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Above: Caspar David Friedrich‘s Monk by the Sea (ca. 1808). Friedrich was influenced by Novalis’s aesthetic theories.
Last year, Angelico Press published one of the most intriguing theoretical texts by the poetic genius of 18th-century Germany, Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg (1772–1801), better known under the pen name Novalis. Titled Christendom or Europe?, it was included in a volume of the same name alongside a selection of poems titled Spiritual Songs.
The importance of this small text deserves to be properly emphasized. Not only does it outline the core principles of the same ecclesiastical and political philosophy followed by the brilliant Russian thinker Vladimir Solovyov (1853–1900), but it also demonstrates the influence of Christian (i.e., Catholic) theology and philosophy on one of Germany’s most significant poets. As Jane Foster points out in the article she dedicated to him in the Encyclopedia of Literary Romanticism,
Novalis is sometimes reckoned the most influential of the German Romantics.[1]
In his monumental and emphatic style, Goethe himself considered Novalis a potential candidate for the title of “absolute genius.” Regardless of debates about the canonical hierarchy of 18th-century writers, it is clear that we are dealing with one of the most important poets and thinkers of world culture.
Why is this text by Novalis so important? Against the trends of those tempted to blindly follow the critiques of notorious intellectuals like Irving Babbitt (1865–1933) or Alain Besançon (1932–2023) aimed at “Romanticism” and authors associated with this literary movement, I want to show that such labeling is superficial and unfair.[2] The so-called ‘Romantics’ are distinct and unique, and cannot be classified under a single term—one that is often poorly understood. Furthermore, some of the critics who treated them as a monolithic group consistently ignored the Christian (i.e., Catholic) dimension of their thought. This is regrettable, considering both the significant number of converts among them and their theoretical contributions inspired by Catholic theology and philosophy. I am not saying they should be “canonized.” Only that they must be read, interpreted, and presented correctly—without emotional excess and superficial judgments.
A Controversial Discourse[3]
From the very moment it was presented by Novalis—on November 13 or 14, 1799—to the small, select circle of the famous group of “Romantic” writers in Jena, this text sparked enormous controversy. The critic and historian J. F. Haussmann emphasized the heated debates it provoked—debates that have not ceased to this day:
From the extravagant praise of his contemporaries to the scathing criticism of Young Germany, the controversy over Novalis has raged through many generations.
Indeed, non-Catholic and anti-Catholic exegetes have gone to great lengths to reassure their readers that there is no need for concern: the brilliant Novalis was by no means Catholic. Of course, if they mean that the German poet never formally converted to Catholicism, they are correct. But when it comes to his ideas and deep convictions, he is a Christian heart with a Catholic mind. I can affirm this without hesitation, as Novalis enthusiastically embraced certain ideas of Catholic theology and philosophy with poetic fervor.
Without wishing to be drawn into a sterile polemic dominated by the spirit of modern Revolution and historical Revisionism, this article aims to present the ideas that Novalis expressed in his surprising reflections on the future of the Western world. It will become clear that the poet’s vision is Christian (i.e., Catholic).
Before reviewing the reactions to Novalis’s work—both during his life and afterward—it is absolutely essential to understand the extremely turbulent context in which our author dared to make his speech, “Christendom or Europe?,” public.
We are in the aftermath of the French Revolution. The reaction of many German authors, though in some cases enthusiastic at first, gradually shifted to outright opposition to the new spirit. Pope Pius VI (1717–1799), who had condemned the documents issued by the new French regime after the Revolution (The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen and The Civil Constitution of the Clergy), died on August 29, 1799, as a prisoner of the infamous Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821). As if that were not enough, Napoleon sought to prevent the election of a new pontiff. The turmoil among the Catholic Church hierarchy had reached a fever pitch.
Simultaneously with this dire situation within the ecclesiastical hierarchy, the prospect of war between Germany and France loomed large. Prominent intellectuals were writing and publishing texts proposing new visions for the foundations of universal peace. One such philosophical-political vision was presented by Immanuel Kant in his essay Zum ewigen Frieden (On Perpetual Peace), published in 1795. Professor Richard Littlejohns meticulously listed other significant authors who contributed texts of the same kind: Friedrich Schlegel’s Versuch über den Begriff des Republikanismus (Essay on the Concept of Republicanism, 1796), Joseph Görres’s Der allgemeine Frieden, ein Ideal (General Peace, an Ideal, 1798). In addition, as Pauline Kleingeld notes, another key influence was Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher through his work Über die Religion: Reden an die Gebildeten unter ihren Verächtern (On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers), also published in 1799.
In developing his own political philosophy in dialogue with all these authors, Novalis’s speech represents his contribution to a vital discussion at the close of the 18th century. Unlike Kant and the others, the author of the mesmerizing Hymns to the Night would develop a vision rooted in the divine-right authority of the Pope and the graces conveyed through the Universal Christian Church (i.e., Catholic). As we shall see, no detail is absent from his presentation: the liturgy of the ages and the veneration of saints, the Immaculate Virgin Mary and the power of prayer, the missionary action of the great religious orders—with special emphasis on the Jesuits—and their most representative members, as well as the sanctifying activity of the clergy.
Faced with such an exposition and a “medieval” ideal of this nature—conceived by Novalis as the foundation for a lasting peace among the countries of the Western world—the members of the group at Jena reacted with astonishment. The publication of the text in the Athenaeum literary journal, run by the brothers August Wilhelm and Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel, was postponed. In fact, it never saw the light of print during the short life of its author, who died—suffering from tuberculosis—on March 25, 1801, at the age of only 28.
While his friend and later editor of his works, Ludwig Tieck (1773–1853), merely considered the text naïve and insufficiently argued, Dorothea von Schlegel (1764–1839) voiced a negative opinion. Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling (1775–1854) composed a parodic response entitled Epikurisch Glaubensbekenntniss Heinz Widerporstens (Epicurean Creed by Heinz Widerporsten),[4] which ironically targeted both Novalis’s text and Schleiermacher’s book. The group was at an impasse. Although there was some discussion of publishing Novalis’s lecture alongside Schelling’s parody, nothing was done. In the end, as all literary historians of the period record, Goethe was consulted. The author of Faust responded with a firm “no,” seemingly convinced that Novalis had secretly converted to Catholicism. Hausmann mentions the poet, theologian, and composer Johann Daniel Falk (1768–1826), who revealed the following remark made by Goethe in a private letter:
Novalis was not a supreme genius, but in time he might have become one. It’s a great pity that he died so young, especially in view of the fact that he had obliged his age by becoming a Catholic.[5]
Of course, Hausmann denied such a possibility, attributing it to a confusion between Novalis and his brother, Karl von Hardenberg, who had formally converted to Catholicism. Personally, I don’t believe there was any confusion at all. Goethe had correctly discerned the Catholic inspiration behind the ideas expressed by Novalis in his controversial text. As for his negative verdict, it seems motivated not so much by the Catholic character of Novalis’s discourse but most likely, as Michael Martin shows in the introduction to the Angelico Press edition, by caution in relation to the censorship of the time:
On the heels of the troubles ignited by Fichte’s On the Ground of Our Belief in a Divine World-Governance not even a year earlier, Goethe thought it best to avoid shaking up the hornet’s nest of censorship again with Europa.[6]
Wilhelm Dilthey’s later judgment (1833–1911), expressed in an 1865 text—that Novalis had done nothing more than “give a Christian garment to the Holy Alliance”[7]—was echoed in various forms by later exegesis. Nearly a century later, Klaus Träger asserted that Novalis had written the text in “support of obscurantism” and the “restoration of the Old Regime.”[8] Naturally, “obscurantism” here refers to any positive interpretation or presentation of the Middle Ages—an attitude contrary to the revisionist image of the “Dark Ages” propagated by the Revolution’s advocates.
I could continue for many pages with the history of the debate surrounding the Catholic inspiration of Novalis’s ideas in Christendom or Europe? but the essence remains unchanged: drawing one of the brightest minds of German culture into the orbit of the Universal (i.e., Catholic) Church raises suspicion and hostile reactions. Secular exegetes are uneasy with the enthusiasm with which the author expresses firm convictions regarding the medieval Christian model, proposing a restoration of the unity of social life and the political world around papal authority and the institution of the Church. Today, when not even the Popes of recent decades seem convinced of such an ideal, his message deserves renewed attention. That is why we must read this text carefully, reflecting on it and discussing it.
Christianity or Europe: Reading Notes
Although it was presented by Novalis to the Jena group in November 1799, the text of the lecture was only fully published in the fourth edition of his works, overseen by Ludwig Tieck and Friedrich Schlegel. This edition, which appeared in Berlin in 1826, contains the complete text, which we owe to the publisher Georg Reimer. An interesting detail concerns the subtitle accompanying the complete version in this edition: “Ein Fragment (Written in the year 1799).”[9] As noted by editor Frederick C. Beiser in his volume The Early Political Writing of the German Romantics, “since the original manuscript has been lost, it is unclear whether the subtitle ‘Ein Fragment’ is from Novalis’ hand or is an addition of his editors or publishers.”[10] If we assume that the subtitle was written by Novalis himself, it would seem to indicate that he conceived this short text as part of a larger work. However, we have no evidence to confirm this hypothesis.
Before presenting the key points of Novalis’s lecture, I will summarize its major premise in a single sentence: without acceptance of the Christian faith in the “One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic” Church, and without full harmony between temporal power (in a subordinate position) and the ecclesiastical hierarchy governed by the Pope, no lasting peace will ever truly be possible. That is the core of Novalis’s text. Eighty-six years before Vladimir Solovyov (1853–1900) would advocate similar ideas in his work La Russie et l’Église universelle (1885), Novalis had already grasped the fundamental premise of a human society in which Goodness, Truth, and Beauty are acknowledged, defended, and transmitted: submission to the one Church founded by Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Considering the serious risks of such an idea—risks visible in the very consequences suffered by the author—we can easily deduce that Novalis dared to present such a text only because it reflected his deepest convictions. With that said, let us now move on to outlining the key ideas from the speech Christianity or Europe?.
The beginning consists of a description of the model that will serve as a reference point for establishing the conditions for a stable future of the European world: medieval Christian society. That alone was enough to provoke endless controversy. Even today, scholars dealing with exotic matters such as the political ideas of German writers do their best to convince their readers—as does, for example, the distinguished professor Richard Littlejohns—that Novalis did nothing more than fabricate a “myth” (a term understood not in the sense used by Plato, Tolkien, or Lewis, but in a pejorative sense).
In any case, the first point of Novalis’s speech consists of describing the model of unitary Christianity of the Middle Ages:
Once there were fine, resplendent times when Europe was a Christian land, when one Christendom occupied this humanly constituted continent. One great common interest united the remotest provinces of this broad spiritual realm. Without great worldly possessions, one Head guided and unified the great political forces. A numerous guild to which everyone had access stood directly beneath him and carried out his behests and strove with zeal to confirm his beneficent power.[11]
So, the unity of medieval Christendom did not refer only to the spiritual realm, but also to the unity of political powers represented by the monarchs of those times. What are the characteristics of Novalis’s medieval visionary archetype? First and foremost, the primacy of the spirit made manifest through the evangelizing and sanctifying work of the clergy, whose representatives “preached solely love for the holy and wondrously beautiful Lady of Christendom, who, endowed with divine powers, was prepared to rescue any believer from the most dread perils.”[12]
Engaged in encouraging the practice of a virtuous life, the priests presented the models embodied by the saints of old. With an unparalleled poetic sensibility, Novalis speaks of “the mysterious churches, which were adorned with cheering pictures, filled with sweet fragrances, and animated by holy and exalting music.”[13] Let us not forget, even for a moment, that for the literary Romantic creators who would later convert to Catholicism, the discovery of the wondrous world of the Middle Ages was directly connected to the fact – observed and emphasized repeatedly by Novalis – that no era has produced so much art at the highest imaginable standards. Let us return to the archetype of medieval Christian society. In the conclusion of this section, the author emphasizes the excellence of those “truly Catholic or truly Christian times:”
How beneficial this regimen, this arrangement was, how appropriate to the inner nature of man, was shown by the mighty upsurge of all the other human powers, the harmonious development of all capacities, the tremendous height to which individual men attained in all departments of knowledge of life and of the arts, and by the universally flourishing traffic in spiritual and earthly wares within the boundaries of Europe and outward to the most distant Indies. Such were the fine essential characteristics of the truly Catholic or truly Christian times.[14]
The second key point in Novalis’s exposition diagnoses the deep causes of decline. Essentially, it is about the obliteration of the sense of the sacred and the unseen world through an active life that minimizes—to the point of exclusion—the contemplative life:
It was a first love, which died away amid the press of business life, whose memory was crowded out by selfish cares, and whose bond—afterwards cried down as imposture and illusion and judged in the light of subsequent experiences—was sundered forever by a large proportion of Europeans.[15]
As if he had read Saint Alphonsus Maria de Liguori (169-1787), Novalis sees the decline of the clergy as the direct consequence of abandoning the spiritual art of meditation and contemplation—a renunciation that led to a process of “worldification” described in strong terms:
Infinite inertia lay heavy upon the now safe guild of the clergy. In the feeling of its esteem and its comfort it had stopped moving, while the laity had wrested experience and erudition from its hands and had taken mighty strides ahead of it on the way to culture. In the forgetfulness of its true office, which was to be the first among men in intellect, insight, and culture, base desires had grown rank, and the vulgarity and baseness of their mode of thinking became still more repugnant because of their garb and their vocation. Thus respect and confidence, the props of this and every kingdom, fell gradually away, and therewith that guild was undone. The mastery of Rome had, long before the violent insurrection, silently ceased to be.[16]
As can easily be anticipated, the third point of Novalis’s exposition refers to the Protestant Revolution. An inevitable consequence of the decadence of the Catholic clergy—from whose ranks Martin Luther (1483–1546) also emerged, “a mind quick to take flame”[17]—the Reformation (labeled as “another religion”) is described with incredible force:
The initial personal hatred of the Catholic faith passed gradually over into hatred of the Bible, of the Christian faith, and finally of religion in general. Still further, the hatred of religion extended itself quite naturally and consistently to all objects of enthusiasm. It made imagination and emotion heretical, as well as morality and the love of art, the future and the past.[18]
Reading such words, it is hard to imagine they belong to a member of a strict German Pietist (thus, Lutheran) family. And yet, the logic of historical analysis, focused on describing the spirit of the Protestant Revolution that destroyed the unity of the medieval world, compels him to trace the Enlightenment—the fullest manifestation of hatred against Religion and Tradition—as its direct descendant. Deism is also precisely targeted:
God was made into the disengaged spectator of this great, touching drama which the scholars were mounting, at the conclusion of which He was expected to entertain and solemnly admire the poets and players. By downright preference the common people were enlightened and educated to that cultivated enthusiasm, and in this way there arose a new European guild: the Lovers of Mankind and Enlighteners.[19]
These are the ones who, in the name of their interest in “enlightening” the modern world’s inhabitants, gradually subjected them to the mechanistic philosophy of accountants and statisticians. Cold reason replaced the contemplative intellect and the creative imagination subordinate to it. But precisely because reason has been given primacy by the new regime, those who must oppose it are the poets.
The conclusion naturally turns to the political situation, which demanded a solution for that “universal peace” Kant so longed for. As a prelude to this solution, Novalis asks, rhetorically, “what if Europe were to reawaken and a state of states, a political theory of knowledge, were to confront us?”[20] But such “a state of states” presupposes both hierarchy and balance. However, these cannot be achieved—in order to bring about the long-desired peace—by secular powers alone. Without stating it explicitly, Novalis once again alludes to the divinely ordained authority of the Sovereign Pontiff:
Only a third element, which is at once secular and superworldly, can solve that problem.[21]
This conviction regarding the Holy Father’s role in pacifying warring states is associated with the clearly expressed idea that only the Christian religion can be the foundation for such a solution:
Only religion can waken Europe again, and reassure the peoples, and install Christendom with new splendor visibly on earth in its old peace-establishing office.[22]
And to leave no room for doubt, the author underscores the identity of the true religion at the end of the text:
Applied, vitalized Christianity was the old Catholic faith, the last of these forms. Its omnipresence in life, its love of art, its profound humanity, the inviolability of its marriages, its communicativeness benevolent to man, its joy in poverty, obedience, and loyalty, render it unmistakable as genuine religion and comprise the basic features of its system.[23]
What follows makes it evident that Novalis seeks to propose a synthesis based on a Catholic foundation. Influenced by this vision, Vladimir Solovyov would later conceive of an eventual reunification—at the end of history—of Protestantism and Eastern Orthodoxy under the authority of the final successor of Peter, Pope Peter II. It is certain that Novalis did not aim so far. Specifically, he did not formulate a theological utopia with ecumenical nuances. Of course, some exegetes believe his vision pointed toward a form of transcendent Christianity that goes beyond its historical expressions. I believe they are mistaken, as they overlook the importance Novalis places—in his project for universal peace—on the Pontifical office, an importance reinforced by the absolute value of truth he associates—as we have seen—strictly with the Catholic faith. But the strongest argument in support of the Catholic interpretation is provided by the lecture itself:
The old Papacy lies in its grave and Rome for the second time has become a ruin. Shall Protestantism not cease at last and make way for a new, enduring Church?[24]
In a subtler way, Novalis links the Protestant Revolution to Napoleon, who—through Enlightenment ideas—continued its legacy. He was certainly deeply impressed by the death in captivity of Pope Pius VI, who had been taken prisoner by Napoleon—whose armies embodied the revolutionary spirit of the Reformation. That spirit must disappear to make way for a Catholic rebirth that would bring the longed-for peace.
Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg was not a revolutionary, but a poet and a remarkable thinker. He knew very well that the revival of the Catholic Church and “universal peace” could not be produced by human actors, but only by God. That is why, at the end of his text, he calls for serenity, patience, and total devotion to “the veritable and everlasting Faith.”
Some may see his vision as merely the dream of an exalted poetic imagination. Others may label him a “reactionary,” as has often been done. But no label can diminish the power of his message. And the principle of unity in Christian love, as transmitted by the Catholic Church—a principle placed at the very heart of his speech—will continue to move hearts and enlighten minds to strive, as he did, for a better world in which the Holiness of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, and His Church might shine once more with renewed strength.
[1] Jane Foster, the article dedicated to Novalis in Andrew Maunder (Coordinator), Encyclopedia of Literary Romanticism, Facts on File (an imprint of Infobase Publishing), 2010,p. 304.
[2] In an article entitled “Gandalf and Tolkien Against Literary Labels and Analytical Spirit. Rethinking Romanticism” I criticized the use of the label “Romantic” and its consequences: https://kmitalibrary.substack.com/p/gandalf-and-tolkien-against-literary [Accessed: 17 May 2025].
[3] In a letter to Friedrich Schlegel in 1800, Novalis would categorize his conference as “öffentliche Rede” (“public speech” / “public discourse”). Apud Novalis, Geistliche Lieder. Die Christenheit oder Europa, Translation, notes, chronology and afterword by Ioan Constantinescu, Iași: Institutul European, 1996, p. 220.
[4] Pauline Kleingeld, Op. Cit., p. 271.
[5] J.F. Haussmann, Op. Cit., p. 7. The quote from Goethe mentioned by Johann Daniel Falk can be found in his volume Goethe aus näherem persönlichen Umgang dargestellt, Leipzig, 1836, p. 99.
[6] Michael Martin, “An introduction,” in Novalis, Christendom or Europe?, Angelico Press, 2024, p. 17.
[7] Apud Viorica Nișcov, note on “Christianity or Europe?,” in Novalis, Între Veghe și Vis (Between wake and dream), Selection, translation, preface, notes and comments by Viorica Nișcov, Bucharest: Univers Publishing House, 1995, p. 220.
[8] Klaus Träger, “Novalis und die Ideologische Resuration,” in Sinn und Form, No. 13, 1961, p. 646, apud Novalis, Geistliche Lieder. Die Christenheit oder Europa, Op. Cit., p. 220.
[9] I have transcribed the subtitle exactly as it appears in the aforementioned edition: Novalis Schriften, Herausgegeben von Ludwig Tieck und Fr. Schlegel, Dritte vermehrte Auflage, Vierter Teil, Berlin: 1826, Gedruckt und verlegt bei G. Reimer,p. 187. The text is contained between pages 187 and 208.
[10] Frederick C. Beiser (Editor), The Early Political Writings of the German Romantics, Cambridge University Press: 1996, p. 61.
[11] Novalis, Christendom or Europe?, Angelico Press, 2024, p. 31.
[12] Op. Cit., p. 32.
[13] Op. Cit., p. 33.
[14] Op. Cit., p. 35.
[15] Ibidem.
[16] Op. Cit., pp. 37-38.
[17] Ibidem.
[18] Op. Cit., p. 46.
[19] Op. Cit., p. 48.
[20] Op. Cit., p. 58.
[21] Ibidem.
[22] Op. Cit., p. 59.
[23] Op. Cit., pp. 60-61.
[24] Op. Cit., p. 61.