Written: about June 15, 1842;
First published: in Deutsche Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Kunst, July 7, 8 and 9, 1842;
Signed: Friedrich Oswald;
Source: MECW, Volume 2;
Transcribed: in 2000 for marxists.org by Andy Blunden.
The more gladdening the powerful intellectual movement by which Königsberg seeks to place itself at the centre of German political progress, and the freer and more developed the form in which public opinion manifests itself there, the more peculiar does it seem that this should be the place where a certain juste-milieu, which is obviously bound to come into conflict with the majority of the local people, is attempting to assert itself in the philosophical field. And whereas Rosenkranz still has many aspects that command respect, although he lacks the courage to be consistent, all the flabbiness and paltriness of the philosophical juste-milieu is revealed in the person of Herr Alexander Jung.
In every movement, in every ideological struggle, there is a certain species of foggy mind which only feels comfortable in confusion. As long as the principles have not yet been worked out, such people are tolerated; as long as everyone is striving for clarity, it is not easy to discern the predestined lack of clarity of such people. But when the elements become separated, and principle is counterposed to principle, then it is high time to bid farewell to these useless people and definitively part company with them, for then their emptiness becomes appallingly obvious.
Herr Alexander Jung is also one of these people. It would be best if his above-mentioned book were ignored; but since, in addition, he publishes a Königsberger Literatur-Blatt, in which he also brings his boring positivism I before the public every week, the readers of the Jahrbücher will forgive me if I fix my sights on him and characterise him in rather more detail.
In the bygone days of Young Germany, he came out with his letters on recent literatures He had ‘ joined this youthful trend and now, without wishing to, became with it part of the opposition. What a position for our conciliator! Herr Alexander Jung on the extreme left! One can easily imagine his discomfort and the stream of assurances he poured forth. Yet he had a particular liking for Gutzkow, who at that time was regarded as the arch-heretic. He wanted to unburden his full heart, but he was afraid, he did not want to cause offence. How was he to find a way out? He resorted to a method altogether typical of him. He wrote an apotheosis of Gutzkow, but without mentioning his name, and then entitled it: “Lines on an Unnamed Person”. Permit me to say it, Herr Alexander Jung, that was downright cowardly!
Later Jung came out again with a conciliatory and confused book: Königsberg in Preussen und die Extreme des dortigen Pietisme. What a title! He allows pietism as such, but its extremes must be fought, just as now a struggle is being waged in the Königsberger Literatur-Blatt against the extremes of the Young Hegelian trend, for all extremes are evil in general, and only his beloved conciliation and moderation are of any value. As if extremes were not consistency pure and simple! Incidentally, this book was reviewed at the time in the Hallische Jahrbücher. 
Now he comes forward with the above-mentioned book and pours forth a whole bucketful of vague, uncritical assertions, confused judgments, empty phrases and ludicrously narrow views. It is as if he had been asleep ever since his Briefe appeared. Rien appris, rien oublie!  Young Germany has passed away, the Young Hegelian school has emerged, Strauss, Feuerbach, Bauer, and the Jahrbücher now command universal attention, the battle over principles is at its height, it is a question of life or death, Christianity is at stake, the political movement embraces everything, and yet the good Jung still cherishes the naive belief that “the nation” has nothing better to do than wait agog for a new play by Gutzkow, a novel promised by Mundt, an oddity to be expected from Laube. At a time when the cry of battle resounds throughout Germany, when the new principles are being debated at his very feet, Herr Jung sits in his study, chews his pen and ruminates over the concept of the “modern”. He hears nothing, sees nothing, for he is up to his ears in a pile of books, the contents of which are now of no interest to anyone, and he labours to arrange the various items precisely and neatly into Hegelian categories.
On the threshold of his lectures, he sets up as sentry the bogey of the “modern”. What is the “modern"? Herr Jung says that his point of departure for it is Byron and George Sand, and that for Germany the most immediate basic elements of the new world epoch are Hegel and the writers of what is called Young Literature. — Is there anything for which poor Hegel has not been made responsible? Atheism, the omnipotence of self-consciousness, the revolutionary theory of the state, and now Young Germany as well. But it is perfectly ridiculous to connect Hegel with this coterie. Is Herr Jung not aware that Gutzkow has long been engaged in a polemic against Hegelian philosophy, that Mundt and Kilhne understand practically nothing at all about the subject, that Mundt, in particular, in the Madonna and elsewhere has said the most senseless things about Hegel, shown the greatest misunderstanding of him and is now an avowed opponent of his teaching? Does he not know that Wienbarg, too, has spoken out against Hegel, and that Laube in his history of literature a has continually made incorrect use of Hegelian categories?
Herr Jung then passes on to the concept of the “modern” and tortures himself over it for six pages, without being able to master it. Of course! As though the “modern” could ever become “elevated to the rank of a concept"! As though such a vague, empty, imprecise expression which superficial minds everywhere put forward with a certain air of mystery, could ever become a philosophical category! What a distance there is between the ,,modern” of Heinrich Laube, which smacks of aristocratic salons and is personified only in the shape of a dandy, and “modern science” in the title of Strauss’ book on dogma! But all that is of no avail; Herr A. Jung regards this title-as proof that Strauss acknowledges the modern, the special Young-German modern, as a power above him, and instantly puts him and Young Literature in the same category. in the end he defines the concept of the modern as the independence of the subject from all merely external authority. We have long known that the striving towards this is the main element of the movement of the present day, and no one will deny that the “moderns” are connected with this striving; but what is very conspicuously revealed here is the absurdity of Herr Jung’s desire to present a part as the whole, an outlived, transitional epoch as a period of full flower. At all costs, Young Germany must be made the embodiment of the whole spirit of the times, and incidentally Hegel, too, must come in for his share. One can see that, so far, Herr Jung was divided in two; he kept one half of his heart for Hegel and the other for Young Germany. Now, in writing these lectures, he was compelled to bring the two together. What a problem! The left hand caressed philosophy, the right hand superficial, iridescent unphilosophy and, in good Christian fashion, the right hand did not know what the left hand was doing. Where was he to turn? Instead of honestly rejecting one of his two incompatible favourites, he made a bold stroke and deduced unphilosophy from philosophy.
To this end, thirty pages are devoted to throwing light on poor Hegel. A pompous, highfaluting apotheosis gushes in a turbid flood over the grave of the great man; then Herr Jung is at pains to prove that the fundamental feature of the Hegelian system is the assertion of the free subject as opposed to the heteronomy of rigid objectivity. But one need not be particularly knowledgeable about Hegel to know that he laid claim to a far higher standpoint, that of the reconciliation of the subject with objective forces; that he had a tremendous respect for objectivity, that he regarded reality, the actually existing, as far higher than the subjective reason of the individual, and demanded that precisely the latter should recognise objective reality as rational. Hegel is not, as Herr Jung supposes, the prophet of subjective autonomy, which is seen in the form of arbitrariness in Young Germany. Hegel’s principle is also heteronomy, subordination of the subject to universal reason, and sometimes, for instance in the philosophy of religion, even to universal unreason. What Hegel despised most of all was the intellect, and what is that but reason petrified in its subjectivity and isolation? But Herr Jung will reply to me by saying that that was not what he meant, that he was speaking only of purely external authority, that he, too, wants to see no more in Hegel than merely the reconciliation of both sides, and that, in his opinion, the “modern” individual desires no more than to regard himself as governed “by his own insight into the rationality of what is objective”. But then I, in turn, will insist that he should not lump Hegel with the Young Germans, whose essence lies precisely in subjective arbitrariness, whims and oddities; for then the “modern individuals’ is merely another expression for a Hegelian. In the presence of such boundless confusion Herr Jung will have to look for the “modern” also within the Hegelian school, and it is correct that the Left trend of the latter is pre-eminently called upon to fraternise with the Young Germans.
Finally, he comes to “modern” literature, and now a flood of universal recognition and eulogising is let loose. Here there is no one who has not achieved something to his credit, no one who does not represent so something worthy of notice, no one to whom literature does not owe some of its progress. These endless compliments, these conciliatory efforts, this passion to play the literary procurer and broker, are intolerable. What concern is it to literature that some writer or other has a bit of talent, that here or there he achieves some trifle, if he is otherwise worthless, if his whole trend, his literary character, his achievements as a whole, are of no value? In literature a writer’s value does not depend on himself, but only on his position in relation to the whole. If I were to adopt that kind of criticism, I would have to deal more indulgently with Herr Jung himself, since perhaps five pages of this book are not badly written and reveal some talent. — A mass of curious statements flows from his pen with extraordinary ease and even with a certain hauteur. Thus, in speaking of Pückler’s harsh treatment at the hands of the critics, he rejoices that they “pronounce their judgment without regard for person or rank. This truly testifies to the high, independent standpoint of German criticism.” What a poor opinion Herr Jung must have of the German nation to consider that sort of thing so greatly to its credit! As though incredible courage were required to criticise the literary works of a sovereign!
I shall pass over this drivel which claims to be a history of literature and which, in addition to its inner emptiness and incoherence, also has limitless omissions; thus there is no mention of the poets Grün, Lenau, Freiligrath, and Herwegh, or the dramatists Mosen and Klein, etc. Finally, the author arrives at what he has been working up to from the outset — his precious Young Germany, which for him is the acme of the “modern”. He begins with Börne. Actually, Börne’s influence on Young Germany has not been so great; Mundt and Kühne said he was mad, Laube thought him too democratic, too categorical, and only on Gutzkow and Wienbarg did he exercise a more sustained influence. Gutzkow, in particular, owes a great deal to Börne. The latter’s greatest effect lay in his quiet influence on the nation, which preserved his works as sacred objects and drew strength and support from them during the troubled times of 1832 to 1840, until the true sons of the author of the Briefe aus Paris appeared in the form of the new, philosophical liberals. Without the direct and indirect influence of Börne it would have been far more difficult for the free trend proceeding from Hegel to take shape. Then all that needed to be done was to clear out the silted-up paths of thought between Hegel and Börne, and that was not so difficult. These two men stood closer to each other than it seemed. Börne’s directness and healthy outlook proved to be the practical side of what Hegel had in mind, theoretically at least. Naturally, Herr Jung does not see this either. True, for him Börne is to a certain extent a respectable person, even a man of character, which is obviously very valuable in the circumstances; he has undeniable merits, as perhaps Varnhagen and Pückler have also, and he wrote in particular good dramatic criticism, but he was a fanatic and terrorist, and from such may the good Lord deliver us! Shame on such a vapid, faint-hearted conception of a man who by his mode of thought alone became a standard-bearer of his time! This Jung, who wishes to construct Young Germany and Gutzkow’s personality out of the absolute concept, is not even capable of understanding such a simple character as Börne; he does not see how inevitably and logically the most extreme, the most radical pronouncements arise from Börne’s innermost being, that Börne was a republican by his very nature, and that truly the Briefe aus Paris are not written in too strong terms for such a man. Or has Herr Jung never heard a Swiss or a North American talking about monarchical states? And who would reproach Börne for “considering life only from the political point of view"? Does not Hegel do the same? Is not for him, too, the state in its transition to world history, and therefore in the conditions of home and foreign policy, the concrete reality of the absolute spirit? And — ludicrously enough — confronted by this direct, naive outlook of Börne, which finds its completion in the wider Hegelian outlook and often coincides with it in- the most surprising way Herr Jung nevertheless concludes that Börne “outlined a system of politics and happiness of the peoples”, a sort of abstract, cloudy conception which, in his view, must explain Börne’s one-sidedness and obduracy! Herr Jung has not the slightest idea of Börne’s importance, his iron, unyielding character, his imposing will-power, precisely because he himself is such an insignificant, soft-hearted, helpless, obsequious little man. He does not know that as a personality Börne is unique in German history; he does not know that Börne was the standard-bearer of German freedom, the only real man in the Germany of his day; he cannot imagine what it means to rise up against forty million Germans and proclaim the realm of the idea; he cannot understand that Börne is the John the Baptist of the new period, who preaches repentance to the self-satisfied Germans and tells them that already the axe is laid to the root of the tree and that one mightier will come, who will baptise with fire and mercilessly sweep away the chaff from the threshing-floor. Herr Jung should see himself as part of this chaff. Finally, Herr A. lung arrives at his beloved Young Germany and begins with i; tolerable, but much too detailed criticism of Heine. The others are then dealt with in turn; first Laube, Mundt, and Kühne, then Wienbarg, to whom homage is paid as he deserves, and finally almost 50 pages are devoted to Gutzkow. The first three receive the usual juste-milieu tribute, much approval and very modest censure; Wienbarg is given definite prominence, but only four pages are allotted to him; and finally, with shameless servility, Gutzkow is made the standard-bearer of the “modern”, his image is constructed in accordance with the Hegelian scheme of concepts, and he is treated as a personage of the first rank.
If such judgments had been put forward by a young, budding author, one would let it pass; there are many who for a time set their hopes on the Young Literature, and with an eye to the expected future considered its works with more indulgence than they could otherwise have justified to themselves. In particular, anyone whose own mind has passed through the recent stages of the development of German thought will at some time have had a special liking for the works of Mundt, Laube, or Gutzkow. But since then progress beyond this trend has gone on much too vigorously, and the emptiness of most of the Young Germans has become horribly obvious.
Young Germany extricated itself from the uncleanness of disturbed times, but itself remained tainted by this uncleanness. Ideas ‘which at that time were fermenting in people’s minds in a still shapeless and undeveloped form and which only later were consciously perceived with the help of philosophy, were used by Young Germany to play a game of fantasy. -Hence the vagueness, the confusion of concepts, which prevailed among the Young Germans themselves. Gutzkow and Wienbarg knew better than the others what they wanted, Laube least of all. Mundt pursued social whims; Kühne, in whom something of Hegel was visible, made schemes and classifications. But in view of the general uncleanness of thought nothing of value could come of it. The idea of the justification of sensuality was conceived, following Heine’s example, in a crude and shallow way; liberal political principles differed among various personalities and the position of women gave rise to the most sterile and confused discussions. No one knew where he stood in relation to another person. The measures adopted by the various governments against these people should also be ascribed to the universal confusion of the period. The fantastic form in which these views were propagated could only promote further confusion. Thanks to the outward brilliance of the Young Germans’ works, to their witty, piquant and lively style, the enigmatic mysticism in which the main slogans were clothed, and thanks also to the revival of criticism and enlivening of the literary journals under their influence, the Young Germans soon attracted a mass of younger writers, and it was not long before each of them, with the exception of Wienbarg, had his own following. The old, flabby belles-lettres had to give way under pressure from the young forces, and the “Young Literature” took possession of the field it had conquered, divided it up — and disintegrated in the course of this division. Thus, the inadequacy of principle was disclosed. They had all been mistaken about one another. Principles vanished; it was now only a matter of personalities. Gutzkow or Mundt, that was the question. The periodicals began to be filled with the doings of the cliques, squabbles, and disputes about nothing at all.
The easy victory had made the young masters overbearing and vain. They regarded themselves as characters of world-historic importance. Whenever a new author appeared a pistol was immediately levelled at his heart and his unconditional subordination demanded. Each claimed to be the sole god of literature. Thou shalt have no other gods before mel The slightest censure aroused deadly enmities. Thus this trend lost all the intellectual content it might still have had and degenerated into sheer squabbling, which culminated in Heine’s book about Börne and developed into infamous baseness. Of the individual-personalities, undoubtedly the noblest is Wienbarg — a true, forceful man, like a statue of brightly shining bronze cast in a single piece, without a speck of rust. Gutzkow is the clearest, the most intelligent; he has written more than the others and, next to Wienbarg, has provided the most definite evidence of his mode of thought. However, if he wishes to remain in the sphere of drama, he should look for better and richer ideological material than he has chosen so far, and proceed not from the “modern”, but from the true spirit of the present day. We demand greater ideological content than is to be found in the liberal phrases of Patkul or the tender sensitivity of Werner. [The heroes of Gutzkow’s plays] Where Gutzkow has great talent is as a publicist; he is a born journalist, but there is only one means by which he can hold his own: if he masters the latest philosophical developments on religion and the state, and if he unreservedly devotes his Telegraph — which, it is said, he intends to revive — to the great movement of the present time. If he allows the degenerate type of belies-lettres to gain the upper hand over him his journal will be no better than others of the same kind, which are neither fish nor fowl, abound in boring stories, are scarcely glanced at and, in general, as regards content and the opinion of the public, have sunk lower than ever before. Their day is past, they are gradually being absorbed by the political newspapers, which are quite able to cope with the little bit of literature that appears.
In spite of his bad qualities, Laube is still likeable to a certain extent, but his untidy scribblings, devoid of principle — one day a novel, the next day a history of literature, and the day after criticism, drama, etc. — his vanity and shallowness prevent him from coming to the fore. He has as little spirit of freedom as has Kühne. The “tendencies” of the “Young Literature” of yore have long been forgotten, both of them are wholly in the grip of empty, abstract literary interests. On the other hand, with Heine and Mundt indifference has become open apostasy. Heine’s book on Börne is the most vile that has ever been written in the German language; Mundt’s latest writings in Der Pilot deprive the author of the Madonna of the last trace of respect in the eyes of the nation. Here in Berlin people know only too well what Mundt aims to achieve by such self-abasement, viz., a professorship; all the more disgusting is this servility which has suddenly taken possession of Herr Mundt. Let Herr Mundt and his henchman, F. Radewell, continue to cast suspicion on recent philosophy, to grasp the sheet-anchor of Schelling’s revelation and make themselves ridiculous in the eyes of the nation by their nonsensical attempts at independent philosophising. Free philosophy can calmly allow their infantile philosophical writings to go unrefuted; they collapse of themselves. Everything that bears the name of Herr Mundt is branded, like the works of Leo, with the mark of apostasy. Perhaps he will soon acquire a new vassal in Herr Jung; the latter bids fair to become one, as we have already seen and shall see again later.
Having achieved the actual aim he set himself in his lectures, Herr Jung is irresistibly impelled in conclusion to make himself once again the laughing-stock of the nation. From Gutzkow he passes on to David Strauss and ascribes to him the outstanding merit of having combined in himself “the conclusions of Hegel and Schleiermicher and of the modern style” (is that perhaps an example of the modern style?), but at the same time bitterly complains of the abominable, eternal negation. Yes, negation, negation everywhere! The poor positivists and people of the juste-milieu see the wave of negation rising ever higher and higher; they cling fast to one another and cry out for something positive. And now we have someone like Alexander Jung moaning over the eternal movement of world history, calling progress negation’, and finally setting himself up as a false prophet who predicts “a great birth of the positive”, which he describes in advance with the most involved phrases, and which will conquer Strauss, Feuerbach and everything connected with them by the sword of the Lord. In his Literatur-Blatt, too, he preaches the coming of the new “Positive” Messiah. Can there be anything more unphilosophical than such unconcealed dislike, such open dissatisfaction with the present? Can one behave in a more unmanly and feeble manner than Herr A. Jung does? Can one imagine a worse fantasy — apart from neo-Schellingian scholasticism — than this pious faith in a “positive Messiah"? Was there ever a greater and, unfortunately, also more widespread confusion than that which now prevails in regard to the concepts “positive and negative"? One -has only to take the trouble of looking more closely at the disparaged negation and it will be found that it is itself entirely positive. Of course, for those who declare that the rational, thought, is not positive because it develops instead of standing still, and whose feeble ivy-like minds need an old ruined wall, a fact, to cling to, for them, of course, all progress is negative. In reality, however, thought in its development alone constitutes the eternal and positive whereas the factual, the external aspect of what is taking place, is precisely what is negative, evanescent and vulnerable to criticism.
“But who will unearth this infinite treasure reposing so close to us?” continues Herr Jung with heightened pathos. Yes, who will be the Messiah who will lead the weak, wavering souls out of the exile of negation, out of the dark night of despair, back into the land flowing with milk and honey?
“Perhaps Schelling? — We place great, sacred hopes on Schelling precisely because He trusted solitude for so long, precisely because he has discovered that throne of peace at the fountain-head of thought and creativity, that throne of power which makes time cease to be time!”, etc.
Yes, this is a Hegelian speaking, and he continues (Königsberger Literatur-Blatt No. 4):
“We expect an extraordinary amount from Schelling. Schelling, we hope, will stride through history with the same beacon of a new, as yet unseen light as he once strode with through nature”, etc.
Then in No. 7 — a tribute to Schelling’s unknown god. The philosophy of mythology and revelation is construed as necessary, and Herr Jung basks in the consciousness that already from afar with his inspired eye he is able to divine the paths of thought of Schelling, the great Schelling. This Jung is such a spineless, dreamy soul that he finds satisfaction only in submission to someone else, in subordination to another’s authority. There is not a hint of independence about him; as soon as the support to which he clings is removed he breaks down and sheds bright tears of yearning. He even debases himself before something he does not yet know and, in spite of the fairly exact information that was available about Schelling’s philosophy and the specific content of his lectures even before he spoke in Berlin, Herr Jung knows no greater bliss than to sit in the dust at Schelling’s feet. He does not know how Schelling spoke of Hegel in the preface to Cousin’s book  or, rather, he knows it full well and yet he, a Hegelian, dares to cringe to Schelling, he dares after such antecedents to go on mentioning Hegel’s name and to refer to him when opposing the most recent developmental And to crown his self-degradation, in No. 13 he once more piously ‘Prostrates himself before Schelling, bestowing on the latter’s first lecture the adulation of his full admiration and reverence. Yes, he finds here confirmation of everything about Schelling that he,
“not only presupposed, but knew — that wonderfully fresh penetration, perfect also in form, into all scientific, artistic and ethical elements which, in such 1 combination of the ancient and Christian world, can consecrate one thus glorified into a totally different priest of all that is highest and its revelation, such as priests of a lower order and laymen can only dream of”. Of course, some will be so vile “that out of envy they will even deny the greatness which reveals itself here to all as pure and clear as sunlight”. “Schelling’s full greatness, his superiority over all the excellence of merely one-sided trends, sheds its splendid lustre on us in his first lecture”. ... “One who can begin in this way must continue powerfully, must end as victor, and if they should all grow weary and droop because they are unaccustomed to such flights, and no one can any longer follow and understand what is spoken by You, who are inspired from of old, nevertheless You are sure to be heard by the shade of one who is Your equal, the most faithful, the most glorious of Your friends, You are heard by the shade of old Hegel!.”
What could Herr Jung have had in mind when he put this wild enthusiasm, these romantic flights on paper! Our pious “priest” has not the slightest inkling of what everyone, at least here in Berlin, knew beforehand or could conclude with certainty. But What sort of “revelations” this “priest of all that is highest” preached to us, what the “greatness”, the “destiny to reveal all that is highest to mankind”, the “powerful flight”, consisted in, how Schelling “ended as victor” — the whole world now knows. In the pamphlet Schelling und die Offenbarung, of which I hereby acknowledge myself to be the author, I have given a completely objective description of the content of the new revelation. Let Herr Jung use it to prove that his hopes have been realised, or at least let him have the sincerity and courage to admit his egregious error.
Without going on to the criticism of Sealsfield with which Herr Jung ends his book, since I have already strayed far enough from the field of belles-lettres, I will conclude by examining a few more passage es from the Königsberger Literatur-Blatt to demonstrate Herr Jung’s faint-heartedness; and empty pomposity here also. Already in No. 1 reference is made to Feuerbach’s Wesen des Christenthums, although in a very restrained manner; in No. 2 attacks are made, although still in a respectful form, on the theory of negation of the Jahrbücher; in No. 3 homage is paid to Herbart, as previously to Schelling; in No. 4 homage is paid to both of them and at the same time a protest voiced against radicalism; No. 8 begins an extensive criticism of Feuerbach’s book, in which the half-hearted juste-milieu attempts to assert its superiority over decisive radicalism. And what are the convincing arguments employed here? Feuerbach would be quite right, says Jung, if the earth were the whole universe; from the terrestrial point of view his whole work is splendid, convincing, excellent, irrefutable; but from the universal, the global point of view, it is worthless. A fine theory! As if twice two were five on the moon, as if stones were alive and ran about on Venus, and plants could talk on the sun! As if a different, new kind of reason began beyond the Earth’s atmosphere, and the nature of the mind were to be measured by-its distance from the sun! As if the self-consciousness at which the earth arrives in mankind did not become world consciousness the very moment it recognises its own position as an element of the latter! As if such an objection were not merely an excuse to banish the vexatious reply to an old question into the bad infinity of space! Does it not sound curiously naive when Jung smuggles into his main line of argument the phrase: “reason, which goes beyond the bounds of any merely spherical definitiveness"? How can he then, having admitted the consistency and rationality of the disputed position from the terrestrial point of view, make a distinction between the latter and the “universal” one? It is, however, quite worthy of such a fantast and emotional dreamer as Herr Jung to lose himself in the bad infinity of the starry sky, and to concoct all kinds of curious hypotheses and wonderful daydreams about thinking, loving, romanticising beings on other celestial bodies. Moreover, it is ludicrous how he warns against the shallowness of directly accusing Feuerbach and Strauss 6-f atheism and unconditional denial of immortality. Herr Jung does not see that these people make no claim to any other viewpoint at all. To continue: in No. 12 Herr Jung already threatens us with his anger; in No. 26 an interpretation of Leo is given, and because of Leo’s undoubted talent his actual views are totally forgotten and glossed over; Ruge, too, is dealt with just as incorrectly as Leo. No. 29 approves Hinrichs’ worthless criticism of the Posaune in the Berliner Jahrbücher, and speaks out even more definitely against the Left; No. 35 gives in full a long, appalling article about F. Baader, whose somnambulistic mysticism and unphilosophy are moreover put to his credit; finally, No. 36 complains about an “unfortunate polemic”, in other words, obviously, about E. Meyen’s article in the Rheinische Zeitung,  in which for once Herr Jung is told the truth — it is most peculiar! Herr Jung sinks into such a state of torpor and day-dreaming that he imagines he is our “comrade-in-arms”, and “defends the same ideas”, and that although “it is true there existed differences” between him and us, “nevertheless the identity of principles and aims is firmly established”. It is to be hoped that he has now realised that we are neither inclined nor able to fraternise with him. Such miserable amphibians and double-dealers are useless for the struggle, which was started by resolute people and can be carried through only by men of character. In the course of the above article he further discredits himself by indulging in the most trivial talk about the literary despotism of the liberals and defending his own freedom. Let him keep it; everyone will be quite ready to let him go blathering on for all eternity. But let him permit us to thank him for his support and to tell him honestly and frankly what we think of him. Otherwise, he would indeed be the literary despot, and he is somewhat too soft-hearted for that. The same issue closes worthily with an appeal for help against “the self-seeking, vain clamour which ravingly elevates self-consciousness to be God” — and the Königsberger Literatur-Blatt even dares to reproduce these horrifying exclamations: “Down with Christianity, down with immortality, down with God!!” However, it consoles itself by the fact that “the coffin-bearers stand ready on the threshold to carry out those who still have such fine voices as dumb corpses” Once again, therefore, the impotence of an appeal to the future!
I have not yet seen any later issue of Jung’s paper. I think the evidence given above will suffice to justify the exclusion of Herr Jung from the camp of the resolute and “free”; he himself is now in a position to see what people object to in him. Permit me yet another remark. Herr Jung is, undoubtedly, Germany’s most spineless, helpless and confused writer. What is the origin of all this, whence the devotional form which he displays everywhere? Is it perhaps connected with the fact, as rumour has it, that Herr Jung must have formerly been devotional ex officio?