From the outset, Romanticism was marked by tragedy. Believing his love to be impossible, Werther commits suicide—and the emotional shock rippled across Europe (The Sorrows of Young Werther, Goethe, 1774). Suicide for love? That meant taking feelings very seriously indeed. In a speech delivered in 1824, the Académie Française reproached the Romantics for their lack of cheerfulness, for their constant sulking, and for “finding poetry only in misfortune and affliction.”
The Romantic soul refuses to root itself in anything tangible. Life itself is never enough:
“Rise, swiftly longed-for storms that will bear René into the realms of another life…”
— Chateaubriand, René (1802)
Contemplation of nature evokes both a dream of fusion and a feeling of solitude: “There is nothing in common between the earth and me,” laments Lamartine in Méditations poétiques (1820).
Romantics soar high and struggle with reality. Love, for them, often exists in a vaporous state, sustained by music and exchanged glances. Alfred de Musset and George Sand, one of the movement’s emblematic couples, left for Venice in passionate rapture, only to return irreparably estranged.
Yet Romanticism contains within itself the seeds of its own critique. Stendhal and George Sand did not hesitate to mock their own weaknesses or those of their contemporaries—sometimes sulky, pretentious, or theatrically in love, like Mathilde de la Mole in The Red and the Black.