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| Unterhaltungen dt. Ausgewanderten onstage in 2016 |
One is Unterhaltungen deutscher Ausgewanderten, from 1795; the other Hermann und Dorothea, from 1797. The two works present a contrast in terms of the people affected by the revolutionary events, but the refuges are all “culturally” German, individuals and families who have been living in what is now part of France (since WWI), but which when Goethe was writing was more mixed with French and Germans. The territory is now Alsace-Lorraine, on the left bank of the Rhine. A major city is Alsace is Strassburg, where Goethe went to study in 1770. Most of the people at the university were Germans, although you have to recall that in 1770 Germany itself was not a united nation. In the wake of the French Revolution and, later, the violence of 1792 (Robespierre was executed that year), many of these people fled to the German side of the Rhine.
The characters in the Unterhaltungen are nobles, who are referred to as “émigrés,” the kind of people you might think would flee the Revolution, even when forced to abandon considerable possessions. The group that makes up the cast of the Unterhaltungen have settled on an inherited estate on the German side. There are six major characters, all more or less individualized. The situation is different in Hermann und Dorothea. If you have seen pictures on TV or in the newspapers of anonymous groups of people crossing the southern border of the U.S., you will have an idea of the stream of refugees that are passing through a German town, to a destination not quite specified. Clearly, their future is in doubt. And as always with Goethe, what he wrote has a present-day resonance.
And as always with Goethe, there are lots of threads to pull together. Thus, this post will focus on the Unterhaltungen, which will be followed soon (crossing my fingers) by a post on Hermann und Dorothea.
The title of the Unterhaltungen — “Conversations of German Emigrés” — points to what is at stake among the refugees: how to have a civilized conversation when the participants are of totally different political views. The leader of the the group of the small caravan is a baroness (“von C”), a widow in “middle years” known for her accomplishments, especially in the domestic sphere, and who would like to maintain “good spirits” among the group even in a moment of fear and need. And while the pleasant region in which they have settled is interrupted by the thunder of canons, depending on the direction of the winds, no one can stop talking about the events of the day. The result is dissension in the company, which is divided in its opinions. It should be mentioned that among those who fled the revolutionary wars, many were still in favor of the aims of the French Revolution. I found online a letter from 1792 by a man named Johann Alois Becker to a friend. Becker was in Mainz, which was occupied by supporters of the Revolution:
“Finally, our people began to reject their chains and gain human dignity. Soon we will be free. A few days before the French attacked our city, I already felt a great joy. Freedom and equality finally won in Mainz! The French finally arrived to remove our despots, and the first of them was our prince-bishop, who had fled a few days earlier. I confess that I am delighted at the sight of the immense despair that gripped our noble lords. They were panicked at the approach of the French and piled everything they could carry and fled the city.”
And so it is in the Unterhaltungen that two characters come into conflict over the Revolution’s goals.
One is the Privy Councilor (“Geheimrat”), whose wife was in earlier years a close friend of the baroness and who is of the party that is partial to the old system. The other is Karl, son of the baroness, who has been dazzled by the word “freedom” and has already disturbed the serenity of the group with with his passion for the Revolution. At first the discussions between the two are carried on with some balance, but when the blockade of Mainz turns into a siege and one fears for the residents of that city, their opinions are expressed with unfettered passion. One subject was the fate of the Jacobins who had remained in the city: punishment or release, depending on the seriousness of their actions. The Privy Councilor was of the first (“hang them all”), to which Karl took great exception.
The arguments between the two become extremely partisan and intense, and the Councilor hopes that the Jacobins will receive their punishment, which he believes will be judiciously (unparteiisch) rendered. Karl is outraged. He hates the word “unparteiisch” and evaluates the insurrectionists as people who have not had the advantages of the ruling classes and will see their hopes stolen. The Councilor jokes, but with some bitterness, about idealizing a situation, while Karl intones against those whose thinking is reactionary. His mother tries to calm him down, without success; likewise the Councilor's wife. But their attempts are thwarted by her husband who points out the inexperience of youth and about the tendency of kids to play with fire. Karl is so outraged that he declares his wish that revolutionaries be successful with their weapons and urges the Germans to join partners with them and put an end to slavery. He is convinced that the French will look at the Germans as their own and not sacrifice them, but will treat them with honor and confidence. The Councilor says it’s ridiculous to think that the French, for even a moment, in the event of capitulation or whatever, would care for the Germans. His hope is that, in the event of an Allied victory (Prussians, Austrians), the Jacobins all be hanged.
Karl rejoins that he hopes for the return of the guillotine in Germany and that no guilty head would be spared. To which the Councilor speaks of finding himself for a second time exiled by one of his own “countrymen,” and realizes that there will be less mercy from his fellow Germans than from the New Franks. He thereupon announces that he and his wife are leaving the company.
Sound familiar?
Karl promises to behave better in the future, but the baroness is not convinced that people can contain themselves (“Entsagung”) in these matters. She demands from here on out that people behave with more decorum in her house. Although she cannot change people’s opinions on world events that affect everyone, as everyone operates on his own sentiments, in “society” one must sacrifice one’s own idiosyncracies, not in the name of virtue, but simply for politeness, the way in which, from childhood on, we encounter a person on the street. If nothing else, the smoke by day and the flames at night should remind us, she says, that our homes and our possessions may be destroyed and should avoid bringing into discussion subjects that make others uncomfortable or upset them. Thus, she calls for an “amnesty,” banning the events of the day from their conversations. If politics drives out civil discourse, how can “einen guten Ton” be established? Pull your strengths together and become instructive, useful, and especially sociable! There are so many subjects that we can learn from and share with others: travel, history, poetry, philosophy, science.
Are there any lessons to be had from this?
To be continued.
Image credit: Thilo Beu
