,
Yes – to Him now drain the bowl –
Mortal eye can see Him never!

Courage, ne’er by sorrow broken!
Aid where tears of virtue flow;
Faith to keep each promise spoken!
Truth alike to friend and foe!
‘Neath kings’ frowns a manly spirit! --
Brethren, noble is the prize –
Honour due to ev’ry merit!
Death to all the brood of lies!

Chorus: Draw the sacred circle closer!
By this bright wine plight your troth
To be faithful to your oath!
Swear it by the Star-Disposer!

A good case can be made that American Transcendentalists like Emerson, Parker, and Fuller, were introducing ideas they had taken up from English writers like Thomas Carlyle and William Wordsworth, who in turn had picked them up from Goethe and Schiller. As to the main point of the movement, the German Romantics had picked it up from Immanuel Kant, to whom Schiller was devoted, that point being that intuition is a surer guide to truth and wisdom than the evidence we gain from our five senses, or from logic, or from tradition, or from convention.

Truth, beauty, justice, virtue, knowledge, all these things are transcendental to these folks, they have existed forever, and they are built into our beings from birth. But along with this philosophical idea went other ideas, in every country: that the ways of the old order needed to be overthrown and that a new understanding of life and its purpose was needed, one that gave greater importance to Nature, love, spontaneity, personal faith, and social justice.

The American Transcendentalists – many of whom were Unitarian ministers, albeit on the fringe – set about to translating the German Romantics and defending them. Schiller’s work was translated by John Sullivan Dwight [Miller 294]. Margaret Fuller hailed Schiller as a paramount “moral enthusiast.” [370] Frederick Henry Hedge testified that while “The Robbers” fit into a popular kind of literature that was “characterized by a spirit of fierce disquietude, a dissatisfaction with the whole mechanism of society, and a presumptuous questioning of all that God or man has ordained, [it was] on the whole, the most innocent work of [that] kind…” -- and furthermore, that while German literature of the time suffered from a tendency “to lose itself in airy speculations … Schiller forms a remarkable exception.” And the founder of American Unitarianism, William Ellery Channing, knew Schiller’s work well, “Schiller’s personality appealing more to him [it was said] than Goethe’s, whose selfishness he found an offense.” [Chadwick 207] When Channing and his circle would gather for an evening’s entertainment, Schiller would be among the authors they [he and Elizabeth Peabody] would read from as what they called “light literature.” [371]

Personally, I think Schiller is of most interest for his struggles to balance, reconcile, or resolve apparent contradictions. Freedom versus order, for example, as a person devoted to the freedom but devastated by the slaughter into which the French Revolution devolved. Or reason versus passion, as a child of the Enlightenment’s love of reason who also spoke of an “ardor … heaven-born in us.” [Mann 27] Or Duty versus Inclination, which he decided were one. [Gray 3] Or fate versus chance versus free will, as someone who believed in them all and kept working on the relationship between them.

He grew into the kind of thinker whose moral passion was consuming but not simplistic, who was idealistic as to the ends and skeptical about the means. Emerson comes to mind, or Albert Camus, or the modern philosopher Isaiah Berlin. Schiller distrusted utopian plans, even as he spent his life calling people to utopian ideals. He thought the real revolution the world required would be won in individual human hearts, with people like playwrights accomplishing the task.

Could Schiller’s own work still be part of the effort? One would certainly doubt it, given the eclipse of his efforts, and their antique style. But he had one great advocate this century, the German novelist Thomas Mann. In 1965, on the one-hundred-fiftieth anniversary of Schiller’s death, Mann wrote a lengthy essay in Schiller’s praise. He spoke of things like Schiller’s “generous, lofty, flaming, inspiring grandeur…. And alongside this espousal of will, freedom, awareness, there lurks the artist-child who sees nothing nobler in this world than play….” [Mann 11]

Mann quotes section after section, responding, “where is there anything finer, nobler, more stirring?” [27] Or, “Nothing more beautiful, more elevated, more sanctified can be found in the whole realm of emotion and of language.” [78]

As he nears the end, Mann makes a remarkable suggestion. He begin by contending that “it is misguided and  wrongheaded to dismiss [Schiller’s] memory, to think that he is out of tune with our times, outmoded, has nothing left to say to us…. He who has mastered his own sickness might well become the physician of our own diseased age, would it but listen to his voice.

“An organism may sicken and waste away because a particular element, some vital substance or vitamin, is lacking in its body chemistry. Perhaps this indispensable something is the element of ‘Schiller’ in which our vital economy, the organism of our society, is so pitifully deficient….”

We need more Schiller in our lives? What Mann is calling for is greater interest in “loftier and universal matters” than in temporal or partisan concerns. “The politically divided world, [Schiller] declares, must be reunited under the banner of truth and beauty.” And so, starting a new journal with Goethe, Schiller said it would “labor quietly for the building of better ideas, purer principles, and nobler ethics, upon which all betterment of the world ultimately depends. ‘Decency and order, justice and peace, will therefore be the underlying spirit and the watchword….’” [Mann 91]

Mann’s essay concludes with this hope for the memorial celebration, that it “May stand under the sign of universal sympathy, true to the spirit of [Schiller’s] own noble-minded greatness, which called for an eternal covenant of [people] with the earth that gave [us] birth. May something of his heroic will enter into us, … some small part of his will to achieve beauty, truth, and goodness, moral excellence, inner freedom, art, love, peace, and [the] saving reverence [of humanity for itself].” [Mann 95]

Lofty goals, and worth remembering, held to by the man who wrote and proclaimed the words to our final hymn, #327.

-----------------------------------------------------
Thomas Carlyle, The Life of Friedrich Schiller (Boston: Carter, Hendee, and Company, 1833)

John White Chadwick, William Ellery Channing: Minister of Religion (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1903)

Octavius Brooks Frothingham, Transcendentalism in New England (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1959)
Alexander Gode and Frederick Ungar, eds., Anthology of German Poetry (New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1964)

Ronald Gray, The German Tradition in Literature 1871-1945 (Cambridge, England: University Press, 1965)

Thomas Mann, Last Essays (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1958)

Perry Miller, ed., The Transcendentalists: An Anthology (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1950)

Friedrich Schiller, Don Carlos and Mary Stuart (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996)

Friedrich Schiller, The Poems of Schiller, Edgar A Bowring, trans. (London: George Bell and Sons, 1874)

Frederick Ungar, ed., Friedrich Schiller: An Anthology For Our Time (New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1959)

and liner notes from various albums and CDs
 
 

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