1 [Fichte seems here to be referring ironically to French and to those Germans who were writing in that language in order to curry favour with Napoleon.]
MEANS FOR OUR PRESERVATION 215 is to say, in the wretched hovels of the serf bound to the soil, so that he may bemoan his fate in his own language which his oppressor does not understand.
But let us suppose that our language remains a living and a literary language and so preserves its literature; what sort of literature can" that be, the literature of a people without political independence? What does a sensible writer want, and what can he want? Nothing else but to influence public life and the life of all, and to form and reshape it according to his vision; and if he does not want to do this, everything he says is empty sound to tickle the ears of the indolent. He wants to think originally and from the root of spiritual life for those who act just as originally, i.e., govern. He can, therefore, only write in a language in which the governors think, in a language in which the work of government is carried on, in the language of a people that forms an independent State. For what is the ultimate aim of all our efforts even in regard to the most abstract sciences? Admitting that the immediate objects of these efforts is to propagate the science from generation to generation and to maintain it in the world, the question arises: Why should it be maintained? Obviously only in order to shape the life of all and the whole human order of things when the right time comes. That is its ultimate object; hence, every effort in science indirectly serves the State, though it may be only in a remote future. If it abandons this aim, it loses its worth and its independence. But he who sets this aim before him must write in the language of the dominant race.
191. Just as it is true beyond doubt that, wherever a separate language is found, there a separate nation exists, which has the right to take independent charge of its affairs and to govern itself; so one can say, on the other 216 ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION hand, that, where a people has ceased to govern itself, it is equally bound to give up its language and to coalesce with its conquerors, in order that there may be unity and internal peace and complete oblivion of relationships which no longer exist. Even a semi-intelligent leader of such a mixture of races must insist on this; and we may be quite sure that in our case the insistence will not be lacking. Until this amalgamation has taken place, approved school-books will be translated into the lan- guage of the barbarians, i.e., those who are too stupid to learn the language of the dominant race, and who thereby exclude themselves from all influence on public affairs and condemn themselves to lifelong subjection. These persons, who have sentenced themselves to silence con- cerning actual events, will be permitted to exercise their oratorical skill on the disputes of a fictitious world, or to imitate in their own way obsolete and ancient forms; proofs of the former condition may be found in the case of the ancient language that was cited above as an example, and of the latter in the case of the modern language. Such a literature we might perhaps retain for some time yet; and with such a literature let him console himself who has no better consolation. But, as to those who might be capable of playing the man, of seeing the truth, and of becoming aroused by the sight of it to decision and action — that they should be kept in indolent slumber by such a worthless consolation, which would be the very thing to serve the purpose of an enemy of our independence, that is what I should like to prevent if I could.
192. So we are promised the continuance of a German literature for future generations! In order to form a better judgment of the hopes that we can entertain in this matter, it would be very profitable to look about us and see whether we still have at this moment a German MEANS FOR OUR PRESERVATION 217 literature in the true sense of the word. The noblest privilege and the most sacred function of the man of letters is this: to assemble his nation and to take counsel with it about its most important affairs. But especially in Germany this has always been the exclusive function of the man of letters, because Germany was split up into several separate States, and was held together as a common whole almost solely by the instrumentality of the man of letters, by speech and writing. In the most special and urgent way does it become his function at the present time, now that the last external bond which united the Germans, the imperial constitution, has also been de- stroyed. If it should now be evident — we are not speaking here of something we know or fear, but only of a possible case, which we must nevertheless take into consideration in advance — if it should, I say, be evident that State officials in the separate States were already so obsessed by anxiety, fear, and terror, that they first forbade such voices to make themselves heard or prohibited the spreading of the message, voices which assumed that a nation was still in existence and addressed themselves to it; then, that would be a proof that we already had no German men of letters at work, and we should know what our prospects would be for any literature in the future.
193. Now, what could it be that these people are afraid of? Perhaps that this man or that will not be pleased to hear voices of that kind. Then, at any rate they would have chosen the time badly for their tender consideration. Pamphlets libelling and degrading the fatherland, insipid praises of what is foreign, they are plainly unable to prevent; then let them not be so strict against a word for the fatherland which makes itself heard in between. It is quite possible that all are not equally 2i 8 ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION willing to hear all things; but at this time we cannot concern ourselves with that; we are urged on by necessity, and we must say just what necessity orders us to say. We are fighting for life; do they want us to walk delicately, lest some robe of state be covered with the dust we may raise? We are sinking in the water-floods; are we to refrain from calling for help, lest some weak-nerved neighbour may be alarmed?
194. For, who are they who might not like to hear it, and on what condition might they not like to hear it? In every case it is only obscurity and darkness which cause alarm. Every terrifying vision vanishes when one gazes at it firmly. With the same unconcern and direct- ness, with which we have hitherto analysed every subject that has occurred in these addresses, let us look this terror, too, in the face.
We must assume either that the being x to whom at the present time the conduct of a great part of the world's affairs has fallen is a truly great soul, or we must assume the contrary; no third assumption is possible. In the first case: on what is all human greatness based, if not on the independence and originality of the person and on the fact that the person is not an artificial product of his age, but a growth out of the eternal and spontaneous spirit-world, which has grown up just as it is? Is not greatness based on the fact that to one person a new and individual view of the universe has dawned, and that this person has the firm will and the iron strength to impose his view on the actual world? But it is quite impossible for such a soul not to honour in peoples and individuals external to himself that in which his own internal great- ness consists, viz., independence, constancy, and indivi- duality of existence. In proportion as the great soul feels 1 [Napoleon.]
MEANS FOR OUR PRESERVATION 219 sure of his own greatness and trusts thereto, he disdains to rule over a people with a wretched servile spirit or to be a giant among dwarfs; he disdains the thought that he must first degrade men in order to rule over them; he is oppressed by the sight of degeneration round about him. Not to be able to respect men causes him pain; but every- thing that elevates and ennobles his brother men and places them in a worthier light is a cause of satisfaction to his own noble spirit and is his greatest delight. Are we to believe that such a soul would note with displeasure that the upheavals which the present times have brought about are being used to arouse an ancient and honourable nation from its deep slumber — a nation that is the stem from which most of the peoples of modern Europe have sprung, and which is the creator of them all — and to induce it to lay hold of a sure means of preservation in order to raise itself from ruin — a means which ensures at the same time that it will never sink again, and that it will raise all the other peoples along with itself? We are here not inciting people to riotous measures; we are rather warning people against them as sure to lead to ruin. We are pointing out a firm and unchangeable foundation, on which the highest and purest morality, such as was never yet seen among men, may be built up at last for the world in one people and assured for all time to come, and which may thence be spread abroad among all other peoples. We are pointing the way to a regeneration of the human race, a way to turn earthly and sensuous creatures into pure and noble spirits. Does anyone think that such a proposal could be felt as an insult by a mind that is itself pure and noble and great, or by anyone who forms him- self after that pattern?
What, on the other hand, would be the assumption of those who entertained this fear and admitted it by 220 ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION their actions, and what would they proclaim to all the world as their assumption? They would acknowledge that they believed we were ruled over by an enemy of mankind, by a very base and petty Principle, alarmed by every stirring of independent strength and unable to hear of morality, religion, or ennoblement of souls without anxiety; because nothing but the degradation of men, their stupor, and their vices would make his position safe and give him hope of maintaining himself. With this belief of theirs, which would add to our other miseries the crushing shame of being ruled over by such a man as this, are we now forthwith to proclaim ourselves in agree- ment, and are we to act in accordance with it before we have clear proof that it is true?
Let us suppose the worst: that they are in the right and not we, who show by our action that we make the former assumption. Is, then, the human race really to be degraded and to go under as a favour to one man who profits by the fall and to those who are afraid? Is one, whose heart bids him do it, not to be allowed to warn them of destruction? Suppose, not only that they were in the right, but that one should resolve, in the sight of this generation and of posterity, to admit that they were right and to deliver aloud on one's self the judgment just expressed; what, then, would be the greatest ultimate consequence for the unwelcome warner? Do they know anything greater than death? This awaits us all in any case, and from the beginning of humanity noble souls have defied the danger of death for the sake of less important matters — for when was there ever a higher matter than the present one? Who has the right to intervene in an undertaking that is begun with full knowledge of this danger?
195. Should there be such people — though I hope not — MEANS FOR OUR PRESERVATION 221 among us Germans, they would offer their necks without invitation, without thanks, and, as I hope, without find- ing acceptance, to the yoke of spiritual serfdom. They would bitterly revile their own country in flattering its oppressor; they would think that diplomatic, for they do not know the mind of true greatness, but measure its thoughts by the thoughts suggested by their own petti- ness; thus they would make use of literature, for which they know no other use, to pay their court by slaughtering it as a sacrificial victim. We, on the other hand, praise the greatness of the soul, with whom power lies, much more by the fact of our confidence and our courage than words could ever do. Throughout the entire domain of the whole German language, wherever our voice rings out free and unrestrained, it thus invokes Germans by the very fact of its existence: No one wants your oppression, your servility, your slavish subjection; but your indepen- dence, your true freedom, your elevation, and your ennoblement are wanted; for it is not forbidden to discuss these things openly with you and to show you the infall- ible means of attaining them. If this voice finds a hear- ing and has the result intended, it will set up a memorial of this greatness, and of our faith in it, for all centuries to come — a memorial which time cannot destroy, but which will grow greater, and spread more widely, with each new generation. Who dares to set himself against the attempt to erect such a memorial?
So, instead of consoling ourselves for the loss of our independence with the promise of a period of bloom for our literature in the future, and instead of allowing our- selves to be deterred by consolations of that kind from seeking a means to restore our independence, we prefer to ask whether those Germans, to whom a kind of guardian- ship of literature has fallen, still allow, even in these days, 222 ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION a literature in the true sense of the word to the other Germans who themselves write and read, and whether they consider that such a literature is still allowed in Germany or not. But some decision will shortly have to be made as to what they really think about it.
196. After all, the first thing that we have to do, in order merely to maintain ourselves in existence until the time comes for the complete and thorough regeneration of our race, is this; to provide ourselves with character, and to prove it first of all by thinking for ourselves and so forming a firm opinion of our true situation and of the sure means of improving it. The worthlessness of the consolation to be derived from the continued exis- tence of our language and literature has been demon- strated. There are, however, other delusive views which have not yet been mentioned in these addresses, and which hinder the formation of that firm opinion. It is appro- priate to our purpose to consider these views as well; but we reserve this subject for the next address.
THIRTEENTH ADDRESS1 THE SAME SUBJECT FURTHER CONSIDERED 197. At the end of the preceding address we said that there were in circulation among us a number of worth- less thoughts and deceptive theories as to the affairs of peoples, and that this prevented the Germans from forming such a definite view of their present situation as would be in accordance with their own special char- acteristics. As these vain phantoms are being held up for public veneration with great zeal just at present, and as they might be embraced by many people now that so much else has begun to topple over, solely in order to fill up the places that have become vacant, it seems appro- priate to our purpose to subject these phantoms to a more serious examination than their intrinsic importance would deserve.
198. To begin with and before all things: the first, original, and truly natural boundaries of States are beyond doubt their internal boundaries. Those who speak the same language are joined to each other by a multitude of invisible bonds by nature herself, long before any human art begins; they understand each other 1 [Fichte's manuscript of this address, after having received the imprimatur at the censor's office in Berlin, was mislaid and lost. As Fichte had meanwhile burnt the loose sheets which he had used in preparing the address, he was compelled to rewrite it as best he could.]
223 224 ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION and have the power of continuing to make themselves understood more and more clearly; they belong to- gether and are by nature one and an inseparable whole. Such a whole, if it wishes to absorb and mingle with itself any other people of different descent and language, cannot do so without itself becoming confused, in the beginning at any rate, and violently disturbing the even progress of its culture. From this internal boundary, which is drawn by the spiritual nature of man himself, the marking of the external boundary by dwelling-place results as a consequence; and in the natural view of things it is not because men dwell between certain mountains and rivers that they are a people, but, on the contrary, men dwell together — and, if their luck has so arranged it, are protected by rivers and mountains — because they were a people already by a law of nature which is much higher.
199. Thus was the German nation placed — sufficiently united within itself by a common language and a common way of thinking, and sharply enough severed from the other peoples — in the middle of Europe, as a wall to divide races not akin. The German nation was numerous and brave enough to protect its boundaries against any foreign attack; it was left to itself, and by its whole wav of thinking was little inclined to take notice of the neighbouring peoples, to interfere in their aflairs, or to provoke them to enmity by disturbances. As time went on, a kind fortune preserved it from direct participation in the conquest of other worlds — that event which, more than any other, has been the basis of the development taken by modern world-history, of the fates of peoples, and of the largest part of their ideas and opinions. Since that event, and not before, Christian Europe, which hitherto, without being clearly conscious of it, had been SAME SUBJECT FURTHER CONSIDERED 225 one, and by joint enterprises had shown itself to be one — Christian Europe, I say, split itself into various separate parts. Since that event, and not before, there was a prey in sight which anyone might obtain; and each one lusted after it in the same way, because all were able to make use of it in the same way; and each one was envious on seeing it in the hands of another. Now, and not before, was there a reason for secret enmity and lust for war on the part of all against all. Moreover, now, and not before, did it become profitable for peoples to incor- porate with themselves peoples of other descent and other languages, by conquest or, if that were not possible, by alliances, and to appropriate their forces. A people that has remained true to nature may have the wish, when its abode becomes too narrow for it, to enlarge it by conquest of the neighbouring soil in order to gain more room, and then it will drive out the former inhabi- tants. It may have the wish to exchange a harsh and unfruitful region for a milder and more fortunate one, and in this case, too, it will drive out the former owners. It may, if it should degenerate, undertake mere pillaging raids in which, without craving after the soil or its inhabitants, it merely takes possession of every useful thing, sweeps the countries clear and then departs. Finally, it may regard the former inhabitants of the conquered soil as one of the useful things and allot them as slaves to individuals. But, for it to attach to itself as a component part of the State the foreign population just as it is, that will not profit it in the least, and it will never be tempted to do so.
But if the case is thus: that there is a tempting com- mon prey to be fought for and to be won from an equally strong or even stronger rival; then the calculation is different. It matters not how much or how little the 15 226 ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION conquered people may blend with us; we can at any rate make use of their fists to overcome the opponent we have to rob, and every man is welcome to us as an addition to our fighting strength. Now, suppose that some wise man, who wished for peace and quiet, had had his eyes opened to this state of affairs; from what source could he expect quiet to come? Obviously not from the limitation set by nature to human greed, viz., that superfluity is of no benefit to anyone; for there was a prey which tempted everyone. Just as little could he expect peace to come from the will to set a limit to one's self; for, where everyone grabs for himself everything that he can, anyone who limits himself must of necessity go under. No one wants to share with another what he then owns himself; everyone wants to rob the other of what he has, if he possibly can. If one of them is quiet, it is only because he does not think himself strong enough to begin a quarrel; he will certainly begin it as soon as he perceives the necessary strength in himself.
Hence, the only means of maintaining peace is this: that no one shall acquire enough power to be able to disturb the peace, and that each one shall know that there is just as much strength to resist on the other side as there is to attack on his side; and that thus there may arise a balance and counterbalance of the total power whereby alone, now that all other means have vanished, each one is kept in possession of what he has at present and all are kept in peace. This well-known system of a balance of power in Europe, therefore, assumes two things: first, a prey to which no one at all has any right, but for which all have a like desire; and second, the universal, ever-present, and unceasingly active lust for booty. Indeed, on these assumptions, this balance of power would be the only means of maintaining peace, SAME SUBJECT FURTHER CONSIDERED 227 if only one could find the second means, namely, that of creating the equilibrium and transforming it from an empty thought into a thing of reality.
200. But were these assumptions in fact to be made universally and without any exception? Had not the mighty German nation, in the middle of Europe, kept its hands off this prey, and was it not untainted by any craving for it, and almost incapable of making a claim to it? If only the German nation had remained united, with a common will and a common strength! Then, though the other Europeans might have wanted to murder each other on every sea and shore, and on every island too, in the middle of Europe the firm wall of the Germans would have prevented them from reaching each other. Here peace would have remained, and the Germans would have maintained themselves, and with themselves also a part of the other European peoples, in quiet and prosperity.
201. That things should remain thus did not suit the selfishness of foreign countries, whose calculations did not look more than one moment ahead. They found German bravery useful in waging their wars and German hands useful to snatch the booty from their rivals. A means had to be found to attain this end, and foreign cunning won an easy victory over German ingenuousness and lack of suspicion. It was foreign countries which first made use of the division of mind produced by religious disputes in Germany — Germany, which presented on a small scale the features of Christian Europe as a whole — foreign countries, I say, made use of these disputes to break up the close inner unity of Germany into separate and disconnected parts. Foreign countries had already destroyed their own unity naturally, by splitting into parts over a common prey; and now they artificially 228 ADDRESSES TO THE GERMAN NATION