‘The Goethe–Luden Exchange of 1813’
In the aftermath of the Battle of Leipzig, Napoleon’s dominance in Central Europe began to collapse, and across the German states, a growing national sentiment took root. Ideas of political liberation, unity, and popular sovereignty circulated with renewed force. Within this climate, Heinrich Luden (10. April 1778 in Loxstedt near Bremerhaven - 23. May 1847 in Jena), a historian and professor at the University of Jena, emerged as a vocal proponent of national education and civic engagement. On the 30. November 1813, Luden met with Goethe in Weimar to discuss a proposed political journal intended to support these aims. The following text stems from the writings of Heinrich Luden and records their conversation:
In November 1813 I was in Weimar, in order to make the necessary arrangements with Bertuch (Note by Fatum Chaim: the Bertuch mentioned here is likely Friedrich Johann Justin Bertuch (30. of September 1747 – 3. of April 1822), who lived in Weimar and was a close associate of Goethe. Bertuch was a prominent publisher of multiple magazines, writer, and cultural entrepreneur and one of the most influential figures in the cultural and intellectual life of late 18th and early 19th century Germany, especially within the context of Weimar Classicism.), who had taken over the publishing of my ‘Nemesis’.(Note by Fatum Chaim: ‘Nemesis’ was a political and historical journal, at its onset supposedly characterized by, for its time, typical anti-Napoleon propaganda but gradually morphing into a serious political Journal that was read beyond the borders of Sachsen-Weimar-Eisenach and even beyond the borders of Germany by and large.)
Bertuch wished that I should speak with the Sirs geheimen Räthe (Note by Fatum Chaim: a ‘Geheimrat’ or ‘geheimer Rath’, of which the literal translation would be ‘secret councilor’, is equivalent to a privy council, within the English terminology) Voigt and Goethe about our undertaking; he himself had already informed both ministers of what was in the works, and neither of them had expressed any objection, however he considered it appropriate that I should also speak with them about it, so that they might not show themselves disinclined in the case of possible difficulties, but rather, if necessary, might represent us as far as possible. I could not or would not quite comprehend how I could ever need such protection after the liberation of Germany from the yoke of the foreigners, but I deferred to Bertuch’s greater experience.
So I went before noon to Geheimrath Voigt.(Note by Fatum Chaim: It seems that the Geheimrat mentioned here is Christian Gottlob von Voigt (23. of December 1743 in Allstedt - 22. of March 1819 in Weimar), an associate and colleague of Goethe in Weimar.)
I stayed so long with the good old gentleman that I could no longer go to Goethe before lunch. Bertuch had inquiries made as to when His Excellency might be able to receive me. “Immediately after lunch; around 3 o’clock” – was the answer. Upon my entrance – and it was the first time that I paid my respects to him in Weimar – Goethe came toward me, extended his hand to me and spoke very friendly words to me in the most obliging manner. But he did not, as Voigt had done, make it easier for me to bring forward my concern, rather we spoke of ordinary things, yet soon also of the recent events. I then refered to this previous conversation: he would, I said, already have heard from Bertuch that I intended to publish a political journal in the Industriecomptoir. “Yes,” answered Goethe, “Bertuch has spoken to me of it. But how did you come upon this idea?” I told him my adventure with Mister v. Grolmann. “Truly!” said Goethe, “in the present excitement, not to say enthusiasm, I find that to be natural enough. Have you already concluded matters with Bertuch, and is your decision irrevocably fixed?”
“The announcement,” I replied, “is already at the printer’s and will be issued in a few days, unless there exists on the part of the high ministry any objection. For that very reason,” I added, “I would like to recommend the undertaking to the protection of Your Excellency.”
Goethe was silent for a minute; his face became very serious. Then he began and said approximately the following. “I have already years ago spoken openly to you, relying on your discretion; I will do the same now, Mister Hofrath. As a public official I have nothing to object to the publication of a journal; our government would surely at this time expose itself to harsh criticism, were it to presume to oppose such an undertaking. We truly have – won freedom gloriously with much blood; what would freedom be to us, if we did not use it. And certainly we are most inclined to use it through word and writing, also for the reason that this is the most convenient mode. Thus the government will without doubt leave you and Bertuch completely free hand. However, no one can promise you or grant you protection: everyone remains justly responsible for his actions. You will, however, likely also not need any protection, and should you ever allow yourself to go too far, Bertuch, who understands such matters, will kindly remind you of the boundary with the inscription Noli me tangere. (Note by Fatum Chaim: ‘Noli me tangere’ is a Latin phrase which literally translates to ‘touch me not’. It stems from a Bible verse, more specifically John 20:17, wherein Jesus says unto Maria Magdalena: “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.” In the modern context of this conversation, the phrase refers to a boundary that is not to be crossed.)
But had you asked me confidentially for my opinion before you had committed yourself, I would certainly have dissuaded you from the whole undertaking and urged you to remain with your learned historical works, or rather, since you have already involved yourself in politica, and even written a handbook of political wisdom, to return to your learned historical works, let the world take its course and not involve yourself in the quarrels of kings, in which your and my voice will never be heeded.”
These words greatly surprised me; I felt deeply hurt. However, I tried to compose myself as well as possible, but could not avoid replying something. “I must confess that I am almost glad not to have earlier and confidentially inquired into Your Excellency’s opinion; for however highly I may revere every word of Your Excellency, and however happy I would be to agree with you, I fear I still would not have followed Your Excellency’s advice this time; for precisely the fact that the German Michel has until now cared only for himself, ridden his own hobbyhorse, then eaten his dumpling and contentedly wiped his mouth, unconcerned with the commonweal, with fatherland and people – precisely this is what has brought disgrace, shame and immeasurable misfortune upon Germany, and all this shame and all this misfortune will come upon us again if we return to the old lazy ways and indifferently utter what half a year ago, as I was walking down an alley in Jena, a respectable citizen called out to his neighbor: ‘Yes, neighbor, how should it go? Good! The French are gone, the rooms are scrubbed, now the Russians may come if they like.’” And now I spoke for a few minutes: of the great decision before our eyes, of the uprising of the German people, of the proclamations of the princes, of fatherland, of freedom, of the necessity to found a better future precisely now, and of the sacred duty of every good person to contribute, according to his position and his strength, to the use of these great days in service of this new salvation.
Goethe sat quietly. At last he raised his right hand with a small smile. I fell silent. Immediately Goethe began to speak in an extraordinarily gentle voice, which at times seemed somewhat moved, and spoke quite at length without interruption. Of what he said, however, I can communicate only certain parts, but I cannot omit to note that I was more than once profoundly moved, partly indeed by his words, but far more by his manner, by the tone of his voice, the expression of his face, the movement of his hands.
“I have,” said Goethe, “listened to you calmly and quite willingly; you, however, have fallen into some fervor and that was not necessary, since you surely do not believe yourself to have said to me anything new, anything of which I was unaware. I speak very, very reluctantly about such matters, and you may be assured that I have my good reasons. I would also not have entered into such a conversation with you, were it a matter of something that had happened, of a factum, or even of a single action that is yet to happen. But it is a matter of something else: you want in this strange and terrible time to publish a journal, a political journal; you intend to direct it against Napoleon and against the French. But, believe me: no matter how you position yourself, you will soon tire of this path; you will soon be reminded that the compass rose has many points. Then you will offend the thrones and if not those who sit upon them, then those who surround them. You will have everything against you that is great and noble in the world; for you will represent the huts against the palaces and lead the cause of the weak against the hand of the strong. At the same time, you will encounter opposition from your peers, partly over principles, partly over facts. You will defend yourself and, as I hope, successfully, and thereby you will provoke new enmity against yourself. In a word: you will become entangled in manifold quarrels. With your peers you might perhaps deal; those you cannot overcome you may ignore, and for some, contempt is too much honor. But it is different with the mighty and great: with them it is not easy to eat cherries; you know for what reasons: to their weapons one has nothing to oppose. – Since I foresee all this quite clearly, I am indeed apprehensive. I would not like to have brought unpleasantness upon our princely house, for which you also bear pious wishes, I would not like to see our government, which does not command a hundred thousand bayonets, entangled in vexatious negotiations; I would like to avert every disadvantage from the university of which you are a member; and finally I think – why should I not say it? – also of my peace and your well-being.”
A pause ensued. I remained silent, because I did not dare to say what I might have been able to say, and also because I was truly deeply moved in the presence of this man. Soon Goethe continued:
“Do not for a moment believe that I am indifferent to the great ideas of freedom, people, fatherland. No! these ideas are within us; they are a part of our being, and no one can cast them off. Germany too lies warm upon my heart; I have often felt a bitter pain at the thought of the German people, so respectable in the individual and so miserable as a whole. A comparison of the German people with other peoples stirs in us painful feelings, which I seek to overcome in every way, in science and in art I have found the wings by which one can rise above them; for science and art belong to the world and before them the boundaries of nationality vanish. But the comfort they offer is only a miserable comfort and does not replace the proud consciousness of belonging to a great, strong, respected and feared people. In the same way only the thought of Germany’s future offers comfort; I hold fast to this belief as firmly as you. Yes, the German people promise a future, have a future. The destiny of the Germans is – to speak with Napoleon – not yet fulfilled. Had they had no other task to fulfill than to shatter the Roman Empire and to create and organize a new world, they would long ago have perished; but since they have continued to exist, and in such strength and capability, then they must in my belief still have a great future, a destiny which will be all the greater than that mighty work of the destruction of the Roman Empire and the shaping of the Middle Ages, as their education now stands higher. But time, opportunity, cannot be foreseen by the human eye, nor brought about or hastened by human power. Meanwhile there remains to us individuals only this: each according to his talents, his inclination and his position, to increase the education of the people, to strengthen and spread it through them in all directions and both downward and, preferably, upward, so that it does not fall behind other peoples, but at least in this leads the way, so that the spirit does not wither, but remains fresh and cheerful, so that it does not despair, does not become faint-hearted, but remains capable of every great deed, when the day of glory dawns.
But we are not now dealing with the future, not with our wishes, our hopes, our belief, and also not with the destinies that may await us and our fatherland, but we speak of the present, of the circumstances under which you wish to begin your journal. Now you say: the decision is made. Indeed! But this decision is at best only the beginning of the end. Two cases are still possible: either the mighty one defeats all his enemies once again, or he is defeated by them. I consider a settlement hardly possible, and even if it could be brought about, it would be of no use: we would be in the old place. Let us now suppose the first case: Napoleon defeats all his enemies; Impossible! you say? We are not so certain. Yet I myself do not consider it probable. So let us leave this case aside and declare it impossible. There remains therefore only the case that Napoleon is defeated, completely defeated. Well? and what shall then be? You speak of the awakening, of the uprising of the German people and mean, these people will not again surrender what they have won and dearly purchased with goods and blood, namely freedom. Have the people really awakened? Do they know what they want? Have you forgotten the splendid word that the honest philistine in Jena shouted to his neighbor in his joy, when he saw his rooms scrubbed and now after the departure of the French could comfortably receive the Russians? The sleep was too deep for even the strongest shaking to bring quick awareness. And is every movement a rising? Does he rise who is forcibly stirred up? We do not speak of the thousands of educated youths and men, we speak of the multitude, the millions. And what has been won or gained? You say: freedom; perhaps we would call it liberation – namely liberation not from the yoke of the foreigner, but from one foreign yoke. It is true: I see no more French and no more Italians, but instead I see Cossacks, Bashkirs, Croats, Magyars, Kashubians, Samlanders, brown and other hussars. For a long time we have grown accustomed to direct our gaze only westward and expect all danger only from that direction, but the earth stretches far out to the east as well. Even when we see all these people before our eyes, no apprehension enters our mind, and beautiful women have embraced horse and rider. Let me say no more. You indeed refer to the excellent proclamations of foreign and domestic lords. Yes, yes! A horse, a horse! A kingdom for a horse!” (Note by Fatum Chaim: This is a reference to William Shakespeare‘s play ‘Richard III’ and seems to be employed by Goethe in an ironic manner in reference to the proclamations of kings and princes.)
When I responded to these words, a conversation ensued in which Goethe’s words became ever more definite, sharper and I might say more individual. But I hesitate to write down what was said. Nor would I know to what end it should serve. Only this one thing will I note, that in this hour I became most deeply convinced that those who accuse Goethe of having no love for the fatherland, no German sentiment, no belief in our people, no feeling for Germany’s honor or shame, happiness or misfortune, are in the most grevious error. His silence in the great events and the confusing negotiations of this time was merely a painful resignation, to which he had to resolve himself in his position and with his precise knowledge of men and of things.
When I finally departed, my eyes were filled with tears. I took both of Goethe’s hands, but I have no idea what I said, nor what Goethe replied. What is certain is that he was very heartfelt. As I had already stepped out the door, I turned back once more: “Upon my entrance I had intended to present to Your Excellency one more request; but I have refrained and will not do so now either: I wanted to ask Your Excellency to honor my journal with some, at least with one, contribution.”
“I thank you,” interjected Goethe, “that you did not do so; I would have reluctantly declined it, but I would have had to decline it, and you now know why.”