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Thomas Mann's speech at the Nobel Banquet at
Grand Hôtel, Stockholm, December 10, 1929
(Translation)
Now my turn to thank you has come, and I
need not tell you how much I have looked forward to it. But alas,
at this moment of truth I am afraid that words will fail my
feelings, as is so often the case with born non-orators.
All writers belong to the class of non-orators. The writer and
the orator are not only different, but they stand in opposition,
for their work and the achievement of their effects proceed in
different ways. In particular the convinced writer is
instinctively repelled, from a literary standpoint, by the
improvised and noncomittal character of all talk, as well as by
that principle of economy which leaves many and indeed decisive
gaps which must be filled by the effects of the speaker's
personality. But my case is complicated by temporary difficulties
that have virtually foredoomed my makeshift oratory. I am
referring, of course, to the circumstances into which I have been
placed by you, gentlemen of the Swedish
Academy, circumstances of marvellous confusion and
exuberance. Truly, I had no idea of the thunderous honours that
are yours to bestow! I have an epic, not a dramatic nature. My
disposition and my desires call for peace to spin my thread, for
a steady rhythm in life and art. No wonder, if the dramatic
firework that has crashed from the North into this steady rhythm
has reduced my rhetorical abilities even beneath their usual
limitations. Ever since the Swedish Academy made public its
decision, I have lived in festive intoxication, an enchanting
topsy-turvy, and I cannot illustrate its consequences on my mind
and soul better than by pointing to a pretty and curious love
poem by Goethe. It is addressed to Cupid himself and the line
that I have in mind goes: «Du hast mir mein Gerät
verstellt und verschoben.» Thus the Nobel Prize has wrought
dramatic confusion among the things in my epic household, and
surely I am not being impertinent if I compare the effects of the
Nobel Prize on me to those that passion works in a well-ordered
human life.
And yet, how difficult it is for an artist to accept without
misgivings such honours as are now showered upon me! Is there a
decent and self-critical artist who would not have an uneasy
conscience about them? Only a suprapersonal, supra-individual
point of view will help in such a dilemma. It is always best to
get rid of the individual, particularly in such a case. Goethe
once said proudly, «Only knaves are modest.» That is
very much the word of a grand seigneur who wanted to disassociate
himself from the morality of subalterns and hypocrites. But,
ladies and gentlemen, it is hardly the whole truth. There is
wisdom and intelligence in modesty, and he would be a silly fool
indeed who would find a source of conceit and arrogance in
honours such as have been bestowed upon me. I do well to put this
international prize that through some chance was given to me, at
the feet of my country and my people, that country and that
people to which writers like myself feel closer today than they
did at the zenith of its strident empire.
After many years the Stockholm international prize has once more
been awarded to the German mind, and to German prose in
particular, and you may find it difficult to appreciate the
sensitivity with which such signs of world sympathy are received
in my wounded and often misunderstood country.
May I presume to interpret the meaning of this sympathy more
closely? German intellectual and artistic achievements during the
last fifteen years have not been made under conditions favourable
to body and soul. No work had the chance to grow and mature in
comfortable security, but art and intellect have had to exist in
conditions intensely and generally problematic, in conditions of
misery, turmoil, and suffering, an almost Eastern and Russian
chaos of passions, in which the German mind has preserved the
Westem and European principle of the dignity of form. For to the
European, form is a point of honour, is it not? I am not a
Catholic, ladies and gentlemen; my tradition is like that of all
of you; I support the Protestant immediateness to God.
Nevertheless, I have a favourite saint. I will tell you his name.
It is Saint Sebastian, that youth at the stake, who, pierced by
swords and arrows from all sides, smiles amidst his agony. Grace
in suffering: that is the heroism symbolized by St. Sebastian.
The image may be bold, but I am tempted to claim this heroism for
the German mind and for German art, and to suppose that the
international honour fallen to Germany's literary achievement was
given with this sublime heroism in mind. Through her poetry
Germany has exhibited grace in suffering. She has preserved her
honour, politically by not yielding to the anarchy of sorrow, yet
keeping her unity; spiritually by uniting the Eastern principle
of suffering with the Western principle of form - by creating
beauty out of suffering.
Allow me at the end to become personal. I have told even the
first delegates who came to me after the decision how moved and
how pleased I was to receive such an honour from the North, from
that Scandinavian sphere to which as a son of Lübeck I have
from childhood been tied by so many similarities in our ways of
life, and as a writer by so much literary sympathy and admiration
for Northern thought and atmosphere. When I was young, I wrote a
story that young people still like: Tonio Kröger. It
is about the South and the North and their mixture in one person,
a problematic and productive mixture. The South in that story is
the essence of sensual, intellectual adventure, of the cold
passion of art. The North, on the other hand, stands for the
heart, the bourgeois home, the deeply rooted emotion and intimate
humanity. Now this home of the heart, the North, welcomes and
embraces me in a splendid celebration. It is a beautiful and
meaningful day in my life, a true holiday of life, a
«högtidsdag», as the Swedish language calls any
day of rejoicing. Let me tie my final request to this word so
clumsily borrowed from Swedish: Let us unite, ladies and
gentlemen, in gratitude and congratulations to the Foundation, so
beneficial and important the world over, to which we owe this
magnificent evening. According to good Swedish custom, join me in
a fourfold hurrah to the Nobel Foundation!
Prior to the speech, Professor J. E. Johansson made the following comments: «Thomas Mann has described the phenomena which are accessible to us without the help of models of electrons and atoms. His investigations concern human nature as we have learned to know it in the light of conscience. Thus his field is many centuries old; but Thomas Mann has shown that it offers no fewer new problems of great interest today. I take it that he does not feel a stranger in a group where everybody considers, as Alfred Nobel did, the human endeavour of the study of the relations among phenomena as the basis of all civilization, and I am quite sure that he will not feel an alien in a country so close to his own.»
From Nobel Lectures, Literature 1901-1967, Editor Horst Frenz, Elsevier Publishing Company, Amsterdam, 1969
Copyright © The Nobel Foundation 1929