7.
HUMBOLDT TO VARNHAGEN.
BERLIN, _July 9th, 1830_.
Please accept for yourself and your highminded and excellent lady my
sincerest thanks for your new present, so agreeable to me.[7] I was not
personally acquainted with the man whose eccentricities you have so
æsthetically described. He was one of those who shine by their personal
appearance; their lives are of greater effect than their writings. A man
who boasts that his recollections go back to the _first year_ of his
life (how differently the Margravine judged things, when she says:
“J’étais un enfant très précoce—à deux ans je savais parler, à trois ans
je marchais!”); a man who owns a guardian angel in a black cloak, like
Cardanus—who makes love to old maids, without being drunk, only in order
to convert the same to virtue and reading; a man, to whom the _fate_ of
German professors under German princes appears more tragical than that
of the Greeks—such a man cannot but be admired—as a curiosity! The
“Kirchen-Zeitung” will never inscribe his name in the list of “the
faithful,” and the Schimmelmanns will hardly thank you, my most honored
friend, that the work recalls the Danish-Holstein saturnalia of
sentimental demagogism.
I am very much gratified that you will take “Hardenberg” in hand. It is
a difficult but satisfactory task, if you be careful to separate the
_epochs_, and provided his life be judged without party hatred, which
seems to have subsided at last, with regard to Hegel in the Academy.
Thankfully yours,
A. HUMBOLDT.
We find in Varnhagen’s diary the following entry referring to the above:
“Alexander von Humboldt said to Gans, after the July revolution, when he
heard him express very exalted hopes of the new government, ‘Believe me,
dear friend, my wishes go as far as yours, but my hopes are very feeble.
I have seen changes of government in France for forty years. They always
fall by their own incapacity; the new ones give always the same
promises, but they never keep them, and the march to ruin is renewed. I
was personally acquainted with most of the men in power, some of them
intimately; there were distinguished, well-meaning men among them; but
they did not persevere; after a short time they were not better than
their predecessors—nay, they became even greater rascals. Not one of all
the governments there has kept the promises made to the people—not one
of them has subordinated its own interest to the welfare of the country.
And until this be done, no power can possibly take a lasting root in
France. The nation has always been deceived, and will again be deceived;
when it will punish the treason and the perjury of its rulers; for it is
strong and mature enough to do this at the proper time.’”
8.
VARNHAGEN TO HUMBOLDT.
BERLIN, _January 23d, 1833_.
Certainly it was I who met your Excellency some time ago at the sunny
hour of noon and who recognised you too late, as I was recognised too
late by you. How I should have liked to run after you, but it would not
do, the distance was already too great. I would have liked to have told
you something concerning Mr. von Bulow at London, which I had just got
from the best authority, and which I thought would be new to you, as it
was to me. It was about the danger in which that bold ambassador was for
some time, and which, according to a declaration of the King, had passed
over. Since then your Excellency has heard it from other sources, and my
information will be but stale.
Now we Prussians are also gratified at last by a general representation
of the people, or, to speak more correctly, we had it a long time ago,
only we did not know it! Bishop Eylert has lifted the veil from our
eyes. He is the first to speak out the great truth, like a second
Mirabeau, in clearness of thought and boldness of words. I can vividly
imagine how the “Rittersaal,” nay, the whole palace, was shaken to its
foundation, when he thundered that powerful truth to the assembly, that
the representation of the whole people, of all the classes and
interests, ought to be found in that solemn lodge of the Order of
Knights! I bend my head in deep reverence to such a colossal boldness,
to such a new unheard-of combination, by which other miserable
institutions, until now regarded as national representations, as for
instance Parliaments, Assemblies, Cortes, and the like, were annihilated
and blown into nothingness! I have listened to the orator from the
silent mouth of the official gazette only; but your Excellency was
present without doubt at the solemnity and pitied me, to be sure, and
will say, what in ancient times was said when a speech of Demosthenes
was read: “Oh! had you heard it delivered by him!” And the smiling
approval, the gracious satisfaction of the high audience, the amazement
of all present at the wonderful discovery, how much the impression must
have been heightened by all that!
Oh, our Protestant parsons are on the best road, they promise to leave
behind their Catholic brethren as they were when in the most flourishing
condition of their priesthood. Such hypocritical black coats make us the
laughing-stock of the world. Representation of the people or no
representation, may we have it, or may it be denied, I care little about
it just now, but that such a scoundrel should assume to call the meeting
of the Knights of an Order a national representation, is an attempt
which should be rewarded by the lunatic asylum or the State prison. And
there is not even a song, a street ballad, a caricature, to make merry
of such a monstrosity—all is silent!
But as this is the time of sleep, I will go to bed and wish you and
myself good night and sweet dreams.
With the highest respect, &c.,
V.
See A. v. Humboldt’s note to Rahel, Varhagen’s wife, of the 1st of
February, 1833.
9.
HUMBOLDT TO RAHEL.
BERLIN, _February 1, 1833_.
My speedy reply has no good foreboding, my dear friend. When anything is
to be done in this country, it wants fourteen months’ maturing—after
that there is hope. The inclosed letter, which, however, you are
entreated not to leave in the hand of your lady friend, explains all. I
was listened to in my words and letters kindly and promisingly. This
morning, however, the drawings—those beautiful drawings—were sent back.
The underlined word in the accompanying note might give some hope; but I
like better to give myself up to illusions than to nourish them in
others, and the firmness with which Beuth, who alone has to decide in
the matter, sticks to his will, bars all prospects. That I have done my
best in the matter, as you yourself have desired it, does not require
further words—this should be a sort of _historical faith_ with you.
Please send me a word of comfort about my dear Varnhagen—the only
brilliant star in the literary world of our country—_that_ country in
which, as the bishop _with the drawn sword_ says, even the _most eminent
talents_, as such, ought to have no distinction whatever! I do not
wonder that such things are spoken out, but what depresses me is the
vileness of the society in which we are here living, and which is not
even aroused by such contemptible assertions. May both of you preserve
your nobler selves.