2 THE CATACOMBS OF ROMANTICISM WHEN he came to writing songs, Heine was no longer a man driven, no longer a helpless vehicle for figures, feelings, moods, visions that he could not control. His conscious mind took charge and brought him out of his emotional tumult into clearer waters. He instinctively fought shy of his imagination and gave it a wide berth, without realizing that it was his imagination that had given him the garden that was now his, the garden of song. Here, by ancient tradition, the sun always shines, the air is still, flowers grow, birds sing. All that was lacking was the notice: dream-figures not admitted. While he avoided anything imaginative and in doing so avoided his deepest poetic impulses, desire and suffering and Weltschmerz lived on in his songs as if under protest. For now sentimentality is ironized, and where a note of melancholy sounds, a tender impertinence is superadded. When Heine strolled in this garden, he felt as if he was lord and master of his verse, it seemed to him that he could shape it as he chose. But it only seemed so. If we look closely, we find that his songs too are not all on the surface. They too have their deeps and their surprises. Now that he was gradually finding a certain detachment from his work, he began to benefit by the interest in formal and metrical questions that Schlegel had awakened in him. In the winter of 1819-- the winter that preceded the writing of the tragedies--he had met Schlegel in Bonn and been invited to visit him. He showed Schlegel some of his verses and Schlegel encouraged him to publish them. Heine reported enthusiastically to his friends that he could write very gratifying things about his relation to Schlegel and that he was learning and mastering the secrets of metre. 'Metre is very difficult', he said later to Wedekind, a fellow student, but Schlegel, he added, had sometimes by way of metre 'reached the poetic'. On Schlegel's advice he did much correcting of old poems and wrote new ones. Among them, in all probability, the cycle of sonnets, his only effort in this form, which -18- |