But the fact that Heine never created a monumental literary work of enduring worth is not attributable solely to a fickleness of artistic purpose or lack of will-energy. We find its explanation rather in the poet's own statement: "Die Poesie ist am Ende doch nur eine schöne Nebensache."[270] and to this principle, consciously or unconsciously, Heine steadily adhered. Certain it is that he took a much lower view of his art than did Hölderlin or Lenau. Hence we find him ever ready to degrade his muse by making it the vehicle for immoral thoughts and abominable calumnies.[271]
The question of Heine's patriotism has always been a much-debated one, and must doubtless remain so. But whatever opinion we may hold in regard to his real attitude and feelings toward the land of his birth, this we shall have to admit, that there are exceedingly few traces of Weltschmerz arising from this source. Genuine feeling is expressed in the two-stanza poem "Ich hatte einst ein schönes Vaterland"[272] and also in "Lebensfahrt,"[273] although this latter poem illustrates a characteristic of so many of his writings, namely that he himself is their central figure. It is the sublime egoism which characterizes Heine and all his works. No wonder, then, that one of his few "Freiheitslieder" refers to his own personal liberty.[274] For the failings of his countrymen he is ever ready with scathing satire,[275] he grieves over his separation from them only when he thinks of his mother;[276] and in regard to the future of Germany he is for the most part sceptical.[277] In a word, Heine's lyric utterances in regard to his fatherland are of so mixed a character, that altogether aside from the question of the sincerity of his feeling toward the land of his birth, certainly none but the blindest partisan would be able to discover more than a negligible quantity of Weltschmerz directly attributable to this influence.
Heine's conscience is at best a doubtful quantity. Where Byron with a sincere sense and acknowledgment of his guilt writes:
"My injuries came down on those who loved me-- On those whom I best loved: . . . . . . But my embrace was fatal."[278]
Heine sees it in quite another light: "War ich doch selber jetzt das lebende Gesetz der Moral und der Quell alles Rechtes und aller Befugnis; die anrüchigsten Magdalenen wurden purifiziert durch die läuternde und sühnende Macht meiner Liebesflammen,"[279] a moral aberration which he attributes to an imperfect interpretation of the difficult philosophy of Hegel. If further evidence were necessary to show the perversity of Heine's moral sense, the following paragraph from a letter to Varnhagen would suffice, in its way perhaps as remarkable a contribution to the theory of ethics as has ever been penned: "In Deutschland ist man noch nicht so weit, zu begreifen, dass ein Mann, der das Edelste durch Wort und That befördern will, sich oft einige kleine Lumpigkeiten, sei es aus Spass oder aus Vorteil, zu schulden kommen lassen darf, wenn er nur durch diese Lumpigkeiten (d. h. Handlungen, die im Grunde ignobel sind,) der grossen Idee seines Lebens nichts schadet, ja dass diese Lumpigkeiten oft sogar lobenswert sind, wenn sie uns in den Stand setzen, der grossen Idee unsres Lebens desto würdiger zu dienen."[280] Scarcely less remarkable is the poet's confession to his friend Moser that he has a rubber soul: "Ich kann Dir das nicht oft genug wiederholen, damit Du mich nicht misst nach dem Massstabe Deiner eigenen grossen Seele. Die meinige ist Gummi elastic, zieht sich oft ins Unendliche und verschrumpft oft ins Winzige. Aber eine Seele habe ich doch. I am positive, I have a soul, so gut wie Sterne. Das genüge Dir. Liebe mich um der wunderlichen Sorte Gefühls willen, die sich bei mir ausspricht in Thorheit und Weisheit, in Güte und Schlechtigkeit. Liebe mich, weil es Dir nun mal so einfällt, nicht, weil Du mich der Liebe wert hältst.... Ich hatte einen Polen zum Freund, für den ich mich bis zu Tod besoffen hätte, oder, besser gesagt, für den ich mich hätte totschlagen lassen, und für den ich mich noch totschlagen liesse, und der Kerl taugte für keinen Pfennig, und war venerisch, und hatte die schlechtesten Grundsätze--aber er hatte einen Kehllaut, mit welchem er auf so wunderliche Weise das Wort 'Was?' sprechen konnte, dass ich in diesem Augenblick weinen und lachen muss, wenn ich daran denke."[281]