there on universal history to an audience consisting chiefly of pupils from the Romish seminaries.  Another Spaetromantiker, born Catholic, was Clemens Brentano, whom Heine describes in 1833 as having lived at Frankfort for the last fifteen years in hermit-like seclusion, as a corresponding member of the propaganda.  For six years (1818-24) Brentano was constantly at the bedside of the invalid nun, Anna Katharina Emmerich, at Duelmen.  She was a “stigmatic,” afflicted, i.e., with a mysterious disease which impressed upon her body marks thought to be miraculous counterfeits of the wounds of Christ.  She had trances and visions, and uttered revelations which Brentano recorded and afterwards published in several volumes, that were translated into French and Italian and widely circulated among the faithful.

As adherents of the romantic school who were born and bred Protestants, but became converts to the Catholic faith, Heine enumerates Friedrich Schlegel, Tieck, Novalis, Werner, Schuetz, Carove, Adam Mueller, and Count Stolberg.  This list, he says, includes only authors, “the number of painters who in swarms simultaneously abjured Protestantism and reason was much larger.”  But Tieck and Novalis never formally abjured Protestantism.  They detested the Reformation and loved the mediaeval Church, but looked upon modern Catholicism as a degenerate system.  Their position here was something like that of the English Tractarians in the earlier stages of the Oxford movement.  Novalis composed “Marienlieder.”  Tieck complained of the dryness of Protestant ritual and theology, and said that in the Middle Ages there was a unity (Einheit) which ought to be again recovered.  All Europe was then one fatherland with a single faith.  The period of the Arthursage was the blossoming time of romance, the vernal season of love, religion, chivalry, and—­sorcery!  He pleaded for the creation of a new Christian, Catholic mythology.

In 1808 Friedrich Schlegel became a Roman Catholic—­or, as Heine puts it—­“went to Vienna, where he attended mass daily and ate broiled fowl.”  His wife, a daughter of Moses Mendelssohn, a Jewess by race, followed her husband into the Catholic Church.  Zacharias Werner, author of a number of romantic melodramas, the heroes of which are described as monkish ascetics, religious mystics, and “spirits who wander on earth in the guise of harp-players”—­Zacharias Werner also went to Vienna and joined the order of Ligorians.  This conversion made a prodigious noise in Germany.  It occurred at Rome in 1811, and the convert afterwards witnessed the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples, that annual miracle in which Newman expresses so firm a belief.  Werner then spent two years in the study of theology, visited Our Lady’s Chapel at Loretto in 1813; was ordained priest at Aschaffenburg in 1814; and preached at St. Stephen’s Church, Vienna, on the vanity of worldly pleasures, with fastings many,