The Contradiction of Weimar

For anyone remotely interested in German history, few cities are as significant as the Thuringian city of Weimar. This city of sixty-five thousand was the home to German Classicism, the Weimar Republic, the Bauhaus, and the infamous Buchenwald concentration camp. Even though our trip was centered around the life of Martin Luther, Weimar turned out to be my favorite stop in the whole trip, and the one place where the great epochs of German history came alive. I take pride in being somewhat of a history nerd, but I am truly embarrassed by just how little I knew about the complexity and contradiction of Weimar.

Weimar may not be the a first-tired city, but it certainly worths a visit.

Complex history aside, Weimar is a charming city in its own right that delights any visitor. Although the city did not escape destruction during World War II, the historical buildings and monuments were quickly rebuilt after the war. Compared to Erufrt, Weimar is very compact and walkable; we could easily walk from one end of the city to another in under fifteen minutes. While it has been a popular cultural destination among the Germans, Weimar remains relatively under the radar among foreign visitors. It rarely makes the list of top places to visit in Germany.

Weimar has a special magnetic pull for most Germans, primarily due to its association with Weimar Classicism (Weimarer Klassik). It was a literary and cultural movement that began in 1771 when Duchess Anna Amalia invited the Seyler Theatre Company to her court in Weimar, aiming to make Weimar the center of the arts. At the time, the German-speaking world embraced the romanticism of the Sturm und Drang movement, which emphasized intense emotion, individualism, and a rejection of Enlightenment rationalism. Some scholars describe this movement as an artistic movement of energetic young men, unapologetically brash and melodramatic.

The prestige of Seyler Theatre Company drew more intellectuals to Weimar. Among them is Johann Wolfgang von Goethe from Frankfurt. At the age of twenty-five, the young Goethe was already a celebrated author with his first novel, The Sorrows of Young Werther. He was invited to the court of Weimar under the patronage of Duchess Anna Amalia. Weimar was a political and social backwater at the time, particularly in comparison to a metropolis like Frankfurt. Under the young Duke Karl August, Goethe was given a coveted seat on the duchy’s privy council and given numerous ministerial posts in his early years in Weimar.

As a member of the Privy Council, Goethe was given a little cottage by the River Ilm in 1776. The gift allowed Goethe to claim citizenship and hold governmental positions. Goethe’s Garden House (Goethe Gartenhaus) was in rough shape, and Goethe was personally involved in the gradual renovation. Amazingly, all renovation expenses for the house and the garden were paid for by the duke. For six years, he called this cottage home until he acquired a stately mansion in the city center, which allowed him to be closer to the court. Despite the creature comforts of his city mansion, Goethe kept the cottage and continued to use it as a physical and spiritual refuge for the rest of his life.

Due to his celebrity, much of the furniture on display was original to Goethe’s time. The interiors also feature numerous objects related to Goethe’s travels and interests, as well as personal sketches of the nearby scenery and his female companion at the time. I was pretty impressed by his artistic ability. Hanging on the wall of the old dining room are two panoramic views of ancient and new Rome. In the midst of his political career, Goethe spent two years touring Italy incognito to escape the mundanity of life at court. His journey to Italy made a lasting impact on Goethe’s intellectual and artistic pursuits. He was exposed to the majesty and simplicity of ancient Rome and Greek antiquity. It is one of the contributory factors for his evolution beyond the Sturm und Drang movement.

After the 19-year-old Duke made young Goethe a member of the Privy Council, he used his study inside the Gartenhaus as his office. One of the most curious original artifacts in the study is a high trestle chair, which was quite a modern piece of furniture, nicknamed “donkey.” Many celebrated authors, from Charles Dickens to Virginia Woolf, had the habit of writing while on their feet. This saddle-like “chair” allowed Goethe to write “standing up” for an extended period of time with ease. I wonder why this type of furniture is not more commonplace nowadays.

For us, the highlight of the Gartenhaus would be its charming exterior and the gardens. Outside of the main entrance is an elaborate pavement he designed based on the ancient Roman pattern discovered in the recently excavated Pompeii. Even from his early years, Goethe also developed a keen interest in the natural world, particularly geology and flora. The gardens are separated into a kitchen garden, a lawn, and a summer garden. It is not surprising that Goethe always preferred the nature surrounding the Gartenhaus over his grand mansion in central Weimar.

At the far end of the garden is an unassuming object: a circular globe sitting atop a cubic plinth. Goethe designed and installed this sandstone monument a year after moving here. Nicknamed the Stone of Good Fortune (Der Stein des guten Glücks) by scholars, the sculpture is surprisingly modern, as it has no ornamentation. It is often regarded as Germany’s first non-figural monument. Curiously, Goethe did not document the meanings and symbolism of this enigmatic creation. Some believe the contrast between the two forms symbolizes the duality of stationarity and dynamism. The piece has since become one of the most famous artworks by Goethe. Miniature replicas are on sale as souvenirs at numerous shops in Weimar.

The Goethe’s House and Goethe National Museum.

Without question, Weimar’s most popular landmark is the Goethe House (Goethes Wohnhaus), his grand mansion on Frauenplan in the city center. Initially purchased for him by Duke Carl August, it was Goethe’s primary residence for over five decades, during which period he made numerous modifications to better reflect his ideas. Ever since he died in 1832, the house has been a place of pilgrimage for Goethe fans. After his grandson’s passing in 1885, the house and its vast collections were bequeathed to the government. A private foundation was organized the same year and opened the house as the Goethe National Museum. It is the world’s largest museum dedicated to Goethe’s life and works. It is easily the most visited museum in Weimar.

The color scheme at the Goethe’s House is a testament to his interests in color theory.

A visit to the Goethe House is a journey through Goethe’s intellectual journey. One of the first spaces we visited was the grand staircase, which was modeled after the stairs he encountered in a Roman palace. The steps are intentionally shallow, forcing visitors to slow down, thus resulting in dignified movements. The stairs’ lower landing was decorated with a cast of Apollo Belvedere, which Goethe regarded as one of the most beautiful he had ever seen, proclaiming that it “transported him beyond the real world“. After his time in Italy, Goethe regarded classical antiquity as the epitome of harmony and humanism. His love for classical antiquity is evident throughout the house. Right at the upper landing is an inlaid SALVE, or “welcome in Latin. This logo has since become the emblem of the museum and is worn on staff nametags.

Goethe was obsessed with anything Italian, including majolica ceramics.

The most significant architectural intervention Goethe undertook was the “Bridge Room” that spanned across the central courtyard. This addition was decorated with a barrel-vaulted ceiling featuring mural motifs from Pompeii and Herculaneum. In Goethe’s time, this room was filled to the brim with numerous artworks, classical statues, and busts, resembling a museum storage space. The historical lithography of the space reminded me of the John Soane Museum in London. Being in close contact with the art of Greek and Roman antiquity allowed Goethe to commune with the classical ideals of the past. Flanking the doorway is a marble bust of Friedrich Schiller and Johann Gottfried Herder, two other prominent figures of Weimar Classicism and personal friends of Goethe, who passed away thirty years before him.

One thing that struck me most about these rooms is the bold, saturated colors Goethe used. Although the precise formula of the wall colors was lost, the museum had restored the interiors to resemble how they might have appeared at the time of Goethe’s death. The paint schemes are surprisingly modern, and they somehow coincided with the interior colors of the Bauhaus centuries later. In 1840, Goethe actually authored a landmark book called Theory of Color (Zur Farbenlehre), which was the first significant publication of color theory, including scientific discussions on chromatic aberration and refraction.

By today’s scientific standards, his books are riddled with errors, but Goethe’s theory had long-lasting influences on generations of artists, from Wassily Kandinsky to J. M. W. Turner. His focus was more concerned with the human’s psychological perception of colors than the Newtonian analysis of how light behaved in the natural world. In many ways, Goethe’s preoccupation reminded me of the color theory in the Bauhaus’s preliminary course by Johannes Itten. It is poetic that a small city like Weimar played such a pivotal role in the history of Western art.

The number of artifacts exhibited is overwhelming. From the musical instruments he played to his majolica collection, the objects represent Goethe’s wide-ranging interests in classical arts. The most magnificent object in the election is the plaster cast of Juno Ludovisi, a colossal head of 1st-century Rome. Goethe had been obsessed with this statue ever since he first laid eyes on it, calling it his “first love in Rome.” To him, Juno represented the pinnacle of the classical arts of Greece, despite being of Roman origin.

Remarkably, Goethe’s private quarters were beautifully preserved over the centuries. Goethe’s private study and bedroom were literally sealed off right after his death. Everything from the furniture to the bedding on his deathbed is original. At the end of his life, Goethe attracted fans throughout Europe because of his literary works and artistic philosophy. The most famous admirer was Napoleon Bonaparte, who considered Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther as one of his favorite books. The two famously met at the Congress of Erfurt in 1808, where Napoleon was keen to meet his cultural hero and assert his cultural hedemony in the German-speaking lands.

Although Goethe’s home is considered the highlight of the museum, one should not miss out on the state-of-the-art exhibit at the modern annex. It provides a more comprehensive overview of Goethe’s achievements, particularly in fields of science such as geology and evolutionary ideas. Collectively known as the “Goethean science”, his extensive body of work was highly influential to generations of scientists, but many were discredited by modern science. His collection of 17,800 rock samples was impressive, and one can’t help feeling like an underachiever when comparing to a Renaissance man like Goethe.

Faust was honestly the only work of Goethe that I heard of.

Goethe may be the most crucial figure in Weimar Classicism, but a large cohort of like-minded intellectuals accompanied him. Goethe’s most prominent statue stands in front of Weimar’s German National Theater building. Next to him is his great friend and intellectual companion, Friedrich Schiller. One of most celebrated German playwright, Schiller was Goethe’s closest friend and the pair often feeds of each other and shared similar interests in art, petry, and theater. Together, they founded the Weimar Theater and became a symbol of high German culture themselves. At the turn of 20th century, German diasporas put up replica of Weimar’s Goethe and Schiller Monument in places like Chicago and Syracuse.

Situated in the city center is the Schiller House on the Esplanade. While a grand mansion in its own right, it was a fraction of the splendor of the Goethe House. Schiller made a living almost entirely on his writing, which was quite unusual at the time. As a result, he struggled financially for much of his life, and it was not until he was made a councilor by Duke Carl August that he found some stability. However, his chronic poor health prevented him from pursuing a more illustrious career in Berlin.

Schiller’s philosophical thoughts address issues related to human freedom and the morality of aesthetics. For him, aesthetic education is fundamental for human liberty and social liberalization. He stipulates that the aesthetic education shall lift one’s spirits. Like Goethe, Schiller was initially optimistic about the Enlightenment ideals of Napoleon, but was quickly disillusioned by the destruction and upheaval of wars. Beauty does not necessarily impart knowledge upon humans, but allows us to live in harmony with nature. Honestly, I can’t say I could fully comprehend the complexity of Schiller’s works from such a short visit.

Compared to Goethe, Schiller definitely did not do as well financially.

Unlike Goethe, Schiller’s intellectual interests are primarily in theater and plays. He founded The Horen, which was the leading monthly German literature magazine. He was also instrumental in persuading Goethe to finish his greatest masterpiece, Faust. As someone who knows literally nothing of German literature, I was ill-equipped to appreciate his works. So I definitely perked up when I found out that among Schiller’s most popular plays is William Tell, based on the popular story of the Swiss folk hero. Schiller’s play was made famous by the 1829 opera by Gioachino Rossini, particularly the fanfare from the overture. It is, in fact, one of the most famous pieces of classical music.

Because of chronic poor health, Schiller passed away at the young age of forty-five, and it was a loss not only to his family but also to his great friend Goethe. When the Grand Duke Carl August built a family mausoleum on the grounds of Weimar’s historical cemetery, Schiller received the extraordinary honor of being the first to be interned here. Goethe expressed the desire to build a joint funerary monument for himself and Schiller. Since this wish did not materialize, Goethe was granted the privilege to rest beside his friends at the ducal vault.

Today, the coffins of Goethe and Schiller lie side by side at one end of the vault, separating from the sarcophagi of the ducal families. Ever since, the vault has become a place of pilgrimage for Weimar Classicism. Duke Carl August probably can’t imagine that Goethe and Schiller inadvertently coopted his family's mausoleum. Interestingly, subsequent forensic investigations concluded that the body inside Schiller’s coffin was not Schiller, and no one is certain of the actual body’s whereabouts. Sadly, Goethe’s wish to be laid to rest with his friend remains unrealized.

The significance of Goethe and Schiller aside, the most interesting aspect of the Ducal Vault is the Russian Orthodox Chapel built on the back side. Constructed in 1862, the chapel was purpose-made for Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna, a Russian princess who married into the Duchy of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach. A great patron of the Enlightenment, she was greatly admired by Goethe and hosted literary evenings. Despite being married into a Protestant court, she retained her Russian Orthodox faith. A conjoined Orthodox chapel was constructed over her coffin to allow her to be buried next to her husband. It was really a testament of faith and marriage.

The City’s Church of Saint Peter and Paul.

While Goethe and Schiller are the towering figures of Weimar Classicism, what makes this period so special is the large number of intellectuals gathered here. Other prominent figures include Christoph Martin Wieland and Johann Gottfried Herder. To philosophy novices like me, learning about Goethe and Schiller was already an intellectual overload, so we did not get to visit other Weimar Classicist sites. One example is the City Church of Saints Peter and Paul, where Herder preached and served as church superintendent. In hindsight, I should have paid the admission fee to see the Weimar Altarpiece inside.

The Duchess Anna Amalia Library is one of the most celebrated historical libraries in Germany.

After Goethe’s death, the city entered the so-called “Silver Age”. The court of Weimar continued to attract literary and musical talents. The most symbolic monument to Weimar’s cultural achievement is the Duchess Anna Amalia Library, which houses one of the most important collections of German literature. Among the most prized items are the original manuscript of Alexander von Humboldt and original copies of the Luther Bibles. The building is also noted for its fanciful Rococco interiors and is often regarded as one of the most beautiful libraries in the world. As such, it is a major tourist draw in the city, with tickets booked out weeks in advance.

On the night of 2 September 2004, a major fire broke out on the library's upper level, destroying 50,000 priceless volumes. Thanks to the heroic efforts of first responders and the public, 6,000 items were rescued. I actually remember the news report at the time, and it was certainly headline news around the globe. It was one of the most consequential library fires in recent memory and a tragic loss for Germany and all of humanity. The building restoration attracted private and public donors from far and wide, and the conservation effort of damaged items further advanced the archival research.

During Weimar’s “silver age,” the city attracted numerous noted musicians. The most famous among them is the Hungarian composer, Franz Liszt. He accepted a position in the court of Weimar and served as the choir master under the patronage of Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna. Liszt was a leader of a group of Weimar-based musicians known as the “radical progressives” in the so-called War of the Romantics. This intellectual battle was over the direction of classical music following Beethoven's death. Conservatives like Johannes Brahms champion “absolute music,” which is free of narrative and cinematic drama. In other words, music should be for music’s sake, like most of Beethoven’s earlier symphonies. Music ought to speak for itself.

Listz, along with his friend Richard Wagner, believed Beethoven was himself a revolutionary composer who broke all the traditional “classical” rules. They believed music should have a narrative quality to celebrate drama. Listz invented the symphonic poem, with unorthodox use of harmonies and form. His music incites great passions and ecstasy. Listz’s performance became legendary among audiences and critics alike. The term Lisztomania described the feverish intensity of his celebrity. Across the park from Goethe Gardenhouse is the Liszt House, which was initially built for the court’s chief gardener. It was granted to him by Grand Duke Carl Alexander and the Grand Duchess Sophie during his second residency in Weimar. It is now a museum and a pilgrimage site for generations of music lovers.

As we were wandering through Weimar’s historic cemetery, we stumbled upon the grave site of the 19th-century composer Johann Nepomuk Hummel. A friend of Goethe, Hummel was Mozart's disciple and embodied the classicist approach to music. His music influenced generations of composers, including Franz Liszt and Robert Schumann, who were on opposing sides in the War of the Romantics. Personally, I have never heard of Hummel, but Brian was starstruck. Brian was a trumpet performance major in college, and he had very fond memories of performing Hummel’s Trumpet Concerto in E Major. It was a serendipitous encounter that excited him more than our visit to the Goethe House.

As a non-German, I can’t say I could easily grasp the significance and achievement of the Weimar Classicism. For me, the word Weimar is synonymous with the Weimar Republic, the colloquial name of interwar Germany. After Germany’s defeat in World War I, the monarchy was abolished, leaving the country in political uncertainty and economic turmoil. Like most crises, it was also a moment of opportunity in implementing a radically different vision of the future, free from outdated models of politicking and social discourse. Immediately after the war, the center-left parties emerged as the dominant faction. Led by Friedrich Ebert’s Social Democratic Party, the newly elected German National Constitutional Assembly convened in Weimar to draft the constitution for a new Germany.

The German National Theater is the most bustling civic space in Weimar and a monument to Weimar Classicism and the Weimar Republic.

Ebert chose Weimar as the venue for this vital assembly for two reasons. On a practical level, the capital, Berlin, was still a political tinderbox, and there was a genuine fear of political violence. Ebert considered Weimar, the Enlightenment city of Goethe and Schiller, a suitable backdrop for drafting a new constitution that reflected the progressive values his party championed. The extraordinary session took place at the German National Theater, where Goethe founded it and where many of Schiller’s plays premiered. The choice also signaled to the victorious Allies that the new Germany had unshackled itself from the monarchy. The statue of Goethe and Schiller lent credibility to the new republic.

The Monument to the March Dead by Walter Gropius memorialized the victims of the Kapp Putsch.

The Weimar Republic was a time of great optimism and anxiety. The liberal constitution included numerous progressive policies, such as equal rights for all citizens. Among the rights guaranteed to all citizens are the freedom of speech, press, assembly, association, and private property. However, the progressive Weimar constitution had several weaknesses, including the extraordinary powers granted to the president and the parliament's ability to override the constitution with a simple two-thirds majority. These constitutional flaws ultimately led to disasters not just for Germany but also for the entire continent.

The House of the Weimar Republic is situated across from the German National Theater.

The best way to explore the history of the Weimar Republic was a visit to the House of the Weimar Republic. This state-of-the-art museum opened in 2019 and was the first and only museum dedicated solely to these tumultuous years. The museum is situated directly opposite the German National Theater, the birthplace of the republic. With its permanent exhibition housed in the main hall, the information on display is very dense and could easily take two hours to examine all the items on display. If they have more space, they should have spread the permanent exhibit into smaller, schematic rooms.

One could easily spend two hours just in this room alone.

The interwar period in Germany was one of the most fascinating periods of European history. The nascent republic was saddled with high reparation costs imposed by the Treaty of Versailles, which led to hyperinflation and continuous political turmoil. That said, the Weimar Republic’s liberal social policies also fostered a vibrant cultural scene. From sexual liberation to avant-garde arts and theater, Berlin of the 1920s was a place where everything was permissible. Thriving underground cultures flourished and were known for decadence typical of the “roaring twenties.”

One of the most lasting cultural legacies of the Weimar Republic was the Bauhaus, the avant-garde art school founded by Walter Gropius. The school was born of the merger of two art schools in Weimar and quickly attracted the most prominent artists and educators from across Europe. Although Weimar was regarded as a center of the German Enlightenment, the city’s classical heritage also made its population quite culturally conservative when it came to social norms. The Bauhaus’s liberal attitude and Bohemian student population became increasingly at odds with its host city.

Constructed for the 1923 Bauhaus Exhibition, Haus am Horn was the world’s first Bauhaus building.

To advocate for continuous state funding, Gropius organized a special Bauhaus exhibition in 1923 to introduce the public to their students’ works and demonstrate their practical utility. They constructed a model home, Haus am Horn, just a few hundred yards from Goethe’s Garden House, in just a few months. It was the world’s first Bauhaus building and a showcase of the Bauhaus’s unique approach to industrial design. While the exhibition was a success from a historical perspective, it had the opposite effect of what Gropius had hoped for. The locals were aloof and confounded by the school’s objectives. After the exhibition, the state cut the school’s budget in half, forcing the Bauhaus to relocate to the industrial city of Dessau and eventually Berlin.

Weimar’s Gauforum is a rare surviving example of Nazi architecture.

The Bauhaus's departure was also tied to the rise of right-wing nationalists in Weimar. The Nationalist Socialists, or the Nazis, regarded the Bauhaus as an internationalist movement and inherently “un-German” in character. With a storied heritage of Goethe and Schiller, the Nazis regarded Weimar as one of the most German cities. One of the earliest Nazi Party conventions was held in Weimar, and Adolf Hitler actually visited the city more than forty times. Aside from the association with Weimar Classicism, the Nazi also held special regard for Weimar because this was the birthplace of the Weimar Republic, a regime they sought to subvert. In fact, the term “Weimar Republic” that we use nowadays was coined by Adolf Hitler during a Nazi rally in 1929.

During the Nazi period, Weimar’s symbolic importance meant that Hitler had a grand architectural plan to mold the city in line with National Socialist ideology. Weimar was the capital of the Thuringia Gaue, and the Nazis constructed a massive administrative center called the Gauforum. Designed by Hermann Giesler, the complex was not only the local seat of the party but also an expression of Fascist ideology, characterized by its immense scale and architectural repetition. The Nazis originally planned to replicate the complex in other state capitals. In the end, only Weimar received this special treatment.

The iconic entrance gate of the Buchwald concentration camp.

The darkest chapter of Weimar’s history is undoubtedly the opening of the Buchenwald concentration camp in 1937. Located just five miles from central Weimar, Buchenwald was the largest concentration camp within the territory of the old Reich and one of the most famous. Unlike the notorious camp at Auschwitz-Birkenau, Buchenwald functioned as a labor camp, rather than an extermination facility. However, the treatment of prisoners here was no more humane. Inmates comprise the likes of political prisoners and homosexuals. What made this camp unusual was how integrated the prisoners were into the economic life of Weimar. Most inmates were forced to work in local armament factories, alongside regular Weimar citizens.

Most experts estimate the total casualty at Buchenwald at more than fifty-five thousand. After the camp’s liberation on 11 April 1945, the American general George Patton ordered a thousand Weimar citizens to tour the camp as witnesses to the atrocities committed in their own backyards. The vast majority of citizens of Weimar claimed to be unaware of the existence of the camp, but were confronted by inmates who worked side by side with them on the same factory floor over the years. Most of the prisoners were also transferred to the camp through the Weimar central railway station. The culpability of the local population is difficult to deny and remains an uncomfortable reality.

In the post-war period, Buchenwald was memorialized by the GDR government. Backed by the Soviet Union, East Germany was eager to celebrate the triumph of Communism over Fascism. Ironically, the camp was converted into an internment camp for the Soviet police until the death of Josef Stalin. Much of the original barracks were demolished. To commemorate the camp’s victims, the massive memorial complex was built next to the newly discovered mass graves. In true Communist style, the memorial complex is constructed in monumental scale and purposefully designed to allow for mass gathering. It is somewhat ironic that the design shares stylistic similarity with the architecture of the Nazi Reich.

Weimar’s unsavory history during the Nazi period is best commemorated at the Museum of Forced Labor under National Socialism. Housed within the south wing of the Gauforum, this aptly named and situated museum provides the most comprehensive overview of the history of forced labor under the Nazi regime. The museum’s permanent exhibition was grim and quite depressing. The forced labor under Hitler’s totalitarian views extended far and wide, and it was often lost in the main narrative because of the numerous other atrocities. Forced labor was not only systemic but also the central economic pillar of Hitler’s sprawling empire and military machine. The exhibition does a great job of providing primary sources to give visitors a comprehensive look into the dark chapter of humanity.

A visit to the Museum of Forced Labor under National Socialism was a sobering experience.

During our two-hour visit to the museum, there were only two other visitors. This was hardly a popular draw for foreign tourists, and I can’t really blame them. Weimar’s illustrious heritage of the Weimar Classicism is definitely a more palatable place to visit for average visitors. After all, not everyone is keen to confront painful topics like forced labor and the Holocaust. With so few foreign visitors, Weimar’s history could be easily overlooked. Even for somebody who does not care about German history, Weimar’s enchanting old town has plenty to delight the visitors. The handy Weimar Card offers an easy way to explore the city.

Objectively speaking, Weimar, on its surface, is not unlike other smaller German cities. All the histories aside, a highlight for me was the numerous vendors selling Thüringer Bratwurst. These slender sausages are flavored with caraway and marjoram. I may not be a connoisseur of German sausages, but these are certainly my favorite thus far, and also have the lowest fat content. Interestingly, local historians argue they have the oldest bratwurst in Germany, a significant and controversial claim.

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