Goethe and the mines

Clausthal (click to enlarge)

 Goethe's "first" Harz journey began at the end of November 1777, the culmination of which was his ascent of the Brocken on December 10. While on this trip, undertaken on horseback, Goethe also visited several working mines in the region, perhaps as part of informing himself about mining matters in connection with the Ilmenau project. The Rammelsberg mine, south of Goslar, was open to visitors, and he wrote in the visitors' book on December 5: "Den ganzen Berg bis ins Tiefste befahren."

He was also writing letters to Charlotte von Stein during this journey; unfortunately he provides no details in these letters, nor mentions anything of his observations or of conversations with mining officials.

Model of a 16C mine, from G. E. von Löhneyss' Bericht vom Bergwerck, 1690

The next day he rode to Clausthal, pictured at the top of this post, site of the most productive mine in the entire Harz, producing silver, copper, tin, and "Zinkblende." He spent the night in Clausthal, and on the morning of December 8, he traveled to the nearby Dorothea, Caroline, and Benedict mines (the mines were first worked by Benedictine monks) and inscribed his name in the guest book as “Johann Wilhelm Weber aus Darmstadt.” Again he descended into the mines, apparently without any fear of the depths or the poor illumination. It was not an entirely danger-free thing, as the miner who accompanied him, walking in front of him, was injured by a large block of falling debris. According to Wolf von Engelhardt, the Clausthal mines extended to a depth of 520 meters (1,700 feet), but we don't know far into the depths Goethe descended. We know, however, that he went down by ladders, as are pictured in the above illustration from a 16th-century mine.

Picture sources: GeoMuseum Clausthal; Robert M. Vogel

Goethe and geology

From The New Yorker (click to enlarge)

A friend reminds me that I have not posted much lately. True: most of my time is devoted to the book I am trying to finish, which is not directly about Goethe, but I came across something yesterday that gave me an opportunity to think about him.

I was at the M.D., one who has copies of The New Yorker, and an issue from earlier this year had a rather thrilling piece by Hector Tobar on the Chilean miners who were trapped 69 days at 2,3000 feet below the earth — and survived. The piece contains some factoids about the geology of the mining environment, which reminded me that I have been asked to prepare 100 words on “Goethe and Geology” in connection with a book exhibit for the forthcoming conference of the Goethe Society of North America.

For those unfamiliar with the subject, Goethe was a member of a commission in the duchy of Weimar that investigated the possibility of re-opening the mine at Ilmenau as a way of producing revenue for the duchy. The venture eventually came to nought, but Goethe struggled with it for a decade. He also familiarized himself with the mineralogy of the region and with "geology," a subject that was not yet known as such, as it was then a field only coming into being. The first scientific writing he produced was on granite, which was believed at the time to constitute the earliest building block of the earth. (See my essay in the Goethe Yearbook.)

Goethe went on to pursue other scientific areas, perhaps because they were more easily accessible: for instance, botany, anatomy, and colors. In retrospect, it might seem that to theorize about geology took a leap of the imagination that was nigh impossible for people, even for Goethe. James Hutton’s revolutionary insight into the age of the earth was something hard to wrap your mind around. Here is Hutton, a Scottish farmer who is known as "the father" of modern geology (emphasis added):

James Hutton, by Sir Henry Raeburn (1775)

"As there is not in human observation proper means for measuring the waste of land upon the globe, it is hence inferred, that we cannot estimate the duration of what we see at present, nor calculate the period at which it had begun; so that, with respect to human observation, this world has neither a beginning nor an end."

The above is from 1785, from a "dissertation" Concerning the System of the Earth, its Duration, and Stability. Hutton's point was that the earth was continually being formed, a process that we could not observe because it took place over such a vast extent of time.

In the early years in Weimar, when Goethe was studying mineralogy, there were certainly writers who already estimated that the earth was much older than the Biblical account would suggest. I believe Buffon thought in terms of 75,000 years. If Goethe been able to visualize millions of years, he might have come to accept the concept of a dynamic planet, especially the massive forces of volcanoes and hot springs in the formation of the earth.

So, what about the Chilean miners? As for the age of the stone forming the mountains in which they worked, it was “born of the earth’s magma more than 140 million years ago. For aeons, a mineral-rich broth rose up through the fissures of the Atacama Fault System. Eventually, the broth solidified, becoming ore layered with interlocking veins of quartz, chalcopyrite, and other minerals.”

And as for the slab that blocked their escape? “It was later estimated to weigh seven hundred thousand tons, twice the weight of the Empire State Building."

Such figures are something that we moderns have come rationally to assimilate. Ah, yes: twice the weight of the ESB. Of course! Yet, confined as we are to our tiny place on the earth and in the universe, do we really understand the infinity of time or the enormous weight of the earth? As the author of The New Yorker piece writes: "The men couldn’t see the extent of the slab, but one could sense the enormity of the disaster.”

Tieck visits Goethe in Weimar

On this date in 1817 Ludwig Tieck visited Goethe in Weimar after his return from England, where he had ventured in order to collect materials for a work on Shakespeare, which he did not complete.

Goethe wrote in his diary: "Besuch von Dr. Ludwig Tieck, welcher aus England zurückkam und von Shakespeare, Theater und sonstiger dortiger Literatur erzählte."

Last days in Sointula

The deer outside my window

I finished my review of the Goßens book on world literature and sent it off this morning. Since world lit is also my area of research, I read the book very carefully, all 470+ pages. Goßens includes well-chosen passages from many 19th-century writers, men (entirely) whose names one encountered very briefly in one's graduate studies, but about whom one now learned a bit more: Karl August Varnhagen, Moritz Veit, Theodore Mundt, Hermann Hettner, Johannes Scherr, Adolf Stern, Moriz Carriere.

On Sunday morning I return to New York. End of summer.

The deer was outside again this morning, under the plum tree at my neighbor's house. Below is what he was looking for. I shook a few out of the tree for him.

This is what the deer was after

The rocks are from Bere Point. I thought about Goethe when I saw them. I wondered whether he, with his interest in geology, had ever seen or desired to collect such specimens. For those who are interested, you can read my article on Goethe and geology here.

World literature post-Goethe

Gillnet fishing at Bere Point

In his book on world literature, Peter Goßens discusses the reinterpretation of the concept in the years after Goethe's death, especially under the influence of Karl August Varnhagen, who saw in Goethe's last Wilhelm Meister novel a prefiguration of the doctrines of Saint-Simon. Varnhagen was a strong influence on other admirers of Goethe in Varnhagen's Berlin circle and had an effect on pre-1848 proposals for societal reform, which were strongly utopian. Thus, Marx's reference in The Communist Manifesto to world literature and Engels' ridicule of utopian socialists in Anti-Dühring (1878) were reckonings with such "amateur" socialists. In some earlier posts, I had doubted that Goethe had any utopian inclinations, in contrast to many of the thinkers of the 18th century, particularly in France. According to Cyrus Hamlin (quoted by Goßens), Varnhagen’s reading of the Wanderjahre are a “Gebrauchsanweisung für die zukünftige soziale Ordung Europas in 19. Jahrhundert,”

Mounty and Goethe Girl

The term was already widespread after Goethe's first reference in print in Über Kunst und Alterthum in 1828 and subject to discussion in European periodicals. Theodor Mundt, one of the writers influenced by Varnhagen,  mentions that knowledge of Goethe's term was so widespread in England in 1837 that he feared it would be brought up in conversation:

Auf allen meinen Reisen, wo ich mit geistreichen Menschen in irgend ein Gespräch gerathen, habe ich stets große Furcht gehabt, daß Einer von der sogenannten Weltliteraturidee, die durch Goethe in die Mode gekommen zu sprechen anfangen könnte, und meide dies Thema, zu dem man auf Reisen so leicht veranlaßt werden mag, immer mit sichtlicher Angst.

At the Sointula Salmon Days parade

The pictures here are some scenes and people from the past week or so. Only three more days before I return to New York.

Leaving Telegraph Cove in search of whales

On the lookout

With Heather and Joe

I was envious of these kayakers also on the lookout

Spotted!

Gervinus on Goethe

Alert Bay, B.C.

I am still working my way through Peter Goßens' study of 19th-century discussions among German literati concerning Goethe's concept of world literature. Last time I quote Wolfgang Menzel's exceedingly dismissive reaction to Goethe, but for the most part one comes away with the impression of Goethe's centrality and, indeed, of adulation toward him.  Goßens introduces some scholars whom one has heard of in passing (if one is a scholar of German literature, that is), but whom one has never read. One of these is Georg Gottfried Gervinus (1805-1871), a historian and liberal politician. The Wikipedia entry on Gervinus list a slew of publications, including his edition of the Goethe-Schiller correspondence. The following is a quote from that edition, which gives an idea of the Goethe cult in the mid-19th century:

Er hat der Sonne einer neuen Weltweisheit, noch ehe sie aufging, sehnsüchtig entgegen geblickt, und ihre ersten Strahlen begierig eingesogen; er säumt nicht, die wirklich aufgegangene froh zu begrüßen, und die Mitwelt auf sie hinzuweisen, daß sie es ist, die er verkündigt hat, obgleich er zugleich unbefangen zu bekennen sich nicht scheut, daß von dem allzurasch eindringenden Licht sein Auge geblendet ist  und sich von diesem weg, nach dem farbigen Bogen auf dunklem Grunde wenden muß.

The pictures here (click to enlarge) are from Alert Bay, which we visited last week, an island a ferry ride away. It was once the home of a thriving First Nations community, traces of which are in the population of the island and in the cultural center we visited as well as the cemetery with its totems.

At the Alert Bay cultural center

Return to Sointula

World literature in the 19th century

I continue to make my way through Peter Goßens' books Weltliteratur: Modelle transnationaler Literaturwahrnehmng im 19. Jahrhundert. What I find interesting is the centrality of Goethe in literary and political discussions of the 1830s. The concept of world literature, for instance, in Goethe's lifetime already, played a role in utopian thinking among German writers and among proto-socialists and other sundry spirits hoping to reform society.

Sue admires the tree

Goethe scholar before large tree

 Prominent among these were the so-called "Young German" poets. A critic of Young Germans, because of their cosmopolitan orientation, was the critic Wolfgang Menzel. For Menzel, according to Goßens, Goethe was "eine Macht in Deutschland, eine dem äußern Feind [i.e., the French] in die Hände arbeitende, einer erschlaffende, auflösende Kraft, unser böser Genius, der uns mit einem phantastischen Egoismus, mit den Genüssen des Scheins and der Selbstvergötterung über den Verlust der Religion, des Vaterlands und der Ehre täuschte," and who made Germans to "Schwächligen ... während wir des Heldenmuths an meisten bedurften."

Very strong words

When I got home last evening there were more food gifts from my neighbor Wendy, beets from her garden and blueberries. Today I went out with the ladies for the Thursday morning walk. We went to see the largest tree in Sointula. On the way back, one of the ladies, Yolanna, gave me a bouquet of sweetpeas from her garden.