The Oxford Handbook of German Philosophy in the Nineteenth Century

by Michael N Forster

  Siemens H. W. and Roodt V. (eds.), Nietzsche, power and politics: rethinking Nietzsche’s legacy for political thought (Berlin and New York: W. De Gruyter, 2008).

  Schmitt C., Political Romanticism (New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers, 2011).

  Timmons M., Kant’s Metaphysics of Morals: Interpretative Essays (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).

  Vieweg K., Das Denken der Freiheit. Hegel’s Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts (Munich: Fink, 2012).

  Weil E., Hegel and the State (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1998).

  Zöller G., Der Staat als Mittel zum Zweck. Fichte über Freiheit, Recht und Gesetz (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2011).

  * * *

  1 J. Ritter, Hegel und die Französische Revolution (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1965), 18.

  2 H. Arendt, On Revolution (London: Faber and Faber, 1963).

  3 I. Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals, in Practical Philosophy, trans. M. J. MacGregor, Introduction by A. Wood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 464.

  4 Hegel, ‘On the English Reform Bill’, in L. Hickey and H. B. Nisbet (eds.), Hegel: Political Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 268.

  5 Hegel, Vorlesungen über die Philosophie der Weltgeschichte, Werke [W] (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1971), vol. 12, 528.

  6 Hegel, Weltgeschichte, W 12, 524.

  7 See Kant, On the Common Saying: ‘That may be Correct in Theory, but it is of no Use in Practice’, in Practical Philosophy, 279 sq.

  8 O. Spengler, Preussentum und Sozialismus (München: Beck, 1919), 14–15.

  9 Hegel, Weltgeschichte, W 12, 532.

  10 Kant, Toward Perpetual Peace. A Philosophical Project, in Practical Philosophy, 335.

  11 Fichte, Foundations of Natural Right, ed. F. Neuhouser, trans. M. Baur (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 11.

  12 C. B. McPherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962).

  13 Hobbes, On the Citizen, ed. and trans R. Tuck and M. Silverthorne (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 30.

  14 Locke, The Second Treatise of Government, ed. M. Goldie (London: J. M. Dent, 1993), §§ 124–5, 178–9.

  15 Rousseau, The Social Contract, Book I, ch. 6, in Rousseau, The Social Contract and The First and Second Discourses, ed. S. Dunn (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002), 163.

  16 Kant, Metaphysics of Morals, I: Doctrine of Right, Introduction, in Practical Philosophy, 397; § 41, in Practical Philosophy, 451.

  17 Kant, Doctrine of Right, § 15, in Practical Philosophy, 416.

  18 Kant, Doctrine of Right, § 41, in Practical Philosophy, 451 (modified).

  19 Kant, Doctrine of Right, § 45, in Practical Philosophy, 457 (modified).

  20 Kant, Doctrine of Right, § 46, in Practical Philosophy, 457.

  21 Kant, Toward Perpetual Peace, in Practical Philosophy, 322 sq.

  22 Kant, Toward Perpetual Peace, in Practical Philosophy, 328 (modified).

  23 Fichte, Beitrag zur Berichtigung der Urteile des Publikums über die Französische Revolution (Contributions to the Correction of the Public’s Judgement Concerning the French Revolution), Werke, vol. VI, 39.

  24 Fichte, Beitrag, Werke VI, 112.

  25 Fichte, Beitrag, Werke VI, 129.

  26 Fichte, Beitrag, Werke VI, 147–8.

  27 Fichte, Natural Right, § 8, 87.

  28 Fichte, Natural Right, § 15, 130.

  29 Fichte, Natural Right, § 17, 168–82; 179.

  30 See J. Jaurès, Les Origines du Socialisme Allemand (1892) (Toulouse: Ombres blanches, 2010); X. Léon, ‘Le Socialisme de Fichte’, Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale, 22/1–2 (1914), 197–222; Marianne Weber, Fichtes Sozialismus und sein Verhältnis zur Marx’schen Doktrin (Tübingen: Mohr, 1900). Very critical: Ch. Andler, Les Origines du Socialisme d’Etat en Allemagne (Paris: Alcan, 1897); F. A. Hayek, The Road to Serfdom (London: Routledge, 1944), 183–98.

  31 Fichte, Natural Right, § 18, 184–6.

  32 Fichte, Natural Right, § 19, 223–6.

  33 Fichte, Der geschlossene Handelsstaat, Werke III, 400–1.

  34 Fichte, Handelsstaat, Werke III, 419–21.

  35 Fichte, Reden an die deutsche Nation, Werke VII, 397.

  36 Fichte, Reden, Werke VII, 375.

  37 Hegel, Elements of the Philosophy of Right, edited by A. Wood, trans H. B. Nisbet (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), § 272 Addition, 307.

  38 See Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 258, § 270, also § 324, 276, 298, and 361.

  39 Hegel, On the Scientific Ways of treating Natural Law, of its Place in Practical Philosophy, and its Relation to the Positive Sciences of Right, in Hegel, Political Writings, ed. L. Hickey and H. B. Nisbet (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 151; Philosophie des Geistes (1805), Gesammelte Werke, vol. 8 (Hamburg: Meiner, 1976), 261 sq.

  40 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 182 Addition, 220.

  41 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 183, 221.

  42 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 253, 271–2.

  43 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 264, 287.

  44 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 268, 288–9.

  45 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 258, 276.

  46 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 269, 290.

  47 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 274, 312.

  48 Hegel, Enzyklopädie der philosophischen Wissenschaften, § 541 Anm., W 10, 336.

  49 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 272, 306.

  50 Hegel, Philosophy of Right, § 342, 372.

  51 C. Schmitt, Politische Romantik [1919] (Berlin: Duncker and Humblot, 1998), 18–19 and 88 sq.

  52 F. Schlegel, Philosophische Lehrjahre, fragment 580, Kritische Friedrich-Schlegel-Ausgabe [KFSA], vol. XVIII (Munich: Schöningh, 1963), 369.

  53 ‘Das älteste Systemprogramm des deutschen Idealismus’, in Hegel, Werke 1, 234.

  54 ‘Das älteste Systemprogramm des deutschen Idealismus’, in Hegel, Werke 1, 234.

  55 F. Schlegel, Ideen (1800), fragment 101, KFSA II (1967), 266

  56 Hölderlin, Letter to his brother, September 1793, Sämtliche Werke, vol. 6.1 (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1959), 92.

  57 Hölderlin, Letter to J. G. Ebel, 10 January 1797, Sämtliche Werke 6.1, 229.

  58 Novalis, Glauben und Liebe, fragment 22, in Werke, Tagebücher und Briefe [Werke], vol. 2 (München: Hanser, 1978), 296.

  59 Novalis, Letter to Friedrich Schlegel (20/01/1799), in Werke 1 (München: Hanser, 1978), 684.

  60 Schelling, System der gesamten Philosophie, Schellings Werke [SW], vol. VI (München: Beck, 1956), 563.

  61 Schelling, Neue Deduktion des Naturrechts, § 163, SW I, 279.

  62 Schelling, Über das Wesen deutscher Wissenschaft, SW VIII, 11.

  63 Schelling, Vorlesungen über die Methode des Akademischen Studiums, SW V, 235–6.

  64 Schelling, Methode, SW V, 312.

  65 Schelling, Stuttgarter Privatvorlesungen, SW VII, 461.

  66 Schelling, Grundlegung der positiven Philosophie (Torino: Bottega d’Erasmo, 1972), 235.

  67 K. Marx, ‘Theses on Feuerbach’, in Marx-Engels Werke [MEW], vol. 3 (Berlin: Dietz, 1969), 533.

  68 About these terms and their history, see W. Schieder, ‘Kommunismus’, in Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe, vol. 3 (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1982), 455–529; ‘Sozialismus’, in Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe, vol. 5 (1984), 923–96.

  69 Marx, Kritik des Gothaer Programms, IV, MEW 19 (1973), 27 sq.

  70 Marx, Zur Kritik der politischen Ökonomie, Vorwort, MEW 13 (1971), 8–9.

  71 Marx, Kritik des Gothaer Programms, IV, MEW 19, 28.

  72 Marx and Engels, Manifest der kommunistischen Partei, MEW 4 (1972), 491.

  73 Marx and Engels, Manifest, MEW 4, 481.

  74 Marx, Kritik des Hegelschen Staatsrechts, MEW 1 (1976), 283, 312.

  75 Marx, Zur Kritik der politischen Ökonomie, MEW 13, 8.

  76 Marx, Zur Judenfrage (On the Jewish Question), MEW 1, 370.<
br />
  77 Stahl, Die Philosophie des Rechts, vol. II-2: Die Staatslehre und die Prinzipien des Rechts (Heidelberg: Mohr, 3rd ed. 1856), 1–4.

  78 Stahl, Die Philosophie des Rechts, II-2, Buch IV (Heidelberg: Mohr, 2nd ed. 1837), 20.

  79 Stahl, Die Philosophie des Rechts, II-2: Die Staatslehre (31856), 132.

  80 Stahl, Die Philosophie des Rechts, II-2: Die Staatslehre (31856), 137–8.

  81 H. v. Treitschke, ‘Bundesstaat und Einheitsstaat’, in Historische und politische Aufsätze, vol. II (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1886), 152.

  82 H. S. Chamberlain, The Foundations of the Nineteenth Century [Foundations] (London: Lane, 1910), vol. 1, 391–2.

  83 Chamberlain, Foundations, vol. 1, 267.

  84 Chamberlain, Foundations, vol. 1, 266.

  85 O. Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes. Umrisse einer Morphologie der Weltgeschichte (München: DTV, 2006), 703–5, 712.

  86 Spengler, Der Untergang des Abendlandes, 754.

  87 A. Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, Sämtliche Werke [SW], vol. 2 (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1891), 404.

  88 Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, SW 2, 413.

  89 Schopenhauer, Parerga und Paralipomena 2, Kap. IX, § 121, SW 6, 256.

  90 Schopenhauer, Parerga und Paralipomena 2, SW 6, 273.

  91 Nietzsche, Jenseits von Gut und Böse, § 257, Kritische Studienausgabe [KSA], vol. 5 (München: DTV, 1999), 180.

  92 Nietzsche, Also sprach Zarathustra, KSA 4, 61.

  93 Nietzsche, Also sprach Zarathustra, KSA 4, 14.

  94 Nietzsche, ‘Anti-Darwin’, KSA 13, 304.

  95 Nietzsche, Morgenröthe, IV, § 324, KSA 3, 231.

  CHAPTER 27

  FEMINISM

  JANE KNELLER

  27.1 INTRODUCTION

  “.…die Menschen hier, wie es in einer Republik von lauter Despoten natürlich ist, immer zanken wie Buben…” [“…the people here [in the ‘Jena circle’], as is natural in a republic of nothing but despots, quarrel like knaves ”]

  Dorothea Schlegel to Friedrich Schleiermacher, from Jena, January 16, 1800.

  An dieser Stelle ist nicht mehr zu umgehn die eigentliche Antwort auf die Frage, wie man wird, was man ist, zu geben. Und damit berühre ich das Meisterstück in der Kunst der Selbsterhaltung—der Selbstsucht. …Moralisch ausgedrückt: Nächstenliebe, Leben für Andere und Anderes kann die Schutzmassregel zur Erhaltung der härtesten Selbstigkeit sein. Dies ist der Ausnahmefall, in welchem ich, gegen meine Regel und Überzeugung, die Partei der “selbstlosen” Triebe nehme: sie arbeiten hier im Dienste der Selbstsucht, Selbstzucht. [At this point, the real answer to the question, how one becomes what one is, can no longer be avoided. And thus I touch on the masterpiece of the art of self-preservation—of selfishness…Morally speaking: neighbor love, living for others, and other things can be a protective measure for preserving the hardest self-concern. This is the exception where, against my wont and conviction, I side with the “selfless” drives: here they work in the service of self-love and self-discipline.]

  Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce Homo: Wie man wird, was man ist, sec. 9, written 1888, published 1908.

  IT is a puzzling, and for many feminists, a disturbing fact that radical feminists at the end of the nineteenth-century seized upon the work of the arch-antifeminist and late romantic philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche as a touchstone for their own political and philosophical feminist theory. In this chapter, however, I would like to address the potential for feminism of a much earlier version of romanticism that captures what radical feminists at the end of the nineteenth century found inspirational in Nietzsche, namely its emphasis on individual creativity, self-empowerment, and self-realization, without its express egoism and elitism.1 I see that potential captured imperfectly but far less problematically for feminism in early German romanticism. In what follows I want to focus on the beginning of the century, roughly 1795–1800, in order to make the case for reevaluating the approach of the romantic movement in Jena and Berlin, in the heyday of the Berlin salons and the Jena Circle of philosopher-poets who first named and self-consciously practiced the art of “romanticizing.”

  27.2 CITIZENS IN A REPUBLIC OF DESPOTS

  The philosophical and literary movement known as early German romanticism is most closely associated with the brothers August Wilhelm and Friedrich Schlegel, in close collaboration with Friedrich v. Hardenberg (Novalis), Friedrich Schleiermacher, and other philosophers and literary figures of the 1790s. It distinguished itself from other philosophical movements in several ways, one of which was the fact that it depended for inspiration and support upon a number of women who were crucially important to its functioning, viability, and for that matter, to its downfall. The gendered nature of early German romanticism makes it an obvious candidate for appropriation by feminists, but as nearly every attempt to do just that has pointed out, there are enormous obstacles to such an enterprise. In what follows I will discuss the problems and also the promising features of this movement with an eye to what feminists at the beginning of another turbulent century might want to selectively appropriate for our time.

  During the last decade of the eighteenth century a number of women were closely associated with intellectual life in Berlin and Jena. Their role was substantial not because there were a great many women intellectuals involved in the debates and discussions of the time, nor because those women who were involved were able to participate in them on full and equal terms—far from it. Rather, their significant contribution to nineteenth-century German feminism lies in the fact that their presence and contributions shaped the movement in substantial ways and to a far greater extent than women of any prior philosophically significant movement had done. In Berlin and then Jena in the 1790s a number of bourgeois women, daughters of prominent merchant and academic families, became involved in the planning and execution of important intellectual gatherings in these two cities. Several of these women had a lasting influence on the intellectual life and productivity of the era, and two of them in particular had an enormous influence on the development of their male counterparts whom we now identify with the Jena Circle in early German romanticism.

  In Berlin two young women, both from prominent Jewish families, were later to become leaders of the two most influential cultural salons in that city. Rahel Levin and Henriette Herz were both important figures, especially from the perspective of German romanticism.2 A few of the salons in Berlin had already become significant a generation earlier as sites where Jews and Christians could mingle and share ideas freely, but women were not participants.3 An interesting development of this salon culture occurred, however, when the educated daughters of these intellectual families came of age (at the time of the French revolution) and were able to establish their own salons. Henriette in particular set a new tone: while her husband, Marcus (a preeminent medical doctor and respected student of Kant’s) held forth in a separate salon, Henriette conducted her own salon attended by guests of more diverse class backgrounds and gender. Her approach to the conduct of these gatherings was more casual and animated than her husband’s, and with that she created an exciting, socially progressive atmosphere. Her salon influenced the way in which August and Friedrich Schlegel, and also Friedrich Schleiermacher conceived the nature of sociability and the role that conversation can and should play in the conduct of philosophy. At the same time, it should be emphasized that although these salons were free of hierarchical structure and provided women with “a certain social openness and mixing,” these were still no paradise for women intellectuals. On the whole even Rahel and Henriette had very little chance to speak, most of the time.4

  A third woman in the Berlin Salon cohort of the 1890s salon circles had an even more direct influence on the development of romanticism. Dorothea Schlegel, born Brendel Mendelssohn, was the daughter of Fromet and the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn, one of the great philosophical lights of the German enlightenment. Brendel grew up extremely well educated for a woman of her time and station.
She was encouraged by her father to be involved in the intellectual reading groups or “salons” held in her household, where she first befriended Rahel Levin and Henriette Herz. She became a part of the salon culture in Berlin, eventually and fatefully meeting her future lifelong companion, Friedrich Schlegel. She subsequently divorced her much older husband, negotiating her right to keep their youngest child until he came of age, and left behind her family and community to become the confidant, muse, and literary companion of Friedrich.

  Although her friends, including Friedrich, encouraged her to write, she never published under her own name. Her novel Florentin was written with difficulty, in the shadow of her famous husband and his colleagues, and with an eye to bringing in badly needed income. Dorothea began the work with enthusiasm, even having it copied by a man so that it would not appear to be hers and would therefore, she hoped, stand a chance of publication. But after an initial rejection of the first part of the novel on the grounds that it was “debased and immoral,” her modicum of self-confidence was shattered, and finishing the book was a struggle which she undertook only for the sake of the much needed income for herself, her son, and Friedrich. The first part of the novel was published anonymously in 1800 to both scathing and laudatory reviews.5 Becker-Cantorino comments that Dorothea’s “profound insecurity” is reflected in the novel’s fragmentary form, theme and figuration:

  In the figure of Florentin Dorothea Schlegel depicts her own fantasies, dreams and ideas, her search for friendship, love and homeland. She nevertheless did not choose the genre of a feminine Prüfungsroman6, but rather the Stationenroman [popular adventure story] of romantic self-discovery and thereby parodies the masculine Bildungsroman7 [coming of age novel]…Simplicity of style and clarity of construction characterize the novel, which encompasses a journey with a series of stations, but without endpoint or arrival.8

  Becker-Cantorino also makes a strong case for reading the novel from a feminist perspective, arguing that in the end the novel’s lack of resolution and ironic, gendered twists on the classic and romantic Bildungsromane, like Goethe’s Wilhelm Meister and Friedrich Schlegel’s Lucinde, make it a unique and valuable contribution to early romantic literature. Dorothea herself, however, gave up writing after the first part was written and could not be persuaded to finish it, leaving it, fittingly, as a romantic fragment for posterity.