Werner Bergengruen's Das Buch Rodenstein: A detailed analysis 9783111728490, 9783110992052

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DE PROPRIETATIBUS LITTERARUM edenda curat C. H. VAN SCHOONEVELD Indiana University

Series Practica, 89

WERNER BERGENGRUEN'S DAS BUCH RODENSTEIN A Detailed Analysis

by DAVID J. PARENT Illinois State University

1974 MOUTON THE HAGUE • PARIS

© Copyright 1974 in The Netherlands Mouton &Co. N. V., Publishers, The Hague No part of this book may be translated or reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publishers

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 73-79889

Printed in The Netherlands

To my father and mother

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. Historical Background and Introduction

7

2. The Framework

10

3. "The Death, Life, Second Death and Second Life of the Baron von Rodenstein"

30

4. "The Grenadiers"

53

,

5. "The Twins from France"

69

6. Folklore Sources

79

7. Hypothetical Fiction and the End of Time

131

8. Evaluation and Mode of Knowledge

139

Bibliography

157

Index

160

1 HISTORICAL BACKGROUND AND INTRODUCTION

The Rodenstein Book, written by Bergengruen in 1925/26 and revised and expanded in 1942, contains twenty-seven short stories and three chapters of lyrical prose built around the legends connected with the famous ruins at Rodenstein and Schnellert in the Oden-Forest about fifty miles north of Heidelberg, Germany. Bergengruen's choice of a theme for this cycle of short stories was prompted by a dual motivation characterizing much of his work: a preference for historical topics and supra-empirical, metaphysical symbolism.1 The notion of historicity in a context of ghosts and revenants may seem surprising. Yet the saga of the wild and raging army ("die Sage vom wilden oder wütenden Heer"), which represents the principal ghostly phenomenon of the Rodenstein legends, is not merely a relic out of the misty prehistoric past, but it is also a documented "fact" of recent times. Though its roots reach back probably to ancient Germanic lore about mythical visits of Wodan and Donar to each other, one on horseback, the other by wagon, and seem to represent popular anthropomorphic interpretation of meteorological phenomena,2 and though similar legends attach to other places not only throughout Germany but in other countries as well,3 the Rodenstein legend is also distinguished by more modern manifestations. Between the years 1712 and 1764, government investigation committees sent from the regional capital Darmstadt, studied and protocolled the apparitions, and the press of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries reported and discussed them heatedly. In the popular mind the ride of the wild army was interpreted as an omen. It is interesting to note that the sceptics of the time 1 Paul Fechter, Geschichte der deutschen Literatur (Gütersloh, 1952), 671. 2 Paul Zimmermann, Die Sage von Hackelberg, dem• wilden Jäger (Wernigerode, 1879), 17, derives the name wütendes Heer from Wodan's Heer and the Low German names for the apparition, Fru Waud and Fru Gode, likewise, as corruptions of the Old High German which originally must have meant not a feminine personage, but 'Lord Wodan' (Gothic: frauja\ OHG: frao, fro, Lord). 3 Theodor Meisinger, Der Rodensteiner: Geschichte und Wandlungen einer deutschen Sage (= Hessische Volksbücher, 4-5) (Darmstadt, 1954), 84. From this Meisinger argues that the Wild Army Sage antedates the Wodan cult (84-87).

8

HISTORICAL BACKGROUND AND INTRODUCTION

did not deny the existence of the phenomena, which seemed supported by reliable testimony, but they tried to provide natural explanations for it such as: earthquakes, underground volcanoes, temporary gaseous emissions, auditory mirages, ordinary echoes and gusts of wind, or the screams of owls in the mating season.4 All in all, the similarity to more recent controversies about UFO's (unidentified flying objects) is quite remarkable. The explanations are primarily acoustic, because the ride of the wild army of Rodenstein was in reports an audible and not a visible phenomenon. A farmer, Simon Daum, for example, whose farm lay directly across its path of march, testified under oath before the investigators that he had never seen anything; it always consisted of a great deal of noise, like many wagons, horses and the like. It generally came an hour after nightfall or an hour before dawn, it passed right through his barnyard, and it happened when war and the marching of nations were about to occur. 5

In March 1832 the Frankfurter Deutsche Zeitung reported that many had heard the "great noise in the air like rolling wagons, the crack of whips, the barking of dogs, the sounding of horns, the clatter of weapons, etc., without being able to discern anything visible".6 In the nineteenth century the mad passage of the ghostly army was reported in the years 1820, 1821, 1832, 1848, 1850, and 1853. There is also testimony attesting to apparitions during the Franco-Prussian War and during World Wars I and II. 7 The supra-empirical point of the Rodenstein theme in Bergengruen's view is already formulated in the Rodenstein Book's prefatory quotation from the Book of Revelations: " — und schwur bei dem Lebendigen von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit.. . dass hinfort keine Zeit mehr sein soli" (Rev. 10:6). This sets the Rodenstein apparitions in an apocalyptic connection and brings us close to the heart of Bergengruen's cosmological outlook. He sees this world with all its ebb and flow of change as firmly imbedded in and encompassed by a vast, vibrant, immutable metaphysical reality. The cessation of time would signify the breach of the thin shell of temporal existence and the dramatic entrance of eternity, which is conceived of not as time prolonged to infinity but as a radically different, essential form of existence. Thus - the motto suggests - the headlong plunge of the ghostly army, constituting either a temporary suspension of the normal laws of nature or an extreme and awesome cataclysmic effect of them, is a symbol of the supreme might of trans-earthly reality and a precursor of the final apocalyptic catastrophe at the end of the world, when the deeper forces will 4 Theodor Lorentzen, Die Sage Darstellung (Heidelberg, 1903), 13. s Lorentzen, Die Sage, 7. 6 Lorentzen, Die Sage, 12. 7 Lorentzen, Die Sage, 12.

vom

Rodensteiner:

eine historisch kritische

HISTORICAL BACKGROUND AND INTRODUCTION

9

brush aside time and space like so much flimsy debris and eliminate them forever. Bergengruen's quest for historicity and his quest for metaphysical insight do not conflict. To obtain a valid foundation or objective significance for the symbolic content of the stories, he did not consider it necessary to adhere to a literal interpretation or a prejudgment in favor of the preternatural quality of the Rodenstein phenomena. In fact an essential element in the form of the Rodenstein Book is a shift in the implied author's basic attitude, or at least in the tonal value thereof, in regard to the apparitions, from one story to the next. This matter of perspective and its relation to the truth-value of the stories must be examined in detail from case to case. In at least one story, the ghostly ride is brought fully into the realm of nature and directly identified with a violent storm: "Es ist da." . . . Scharf und schneidend heulte es vorbei, die Bäume duckten sich wie scheue Vögel, ächzten und stöhnten unter dem anschwellenden Brausen, dem Pfeifen und Knallen und Bellen und Klirren des Nachtsturms

(115)8

The words Knallen, Bellen, and Klirren are the same as were used in the nineteenth century news reports to depict the supposed cracking of the whips, barking of the dogs, and clatter of the weapons of an army on the march. Here however they are unmasked by the tell-tale possessive des Nachtsturms, emptied of preternatural content, and stamped as highly suggestive, almost metaphorical descriptive terms for an occurrence, extremely violent yet strictly within the natural order, a storm in the night. This, accordingly, represents one end of the natural-preternatural perspective scale. Thus, two objects of analysis which emerge for examination in the particular stories are: the function of the apocalyptic encroachment into the temporal sphere - "and from henceforth there shall be no more time" — in reference to the turning points of the stories; and the perspective of objectivization of the Rodenstein apparition in each particular story. Actually these are two aspects of a single material object: the Rodenstein ghosts, seen abstractly in terms of Bergengruen's time-eternity frame of reference and concretely from the point of view of artfully objectivized details, and their correspondence or non-correspondence with a potential real-world existence or significance as the ultimate scale of truth. For neither of these points of attack is the question of relationship to reality idle speculation. Verbal art, if it is to rise above futile escapism or insulated aestheticism, must lead to ontologically valid insights. Consequently, such problems must be studied not only in terms of what insights are arrived at, but also of how they are attained, i.e. whether they are based on a legitimate epistemological frame of reference. 8 All references, unless otherwise specified, are to Werner Beigengruen, Das Buch Rodenstein (Zürich, 1951).

2 THE FRAMEWORK

Chapters 1, 18 and 30 form a three-piece framework for the entire book. They are not narratives but highly lyrical and pathos-laden passages of poetic prose. They are addressed to the author's wife, to whom the book is dedicated, and theoretically the entire book is told to her. The opening chapter, "Eingang", begins and ends with the invitation: "Komm setze dich zu mir. Es ist ein schlimmer Abend heute. Aller Sommer ist tot" and the closing chapter, "Ausgang", starts with the words: "Ich habe dir erzählt manche Abendstunde hindurch." However this function of a postulated second-person listener is not maintained in the rest of the book; most often the stories are told by a non-self-conscious narrator and the wifely listener is completely lost sight of. In the brief lyrical framework, however, the postulated listener apparently plays an essential role. The prologue, for instance, keeps her presence constantly in mind by various linguistic instruments: by the second person pronoun; "Ich will dir ein Geheimnis sagen"; by the first person plural and by questions, "Vergassen wir, dass ein Herbst in jedem Blütenkelch lauert?"; by the imperative form of verbs, " . . . Herbstzeitlose. Merke das Wort." And she is directly implicated in the symbolism: "Nein, zünde kein Licht an. Leergeworden, findet Hand zu Hand auch im Finstern. Vermag sie es nicht, ist ihr Urteil gesprochen." The reason for this strong emphasis on the postulated du of the prologue and epilogue chapters can be clarified only after other data of the text have been determined. In thought-content, each of the above quotations from the prologue is part of a variant formulation of the basic poetic insight which, at the core, represents the general principle of validation of the entire book: that all things contain within themselves the seeds of death, and that ultimately death opens up into another world. The point of view is not lyrical escape but observation of a determinable fact of nature together with the necessary postulate which its intrinsic structure demands. On this point, as will be seen below, poetry and science coincide. This is the redemptive principle that takes the Rodenstein Book, at least if its original intent is realized, beyond the category of esoteric, reactionary escapism and makes it from its

11

THE FRAMEWORK inception a bold, direct confrontation with the human situation as it is.

"Höre. Ich will dir ein Geheimnis sagen: Frühling stürzt in Sommer, Sommer in Herbst, Herbst in Winter. In was kann der Winter stürzen, wenn nicht in den T o d ? Jeder Winter ist der letzte, wie jeder T o d der einzige ist." The cyclic sequence o f the seasons is not analogous to a closed seamless ring; though spring, summer, fall, and winter develop directly one out o f the other (in the botanical and zoological world rather than in the geophysical), the transition f r o m winter to spring is not direct. Winter as such represents an irreversible end, a botanical and zoological zero-point; that is, spring does not result from winter, and without the salutary supply o f energy b e y o n d the botanical, i.e. f r o m the geophysical world, no spring would ever come. From another point o f view, winter and the next step after it, total annihilation o f the species, are the natural condition o f all life, if efficient causality from b e y o n d the vital systems is eliminated. Trite as it may seem, this simple fact is a particular instance o f perhaps the most radical discovery o f modern science, the law of entropy: namely that spontaneous natural processes are always connected with a diminution of freely disposable energy, that energy once expended cannot be regained, and thus that any closed physical system is doomed t o destruction; i.e. once its finite quantity o f available energy has been consumed, the processes which make it what it is will irreversably come to a standstill, unless there is intervention from an extraneous energy-source, for which the same would hold true, and so on, ad

infinitum. " D i d w e forget that an autumn lurks in every blossom?"

This thought is

based on the instability in all natural objects. Here again, Bergengruen's general premise is supported b y the astonishing findings o f modern science. Even wilting is not the extreme of inpermanency for a blossom; it is doomed t o destruction d o w n to its smallest constituents. The inorganic elements o f which all things are composed can no longer be considered simple, indivisible, and indestructible. With the conversion o f mass into energy, atomic physics has eliminated the last shred of stability in matter, but it has also rendered the doctrine o f eternal recurrence (ewiger Wiederkehr)

untenable and obsolete b y unexpectedly showing that atomic and

subatomic

processes

are subject to a law o f diminution o f

resources

analogous t o the law o f entropy in the macrocosmos, i.e. their energypotential is running down and they must also eventually come t o a standstill, just as a watch stops when its mainspring has unwound. "Draussen rauscht der Regen. Jeder Tropfen fällt wie ein Sandkorn, das aus der Uhr unseres Lebens rinnt." "Hörst du das Käuzchen schreien und den Totenwurm h ä m m e r n ? "

Process is in everything and every process is like the

ticking of a clock marking the irretrievable passage o f time. A l l physical processes are one-directional, they all lead t o the gray, motionless state o f monolithic undifferentiated equilibrium, where no form is possible because

12

THE FRAMEWORK

neither differentiable material nor differentiating agency has survived. Assuming Aristotle's definition of time as the measurement of movement, then indeed, in a non-transcendental sense, "there will be no more time". Once the author has labored to establish this principle as a general normative frame of reference, he proceeds to draw the relationship with the particular topic of his book: the Rodenstein rider and army. He had, he says, forgotten about the autumn that lurks in every blossom, aber ein anderer ist gekommen und hat es mich wieder gelehrt. Er braust durch Wälder, Tannen prasseln vor ihm wie dürres Reisig, Sturm bläht ihm den schwarzen Mantel, dass er aufflattert und alle Sterne verhüllt. Tod zeigt er an, Grauen und Herbst und die Stunde, nach der keine Zeit mehr sein soll: Bote Gottes und seiner Nacht, Erfüllungskünder und Endeansager, der doch selber unerfüllt blieb und unbeendet. (8) Here the Rodenstein rider appears as a highly personified storm, which calls forth a feeling of awe and horror and associatively an apocalyptic premonition of death and doomsday. The final relative clause of the above citation identifies the storm-personification with the legendary Rodenstein rider and marks the transition to a description of his traits. He has been removed from among men and belongs neither to the living nor the dead, he no longer shares in their experiences but he affects their lives, "the lives of the gentle and the wild ones, the hunters and the hunted, the housed and the homeless, the sleep-walkers, the dreamers and the bewitched". This is a hint at the different types of persons we can expect in the plots and that an accent on character is essential to the stories and their interpretation. Next, Rodenstein becomes a sort of regional spirit and master of destiny: "Er bindet und löst die Schicksale der Menschen, immer noch Herr seines alten Landes, erfüllt und beendet sie zur allerletzten Freiheit und äussersten Dienstbarkeit." And finally the regional spirit takes on the traits of an animistic natural principle, the personification of the autumnal doom inherent in all things: Jeder Waldquell spiegelt ihn hundertfach und jedes blanke Efeublatt im Mondlicht, der herbstliche Regentropfen und die Eisscholle, der Trunk im Becher, das Eisen an Pflugschar, Waffe und Hausgerät. Von ihm will ich erzählen. (8) Summing up briefly, the roles of the Rodenstein horseman in the prologue chapter are: (a) a personified storm, (b) an apocalyptic messenger of God and the night, harbinger of death and doomsday, (c) an uncompleted revenant, belonging neither to the living nor the dead, (d) a regional spirit, lord of the land and director of its people's destinies, and (e) an animistic nature-spirit, personification of the autumnal principle of doom inherent in all things. These various capacities merge plausibly, partly because the categories

THE FRAMEWORK

13

overlap to some extent and the transition is gradual, yet the author takes no chances. At this point where he is trying to draw the connection between the general cosmological principle he has established and the particular case he wishes to write about, namely the Rodenstein apparition, he must at all costs create the illusion of a unified ghostly "character", if it is to serve as a valid pole of comparison. The style contributes to the effect of unity through ail interlocking of the five aspects. An example of a linguistic ruse employed to consolidate this impression of functional compatibility can be noted in the quotation on page 12, above. Instead of beginning the description of a new function with a new sentence, the author makes the transition within a sentence, by appending a relative clause dealing with the new quality; namely, "der doch selber unerfüllt blieb und unbeendet". The surreptitious introduction of this content from the legendary revenanttheme in a subordinate clause conceals the transition from the stormapocalypse motif to the new material. Thus when a new sentence begins, the change has already been made. In addition, the first and last functions described in the paragraph are both linked with personification of natural phenomena and so together they form a frame, sandwiching the legendconnected central core of the paragraph between material of a relatively homogeneous nature. The personification of doom in natural objects is, of course, the aspect of the Rodenstein spirit invented by Bergengruen and thematic to the prologue; it is the characteristic which makes possible the connection with the general principle evolved with considerable rhetorical resources. Therefore this aspect must be juxtaposed as nearly as possible to the short demonstrative sentence, which acts as a finger pointing directly at it: "Von ihm will ich dir erzählen" (8). The next paragraph "Schattenhände klopfen gegen das Fenster" itemizes the various night sounds which make up the ghost army. The influence of the sources is clear in the acoustic emphasis. The above sentence also refers to an eyewitness report in the 18th century investigations. The next clause is a clear interpretation of the apparition as a night-storm; amid the howling wind and other night sounds the most vivid visual perception of the entire paragraph stands in sharp relief: "Wolkenpferde jagen heulend über den Himmel, und ihre Hufe schlagen düsterrote Funken aus dem verhüllten Monde" (8). Schlagen still suggests a possible acoustic source for the imagined red sparks struck from the hidden moon. Thus, like the rest of the visual content of the paragraph they are not directly seen, they are an inference of the imagination based on a sound heard. Nothing is intangible, because the act of recognition, which the straight-forward, unhesitant naming of the objects puts into language, imparts shape and color. The aural perspective, with inference and projection of color and form onto the inner eye, apart from kinship with the actual Oden-Forest reports, is an indirection which lends the distance desirable for a nighttime ghostly

14

THE FRAMEWORK

spectacle. The final sentence begins with an enumeration of night sounds and ends with this judgment: " . . . Es sei, was es sei, in allem klingt, donnernd oder gedämpft, scharf oder kaum vernehmlich, ein Widerhall vom Hufschlag des mitternächtigen Reiters" (8). Note again the distancing indirection of hearing not the hoofbeat itself but its echo. This statement is the topic sentence and applies to all the night sounds of the paragraph but it is located strategically so that its own mood-value is heightened by the preceding enumeration of night sounds and so that its content in turn is projected on all that follows. Furthermore, in allem, which specifies the scope of application, can in addition to the primarily intended, restricted meaning, 'in everything just enumerated', telescope to mean 'in everything that exists', thereby making of the statement a poetic paraphrase of the universal law of entropy. The rest of the prologue chapter itemizes various objects and persons that will figure in the stories — apparently a strong dose of GespensterRomantik. Unifying mechanisms are the opening word-group "Sahst du . . . ? " , occurring four times, and the terminal sentence, "Auch davon will ich dir erzählen", six times. A few words about the style of the prologue: There is an unusual preponderance of four-word clauses or breath-groups, about twenty in the first two pages; for example: "Winde stieben aus Wäldern, heulen um unser Haus" (7). Note the regular metric pattern: 'U 'U U 'U

W

I

W

'U 'U U '

H

H

and the w- and Ä-alliteration balancing at each end of the short line. Also frequent is a pattern, generally of three words, consisting of two counterbalanced stresses around an unspecified number of unstressed syllables: Trümmer im Walde, Tote unter der Erde, Geister im Gemäuer, uralte Gräber, versunkenes Römergerät, Gold und Kraut, Zauberwerk, Feuer und Blut, und die silberne Kapsel mit den verschlungenen Händen und der Zahl eines längst verwesten Jahres. (9) The pattern is:

'

u u

'

u

'U 'U

U ' U

'U U U 'U ' U U ' U U 'U U 'U U ' 'U ' 'U ' 'U U '

THE FRAMEWORK

15

•u U 'U U 'U U U U 'U U 'U U U 'U U 'U 'U ' u

The breaking action of the counterbalanced accents puts the stress on the substantives, producing an evocative effect. After the enumeration, i.e. at the word und (unstressed syllable following the asterisk), this breaking action ceases and the sentence flows forth in smooth dactyls. There is alliteration of five framed between single t- and ^-alliteration, creating the Spuk-Romantik constellation: Trümmer, Tote, Geister, Gemäuer, Gräber, Gerät, Gold, Kraut, Zauberwerk. Sometimes the rhythmic pattern reinforces the lexical content. "Der Wind bricht ein, die arme, kleine Flamme macht er in schwarzen Wogen ertrinken" (7). ( J ,,, U 'U 'U 'U " U 'U 'U U 'U

The alternating rhythm of the iambs, together with the liquid and labial consonants, simulates the flicker of a flame. The long full vowels and the /•-consonant of schwarzen Wogen suggest wax, the short clipped i of ertrinken the extinguishing flick. "Jeder Tropfen fällt wie ein Sandkorn, das aus der Uhr unseres Lebens rinnt." 'U 'U 'U U " U U U 'U U U 'U '

The heavily accented trochees and final spondee of the first line suggest the splatter of raindrops, the numerous rapid unstressed syllables of the second line, reinforced by the abundance of relatively flowing consonants (six i's, four r's, three « ' s ) and a long accented u, give the impression of rainwater flowing. The relatively unaccented d's of das aus der Uhr are light raindrops, and the three heavy accents are raindrops splashing on the flowing rainwater. The color-tone is dark and autumnal like Indian corn with its black, red, blue and yellow hues. The black is suggested by the bad weather of the evening, the shadows and the black waves of wax, the command "Don't light any lamp", and words like Finster, schaurige Dämmerung, schwarzer Mantel, Schattenhände, Wolkenpferde-, yellow by: Sandkorn, Herbst, Kerze, Ernte, gelbe Felder, Gold; red by: Flamme, düsterrote Funken, Feuer und Blut; blue by: blauer Rauch; gray: ein bleiches Gesicht, Frost; near the end, a touch of green from the Gypsies: braune Manner mit dem grossen grünen Karren. The greatest danger to the prologue's validity and convincing power as well as its greatest strength lies in the symbolism. Its strength rests in the fact that it is non-allegorical; that is, the symbolism does not point to something outside the things themselves, but it is an illumination of something intrinsic to them. In the tradition of Goethe, the symbols attain

16

THE FRAMEWORK

universal significance through actualization of the particular. As Goethe himself once stated: "Alles, alles was geschieht ist symbolisch, und in dem es vollkommen sich darstellt, deutet es auf das Übrige."1 Bergengruen has praised Goethe's words, "Alles Vergängliche ist nur ein Gleichnis",2 as the two best lines of poetry in the German language. And Bergengruen's prologue to the Rodenstein Book stands on the whole solidly within the tradition of immanent symbolism started by Goethe. Its basic autumnal theme is shared with other modern poets. Rainer Maria Rilke in his poem "Herbst", written in 1902, expresses it clearly: "Die Blatter fallen, fallen wie von weit . . . Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt / Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen."3 Here Rilke is pointing with his word fallen at the same entropy Bergengruen means when he speaks of autumn lurking in every blossom or of the midnight rider's hoofbeat in everything. Hugo von Hofmannsthal in the poem "Über Vergänglichkeit", dated 1894, strikes the same note: "Dies ist ein Ding, das keiner voll aussinnt, / Und viel zu grauenvoll, als dass man klage: / Dass alles gleitet und vorüberrinnt." 4 In his "Ballade des äusseren Lebens" (1895), Hofmannsthal again touches on the theme of transitoriness: "Und süsse Früchte werden aus den Herben / Und fallen nachts wie tote Vögel nieder / und liegen wenig Tage und verderben." 5 Thus the autumn theme of entropic doom is not Bergengruen's invention, but common property of the poets. Even the eschatological overtones are not new. Witness Richard Dehmel's "Erntelied" (1895): "Es fegt der Sturm die Felder rein, / es wird kein Mensch mehr Hunger schrein. / Mahle, Mühle, mahle!" 6 The second and third lines are purposely ambiguous: no human will cry from famine, because the rich harvest is in, and there will be copious abundance. Grind, Mill, that brings abundance! or: no human more will cry from famine, because no one will any longer exist. Grind, bitter mill of destiny. In the following paragraph Bergengruen also presents mankind as ripe for the grim reaper with the wind as symbol of the superhuman threshing machines: Die Ernte ist geendigt, gelbe Felder frösteln abgeräumt. Du und ich, wir haben nicht geendigt und nicht geerntet. Die Dreschmaschinen sind ver1 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, quoted by Fritz Strich in Der Dichter und die Zeit (Bern, 1947), 29. 2 Goethe, Faust, line 12104, quoted by Werner Bergengruen in Mündlich Gesprochen (Zürich, 1963), 138. 3 Rainer Maria Rilke, "Herbst", in Das Buch der Bilder, (Leipzig, 1913), 48. 4 Hugo von Hofmannsthal, "Über Vergänglichkeit" in Gedichte und lyrische Dramen, 17. 5 Hofmannsthal, "Ballade des äusseren Lebens", in Gedichte und lyrische Dramen, 17. 6 Richard Dehmel, "Erntelied", in Aber die Liebe, in Gesammelte Werke, Vol II (Berlin, 1906), 173.

THE FRAMEWORK

17

stummt, als es dunkel wurde. Aber Summen und Sausen halten an. Winde stieben aus Wäldern, heulen um unser Haus. Bald werden Kartoffelfeuer auflohen, blauer Rauch wird in schaurige Dämmerung münden, und das heimlichste Licht ferner Fenster wird keinen Wanderer mehr trösten können. ( 7 )

The final topos reads almost like a direct negation of DehmePs concluding stanza to "Die stille Stadt": "Doch als den Wanderer graute, / da ging ein Lichtlein auf im Grund; / und durch den Rauch und Nebel / begann ein leiser Lobgesang, / aus Kindermund." 7 At other points Bergengruen too will sing in praise, but here he is engrossed in the dark side of nature, the sense of death evoked by autumn. And this is precisely the danger of the prologue's symbolism. Though generally sound, at some points it comes dangerously close to the type of symbolism which does not intend things as such, but like the poetry of Verlaine, for instance, and of the Symbolists properly so-called, uses images to reproduce an arbitrarily selected impression in the mind of the reader, to suggest a subjective landscape. 8 The closest to this imaginary-backdrop type of theatricality is the sentence: "Geängstigt keucht die Kerze, riesige Schatten flattern an den Wänden."(7). Immediately one asks: is this the right kind of lighting to see things as they are? Is Bergengruen serving us a conglomeration of night thoughts which would vanish under clear daylight? Carl Einstein, in his "Bebuquin oder die Dilettanten des Wunders" also employs a highly artificial lighting, rotating varicolored spotlights of a bar, to highlight the subjective thinking of a group of all-night clients: thoughts like "Alles stilisiert die Vernunft". "Das Naturgesetz soll sich im Alkohol besaufen, bis es merkt, es gibt irrationale Situationen." 9 But Einstein subtly distances himself from the setting: this is merely the natural habitat of the characters, overwhelmed by the "Schrecken des Farbenwechsels der übergehenden Zeiten". The morning after looks like this: Unter der blöden Sonne gingen die Grauen heim. Die Landschaft war auf ein Brett gestrichen, die aufgerissenen Augen spürten nicht mehr vor Oberreizung, dass es heller und klarer wurde. Das Licht der Glühlampen und die sie umhüllende Finsternis steckte noch in den Sehnerven. 1 0

Returning to our coughing candle: Onomatopeia in the consonants —ngst, k, cht, k, rz - combined with k-alliteration suggests the sputtering and hissing of a candle. Keucht is figurative language based on the similarity of 7 Dehmel, "Die stille Stadt", in Weib und Welt, in Gesammelte Werke, Vol III (Berlin, 1906), 118. 8 Fritz Strich, Der Dichter und die Zeit (Bein, 1947), 16. 9 Carl Einstein, "Bebuquin oder die Dilettanten des Wundeis", in Ahnung und Aufbruch: Expressionistische Prosa, ed. Karl Otten (Darmstadt, 1957), 441. 10 Einstein, "Bebuquin", 444.

18

THE FRAMEWORK

sounds between coughing and sputtering; geängstigt is pathetic fallacy, since the flame is devoid of feeling, yet there is a basis of comparison in the cringing motions as the air strikes it. On closer reflection, it is seen, both the flicker of the flame and the flutter of the huge shadows contain in themselves, just as truly as any other events or processes, the principle of entropic doom. Their unacceptability does not stem from their nature as such, but from the undesired association with a theatrical lighting effect. This obscures true symbolism. A more successful example of figurative language was the similemetaphor combination already cited: "Jeder Tropfen fällt wie ein Sandkorn, das aus der Uhr unseres Lebens rinnt." Almost every word is pregnant with entropic symbolism. The meaning is not merely transported across the bridge of simile and metaphor {wie and -es -s); it is not merely analogous: i.e. raindrop is to grain of sand as hour-glass is to our life. The entropic content transcends the logical structure and is literally present in almost every word independently of the grammatical context. It is in the nouns, for as the epilogue says: " . . . ein Stück Tod (ist) verborgen in jedem Blütenkelch und in jeder Traube, in jedem Wassertropfen und in jedem Eisenteil" (379). It is in every word involving motion: fällt, aus, rinnt. An example of the equivocal use of language is the name analysis of the late-blooming colchicum autumnale: "Heute früh fand ich die erste Herbstzeitlose. Merke das Wort. Heute ist Herbst, Herbst ist zeitlos, bald wird keine Zeit mehr sein." (7). Analysis of names is one of Bergengruen's favorite pastimes. Here one is reminded of Brockes' poem where the forget-me-not flower serves as a reminder of God. 11 A difference is the following: the name "forget-me-not" is arbitrarily appended to a particular flower. There is no specific reason in nature why this flower and no other should be called forget-me-not. The Herbstzeitlose, on the other hand, is so called because it blooms in late September or in October, after the crops have been harvested. It gets its Latin name from Colchis, the island of the murderess Medea, because it contains a deadly poison. A member of the crocus family, it is almost stemless; its blossoms are a pale purple. Thus, not only its name but also its late time of blooming, poisonous nature, appearance, color, and cultural association render it an appropriate symbol of entropic doom. The epilogue is marked by increased economy of language. It is only one and one-half pages long, less than half the length of the prologue, yet on several essential points it substantially advances the thought-content beyond that of the prologue. Ii Barthold Heinrich Brockes, "Das Blümlein: Vergiss mein nicht", in Irdisches Vergnügen in Gott, bestehend in physikalisch und moralischen Gedichten (Hamburg, 1732), Parti, 80-81.

19

THE FRAMEWORK

In most striking contrast to the prologue is the transformation o f the function o f the Rodenstein rider. There is no longer any doubt about his nature. A l l traits have been eliminated except that o f an undiminished revenant,

and

this

has

been

stripped

of

all

Rodenstein

legendary

connotations such as the forecasting o f impending warfare on the Rhein, and given a nefarious tinge not present in any o f the five aspects developed in the prologue. He has been changed f r o m a beneficial force to a hostile, almost diabolical one. " D e r dort jagt, das ist der Feind, der Unbeendete ist er, der Unerlöste, der V e r f l u c h t e " ( 3 7 8 ) . Through his immoderation and lack o f restraint, the uncompleted revenant stands in direct contrast to men: men cannot live without moderation and without a definite delimitation o f their life-span, but he wanders about restlessly, to his o w n misfortune forever unfinished. A n eschatological gloss is added to the observation that it is a bad night today, which, as w e saw above, with its theatrical night-effects endangered the apparent integrity o f style in the prologue. N o w the present darkness is taken as a sign o f still worse to come. In view o f National Socialism, the victories o f

Communism, and World War II

this passage seems

almost

prophetic (actually the seeds o f the impending evils were already at w o r k at the time o f writing): Es ist ein schlimmer Abend heute. Schlimmere Nächte haben sich angekündigt. Und wer weiss, ob sein Herz stark genug ist, auszudauern in solchen Nächten? Es gibt Nächte, vor denen rettet sich niemand mehr in den Morgen, jeder in den T o d . This is a step further than mere entropy in nature. It is a forecast o f evil such as comes f r o m beyond the bounds o f the physical world. It is a vision o f the dark transcendental harm that overwhelms man and society f r o m time to time and is so vast in scope and intensity that escape is impossible within the confines o f the universe. Death is the only w a y out. A s opposed to this new devastating vision o f impending ill, the natural entropy in nature, which was neutral in the prologue, merely a fact registered in a m o o d o f autumnal pathos, has now been imbued with a positive valuation. N o w death is not described as merely present in things, as itself lurking in them like a beast o f prey ready to spring, but the things themselves long f o r death, for completion and an end. This means that the inner entropic or death principle inherent in things also now stands separate and distinct f r o m the uncompleted one, w h o has here become the Enemy. When horror strikes the hearts o f men, it comes not f r o m death but f r o m an intuition o f the uncompleted. Since the framework is essential f o r obtaining a correct focus on the meaning o f the stories it would probably be best to quote extensively about this point also:

20

THE FRAMEWORK

Unser Ende steht allezeit vor uns, gewusst oder ungewusst, Ende ist unsere Hoffnung. Es ist kein Ding und keine Kreatur, die nicht nach Ende begehren: Ende ist geschworen bei dem Lebendigen von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit. Und wo das Grauen nach unseren Herzen greift, da geht es nicht aus vom Toten, sondern vom Unbeendeten. (378) These statements are meant as reliable commentary, since the author himself is vouching for them in a non-relativized context; and thus it would be legitimate to subject the question of a subconscious death-desire to a stringent scientific proof. But that would at this point take us too far afield into the area of experimental psychology. And so, for the present, let the comments on this point be limited to what Bergengruen says and not to whether it is true or not: the desire for the end has its source primarily in God, who has decreed it for the entire universe; it is also a built-in tendency in all things; in rational beings it is the goal they are seeking, whether they are aware of it or not. That the title chosen as appellation for God — by the author of the Book of Revelations — is "the Living One", signifies that death and the end of time seem tragic only within the time-space framework; actually abundance of life is contained not within the universe but beyond it, in God. That is why created things, including man, consent to and consciously or subconsciously approve of their end. The diabolic and transcendental nature of the uncompleted revenant is still more emphatically underscored because he is contrasted with "Ihm, der ohne Ende ist" — the last words of the book. Above he was shown to be separate from mankind as the Enemy without restrictive qualification and from the entropic principle in things, because it is natural whereas his condition is unnatural. The closing words of the book set him in a paradoxical polarity to Christ: "Lasse ihn stürmen, lasse ihn umreiten, den Unbeendeten. Gott wolle uns beenden, dich und mich, geliebte Frau, in Ihm, der ohne Ende ist." The paradox centers on the fact that both titles "der Unbeendete" and "Er, der ohne Ende ist" are derived from the word Ende, and yet signify opposite poles of being. God and He, who is without end are not directly equated, it is clear that Christ is meant. Such "in Him" formulations exist not only in scriptural tradition but also in Church orations down to our day. 12 Christ is conceived as the Logos, having the fullness of the immutably and supremely living divine substance. He is without end, because he needs no completion; he is by nature complete. In him there is no transformation or shadow of change. He is forever outside the category of time, and so without beginning or end, because of the perfection of his nature — ("Amen, I say to you, before Abraham was, I 12 Missale Romanum (Mechlinburg, 1880), 264: "per ipsum, et cum ipso et in ipso est tibi Deo Patri omnipotent omnis honor et gloria." (through him, and with him and in him are to Thee God the Father Almighty all honor and glory.)

21

THE FRAMEWORK

am" [John 8:58]. ("Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away" [Luke 21:33]). "Der Unbeendete", on the contrary, has never and will never experience any end, not because of the superabundance of his nature but because of a privative condition which hampers him from attaining even that amount of being which is suitable and necessary for his particular nature. Thus the endless striving: he is not and cannot become what he would and should be. He is doomed to storm about listlessly because he lacks an internal moderating force which would provide him with adequate equilibrium. This internal strength is unattainable through his own power and will never be given to him, because he is "der Unerlöste, der Verfluchte" (378). It is no coincidence that the book ends with God and Ihm, der ohne Ende ist. The theme of the book as portrayed in prologue arid epilogue is the problem of completion as posed by the entropic doom in things and by the listless incompleteness of evil, which although contrary to nature is also a phenomenon manifested in nature. But one of'the standard proofs for the existence of God is precisely that from motion, in the sense of any change whatever. In spite of Kant, if it can be observed that the universe in itself is incomplete and in process of disintegration, it is not a false leap of logic to say that it must rest on a type of being which is complete and in which there is no disintegration. Rilke, in the poem already cited, observed the same phenomenon: "Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt. / Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen:" and he drew the same conclusion: "Und doch ist einer, welcher dieses Fallen / unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält." Thus the "Hymnus ad Nonam" sings to God: "Rerum, Deus, tenax vigor, / immotus in Te permanens, / lucis diurnae tempora / successibus determinans" [God, of all things the holding strength / remaining motionless in Yourself / you determine in proper sequence / the motion of the light of day]. 13 The role of the postulated du is also clarified in the epilogue. Among the statements of the prologue which now appear in a new light is this one: "Leergeworden, findet Hand zu Hand auch im Finstern. Vermag sie es nicht, ist ihr Urteil gesprochen." In the closing chapter this becomes simply the imperative: "Gib mir deine Hand", accompanied by the commands of solicitude: "Tritt nicht ans Fenster. Sieh nicht hin", which are spoken as a warning against allowing oneself to be mesmerized by the doings of the unredeemed, accursed Enemy, who is named as such in the next sentence. The imperative "Gib mir deine Hand" denotes a decision and an action; for redemption and deliverance from judgment — "Ihr Urteil" - do not result from thoughts and imaginings but are made possible only by decisive action. 13

" H y m n u s ad Nonam: Rerum, Deus, tenax Vigor", in

1828), 48.

Breviarium Romanum

(Paris,

22

THE FRAMEWORK

Hand is part-for-the-whole metonymy and signifies the entire person. Leergeworden, findet is a traditional antithetic thought pattern of western mysticism; witness John of the Cross' Dark Night of the Soul, wherein the path to vision is darkness;14 or Christ's admonition, "He that loves his life shall lose it, and he that hates his life in this world shall keep it unto eternal life" (John 12:25); and the doctrine of asceticism and self-abnegation in order to attain Christian perfection. 15 Still, salvation does not come from one's own act considered as efficient cause: "Gott wolle uns beenden, dich und mich, geliebte Frau, in Ihm der ohne Ende ist." God alone can give completion. And this completion is not obtained except in company with one's fellow man. The "Geliebte Frau" now comes to her proper role. Since the dedication "Meiner Frau" she was not mentioned by name in the entire text, and only by means of pronouns in the prologue, epilogue, and intermezzo, in order to avoid any obtrusiveness which would have carried over to the detriment of the stories. The adjective Geliebte is the crowning glory of the wife, and in the theological context one is reminded of John the Apostle's dictum that "God is Love" (1 John 4:8). The word Frau at the extreme ends of the book could be called a one-word frame to the book. The epilogue also makes a statement about the reason for telling these stories of an extinct family, a few ruins in the forest, and a confused night-time activity: . . . weil in jeder Sage ein Stück Tod verborgen ist, wie ein Stück Tod verborgen ist in jedem Blütenkelch und in jeder Traube, in jedem Wassertropfen und in jedem Eisenteil, und weil der Tod allein es ist, der dieses süsse Leben kräftig macht, schmackhaft und herbe, Zungen und Zähnen eine Freude. (379)

14 St. John of the Cross, The Dark Night of the Soul, in Collected Works, ed. Kieran Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodriguez (New York, 1964), 77: "We are not discussing the mere lack of things; this lack will not divest the soul, if it craves for all these objects. We are dealing with the denudation of the soul's appetites and gratifications; this is what leaves it free and empty of all things [italics added] even though it possesses them. Since the things of the world cannot enter the soul, they are not in themselves an encumbrance or harm to it; rather, it is the will and appetite dwelling within it that causes the damage." is Thomas a Kempis, De Imitatione Christi: Libri Quatuor (Madrid, 1866), Vol II, p. 106: "Nihil Deo acceptius, nihil tibi salubrius in mundo isto, quam libenter pati pro Christo Siquidi enim aliud melius et utilius saluti hominum, quam pati x fuisset, Christus utique verbo et exemplo ostendisset." (Nothing is more acceptable to God, nothing more beneficial to you in this world, than to suffer willingly for Christ For if there had been anything better and more useful for the welfare of men than to suffer, Christ would surely have shown it by word and example). Or more recently: Richard Cardinal Cushing: The Servant Church: Pastoral Letter (Boston, 1966), 32: "There can be no rebirth in Christ unless and until there has been a dying to everything that is not Christ. Crucifixion must precede Resurrection."

THE FRAMEWORK

23

The sweet-life / tart-death contrast is expressed in imaged words appealing to the sense of taste and evincing a reaction almost like biting into a Macintosh apple. Note that the objects of which the prologue had predicated the immanence of the Rodenstein spirit are now said only to contain a death. The legends too are said to contain not explicitly the Rodenstein spirit but merely a death. For in the epilogue the spirit is persona non grata, whereas death is downright tasty. The reason is that in the epilogue the spirit has been stripped of all his functions as personified storm, regional spirit, messenger of God and the night, including that as symbol of natural entropy. In fact the Uncompleted One, Enemy, Unredeemed and Accursed, of the epilogue is no longer even explicitly identified with the Rodenstein rider, so abstracted is he of all qualities other than the diabolic. Stylistically the epilogue makes economical use of the means of expression, as can be seen from the above analysis. It is linked with the prologue right from the first sentence by a strategem of rhythm which is effective and yet not likely to attract attention: namely, the use of the four-word breath-group predominant in the prologue: "Ich habe dir erzählt manche Stunde hindurch." U 'U 'U ' / ' U 'U U '

A caesura comes after erzählt because normally the participle is at the end of a clause and because the stress on manche changes the rhythm from iambic to trochaic, comparable to changing step while marching: some loss of time is necessitated by the execution of the change in timing. Other breathgroups of the first paragraph consist mostly of five short words which produce an impression not unsimilar to the four-word group. The spoken style — with imperatives and questions addressed to the listener — is another point of contact. And a further splicing device linking the two elements of the frame is the re-utilization in the epilogue of themes, terminology, an entire sentence, and almost an entire paragraph from the prologue. In general the rhythm of the epilogue contains less breaking action from counter-balanced accents. There is no tarrying by the wayside with superfluous examples; the ideas are hammered out logically one by one as the thought hastens to a conclusion. Chapter 18, "Das wütende Heer" (The Raging Army), 223-24, constitutes, rather unexpectedly, a third part of the framework on an equal footing with the prologue and epilogue and directly connected with them. The chapter is likewise composed of poetic prose and the general expository situation is identical: the author as a speaker directly addresses the du of the framework. Concomitant connecting features are: (a) imperatives and questions: "Wache auf! Wie kannst du schlafen!" (b) preponderance of short breath-

24

THE FRAMEWORK

groups — three, four, and up to six words: "Ist denn heute Allerseelen? " "Hörst du die Reiter?" (c) recurrence of motifs from the external framework: "Heute ist Herbst." "Gib mir deine Hand." The general coincidence in structure and style demonstrates with sufficient clarity that the chapter is a centerpiece of the framework. The purpose for such a middle piece is in part to reenforce the outer frame and underscore the basic conception of the book as a unity and not a collection of unrelated short stories. A second function for this lyrical intermezzo is to afford relief from the more impersonal narrative situation maintained in the short stories. The change of tempo and attitude is meant to stimulate and arouse; thus the opening words "Wache auf! Wache auf!" are addressed to the reader as well as to the second-person of the framework. The chapter is located slightly beyond the middle of the book; and at approximate quarter distances, chapters 9 and 25 serve a similar function of offering variety by a switch of narrator-stance or narrator. Yet they cannot be considered a part of the framework, because its essential distinctive criteria, as determined above, are: (a) the implied author as speaker and a directly addressed second-person listener (unobtrusively but certainly identifiable as the author's wife), and (b) poetic prose rather than a narrative. The present chapter itself, though clearly identifiable as part of the framework, differs significantly from the prologue and epilogue both in form and content. The apparition is no longer a single spirit with multiple characteristics as in the prologue or the transcendental spirit of incompletion, of evil as such, of the epilogue, but an entire army. In the intermezzo there is no mention of its leader, he plays no role whatever. The army itself is described in terms suggesting its identity with the historical and legendary Rodenstein army, which featured in previous stories. This is done especially by the word bäuerlich (223) which recalls the class (den Stand) of the medieval Rodenstein troops as they appeared in the prologue: "Daheim liegt mein Acker brach" (12) and "sein Bauernverstand" (13); but also by the distributive use of adjectives: "Verzweifelte und Getroste, Stumpfe, Böse und Fürchtende" (despairing and confident ones, calloused, angry and fearful ones, 223), which enumeration though lexically different recalls structurally that of the first battle scene: "die alten und die jungen, die bewahrten und die unerprobten, die raschen und die verdrossenen" (15). Yet no descriptive trait is stipulated which would categorically restrict the army to a particular time or place. "Harte Manner sah ich, bäuerlich gefurchte Gesichter, mit Schmutz bedeckt . . . Junge waren darunter, halbe Kinder noch. 'Ist das Sterben?' fragten ihre aufgerissenen Augen. Schemengrau war ihre besudelte Kleidung." This is the Rodenstein army, but it can also be any army up to and including World War I, when the peasantry still constituted the bulk of the general population and technological means of

THE FRAMEWORK

25

warfare still had not rendered the cavalry obsolete. They can be any army, and thus they can be transformed into a very particular one, and the central meaning of this chapter, as a matter of fact, is contingent on their specific identification. Sieh, wir moderten nicht, verscharrt von hastigen Spaten, sieh, wir warten auf euch, euch alle, die uns verraten. Jeder ist uns Verräter, den Kugel und Splitter und fetzender Draht und gasige Wolke v e r s c h o n t . . . Sieh, wir . . . rufen und pochen und rüttlen, bis unser Geheiss euch ereilt, euch alle, die einst mit uns das trommelnde Feuer, das schimmelnde Brot, die Nässe, das Stroh und Geziefer geteilt. (224) The war they speak of can be only World War I as experienced by Bergengruen himself and his entire generation. As a gloss on the words "verscharrt von hastigen Spaten" and "fetzender Draht", two incidents from a contemporary autobiography (that of Ernst Toller) 16 may serve to illustrate vividly the horror these two things involved for the soldier of World War I. Shallow grave — once while digging deeper at the bottom of a trench his spade became entangled in something soft, the entrails of a shallowly buried corpse. 17 Toller, in his teens, impressive and sensitive, never forgot this incident; all through his life his unshakable tenet remained a revulsion for bloodshed whether in the name of the state or — and he was a Marxist - of the revolution. 18 Barbed wire — on a second occasion he heard for three days and three nights, the screams, the incessant, almost maddening cry of desperation of a soldier of unknown nationality caught in the barbed wire of no-man's land, where rescue was impossible. Finally silence came, and the man's death was a relief to everyone. 1 9 Such incidents show that barbed wire and a shallow grave point with particular drasticness to World War I. Other unmistakable indicators are "Trommelfeuer" and "gasige Wolke". The intermezzo is a vivid vision of the dead companions of World War I calling the author and all who have survived to join them. The nightly haunting will not cease "ehe nicht jeglicher ledige Sattel den Reiter wieder gefunden" (till every empty saddle has found its rider). "Unser wart ihr und unser seid ihr, wir lassen, wir lassen euch nicht" (224). There is a heart-rending pathos in this pleading of the dead comrades, in their appeal to the guilty consciences of those who survived, which recalls Wolfgang Borchert's "Stimmen in der Nacht" 20 or the conscience16 17 18 19 20 der

Ernst Toller, Eine Jugend in Deutschland (Amsterdam, 1933). Toller, Jugend, 75-76. Toller, Man and the Masses, trans. Louis Untermeyer (New York, 1924), 102-03. Toller, Jugend, 74-75. Wolfgang Borchert, "Stimmen sind da in der Luft - in der Nacht", in Draussen vor Tür: und ausgewählte Erzählungen (Hamburg, 1964), 61-64.

26

THE FRAMEWORK

stricken returning soldier (Heimkehrer) of "Draussen vor der Tür" 21 with his haunting feeling of responsibility for the deaths of his fellow-soldiers. In fact, the affinity between "Draussen vor der Tür" and "Das wütende Heer" goes beyond individual similarities, it is one of genre. Borchert's expressionistic drama consists of a series of visionary tableaus symbolic of the cruel contours of modern existence, of the mad prolixity of death in war: the old man (God) bewailing his post-Nietzschean children, who to their own misfortune no longer heed him; and the various death-symbols: the oversated, belching undertaker with his saying "Wie die Fliegen" (like flies, they are dying like flies); the grisly xylophone-player hammering frenetically with protheses on an instrument made of bones - thigh, leg, and armbones for the bass notes and finger-bones for the high ones; the streetsweeper with his broom that goes tschk-tschk. Borchert's imagery has a grotesque originality and intensity all its own, yet a close scrutiny of Bergengruen's "Das wütende Heer" shows this third modification of the Rodenstein apparitions to be similar in genre to the individual components of Borchert's drama, namely a vision of those slain in war and their claim on the conscience of the living. The intermezzo is structured as follows: An initial statement, repeated at the end with a reversal of significance, frames in the entirety: "Du musst diese Nacht mit mir wachen: du bist von den Lebenden." It is reversed as follows: "Du hörst sie nicht. Du siehst sie nicht. Lasse mich allein. Schlafe. Du bist von den Lebenden." In the first case, the alertness of the night vigil is a task for the living. At the end it pertains only to the dead, i.e. those who have fallen on the field of battle, and those who in a foretaste of death have survived the horrors of war and will be haunted all their life by the remembrance of the dead. This realm is inaccessible to the living, i.e. those who have not experienced war. The vigil statements recall New Testament passages of Christ's night watches with his drowsy disciples (Matthew 26:38, 40, 45). The starting point, as in prologue and epilogue, is acoustic. Here, however, the real material sounds which induce the visionary phenomena retain more distinctly their original identity and concreteness and there ensues a sharp polarity between the objectively concretized natural sounds and their imaginatively interpretative transfiguration. Thus the storm becomes "Kommandogeschrei und Schnauben"; the vibration of electric wires evokes the notion of horses' hooves brushing against them; the whirlings of the storm seem to have raised up dead souls; and crucial to the scene the sentence "Irre Mondstrahlen zuckten bisweilen hinter jagenden Sturmwolken hervor" is translated by the imagination into "Harte Manner sah ich...". 21

Borchert, 9-59.

THE FRAMEWORK

27

There is a progressive intensification of the vision by transfer of the medium of perception and skillful deployment of rhetorical means. The transition in sensory medium is hearing — seeing — recognition: "Hörst du sie? Fürchtest du dich? Aber ich, ich habe sie gesehen." "Und ich habe sie erkannt." (224). Note the contrast between du and ich as explained above. Repetition is one intensifying figure used: "Hörst du . . . ? " seven times; forms of sehen eight times; with a crescendo and diminuendo: "ich habe gesehen", "ich sah", "sieh" (the imperative, spoken three times by the apparitions), "Siehst du?" , "Du siehst sie nicht"; forms of erkannte, in the first person only, eight times. Hyperbole, animation and sonal association occur: "Die Wolken haben den Mond gefressen". Gefressen is hyperbole and animation; sonal association is: Wolken-Wölfe (? ). 22 Strongly dynamic verbs are used at the crystalization point of the apparition: ächzen, prasseln, sausend, stieben. The words Da! Da sind sie! have the effect of a conjuration. A new interpretation is, as could be expected, given to statements borrowed from the prologue and the epilogue. "Heute ist Herbst" is shifted from its signification of natural entropy to an associative evocation of the souls in purgatory: "Jede Herbstnacht heisst Allerseelen" (223). And the sentence "Gib mir deine Hand" is suddenly reversed in a manner reminiscent of the words of Christ returning from limbo to Mary Magdalen (John 20:17): "Nein, rühre mich nicht an! Deine Hand ist die einer Lebendigen! " (No, don't touch me! Your hand is that of a living person, 224). A veteran who survived stands like a living corpse, under the taboo of death. At least one connective statement is worded in coded language: "alles Glockenschlagen ist ertrunken im Geheul" ( All bell-ringing is drowned out in the howling.) This is a cryptic formulation of the motto and the main theme of the book: "Es gibt keine Zeit mehr". A key to the decodification is provided in the first short story of the book: "Draussen im Felde ging das Leben ohne Zeit hin und ohne Glockenschlag" (On military campaigns life went by without time and without the tolling of bells, 14). Associations based on reemployment of words and structures also occur. In the prologue the hooves struck sparks from the hidden moon, here they set the wires vibrating and, crust-covered, they trample through the treetops. The rotary motion of threshers, an image evoked by the circling winds of the prologue, is recalled by the words: "Sieh, wir kreisen des Nachts in Herbst und in Sturm um eure Gehäuse" (224). In the prologue the wording was: "Winde stieben aus Wäldern, heulen um unser Haus"(7). A puzzling line at first is: "Handpferde, ledige, führten sie mit sich" 22 Cf. Rene Wellek and Austin Wairen, Theory of Literature (New York, 1956), 175: "Words not only have a meaning but evoke the meanings of words related either in sound, in sense, or in derivation."

28

THE FRAMEWORK

(They were leading with them extra horses, without riders). Yet, once understood, it becomes even more uncanny: Jeden einzelnen habe ich erkannt. Handpferde, ledige, führten sie mit sich, ja, auch die Pferde habe ich erkannt. Ich erkannte die Stute, erkannte den Sattel, erkannte die leeren, gespenstisch in Winde schlenkernden Bügel, ja, ich erkannte des Vorderzeugs rostige Schnalle, erkannte geflickte Zügel. This is the implicit author's own regiment and his own horse with its empty saddle, never at rest, never complete until he has mounted. At this point the resemblance to Borchert's tableaus is the closest; this too is a death symbol, grotesque and striking. A difference, however, is that Borchert's symbols are invented purely for their symbolic function, whereas this symbol of the ghostly regiment and empty saddles is still connected with remembered reality. Borchert, in other words, is an Expressionist; what Bergengruen is still remains to be determined. As if to confirm the poetic nature of the framework, metre and endrimes are actually used for nineteen lines of the long central paragraph. The lines are of irregular length, varying in pairs from five to ten feet, mostly dactylic with some interspersed trochees; they are not divided into verses but are run together as in prose. Assonance, internal rimes and the dactylic metre combine to produce phonetically the triple effect of horses galloping, the wind howling, and spirits beckoning and moaning: . . . die krustenbedeckten Hufe / der Pferde. Hörst du die Reiter? Sie murmeln, sie raunen, sie rufen: / "Sieh, wir moderten nicht, verscharrt von hastigen Spaten, / sieh, wir warten auf euch, euch alle, die uns verraten. (223) Note the long «-sounds of Hufe, murmeln, and rufen. Other accented vowels are also unusually long in value and together with the echo-effect of endrimes (e.g. Spaten, verraten) and internal rimes (jeder Verräter, jeglicher ledige) suggest most weirdly the howling and calling of phantoms. The word lediger appears three times, at beginning, middle, and end of the paragraph, for it is a key word. The most noteworthy deviation from the dactylic rhythm to the trochaic represents the action of the traitors who are still alive and not galloping with the ghostly army: Jeder, der zeugt und schafft und atmet und isst / und eines ledigen, harrenden Sattels vergisst. 'U U 'U 'U 'U U ' U'U'UU'UU'UU' Instead of galloping ( u u ) the traitors in line one are living ( u ; German: u ), that is they are engaged in actions involving binary motion:

THE FRAMEWORK

29

procreating, working (for instance, the blacksmith), breathing (inhaleexhale), and eating. In the entire rimed section, only three other deviations from the dactyl extend more than one foot: Fruchte prasseln, verscharrt von hast-, and einst mit uns das trom-. Here it may seem that rhythmic analysis is being carried to a ridiculous extremity; no point in this regard should be overstressed. Admittedly, from the rhythmic schemata alone and without prior recourse to the lexical and grammatical content, no inductions whatever could be made as to the effect intended or induced by the rhythm. For one thing, a binary schematization of stress and non-stress is merely an approximation since there are more than two levels of accentuation and length. But even with perfect precision of tabulation, raw linguistic or phonetic data alone without the aid of content-connected (inhaltsbezogen) knowledge, would leave the researcher completely in the dark as to the denotation and connotation of his material. Thus, any rhythmic analyses included here are admittedly pointed out posteriorly to recognition of lexical content.

3 "THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE OF THE BARON VON RODENSTEIN"

This is structurally an intriguing story. Its style includes a gliding and shifting perspective, which creates many minor transition points, but basically it consists of six major sections, each of which is a distinct episode or tableau. The major sections and their transition points are: A. The Forest and its Spontaneous Generation of Ghost Stories. B. The Reconnoitering Expedition. "Der gestrige Abend", 11. C. TOD. The Captain's Background, Financial Difficulties and Decision to Die. "Einer flüsterte: Er sieht aus wie ein Toter", 13. D. The Battie. "Da flattert vorn etwas", 15. E. L E B E N . The Reward from the Emperor. "Der Hauptmann stand vor dem Kaiser", 17. F. The Return Home: Vision of the Empire, and Death, ABERTOD. "Immer kleiner ist der Zug der Heimkehrenden geworden", 18. A B E R L E B E N . The legends about the Lord of Rodenstein. "Nicht sehr lange danach fangen die Bauern an zu reden", 20. One function of the forest-description is to lead the reader into the type of environment where legends and ghost-stories originate. It is the OdenForest of today as seen by the implicit author in the vicinity of the Rodenstein ruins, an enchanting if not enchanted forest. Trees of all types — hard and soft woods, oaks, beeches, firs, pines, etc. intermixed — tower above a wild tangle of underbrush. Even on hot days it is always damp and cool here. This dark, damp world is illuminated by a few skillful strokes of color gleaming exotically from forest objects whose very mention evokes mystery: schwarze Erlen, rote Beeren, griinumwucherte Steine, braune Schnecken, rostrot. It is not a static world, but one filled with silent activity: Rote Beeren leuchten giftig durch riesige Farnkräuter, kleinblättriger Efeu schlingt sich dicht und zäh um die Stämme. Wasser sickert zwischen moosdunklen Felsblöcken, schwarzgelbe Feuersalamander huschen über die grünumwucherten Steine, handgrosse, braune Schnecken kriechen in Scharen

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über die Wege, und fällt einmal ein Sonnenstrahl in die Dämmerung, so flammen sie rostrot auf wie Bruchstücke von vergessenen Mordwaffen. (10) The entire Section A maintains a constant perspective. What changes is the subject-matter under observation. In the form of reliable and authoritative commentary the sharp eye of the implicit author moves like a camera lense from subject to subject. Stripped to a skeleton, the content is as follows: The strange forest is a breeding-place for stories. The stories are told most authentically by the peasants. The stories told by the peasants all center on the landscape around the Rodenstein ruins. These stories deal with, and such ruins have an aftermath of life which clings to them long after the more fragile human hands which built them no longer exist. All the foregoing factors make the Rodenstein forest indeed "ein wunderlicher Wald" — a strange forest. On the grammatical level, the long introductory paragraph, with all its oblique relationships of phrases and subordinate clauses and other syntactic complexities, is itself linguistically a tangled forest. Nor is it a coincidence that the sentence which contains the metaphor intending to show the feasibility of the ghostly horseman's preternatural life is compoundcomplex, and has eight subordinate clauses and two loosely connected phrases. The point which the author is trying to make lacks plausibility; this is reflected in the evidence of grappling with the language. The metaphor itself limps: "sie ahnen, dass die Lampe weiterbrennen muss, solange ihr Öl reicht, das von Ewigkeit ihr zugemessene, auch wenn sie selber zerschlagen wurde: der Stunde zu, nach der keine Zeit mehr sein wird" (11). Generally a metaphor is a vivid illustration by a fact or principle drawn from a different field of actuality but manifesting a structure of reality analogical to that which one wishes to say. Thus, an effective metaphor should be sound in its own area of reality. But here both metaphorical poles are literally impossible; a lamp.cannot burn on after it has been smashed, any more than a man can live on after death. The function of the metaphoric device here is thus not proof but rhetorical transliteration into concrete terms of the abstract notion of a natural life-span assigned from eternity and not violable by an end in time. The feasibility is not increased but the vividness and complexity of presentation is. In content, Section A contains information valuable for an understanding of the book as a whole. Since the author is implicit behind the commentary, his recommendation that the true way of finding-out about the Rodenstein tales is not from guidebooks or collections of legends but by sitting down over a drink witn the peasants until their heavy hearts are slowly washed to their tongues, we can assume that the author did just that, and that he is telling us indirectly about the genesis of the Rodenstein Book, and we can further infer that some characteristics of the stories told by the

32

"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

peasants will be reflected in the literary version. Thus, the following statements can be considered as probable guideposts to the structure of the book as a whole: Freilich, der eine wird dies berichten, der andere jenes, und nicht immer will sich das eine zum anderen fügen. Die Geschichten, die sie erzählen, setzen einander nicht fort; oft genug widersprechen sie auch einander und scheinen sich wechselweise aufzuheben. (11) From this we are led to expect that the form of the Rodenstein Book too will aim not at a harmonious mosaic but at conflicting variations of the theme. Another point of content is valuable because it focuses on a feeling which provides one explanation for the legends. The sight of the artifacts of bygone generations causes the imagination to take wing in wonderment; the men of the past themselves are no longer here, but the concrete evidence of their former existence turns the mind to them. Expressed literarily, this reads as follows: Ein Stück Leben, ein letzter Überrest Lebens — oder ist es nur ein Hauch, ein Nachhall, ein Abschein jenes Lebensrestes? — klammert sich an Dinge, die fester und dauerkräftiger sind als die Hände, die sich dereinst nach ihnen ausstreckten, und bleibt an diesen Dingen haften, auch wenn für unsere menschliche Meinung jede Kette zerrissen ist. (11) Old Castles and ruins are natural stimuli for man's myth-making instinct. This will contrast with contributing factors in other stories. In the present story, its function is to prepare the reader for the flashback which follows immediately (in section B). The device employed for the change of scene is: fog. It falls like a curtain and the setting changes under cover of it. Actually the curtain of fog is never again lifted till after the battle against the Saracens, i.e. at the end of Section D of the outline; it merely becomes more or less transparant. The flashback itself is a considerable feat of linguistic acrobatics. The transitional paragraph opens with the sentence already quoted and tagged with the label A in our schema of the gliding subject-matter. The sentence after it sets the reader side by side with the implicit author-observer looking at the Rodenstein landscape not in general but on one particular occasion, then suddenly it covers everything with an impervious gray curtain of fog: Es ist ein wunderlicher Wald, dieser Wald um die rodensteinischen Burgtrümmer. Alles hat der Nebel verschlungen, Berge, Buchen, Eichen, Tannen, Farnkraut und Steinblöcke. (11) It is not the first sentence which establishes the immediate optical standpoint but the second. The first could be a general statement, and it is of

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itself not definitely and exclusively visual. It becomes so only retroactively, with the words: "Alles hat der Nebel verschlungen." In other words, the same statement which establishes the particular visual standpoint is the one which with one fell sweep wipes out visual perception. The enumeration of nouns, instead of evoking the objects named, wipes them out of existence one by one. This gives the opaqueness of the fog greater density. The objects are there but "Alles ist einförmig, dicht, grau, feucht und kühl. Haben denn hier einmal Berge und Wälder gestanden?" (11). The enumeration of adjectives parallels that of the nouns. It is as if the eye with each word prods at the fog, attempting to penetrate it. The question expresses awe and bafflement at the disappearance of the scene. "Der gestrige Abend" marks the start of the new setting, seven centuries in the past and perhaps a thousand miles from the Oden-Forest, though the reader cannot know that yet. Der gestrige Abend, an dem die Reiter sich zu kurzem Schlaf in ihre Mäntel wickelten, war doch klar und nebelfrei. Er zeigte einen schwarzen Himmel, mit silbernen Nadelköpfen tausendfach besteckt, schwelende Feuer, Zelte, Wagen und Pferde. Aber keinen Berg, keinen Baum, keinen Busch, ebenes Land, fremd und unendlich. / Fröstelnd in nebliggrauer Dämmerung waren die Männer ausgeritten. Die Morgenfeuchtigkeit blinkte stumpf auf blindem Metal. Gerade den Nebenmann konnte jeder Reiter erkennen, den rechten, den linken, mehr nicht. (11) The time shift is from a fog-shielded present to a fog-shielded past morning long ago, which is identified only in terms of a clear previous evening, itself firmly determinated as to time and place. The four parallel sets of enumerations could almost remind one of rows of rivets on adjacent steel plates. As a matter of fact, part of their function does seem to be the riveting together of the two scenes. The pivotal axis for the change of scene is the statement "Alles ist einförmig, dicht, grau, feucht und kühl". This statement represents common ground between the two scenes; it is literally true in the same sense for both. The next sentence "Haben denn hier einmal Berge und Wälder gestanden?" is in its original intent a rhetorical question implying, for the Rodenstein setting, the answer: "Yes, they stood here, but the fog has totally eradicated them from view." In the new foreign and historical setting, the implied answer would be negative: "No, the clear night revealed no mountain, no tree, etc." The switching device is the word doch-, for it establishes a contrastive tension to the preceding sentences, retroactively changing their field of application, yet within its own sentence the doch is linked inseparably and likewise contrastively to "der gestrige Abend" and implies "der heutige Tag". Thus, an ambivalence of the doch is part of the mechanism for the scene-shift; for doch by nature may contrast the statement in which it stands with the one which precedes it, or the words which follow it with

34

"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

previous words in the same sentence. Here it does both: it establishes a double contrast of the present to the clear previous evening: the present of the authorial commentator, and the historical present-time expressed in the narrative by the imperfect tense. The firm fulchrum which sets Section B in the historical past is "der gestrige Abend", which is given its definite locus by the time and space vectors: "an dem die Ritter sich . . . wickelten" and "fremd und unendlich". Through the doch, the gestrig also acquires a double meaning. As opposed to the narrative present, it means a point of time hundreds of years ago, which from a metaphysical perspective is but as yesterday (somewhat in the sense of the scriptural quotation: "A thousand years are to the Lord like a single day." Cf. Ps 90:4 and 2 Peter 3:8). In reference to scene B, it has the literal meaning of "yesterday" or "one day previously". Thus, the flashback, from the point of view of narrative sequence, first spans several hundred years and then returns one day toward the present. The chief plane of perspective in Section B is the collective awareness of the entire troop. The first words which reveal this are: "an dem die Reiter sich zu kurzem Schlaf in ihre Mäntel wickelten"; although in a third person context, the phrase "zu kurzem Schlaf' contains the experimental perspective of purpose within it. Thus the "previous evening", clear and free of fog, with the black sky pricked thousands of times with silver needle-heads, the fires, tents, wagons, and horses — this remembered opening in the curtain of all-pervasive fog of the present scene — is, since it coincides with the establishment of the collective third-person experiential perspective, also perceived in memory through the riders' eyes. This collective perspective is maintained as the chief plane of perception throughout Section B. Once established, this perspective is kept in force principally by statements expressing the thoughts of the group, words that imply perception, and collective quotations. The most direct method for maintaining the collective perspective is by expressing thoughts of the group: "Längst musste Mittag sein" (12); or "Sie kannten den Auftrag: vorreiten, erkunden, Gefangene einbringen. Aber waren denn die Türken zurückgegangen?" This is reinforced by all words or statements which imply perception: "jeder Laut stiebte dumpf und ängstlich auf und wurde ohne Widerhall vom Nebel verschlungen." Once the plane of perception is established, even sentences without specific mental or sensuous content are drawn within its sphere of influence and predicated subjectively: "Sie ritten schweigend weiter". Perhaps the most striking use of the collectiveperspective plane in this story is the device of collective quotation: "Unter den Leuten kam ein Argwohn auf. 'Wohin führt er uns' " etc. There are two such rather lengthy quotations. They do not represent the words of single individuals but are a synopsis of complaints stated by diverse members of the group. Each quotation performs an important expository task: the first

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describes the strange detour on which the Captain has led his troops. The second depicts his own distraught appearance and behavior; in other words, it reveals f r o m an outside perspective, namely as seen by his men, the tension and strain which the Captain's internal monologue (Section C) will show f r o m within. The principal deviation from the collective plane in Section B is the narrowing down of the perspective to that of individuals within the group. This occurs either distributively: "Gerade den Nebenmann konnte jeder Reiter erkennen" (12) or by singling out particular individuals: for example, when it is said that the young boy began singing " u m sich die Furcht zu vertreiben" we have a direct insight into his motivation. The words of the simile saying that his words fell into the fog "wie Hagebutten in den Teich" (12) are accordingly chosen f r o m a boy's range of experience. The standpoint is now completely individual and subjective; we are experiencing the event with the boy. Similarly, when the young Lieutenant Philipp von Bickenbach rides up to question the Captain, the focus is first objective and external and, by implication of the context, a collective perception: "Sein schmales, unbärtiges Gesicht war übernächtig und blass" (13). It then presents a hypothetical estimation of his mental state based on an external sign: "Er zögerte als befürchtete er eine Abweisung" (13). And finally it goes t o a completely internal focus: "Endlich überwand er sich" (13). In short, we have once again a sliding perspective. Other stylistic points to mention about Section B are: (a) the skillful combination of rhythm and g- and ^-alliteration to produce the effect of horses galloping on soft ground: "Und der Nebel frass Geräusche wie Gestalten; Hunderte von Hufen schlugen gedämpft gegen den Steppenboden, als liefen sie über Wolle. Pferdeschnauben, Lederknirschen, Klirren" (12). (b) thing-symbolism of the black waterhole as a portent of a dark inscrutable destiny. "Bei dem schwarzen Wasserloch war die erste Rast". Bergengruen does not belabor the point; the symbol speaks all the more clearly in its noncommital simplicity, (c) Most important of all: in Section B no insight is given into the mind of the Captain. This establishes a contrast with Section C, which is mainly stream of consciousness on his part. At one point in B, the all-knowing author, who directs the various perspectives like instruments of an orchestra, intervenes directly, but he shows us the Captain not f r o m within, but, though authoritatively, nevertheless f r o m the outside: "Farblos schien das Gesicht des Hauptmanns, des Herrn von Rodenstein; es lächelte böse, dieses doch gutmütige, einfache und bescheidene Gesicht." This is a departure f r o m the collective perspective. In the dense gray fog only one man on each side could recognize anyone else and note the pallor of his face or viciousness of his smile. Similarly the good qualities are attributed by the author, but he is speaking directly not about the Captain's character but about his face.

36

"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

The transition to Section C, a two-page internal monologue by the Captain is another example of shifting point-of-view., At the end of Section B, the collective quotation has described the Captain's strange appearance and behavior. Then one individual sums it up: "Einer flüsterte: 'Er sieht aus wie ein T o t e r ' " (13). This is followed by a paragraph of reliable commentary by the author: the man's peasant common sense has led to a correct judgment. Captain Rodenstein is a dead man: Denn nicht das ist der Tod, dass ein Bleibrocken Rüstung und Brust zerreisst oder dass ein geschärftes Stück Stahl durch Helm und Haut sich in Bein und Hirn frisst, sondern dass ein Mann seines Herzens Festigkeit prüft und spricht: "Ich trete aus der Zeit. Die Zeit zermalmt mich, meine Schultern wollen ihr Gewicht nicht mehr tragen. Darum will ich die Kette zerschneiden und will in die Unzeit gehen. (13) This touches on the central theme of the story, the first word of the title: Tod. Here death is not something physical, but it is the renunciation of life through despair. The final quotation is not directly from Rodenstein; it is part of the interpolated reliable commentary by the author concerning a mental decision after which any man can be classified as dead. Yet the next lines construe this as if it had been directly quoted from him and they place us fully in the internal monologue: "Narr, der er war: er hat geglaubt, mit seinem Aufbruch ins Feld der Zeit und all ihren Plackereien entronnen zu sein. Und anfangs, ja da war es auch, als habe er die Zeit zu Hause gelassen . . ." (13). From here on, except for one line, everything is internal monologue until the paragraph beginning "es ist, als seien . . . ". The exceptional line is: "Beute! Er lacht höhnisch auf, dass die Reiter hinter ihm zusammenfahren" (14). For a moment we are outside him and see the soldiers. An interesting twist within the monologue is that he becomes aware of the whispering of the men, which the reader has heard in Section B, and the two planes of perspective are counterposed. In content, the main point of Section C is that the Captain is threatened with the loss of all his family properties through indebtedness, and so is intentionally riding to death in a foolhardy attack against the enemy's mainguard. The concept of time is as a tangle of obligations, debts, and frustrations which restrict one like chains of a pendulum. The military campaign had been a temporary relief from such obligations: "Viele Augenblicke gab es, losgelöste, aber keine Zeit" (14). Now letters from home have brought the final bad news, and he has decided to die, taking all his men with him like his pagan ancestors of old. "Nun, Herrenlos zu teilen sind sie geschaffen. Hat das Schicksal es hart vor mit ihm, so soll ihnen nicht weicher gebettet werden" (15). The last paragraph of Section C reverts to the collective perspective: "Oder beginnt es schon zu dämmern? Niemand von den Reitenden weiss es. Hier ist keine Zeit mehr" (15). Section D, the battle scene, opens with a hypothetical statement,

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reproducing the startled and uncertain act of hearing in dense fog. "Da flattert vorn etwas auf wie ein erschrockener Schrei durch den Nebel ged ä m p f t . . . " (15). But already the next line is no longer hypothetical: "Gefiederte Pfeile schwirren vorüber". Here, then, we have sliding focus, this time in conjunction with the sense of hearing. The image " f l a t t e r t . . . a u f ' calls to mind the jumping of a game bird, and this is reinforced by the words gefiederte and schwirren of the next line. "Schatten flüchten, kaum Wahrgenommenes entschwindet." In the battle scene everything is veiled in silver-gray fog. Only individual figures will take shape at arm's distance away. The point of view is a double perspective, through the eyes of the Captain in particular and at the same time of his men; in other words, it combines the perspectives of Section B and C with the difference that C was mainly intro- and retrospective, whereas here both correspond in direct involvement in the sounds, shapes and actions of battle. The double perspective is established in the following lines: Der Herr von Rodenstein stösst einen Schrei aus, reisst die Klinge aus der Scheide — glanzlos, ein grauer Wasserstrahl, fährt die blanke durch den Nebel — er gibt ein Zeichen, er galoppiert, und alle Männer hinter ihm, die alten und die jungen, die bewährten und die unerprobten, die raschen und die verdrossenen, alle tun sie wie er: ziehen, schreien, galoppieren. (15) The words between the dashes evoke the Captain's plane of perspective, for he is seeing the sword in the manner described. As the others join in the action, their perspective also is activated. The enumerated adjectives have a distributive effect, adding to the concreteness and evoking a troop of definite individuals rather than a shapeless mass. Elsewhere a storm was compared to an attacking army; here the real army is compared to a storm: "Und plötzlich schüttert in dumpfem Dröhnen der Boden unter den Hufen. Gespenstisch prasselt der Sturm der Reiter durch das Weiche, Trübe, Wolkige" (16). This is a historical "wild and raging army". The final trochees and dactyl of "Weiche, Trübe, Wolkige" seem to imitate the sound of horses in rapid motion, whereas the first part had the more casual rhythm noted earlier. The height of the battle is described in short-breathed sentence parts: Wiehern, Brüllen, Kreischen, Rasseln — ist es nah, ist es fern? Gestalten tauchen auf, Umrisse, schattenhaft, verschwommen, für Augenblicke hebt sich ein bunter Turban aus dem Grau, ein hartes Gesicht, wüstensandfarben und sonnengelb, schwarze Augen, ein krummer Säbel, ein Pferdehals, reich geschmücktes Zaumzeug, Zeltspitzen, Rossschweifen und Halbmonde, gespannte Bogensehnen, geschwungene Axte, stürzende Leiber, leere Sättel. (16) In this depiction of hand-to-hand combat, the broken flow of the sentenceparts matches the chopping motion of the sword-strokes and the fleeting

38

"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH A N D SECOND-LIFE"

appearance of individual shapes out of the gray fog. Next follows the turning point of the battle, revealed by the noise of the frantic commands and foreign-tongued cries for help and for a moment there appears within the double perspectives a third and subordinate one, not reversing or replacing them but contained within them: that of the confused Turks, whom the fog prevents from assembling and from estimating the number of .the enemy who have broken through their defences: "Sind es hundert? Sind es tausend? Sind es abertausend? Es sind Unzählige. Woher kommen sie?" (16). This vividly depicted insight into the confusion of the Turks can be considered a perspective within a perspective, because it is an inference in the minds of the Captain and his men based on the enemy's outcry. As the battle ends, the double perspective is revealed as still effective in the lines: "Immer noch schreit und schlägt der Hauptmann, immer noch schreien und schlagen die Reiter um sich" (16). Just as their actions are parallel, so also were their battle impressions. The weather joins in celebrating the victory. The fog clears. A round red sunset turns the cloud-tatters into silken, gold-edged victory pennants and: . . .alle Vogelschreie sind Siegesfanfaren. "Sieg! Sieg!" schreit der Herr von Rodenstein. "Sieg." der Junker von Bickenbach, "Sieg!" schreien die Reiter, "Sieg!" quillt es, immer noch dumpf, aus den weichenden Nebelschwaden zurück.(16) Note the onomatopeia of the bird-like victory-cries (Sieg!). Now that the noise of battle is over, the high-pitched, single-noted piping of excited birds can be heard as it mingles with the men's shouts of joy. Section E begins directly without transition: "Der Hauptmann stand vor dem Kaiser. Das Zelt war ärmlich und k a h l . . . Der Herr von Rodenstein hatte sich dieses Zelt anders gedacht" (17). Everything in the Emperor's tent symbolizes a mixture of nobility and poverty. The blanket on his bed is brocade but threadbare, and the embroidery on it is frayed. The small white Bologneser dog is pure-bred, yet perhaps for that reason high-strung, restless, and with feverishly shining eyes. The table and writing desk are covered with scrolls of paper and parchment and spotted with flecks of ink and sealing wax to symbolize that the imperial position entails heavy responsibility, labor and care and is not merely a sinecure providing only advantages, wealth and glory. This contrasts with the opinion previously held by Captain Rodenstein. As a member of the impoverished lower nobility and an officer of little rank he had entertained the prejudice that the Emperor, the higher nobility and the top military staff were taking huge profits from the war, leaving little booty for the lower officers (14). This opinion paralleled that of the rank-and-file peasant-soldiers, whose own gains seemed to them negligible. The upper classes won honors, but they were simply taken away unrecompensed from the work of their fields. As

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two of them had said: "Gnadenketten und Schaumünzen wachsen für die H e r r e n . . . Daheim liegt mein Acker brach" (12). Now, Rodenstein is astonished at the Emperor's poverty. No direct insight is given into the Emperor's soul. Since the center of perspective lies outside him, namely in Captain Rodenstein, the reader also learns about him only from externals. Just as previously in Section B, where the center of perspective lay in the troops, Captain Rodenstein and Lieutenant Bickenbach had been characterized externally by their faces (12 and 13), so here too the Emperor's face appears as a mask both hiding and revealing the individual behind it: "Des Kaisers trocken-blasses Gesicht suchte zu lächeln" (17). There is a certain non-spontaneity about his actions and words; he speaks "wie widerwillig". The hands of the two men are also used as a sort of synecdochal indication of their different backgrounds and roles: "Seine müde, graue Hand umschloss mit mattem Druck die kräftigen, braunen Finger des Hauptmanns" (17). The reader is not confronted directly with two men, but isolated external features are made to represent the total character. The Emperor promises to pay all Rodenstein's debts and redeem his ancestral lands. He speaks in wooden tones, but what he says reveals a basic goodness. Overcome with emotion and disregarding all decorum, Rodenstein hides his face in the Emperor's cloak. This episode signifies "Life", the second word of the title, or the beginning of it. The next paragraph is principally acoustic, and what is most audible in it is the silence: "Jemand hustete; vielleicht mit einer kleinen Zurechtweisung. Draussen hörte man die Rufe der ablösenden Wache. Des Hündchens grosse Augen flogen von einem zum anderen" (17). The first two sentences are perceptions through the sense of hearing; the third is visual, and presents the little dog's reaction to the unusual acoustic and emotional situation. The dog thus serves as a sort of barometer indicative of the momentary emotional climate and as a substitute for direct psychological insight. "Der Kaiser fuhr dem Knienden mit der Hand über das Haar, als zause ein Unbeschäftiger in leichter Verlegenheit die Quasten seines Stuhles" (17). K- and ¿-alliteration call to mind the "heidnische Heerkönige" passage; the hand is again used as a chiffre; and the comparison stresses the remoteness, awkwardness, and paternalism of the Emperor. "Das blasse Gesicht lächelte." Again the face is used as a synecdochal substitute. Three times the restrictive modifier ein wenig is repeated with the adjectives spöttisch, gelangweilt, and traurig, to indicate the effete, excessively refined and decadent condition of Emperor and Empire. The Emperor's last statement (spoken, incidentally not by him, but by es, his face) "Ich armer Kaiser,.. .wer löst mich aus des Römischen Reiches und dieses mürben Leibes Pfandschaft?" (17) is a paraphrase of St. Paul in Romans 7:24. Section F, again, is a change of scene without transitional link. It depicts

40

"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

the journey homeward and death of Captain Rodenstein. It starts as the trip is almost over and the Hessian nobles and troops have gradually left the main body to return home. Basic to the structure of the section is the precise fixation of the geographic and locational progression; the plot and thought content and human interest material are deployed along this locational substructure. A second significant structural principle of the section is the careful introduction and control of the hypothetical mode of predication, which is, as we shall see, essential to the final form of the story. It is first introduced by the word wohl: "Und mancher Bejahrtere meint wohl, nun werde es Zeit, dass sich der Rodensteiner nach einer Frau umsehe..." (18). The subjunctive in the indirect discourse is quite normal and appropriate for its own passage, it lessens the importance of the content as fact or non-fact, stresses the saying and focuses on the speaker, on the human interest element, since this is the type of friendly farewell remark an older comrade might make and so it provides a fleeting view of a friendly human spirit — not on a directly psychological plane but as revealed in the spoken word. But at this point in the story it also serves a preparatory function, it softens the mode of predication away from the indicative, establishes a pattern for what is to follow. The word wohl sets the quotation twice removed from factual declaration, for it is not certain that anyone has actually said it. The setting for the next paragraph is the Kainsbach Valley. The perspective is wide-angled, the viewpoint collective; peasant men, women and children lining the streets observe the procession of the troops with their Captain riding at their head on a snow-white Arabian stallion. And now again control of the predicational mode becomes interesting: Von diesem Hengst wissen sie schon; der Bote, der des Herrn Rückkehr ankündigte, hat von ihm erzählt. Dies Tier hat einem grossen heidnischen Heerführer gehört, einem Manne, den der Herr selber vom Sattel schlug.// Aber, Gott weiss, wer das aufgebracht hat, die Leute meinen auch, es habe eine zauberische Bosheitskraft in sich, es sei gewohnt, dass ihm heidnische Worte in die Ohren geflüstert würden; nun die ausbleiben, wisse man nicht, wessen man sich von ihm zu versehen habe. (18) In both parts the statements are twice removed from direct presentation by the implicit author; the peasants are in both cases the knowers, but in the first case they have received their information from a reliable source, the courier, and it is of a factual and verifiable nature, while in the second the source is unknown and the postulations are strange and doubtful. Normally the subjunctive of indirect discourse can be used for statements which are probably true, as above, concerning the advisability of Rodenstein's marrying, but here, counterposed to the indicative in indirect discourse, serious doubt as to the factuality is suggested, without debilitating completely the prognostication of impending harm.

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41

From the Schnellert hilltop where his residence is, Rodenstein looks back. Below him the broad plain extends under the yellow afternoon sun and in the West glimmer the blue mountains on whose slopes the Rodenstein family castle rests. The gaily colored scene that follows is not visible to the naked eye, it is a vision in the inner one: "Sie ist dem Blick entzogen, und doch meint in dieser Stunde der Heimkehrende jeden einzelnen der roten Sandsteinblöcke usw.. . .wahrzunehmen. Und davor sieht er die hellgrünen Wiesentäler.. ."'(19). It is odd that this visionary paragraph contains far more color than the previous two pages which described actual scenes. Actually visible before him are only yellow and blue, but in his inner vision many colors appear: rot, hellgrün, schwärzlich, weiss, rotbraun, einförmig grau, weiss, rot, und blau, purpurn, golden (twice), and rot (twice) — sixteen colors in one paragraph. Yet on the previous page not a single color was explicitly mentioned except the white of the stallion, and in the scene in the Emperor's tent, where ample opportunity for coloration existed, the only colors named were the white of the dog, the gray hand and pale face of the Emperor and Rodenstein's brown fingers. Thus the threadbare brocade with the frayed embroidery, the faded pillows of the armchair and all other objects in the tent, even the ink on the parchments and papers, are of unspecified color. In fact, since the flashback of Section B, only three colors other than black and gray have been expressly named: the dark green mountains of the pagan Germanic lords, the sun-yellow face of the Turks, the silky, gold-rimmed clouds and red evening sun of the victory scene. Rodenstein's face was expressly farblos (colorless), Bickenbachs übernächtig und blass (drawn and pale). Otherwise there were only the black sky, the black waterhole, the black eyes of the Turks, the silver pin-heads of the sky, the gray, lustreless waterbeam of the sword, the gray fog, and the landscape despoiled by war, which contrasts with the present idyllic one: "Beute: wo Dörfer und feste Häuser in der Ebene lagen, da hat der Türke verkohltes Gebälk und nacktes, geschwärztes Mauerwerk zurückgelassen" (Booty: where villages and solid houses lay on the plain, the Turk had left behind only charred timber-work and naked, blackened masonry, 14). The relative absence of explicitly named color was not noticed on first reading, because many objects suggest their own colors. Re-examination shows that all expressly named colors in this story have a symbolic function. In the present paragraph they correspond to the technicolor in the dreams of the movie The Wizard of Oz.1 This is not a realistic landscape but an idyllic transfiguration of the Rodenstein hereditary lands in the mind of 1 The Wizard of Oz, motion picture, Metro Goldwyn Mayer, 1939, a Victor Fleming Production, starring Judy Garland, and Ray Bolger. Adapted from the book The Wizard of Oz, by Lyman Frank Baum (London, 1939).

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"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

their exultant owner, to whom they have been returned after immersion in debt and mortgages and who himself is returning to them after long months on the field of battle. The colors, together with the fields and meadows, houses and gardens, birds, flowers, and trees, present an idealized picture radiant with peace, joy, and abundance. The vision culminates in the exuberant association of the colorful patchwork of pastures and plowflelds with the red-and-white checkered Rodenstein coat-of-arms and an exultant sense of possession: Er sieht goldene Fruchtfelder und rote Blütenvierecke und erkennt in ihnen sein Wappenbild, den gespaltenen und zweifach geteilten Schild mit den drei goldenen und den drei roten Feldern, und nun erst begreift er, dass ja sein Schild all dieses Land wieder decken soll und dass alles, alles, wieder sein ist! (19) (He sees golden grainfields and red plots of flowers and recognizes in them his coat-of-arms, the shield with the three golden and three red squares arranged in two vertical and two horizontal rows, and now he grasps for the first time that his shield shall again cover this country and that everything, everything is his again!) Decken implies ownership, but also the protection provided by the feudal function of the medieval lord (Schirmherr). Tears fill his eyes, the sun flashes in them, "und der Schleier reisst" (and the veil is rent). Fog, falling like a curtain, was the transition device for the earlier flashback of the story; now tears serve as a sort of ciystal ball opening up a broader vista of intuition. He no longer sees the familiar Oden-Forest countryside but the vast expanses of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation; "es ist das Bild des Reiches selber, des heiligen und nach Rom benannten" (19). In panorama he sees its villages and towns, snowpeaked mountains, navigable streams and the gray waves of the Baltic Sea. The allusion to" the Baltic Sea is not irrelevant in a context panegyric of the Empire; it elucidates the genesis of the Imperial ideal, which lives more intensely in the inhabitants of the borderlands than in heartland-Germany, because these areas came into existence as German territories only by virtue of eastward conquest by the Empire, and the feeling of solidarity with the Empire was kept alive by constant contact with subjugated and neighboring Slavs. Indeed, the ever-imminent threat of reversal of the German hegemony was actually brought about when the Eastern Marches (Livonia, East Prussia, etc.) were severed from Germany after World Wars I and II and incorporated into Soviet Russia and Poland. Thus, for the people of Livonia and East Prussia the existence of a strong and consolidated Reich was not a matter of vague patriotism, but of vital interest for their very survival. Here then the word Ostsee in the mind of a small South-German medieval nobleman is conditioned by the author's own borderland origin and reflects

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43

environmental motivation for adherence to the imperial concept. "Er hört Glockenläuten und Kirchengesang" - the ringing of the bells represents the reestablishment of an orderly sequence of time, just as their absence during the military campaigns had symbolized the suspension of time conceived as the encumbrance of accumulated obligations, handicaps and mortgages. He had sought escape from it, but in his present redeemed condition, time has acquired a positive value of orderliness. In the ideal monarchic system all individuals go about their trades in peace and prosperity without any stifling bureaucracy; from cradle to grave (Wiege und Grab) everyone has a home and an appropriate role (Herd und Stätte), everyone's material and spiritual welfare (Nahrung und Andacht) is fostered by a proper balance of delimitation and freedom (Grenze und Freiheit). Just as the previous vision of the hereditaiy lands had culminated in the vivid symbolism of the red-and-white checkered Rodenstein heraldry, so now the vision of Empire climaxes in a heraldic symbol, the crown: Und da blickt ihm, golden gekrönt wie der Gottvater der Altarbilder, der Kaiser entgegen, sein Wohltäter und sein Herr. Er sieht nicht den schwermütigen Spott im hölzernen Altmännergesicht, er sieht nur den gottväterlichen Goldglanz der Krone. . . (20). The concept of the Sacrum Imperium, the thousand year Reich, the medieval attempt at establishing on earth a political system combining secular and theocratic authority, is here brought to mind. The disparity between concrete fact and the ideal, between the man vested with authority (represented by the senile wooden face full of melancholy scepticism) and the authority itself (symbolized by the golden crown) is left undisguised. Again the Gesicht is mask and symbol. The two paragraphs "Jetzt sitzt" (18) and "Seine Begleiter" (20) frame in the internal visions. The first transfers the external scene - like a "Zoom"-lens — from a wide-angle perspective to a close up of the Captain alone. The second, containing the reaction of his companions to Rodenstein's ecstatic outburst at the end of the imperial vision, brings back the same perspective. Arms extended in burning love, Rodenstein feels that even if this life should end, his faithful constancy, his gratitude and readiness to serve the Empire never will cease. "Das Herz quilt ihm über vom Saft des Lebens." This is the climax of the story and fulfills the second word of the title, this is "life" in its full intensity. Immediately, death follows: "Da macht der Heidenhengst einen Sprung, da fährt er in die Höhe wie ein Pfeil von weissblitzendem Silber, dass alle Augen geblendet sind." The simile links with the two color poles of inscrutable destiny symbols: black, the black night, the black pool, gray and silver, the silver pinheads of the stars, the gray fog, and now the white-silver darting of the horse. At the height of life, death comes; at the height of Christian love and vision, the pagan steed acts.

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"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

The suppositional atmosphere has been prepared. This is pagan magic, the peasants say (in the indicative), otherwise how could the master so suddenly lie stretched in his blood. The priest does not arrive on "time". And now the modal transfer is reversed from the hypothetical mode of predication to the factual: Nicht sehr lange danach fangen die Bauern an zu reden. Der Herr sei zwar gestorben, sagen sie, gestorben und beigesetzt worden, aber er gebe keine rechte Ruhe. Ja, und wenn man es so ausdrücken dürfe, in der Weise der Unruhigen lebe er weiter. Was wollen die Bauern damit sagen? Er hatte den Tod begehrt und hatte das Leben empfangen. Er hatte das Leben begehrt und hatte den Tod empfangen. Er hatte den Tod empfangen, und da war ihm wiederum ein Leben zuteil geworden, — o ja, etwas wie ein Leben.//Denn dies war ja nicht jener Tod, den die anderen Menschen sterben und der ihnen ein Ende setzt. The first paragraph presents testimony of the peasants, unvouched for by the implicit author, since it is quoted in the subjunctive, and further weakened in authority by the connotation of unintelligence contained in the verb fangen an zu reden, and by the qualifying phrase "wenn man es so aussprechen dürfe" which signifies that the subsequent formulation is of doubtful accuracy. The second paragraph pretends to present an interpretation of what the peasants meant in the hypothetical quotation, yet its statements are in the indicative and thus imply factuality and authentication. In science or philosophy this type of progression from the uncertain to the certain would be a violation of logic, like building a house on sand. The indicative functions as a rhetorical device to impart the effect of reality to Rodenstein's life after death. This rhetorical mode of transition is, however, a literary pretence, a convention of verisimilitude rather than truth, which the reader must recognize as such, for the suspension of logic and common sense is neither possible nor desirable except as conscious aesthetic pretense. In short, this rhetorical effect can be accepted as playful caprice, but not as a structure of reality. The last statement confirms the illusion of truth in that the content of its isolated parts is perfectly correct while the total implication is false. In the following sense it is true: in its attendant circumstances this was not an ordinary death like that of other men, and the death of other men does put an end to them. The fallacy lies in the exploitation of ambiguity of the main clause by the appended relative "der ihnen ein Ende setzt". This relative clause stipulates the essential characteristic of death; in internal content it is, of course, true. But the demonstrative jener connects the relative clause restrictively with its antecedent Tod (in English this is indicated by omission of commas), so that the negative of the main clause extends to the relative with the ensuing implication: "this death was different in essence from that

THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE'

45

of other men. It did not put an end to him." The falsehood of the total implication is hidden behind the truth of the separate parts. Such use of language is sophistry, i.e. deceptive manipulation of the devices of rhetoric, or a playful juggling with linguistic structures, depending on the occasion and purpose. In the concluding paragraph the author is on solid ground again. The mode of predication is declarative and presentative, evoking the image of the steadfast herald, riding out in warning whenever the Empire is threatened and returning when the danger is over. The mood of this characterization is poignant; a fragile life has been prematurely snuffed out. This recalls the statement that the peasants' stories all have to do with the uncompleted life which was cut off before it reached fulfillment, swallowed up before it had attained image and shape (11). This tonal value of poignancy applies to Rodenstein himself and to the ideal he epitomizes: the prematurely extinguished idea of the Holy Roman Empire — as formulated in the last line of the story: "dem heiligen, dem nach Rom benannten, dem unbeendeten". A survey of the time scheme of the entire story follows:

Section A

Time Present

Explanation General and indefinite time of the forest description. Particularized to a definite occasion at "Alles hat".

B

C

Past Perfect

Vehicle for the double flashback to the night before a certain morning long ago.

Imperfect

Approached progressively in the sentence: Mit kurzen Pausen waren sie Stunden um Stunden geritten, and attained in the following sentence: Längst müsste Mittag vorbei sein. The imperfect tense is then maintained as a sort of historical present for action that was actually happening.

Present

Transfer from imperfect made smoothly via a direct quotation which is in the present: Einer flüsterte: 'Er sieht aus wie ein Toter.'

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" T H E DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH A N D SECOND-LIFE"

Section

D

Time

Explanation

Present perfect

Also softens the transition, hat es getroffen precedes ist. The long inner monologue is in these two tenses. The present perfect is past in reference to the present tense, just as in B above the past perfect is past in reference to the imperfect.

Present

The battle-scene is in this tense greatest actuality and vividness.

Imperfect

The tent-scene stands isolated from the previous and following scene by its tense.

Present Perfect

The homeward march is first seen retrospectively and the present is approached progressively (see B above), till it is

Present

reached

Future

a t Dann kommt

die Stunde

for

and

maintained till the end of the story, except for the climax, Rodenstein's ecstasy of love for the Empire, which is the sole instance of the future tense in the story.

It is important to remember that the present and imperfect are similar in that both indicate actual time: time that is actually in progress and time that was actually in progress; while the present perfect and past perfect indicate prior time and automatically posit the point-of-view of actual time in the present or imperfect respectively. In this light the most obvious clarifications provided by the chart of tenses are: (a) The flashback from A to B involves a drastic leap — from the present to time past in reference to another past tense and then to that other time itself: P R E S E N T - P A S T P E R F E C T - I M P E R F E C T . This, in the shorthand

of tense usage, expresses what we described elaborately above on the level of word and sentence. (b) The transition from B to C on the contrary is smooth and inconspicuous. From C to D there is no time change, merely a change of perspective from internal monologue back to the outward-directed double perspective. (c) An important effect of tense-control is that it serves as an isolationdevice for the tent-scene. That scene, though integral to the story as a whole, is itself a self-contained and self-sufficient work of art. It is unlinked to the passages preceding and following it, and accounts for the only two unlinked transitions of the story. The imperfect tense gives it the full vivid-

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ness of actual time but separates it from the present actual time of the neighboring passages. (d) In sections B and F there is a progressive approach toward actual time, towards the imperfect and the present respectively. (e) The climax of the story is the isolated instance of the future tense. At the supreme moment of rapture, just prior to the fatal leap of the white stallion, the verb reads that his constancy and ardent love, etc., "nicht enden werden" (will not end). (f) Section F ends appropriately in the general and non-particularized present, the same time-plane the story had begun with in section A. Thus a degree of tense-symmetry is achieved in that, after having progressed through the various tenses, the story returns to its original starting-point. A similar chart giving an overall prospect of the perspective changes which have been traced in this chapter would perhaps be useful at this point: Section and Time

Perspective and Viewpoint

Explanation (simplified)

A: Present

Reliable Commentary (Implicit Author)

Vivid and symbolic evocation of the Oden-Forest, its people, and their legend-producing propensity. Narrows from universal to particular instance, where author stands watching fog (flashback device)

B: Past Perfect

Collective (The Troops)

Kept in force by thoughts of the group, perception-words, collective quotations.

Imperfect

Sometimes narrows down distributively or to particular individuals within the group.

C: Pres. Perfect, Present

Internal Monologue (The Captain)

Contrasts with Section B, where no insight into his mind was given.

D: Present

Double External Perspective (The Captain and the Troops, simultaneously)

Combines perspectives of C & B, but both directed outward.

F: Present

"Zoom"-lens. Shifting Perspective, as follows:

Not restricted to one viewpoint, floats about freely:

Pres. Perfect Panoramic

Bird's eye view of returning army, also focuses down on particulars.

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"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

Section and Time

Perspective and Viewpoint

Explanation (simplified)

Present

Collective

The peasants watch whole army. Close-up of captain.

Present

Internal Vision

Captain sees Oden-Forest and Empire.

Present

Collective

The troops notice the Captain's unusual behavior.

Future

Internal

Captain's ecstasy of feeling.

Present

Collective

Peasants see and comment death.

Present

Reliable Commentary

The author concludes.

on his

A glance at the above chart reveals the strict control of economy of perspective in all sections except the last, which has a frequently shifting viewpoint based actually on the unexpressed choice of the omniscient (and omnipotent) implicit author, who shows what he wants to show and through the mediacy of the person he chooses. This standpoint then becomes overt in the end in the form of author commentary. Possibly one reason for the freely shifting perspective of the last section is that another factor has now (as was pointed out above, on page 40), come into play and under strict control, namely the mode of predication: the interplay of factual, authenticated, with non-factual, merely quoted, or doubtful, hypothetical statement. In summary, the story "Tod, Leben, Abertod, und Aberleben des Herrn von Rodenstein" is a highly structuralized "verbal artifact". It shows considerable complexity and strictest control of perspective, tense, and mode of predication. It is rich in variety of content. Episodic highlights of the story are the evocation of the Oden-Forest with its inhabitants and their legendbuilding propensity, the fog ride and battle scene, the encounter with the Emperor in his tent, and the two visions — of the Oden-Forest landscape and the Holy Roman Empire. The rhetorical effects, symbols, and language ornamentation (onomatopoeia, alliteration, rime, assonance) are a selfpurpose, exist for their own beauty in addition to their function within the whole. Two complex and problematic junctures in the story are the flashback and the interplay of hypothetical and factual predication. There is little psychologizing; even the internal monologues are in general the bearers of narrative action or depictive vision rather than of direct insight into character. Evocation of desired images by means of disciplined language and

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controlled effects seems to be the primary objective; the action serves that purpose. In short, the "ontological gap", an artful distancing from total reality is intentionally wide. This story is not intended as a realistic portrayal of life; it is as highly stylized as a Persian miniature.

INTERPRETATION

The preceding analytical section corresponded to dissection in biology, or dismantling in mechanics; it approached the literary work as a "verbal artifact", a skillful combination of words, and attempted to break it down into its constituent parts, describing and labeling them and showing their concrete function on a linguistic level. The attention was directed more at the determination of the nature of the parts than at the totality of meaning. Here an attempt is made to elicit the complex of meaning from the discovered data, without recourse to extraneous information. The first clue towards an intrinsic or werkimmanente elucidation of the story as a whole is the title itself, considered as a sign of structure, "Tod, Leben, Abertod, und Aberleben des Herrn von Rodenstein" presents a paradoxical situation, since normally life precedes death, and both occur but once. Yet here the order is reversed and the prefix aber- means 'second' as in abermals and may also suggest 'false' or 'spurious' as in Aberglauben. And, in fact, an examination of the story does disclose these four categories as structural elements — however, of internal rather than of external structure, since they do not account for all factors of deployment and do not correspond one-for-one with the external structural sections as outlined above (on p. 30). An unequal amount of space is devoted to the development of these four categories. Only twelve lines starting at "Da macht der Heidenhengst einen Sprung" are devoted to "Abertod", and seventeen lines at "Nicht sehr lange danach" to "Aberleben". Death pervades all of section B as a vague premonition, in the mysterious symbols of the black sky speckled with stars and the black pool, of the gray all-encompassing fog and the ghostlike ride and appearance of the captain and his men. In the internal monologue of Section C, it receives its clearest explication: the real death is not physical death, but a willful rejection of life and its burdens; death is a despair of coping with life and a desire to cut free from the chains of time and escape into non-time — a sort of Hamlet-situation with a decision for the negative. And the point where death, thus conceived, reaches its nadir is the Captain's self-identification with the pagan Germanic ancestors, whose weapons, horses and retinue were buried with them. In his suicidal encirclement and attack on the rear of the Turkish positions he is killing not only himself but all his men with him. Here the hard pagan concept of feudalism asserts itself and will envelop the vassals in the same

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"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

ruin which faces their master. The battle-scene, beneath its aspect of physical conflict, also represents the conflict between the death-desire and life. It is a paradox that Rodenstein enters the fray in order to die, but he fights as if to win; in fact, perhaps his very desperation is the cause of victory, for it brings the attack on the Turks from an unexpected quarter. The victory cries of "Sieg! Sieg!" with the attendant nature and bird-call symbolism are the first exultant gleam of the second category of the title, "Life". The victory over the enemy is the virtual acquisition of life through manly deeds, the tent-scene the formal bestowal of it by the Christian counterpart of the pagan feudal idea. The Emperor too is ruined, his feudal possessions are crumbling on a vaster scale, yet instead of dragging his subjects to destruction with him, he imparts good wherever he can. Rodenstein's two visions (pp. 19 and 20) are a spiritual enlightenment, a rapture of idealism and joy at the beauty of creation as manifested in the good order of human affairs; they constitute the fullness of life and lead to the ardent ecstasy of love for the Empire which is the internal climax of the story, just as victory was the first major external turning-point. The ecstasy of love, connected as it is with the Christian ideal of the Empire, represents the supreme moment of life. Immediately another pagan counterpart, the white stallion, springs into action, bringing the second major turning-point, death, the "Abertod" or second spurious or illusory death of the title. The stallion's leap stands for the inscrutable whim of destiny and is reminiscent of Storm's white horse in

Der Schimmelreiter.2

Not long thereafter, the "Aberleben" or second, likewise spurious or illusory, life follows. It is clear that this life has rather questionable roots in hearsay and gossip. Yet the author wishes to reinforce its (fictional) credibility as much as possible. This life is intangible and illusory, but it seems to have existence. The entire opening forest-scene tries to create an atmosphere where such a life can exist and the author's playing with mode of predication in the conclusion aims at the same thing. Thus death, life, a second death, and a second life seem to constitute the primary scaffolding of the internal structure. Other content-substance and other motifs will be stratified on this basic foundation. Obviously the Empire is important to the story. The scene with the Emperor is a vignette, a small literary masterpiece of incomparable delicacy and beauty, sufficient of itself, an optical and auditory painting unlinked externally with the surrounding passages. Perhaps a suitable analogy would be with the diamond of a ring; the tent-scene could do without the story, but the story without it would be left a truncated fragment. Accordingly, 2 Theodor Storm, Der Schimmelreiter, 320 ff.

in Sämtliche Werke, Vol. VII (Leipzig, 1920),

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51

the internal and external structure both imply a central role for this scene in the interpretation of the story. That role is as follows: the ideal of the Empire is associated with the "life" and "afterlife" of our basic structure, just as paganism was with "death" and "afterdeath". The Empire is the content of Rodenstein's "life". In the tent scene, the Emperor exemplifies just, humane rulership, which tries in spite of all human imperfections and insufficiencies to govern fairly and for the common good. In the visions this is seen geographically in an orderly and peaceful countryside. The image of the red-and-white checkered arms signifies Rodenstein's joy at repossession of his properties as well as recognition of his place in the orderly and beneficial feudal hierarchy. The parallelism with the God-the-Father of the altar-pieces shows that the Imperial authority comes from God, the obliteration of the wooden, senile, sceptical features of the actual Emperor in the vision means that the character of the particular ruler is not what conveys the authority; it is rooted in the transcendental, it is not founded on man, but given to him as a trust. This is not a glorification of the past, nor is it a question of the reactionary advocacy of the restoration of a particular political system. Like Reinhold Schneider, Bergengruen advocates a regime where responsibility is personal rather than anonymous and where room is left for the free exercise of life. Regardless of what it may be called, whether republic, federation or whatever, any government which exercises its power in such a way is a reflection of the divine fatherhood. 3 Bergengruen is, as Ida Görres says, fascinated by the idea of the Holy Roman Empire not from any nationalistic or romantic preoccupation but because of the insight that this mighty historical idea is nothing else than the application on a political plane of the mystical unity which his cosmology sees in all things. He sees the Emperor as a representative not merely of a particular form of government but of one of humanity's greatest aspirations, a warrant for the eventual unification of all earthly things, just as his emblem, the double headed eagle, stands for both halves of creation, "up and down, darkness and light". 4 From the preponderant position of the Empire in this story follows the characteristic stamp given to the Rodenstein spirit: in contrast to the characteristics thus far enumerated as central to prologue, epilogue, and intermezzo, the Rodenstein apparition of this story is primarily herald of the danger and safety of the land. He rides out when the Empire is threatened by war and returns again once peace has been restored. He is the Incompleted One, not in the sense of the Evil One, the spirit of immoderation — as in the epilogue — but as having died in a moment of such boundless love and 3 Cf. Bergengruen, Mündlich Gesprochen (Zürich, 1963), 22, 23-24 etc. passim. 4 Ida Friederike Görres, in the afterword to Werner Bergengruen, Das Geheimnis Verbleibt (München, 1959), 148.

52

"THE DEATH, LIFE, SECOND-DEATH AND SECOND-LIFE"

gratitude for the Empire, that he must come to its aid in after-life. A quality of the apparition in this story is also that it is linked with the landscape and people of the Oden-Forest, and that in a visionary flashback it gives what purports to be the historical basis for the ghost riders.

4 "THE GRENADIERS

The second story, "The Grenadiers" has a much less complex structure than the first. It consists of two main parts subdivided into a total of only four sections, the first, third and fourth of which are dialogues and the second mainly an encounter between persons. Outlined, the external structure is as follows: Part I: Schubkehl's Request: A. First Dialogue. Heinrich Schubkehl, a Private, tries to convince his friend, Karl Jonas, a Corporal, to help him escape from the army. B. With Jonas' help, Schubkehl accompanies the Count of Darmstadt on his "little Excursion" and escapes in a most unusual manner. Part II: Karl Jonas' Request: C. Second Dialogue. Years later Karl Jonas, still a soldier and weary of barracks-life, tries to convince Schubkehl to provoke a war by conjuring up the Rodenstein spirit. (Thus the causality of the first story is reversed; instead of being merely a harbinger and announcer, i.e. an effect of war and peace, the Rodenstein apparition now is expected to act as cause.) D. Third Dialogue. As he performs the conjuring ceremony, Schubkehl tries to convince Jonas to desist from his demand and relieve him of his promise. Sections A and B, grouped together as Part I, constitute Karl Jonas' proof of friendship; Sections C and D, Part II, occurring many years later, are the returned favor required of Schubkehl. Thus, Sections A and C are parallel as dialogues in which each man in turn tries to obtain his request and finally does win the other's consent. Sections B and D, from this point of view, represent the carrying out of the respective requests. In contrast to the first story, the perspective is completely deemphasized and plays little role except in the last section. Nor is the device of i n H i r a t i n o n p r c n n c v i a tVip m p H i n m r»f a n p v t p r n a l m a c t

c n r l i ac " f a r p " a n r l

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"THE GRENADIERS"

out. The imperfect is the narrative tense used, with only the exception of a few past perfects which do not change the basic time-plane since that tense by nature correlates with the imperfect as having happened prior to it. 1 The constant use of the imperfect together with the abundance of dialogue — most frequently in the present tense — provides immediacy throughout. The first three sections have a similarity of external structure: general commentary is followed by a directly dramatized particular scene in which dialogue plays a key part (even to some extent in section B) and a convincing argument finally brings about a conclusion in a curt and final tone. Even the fourth section seems to be a variant of this basic pattern, greatly diffused because of the amount of space given to interpolated conjuration of the apparition. Section A can be divided up, in terms of external structure, in the following manner: (a) (b) (c) (d)

General Commentary: "In Pirmasens s t a n d e n . . . " 22. Particular Scene: "Als die b e i d e n . . . " 22. Convincing Argument: Friendship and Danger, 24. Conclusion: "und versprach ihm den Willen zu tun", 25.

Section A manifests the basic pattern most perfectly because its particular scene consists almost exclusively of dialogue. The general commentary is undecorated with rhetorical devices and gives the impression of utter simplicity. Its two paragraphs seem to say merely who the two friends are and how they became involved with the army. However, certain facts are contained in them which will — though the reader cannot yet suspect it — provide the propelling dynamism for the development of the plot and of the story's three main interlocking themes: (a) the friendship of the two men: they were the closest of friends, "auf das genaueste miteinander befreundet"; (b) the manner of their entrance into military service prefigures the second theme, the attitude of the two men towards the military. In both cases it was due to an inequity in society, however Jonas entered voluntarily, because he could not get along with his brother, who was in charge of the family property. Schubkehl was inducted by force after having been rendered intoxicated by the Count's men. (c) The Rodenstein conjuration element is prefigured in that the two are called "Odenwalder Bauernsohne" (sons of peasants from the Oden-Forest) and that like all people of his village, Knoden, Schubkehl stands under the suspicion or rumor (im Geruch) of witchcraft. At this point, this preterna1 Der Grosse Duden (Mannheim, 1959), Vol. IV, Grammatik, No. 96, p. 112 specifies that the Pluperfect designates an event that has occurred before another past event (which in the present text is designated by the imperfect).

"THE GRENADIERS"

55

tural quality is not predicated as a sure fact; indeed a remark is added with a double-edged humorous irony lampooning both the questionable strength of his magic and the inhuman difficulty of extricating oneself from the military: "obwohl er schon anderthalb Jahre Soldat war, hatte seine Kunst ihm noch nicht davon helfen können" (22). The three themes of friendship, attitude to the military, and witchcraft, lightly and almost imperceptibly as they are struck in the introductory commentary, will grow in a constant crescendo as the plot unrolls. Section A lives from a certain flippant and bantering tone in its depiction of a manly and unsentimental friendship. Even the opening adverbial phrase auf das genaueste is a rather unusual modifier for a verb meaning "to be friends". Literally auf das genaueste means 'most precisely' or 'down to the last particular'; it does convey the point of close friendship, but because it implies precision such as might be found in mechanics or accounting, it does so with a touch of non-sentimental coolness, and humor results from the incongruity. The shift to the particular scene is done, quite artlessly, by a time clause, just as in B and C respectively a time phrase Am Dienstag (25) and an adverb of time Eines Nachmittags (29) will perform the same task. Schubkehl's first words set the problem for the first two sections of the story, namely his escape: "Jonas, ich will davon, und du sollst mir helfen" (22). Next follows a paragraph of commentary describing the punishments against attempted escape and against the aiding and abetment thereof, as well as the precautions the Count has taken against such an eventuality. The paragraph is given immediacy by its presentation as thoughts in Jonas's mind: "Der Korporal erschrak, denn er wusste wohl, was für Strafen nicht nur auf die Flucht, sondern auch auf die Beihilfe gesetzt waren" (22). The paragraph "Es war Gebrauch" on p. 23, which elaborates on the responsibility of an officer for the desertion of any man under his command at the time of escape, is really in content a continuation of the present paragraph, but by dividing the two the author has avoided the cumbersomeness of excessively long commentary. The second paragraph is presented as a gloss explaining another statement by Schubkehl: "Es kann dir nichts geschehen, denn ich will es bei einer Abkommandierung t u n " (23). This throws the main spotlight on the dialogue. The second paragraph is not placed in the Corporal's mind; the dialogue-situation has been firmly established, and so a brief intermission of commentary does not disturb, whereas for the first gloss, the dialogue-situation was still at an incipient stage, and so it was better to buttress it by presenting commentary in the mind of a character as reaction to a statement. One small detail in the first explanatory paragraph reveals the same art of planting a theme latently in seemingly innocuous expository material long before its full, overt development: "Ebensogut aber wusste er, wie der

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"THE GRENADIERS"

Landgraf sich gegen Desertationen seiner Grenadiere geschützt h a t t e " (22). In the first sentence the emphasis was on a dread of penalties, so no agent was named, the statal passive was used instead, to impart the impression of absoluteness. Here the personal subject Der Landgraf and the possessive seiner contain the latent implication that these regulations are man-made and, as the story will develop, finical and arbitrary. This is a fourth theme of the story, the picture of a petty ruler and a petty manner of sovereignty contrasting with the Emperor and the imperial idea of the first story. The high wall and the patrols of mounted riders constantly circling inside and outside it to catch deserters underscore the dangers involved, which is necessary for the dramatic situation and suspense of the story. The friendship of the two men shines through in the bantering tone of their conversation with its humorous overtones. The arguments which Schubkehl brings forward are convincing. At first Jonas was sceptical. "Schubkehl, du bist toll" (22), he said. And: " . . .Hör auf, davon zu reden, trink dein Bier und habe Geduld. Andere müssen es auch tragen, und ich selber diene schon im achten Jahr" (23). Later on, in part C, Jonas will have a different outlook, but even here he gradually lets himself be convinced. Schubkehl offers to take an oath to do for Jonas any favor he might ask in return. This will prove important in part C, where it serves as the compelling argument to force Schubkehl to go through the conjuration ceremony. But in the present scene it is completely a question of friendship whether Jonas decides yes or no. He would like to say no because he fears for his friend's life, but he finally says yes in response to Schubkehl's threat that he will be forced to attempt it in a more dangerous manner if Jonas refuses to help. Friendship, accordingly, is the convincing argument. The conclusion follows according to the basic pattern, briefly and clearly: "So Hess er sich zuletzt Schubkehls Schwur gefallen und versprach, ihm den Willen zu t u n " (24-25). Section B has more commentary and narrative than Section A, but the basic plan is similar, with two conclusions however, one disposing of Schubkehl, the other of the Pastor: (a) General Commentary: "Der L a n d g r a f . . . " (25). (b) Particular Scene: "Am Dienstag . . -"(25). (c) Convincing Argument: "Unbekannte K r a n k h e i t . . . " (28). (d) Conclusion: for Schubkehl: "Jawohl, unbekannte Krankheit. In meinem Dienst gestorben. Braver Mann, der Mann" (28); for the Pastor: "Und so geschah es" (28). The introductory commentary to Section B is a long paragraph. Though actually bristling with life it could afford to be a bit weighted down because part A has set up tensions which will tolerate considerable retarding action. The Count's finicky formalism is stressed. He was a stern and exacting man.

THE GRENADIERS'

57

His habits, among them in summer the so-called great excursion with a cavalry escort and in winter the small excursion in a sleigh shaped like a cartridge pack and with only a single coachman, a valet and a guard as escorts, were codified in a complex system of regulations. Simply grotesque is the invention he prides himself so much for, a contraption for buckling a soldier to the sleigh so that he can stand motionless at present-arms while the sleigh is in motion, and still more grotesquely egocentric and unfeeling is his manner of behavior if he catches a violation of the desired formality: "Erwischte er ihn aber in einer unvorschriftmässigen Haltung, so prügelte er ihn eigenhändig durch und meinte dann, er sei ein ebenso grosser Potentat wie der König von Preussen, bei dem er das Handwerk gelernt hatte" (25). All in all, such satire — almost Kafkaesque in its grotesqueness, gives the count an insect-like inhumanity and shallowness of spirit and builds up a threat of danger in dealing with him. So it is not surprising that this particular Tuesday finds Schubkehl at present-arms frantically repeating to himself again and again all the precise and difficult regulations which the Count had enacted in the thirty-two paragraphs of his "Instruktion, das Verhalten bei Hochfürstl. kleiner Ausfahrt betreffend" (25). Immediately follows the sharp twist in the satire, the sharpest contrast to the inhuman regimentation: "Sie waren noch nicht weit von der Stadt entfernt, als den Landgrafen ein Bedürfnis ankam" (26). The vanity and emptiness of the complex military ceremonialism attendant on the Count's stepping in and out of the sleigh are denudated by his subjection to the ordinary human necessities. The ceremonialism is emphasized before and after the following "central" action: "Er ging einige Schritte auf das beschneite Feld hinaus und erledigte, was zu erledigen war, mit reglementsmässigen Bewegungen und militärischer Präzision" (26). The brief weather report preceding the scene seems to be a satirical allusion to the urine evaporating as incense to vainglory: "Es war ein klarer Tag, und der Frost stieg in die Höhe wie ein goldener Rauch" (25). The futility of the Count's rule on a governmental scale is insinuated by the objective of this particular trip. He was on his way to inspect a recently built bridge under which he wanted to install a demolition chamber (27). This suggests that economic progress attained by the militaristic mentality is more than nullified by its narrow-brained destructiveness. And finally Section B also lampoons the rationalistic manner of thought as personified in the Count. After Schubkehl's witchcraft has enabled him to escape, leaving behind only a uniform full of ashes, the Count, who had been so fierce in striking the grenadier on the head as long as the man was imprisoned within his narrow frame of reference, is so overcome with fright that he sits helplessly with chattering teeth, and finally works up enough courage to read the "Instructions Governing Deportment during the Princely Little Excursion". This calms his nerves somewhat although no

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"THE GRENADIERS"

such non-rationalistic eventuality has been foreseen in the thirty-two paragraphs of the "Instructions". The Count's words to the pastor are a summation of the rationalistic attitude that the mind alone can solve all problems: "Er ist ein Studierter, Er muss das wissen" (28). The pastor in his perplexity mutters two contradictory answers, one about the Evil One, the other about an "unknown disease". Actually the latter is more an admission of ignorance than an answer, but the Count eager at all costs to rid himself of the enigma grasps at it excitedly. "Jawohl, unbekannte Krankheit. In meinem Dienst gestorben. Braver Mann, der Mann" (28). Rationalism and egocentricity are here contiguous and by implication naturally interrelated. This sentence represents the short, clear conclusion of Schubkehl's encounter with the Count. The case is now erledigt, finished and forgotten, and the Count again reverts to his undisturbed routine of pettiness and shallowness. The idea that there is any dimension to the world beyond the little shallow structure of self-centered regulations which he has erected around his petty ego, has been effectively repulsed from his consciousness. There is a twelveline extension of Section B as the pastor is likewise erledigt, disposed of. A tall man, he is to replace the diseased grenadier. All his pleas for wife and children and the duties of his office are futile. It is like talking to a rock. " 'Taufen und trauen kann auch ein Buckliger. Er kommt mit!'Und so geschah es" (Even a hunchback can baptize and perform marriages. You are coming with us!" And so it happened, 28). This is a second succinct conclusion. Section C, like A, follows the basic pattern strictly: (a) (b) (c) (32) (d) (32)

General Commentary: "Knoden war" (28). Particular Scene: "Eines Nachmittags" (29). Convincing Argument: "Du hast geschworen, mir den Willen zu tun." Conclusion: "Komm", sagte er böse, "du sollst deinen Willen haben"

The introductory commentary presents briefly Schubkehl's natural manner of life as opposed to his previous de-channelized, frustrated military existence. The particular scene is a visit by Jonas. The material is so naturally distributed and so simply clothed in language that one is tempted to quote Bergengruen's own reply when he was asked "What did you mean by this or that poem?" His answer was: "Nichts anderes, als was darin zu lesen steht" (Nothing else than what it says). 2 Bergengruen regarded epic clarity as the highest goal the story teller could aim at, and maintained that clarity and 2

Bergengruen, Das Geheimnis Verbleibt (München, 1959), 120.

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succinctness of plot of themselves lead to clarity and succinctness of language. He was astonished at people who considered succinct and clear language to be merely simple and stupid while acclaiming turgid, stilted and artificial language as literarily valuable. 3 It is a safe judgment that this passage and in fact this entire story is a major triumph of the economy of plot and language that Bergengruen was aiming at, a masterpiece of its type. Anyone who wishes to convince himself that Bergengruen knows what he is doing can examine the paragraph "Eines N a c h m i t t a g s . . . " on page 29, and contrast it with the following one "Schubkehl, du kannst von Glück sprechen . . . " . A friend who has a special request to make comes to visit; first, there is the joy of meeting after so long a separation, then food and drink are pressed on the visitor, the wife and children are called in to meet him, and the guest talks about all sorts of little incidentals. The real purpose of his visit is reached only after considerable delay. All has been gaiety and good humor, but now it turns out that the guest is deeply miserable. The plainness and abundance of farm life are symbolized by the food: wursts, apple cider, plum brandy, smoked ham, and egg biscuits. The military life is signified by the bright spic-and-span uniform, which the wife and children are called upon to admire. This apparent glory of military service, however, the reader knows already from the previous narrative as a shallow veneer hiding a miserable and constrained reality. This is further confirmed by Jonas' words of despondency once he is alone with his friend. There had been humorous touches in the first gay, friendly paragraph, allusions that the Pastor had been promoted to the rank of private first-class two months before (this is several years after his forcible induction), and that the Count had written his five-hundredth military march, which the church organ had had to play on Sunday. Both these things are instances of his arbitrary despotism and encroachment against and lack of respect for religion, but in spite of the heartache which military life can be assumed to have meant for the Pastor, and the vicious character implied in the Count's lack of reverence for God or man, still they are humorous — perhaps because of their sheer futility. But once Jonas reveals his inner mind, humor, for the moment, vanishes. He is so bored with garrison life and its petty harrassment that he wants war. His situation is so intolerable that the sufferings and misfortunes of others do not matter if only he can be relieved of it. So habe ich nur den einen Wunsch, es möchte einmal Krieg werden. Da gäbe es ein anderes Leben, in welchem nicht jeder Tritt und Handgriff im Reglement bestimmt ist. Da könnte ich Feldwebel werden und, wenn die Officiere fallen, vielleicht gar die Kompagnie führen. Und würde ich bles3

Bergengruen, Geheimnis,

122.

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siert, so gäbe der Alte mir wohl einen Orden und ein Ruhegeld und eine Toreinnehmerstelle dazu. (29, 30) Still, humor has come in by the back door. What a narrow perspective and range of ambition! Only from the death of others or through his own mutilation in combat can Jonas' hopes be achieved, and how modest these are at best! Though the rest of the argumentation is very effective and realistic and a genuine confrontation of minds, each man presenting his case as strongly as it can be done, this question of personal advantage through war remains the key one. Schubkehl's counter-argument is: Du weisst nicht, wie der Krieg tut . . . . Du weisst nicht, was für eine Tür ich dir auftun soll. Denn was kann der Welt noch zur Rechtfertigung dienen, wenn ein einziges Kind in den Flammen einer brennenden Hofreite verderben muss? Wie willst du bestehen? (31) And Jonas' answer is even stronger than before. He knows of common soldiers who have become officers and noblemen in wartime; and farmers also profit from war by the sale of their oats and rye. The soldier's profession is to shoot and stab, he is as unhappy with make-believe as a farmer would be, if instead of really working he would only plow sandy ground or swing his scythe in the empty air. The part about the profit of farmers is really a rationalization on Jonas' part; actually, for each warprofiteer there are many others who have their property burnt or stolen from them, but otherwise his argument reflects a genuine feeling expressed by some servicemen even today. In the end Jonas wins by extortion; he demands that Schubkehl carry out the oath he has made to do whatever favor would be asked of him: Du hast geschworen, mir den Willen zu tun; schlägst du es ab, so hast du mir den Eid gebrochen, wie du ihn dem Landgrafen gebrochen hast. Der Landgraf hat dich zum Schwur gezwungen, mir hast du aus freiem Willen geschworen, und dein Schwur wird dich vor Gottes Gericht verklagen.(32) Thus, each man has carried the weight of his argument beyond relative criteria to the absolute moral standard, namely the eternal judgment. In general, Schubkehl's method of parrying the arguments had been to withdraw, bringing up a new objection rather than meeting the argument presented. But now he makes no protest but answers angrily, and that is the curt conclusion of this section: "Komm . . . . du sollst deinen Willen haben" (32). Section D begins without an introductory general commentary; instead, the particular scene is protracted from Section C. Paragraphs of narrative are also interspersed in the dialogue, and, as will be seen, some of the dialogue is not spoken but enacted. The division into two separate sections is justified fundamentally because the point of dispute has been changed; in part C,

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Jonas had the initiative and was presenting arguments to convince Schubkehl; now Schub kehl has already grudgingly given his consent and is trying to get Jonas to change his mind and retract. When Schubkehl kisses his wife and children and says that he wants to accompany his friend, he has the air of a man going on a dangerous mission not certain whether or how he will return and wishing to spare them. This is because the Rodenstein spirit has been given a frightful and dangerous aspect in Section C, especially by Schubkehl's strong resistance to performing the conjuration and by the anecdote of the Rabbi of Reichelsheim who refused the peasant's pleadings that he perform the conjuration in order to end a war, with the words: "Wenn ihr mir alles Gold im Reiche geben wolltet, so möchte ich es doch nicht tun, denn der Schnellertsherr ist ein furchtbarer Geist, und es soll keiner mit Mutwillen an sein Geheimnis rühren" (31-32). This awesomeness of the apparition will grow steadily till the end. The little dog is one of the indicators used to heighten the suspense and feeling of awesomeness. First it is presented as a beneficial and friendly symbol: Sein kleiner, schwarzer Hund kam ihm nachgelaufen und wollte mit. Schubkehl sah ihn trübsinnig an. Er hatte ihn lieb, weil er ihm sein jüngstes Kind einmal aus dem Bache gezogen hatte. Er wollte sich nicht zurückschicken lassen, so streichelte Schubkehl ihm das krause Fell und liess ihn mitlaufen. (32) Then it is brought in conjunction with a second element of intensification, namely the air of strenuous exertion and apprehension which Schubkehl displays as he performs the ceremonial: Jonas mühte sich vergeblich, die Worte zu verstehen, die Schubkehl zwischen den zusammengepressten Zähnen murmelte, den stieren Blick der weit vorquellenden Augen auf Kessel, Flamme und Rauch gerichtet. // Der kleine Hund hockte im Schnee und sah seinem Herrn gleichgültig zu. (33-34) Thus we see a system of escalation developing. The Rabbi of Reichelsheim, who knew his way with spirits, absolutely refused to conjure the Rodenstein apparition; and still Schubkehl is doing it. Schubkehl is working with signs of great strain and fear, and still the little dog is indifferent. This imparts a much higher potency to the dog's reaction of fear which comes later — just prior to the final arrival of the catastrophal spirit: Da hörte er Schubkehl sprechen: "Jetzt sind sie im Walde." Und nun kroch der kleine Hund winselnd zur Seite, und alle Haare seines nassen Fells standen steil in die Höhe. (35)

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This is the main escalation device in this section: to present one rhetorical device stimulative of horror, but then to say, horrible as this is, the worst is yet to come. The most awesome use of this technique is the great apocalyptic prevision which Jonas, hypnotized as it were by the flame, experiences. With his ear to the wet ground, softened by the fire, and his eyes fixed on the flames, which are sometimes shrouded over by black smoke but then leap and dart back and forth again, bluish, blood-red and pale-yellow, Jonas suddenly sees before him blutrot und flammenfarben alles Land, aller Himmel, die ganze Schöpfung. Gestalten wuchsen aus Glut und Rauch, wurden riesenhaft j a g t e n über den taumelnden Erdball, ein Reiter mit einer Krone, der sass auf einem weissen Pferde, ein Reiter mit einem Schwert, der sass auf einem roten Pferde, ein Reiter mit einer Waage, der sass auf einem schwarzen Pferde. Und es erhob sich ein Heulen von allen Geschlechtern auf Erden, Berge wankten, und Städte stürzten, und Türme splitterten wie gläserne Gefässe, und es stieg ein schwerer Brodem auf von Brand und Leichen und Würmerfrass, und alles Schreien wurde verschlungen von einem Posaunendröhnen, und dann scholl eine Stimme: "Dies ist der grosse und schreckliche Tag des Herrn. Hinfort soll keine Zeit mehr sein." (34-35) Even this dreadful vision is passed over as only "Abbild und Vorschau" ('image and preview', 36) When Jonas realizes that the reality is about to come, he screams and falls unconscious. Thus, sight and sounds, i.e. the vision and the hoofbeats announcing the coming of the real apocalypse, are the convincing argument in Section D, and the action of screaming and fainting, is the succinct conclusion. The acoustic crescendo is also a means of intensification. The first time Jonas presses his ear to the ground he hears an indistinct, soft noise, creaking, stamping and clattering (34). The third time, the sounds which he had heard before no longer come through the mediacy of the earth but they thunder in the air like a sudden storm-cloud from the direction of Schnellert and the two men hear Schreien und Hetzen und Peitschenknallen und Pferdeschnauben und Hufgestampf und Trommeln, Rasseln und Schiessen und hilfeflehendes Glockengeläut und Knistern und Einsturz brennender Häuser und Frauenund Kinderwimmern und Sterbegeschrei und dünnes Klirren und Knirschen von Knochensägen. Und Lärm und Wolke kamen näher. (35-36) This is an acoustic apocalypse, but it still is not the real thing. As Schubkehl says: "Nun werden sie gleich hier sein. Nun muss alles geschehen" (36). But it never does happen. In other words the ultimate crescendo, the ultimate collapse of the cosmos, the horrible event towards which all the chains of escalation have been leading is itself in the end averted; thus to the very last the pattern of escalation described above is maintained: the real thing is

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worse than anything which this story describes. It is the doomsday which comes from beyond the physical world. At the last minute Schubkehl plunges a knife into the body of the little dog that had saved his child from drowning and lets its hot, red blood flow into the kettle he had used for the ceremony of conjuration. The noise, which had till now become louder and louder, resounds for a moment at a constant volume, then it becomes softer, changes into a dull angry rumbling and grumbling and finally withdraws like a thunderstorm departing in the direction from which it had come (36). Yet a further technique of intensification is the use of the repetitive question-and-answer structure often found in ballads and fairytales. In this story it was prepared for in the prevalence of argumentative dialogue, and in this immediate section by the brief scene where Jonas' mother, brother and brother's family are seen through their lighted window at the supper table. " 'Mancher Hof wird brennen müssen,' sagte Schubkehl, 'Vielleicht ist der eure dabei' " (32). To which Jonas answered bitterly: "Der Hof ist meines Bruders, ich muss Grenadier spielen." The next similar altercation comes with Schubkehl's remark "Korporal, du wirst heute eine andere Furcht zu schmecken bekommen, als Feldwebel, Kapitäne und Landgrafen einzujagen vermögen" (33). And Jonas replies: "Mach v o r a n , . . .ist es meine Furcht, so brauchst du dich nicht darum zu sorgen." And perhaps as important a preparatory element is the prevalent silence. In this section there is no dialogue in the same sense as in Section A for example, where one statement leads to the next, and so on, back and forth. Silence is the general rule, and it is now broken by one remark or question and its single response. Sometimes the silence says more than words; when asked if he wanted to go in and have supper with the Jonas family, Schubkehl shook his head in silence. And he also performed the witchcraft ceremony in silence. When the ballad or fairytale type of question-and-answer structure begins, it focuses on the sounds of the apparition which Jonas heard, following them step by step as they draw closer: "Jetzt werden Pferde gesattelt und vorgeführt," sagte Schubkehl. "Noch kann ich sie zurückschicken. Willst du?" (34). Jonas repeats: "Es muss Krieg werden." The third time Jonas hears Schubkehl as if from afar say with a sigh: "Jetzt reiten sie aus. Noch kann ich sie umkehren machen" (34). But Jonas does not answer; he is seeing the apocalyptic vision. The fourth time he hears Schubkehl say "Jetzt sind sie im Walde" (35). This time the dog's fear-reaction is the answer. And the fifth and last time are the words that we have seen above "Nun werden sie gleich hier sein. Nun muss alles geschehen" (36). At this point, Jonas has fainted. In the fainting of the two men the final vector of escalation is reached. The previous ones were, in summary: (a) Schubkehl's strong opposition to the conjuration, his appearance of straining at a tremendous and awesome

64

"THE GRENADIERS"

task during it, (b) the little dog's reactions, (c) the ballad-like question-andanswer sequence, (d) the gradual crescendo of the acoustic effects, (e) the visual apocalypse taken as only a prefigurement of the real apparition. Thus the real vision never fully arrives; it is however magnified by extrapolation of the vectors which lead fictionally beyond reality to it, and converge by extension in the realm of metaphysics. A factor which contributed to the efficacy of the above-mentioned techniques preceded them at the start of Section D, namely the use of black and white for their connotation of a destiny-laden place. The white snow and dark mountains, the sharply delineated thin black shadows which the bare shrubs cast on the snow, the black circle about the diameter of a man's height, black earth contrasting with white snow — all are instances of this black-white destiny motif. The weather plays a role. As they approach, it is snowing in large and slowly falling flakes, and dusk is falling — white and black? But by the time they arrive night has fallen, and the light of the stars and half-moon casts a bluish glitter on the white surface. "Es war windstill und kalt" (There was no wind and it was cold). Thus, nature in its stillness and grimness matches the grimness of the two men. Peasants in the Hall (the farmyard where the apparition is reported to pass through the barn) hear Schubkehl's scream, they find two men lying there as if dead. Then a hyperbole follows the other rhetorical effects: "Achzehn Stunden lagen sie auf der Ofenbank, ohne sich zu rühren. Dann standen sie auf und gingen davon, und Schubkehl hatte graue Haare bekommen" (For eighteen hours they lay on the bench by the stove without moving. Then they stood up and left, and Schubkehl's hair had turned gray, 37). That this does not seem inappropriately exaggerated is a sign that the spell of the preceding effects has worked. The succinct conclusion, not to Section D but to the entire story is Schubkehl's last remark, the only statement between the men when they revive: " 'Karl Jonas', sagte er, 'wir sind quitt. Nun hast du keinen Dank mehr von mir zu fordern' " ("Carl Jonas", he said, "we are even. Now you have no right to ask for any more gratitude from me", 37). As an ironic aftermath to Sections C and D, in the first battle of the war with France which breaks out a few years later, the Corporal is shot through the head. INTERPRETATION

The general theme of "The Grenadiers" is friendship. In its particular development as the internal structuring factor of the story, there is remarkable resemblance to Schiller's ballad "Der Handschuh". 4 In that poem, sub4

Friedrich Schiller, "Der Handschuh", in Sämtliche Werke (Stuttgart,

1844), 315-17.

" T H E GRENADIERS"

65

titled "Erzählung" (a tale), a knight is asked by his lady, Kunigunde, to prove his love by retrieving a glove which she has let fall into an arena containing a lion, a tiger and two leopards about to engage in mortal combat. He performs the task boldly and nonchalantly returns the glove to the lady with a courteous bow. She receives him with a tender look, but he says: "Den Dank, Dame, begehr ich nicht" (Madam, I can do without the gratitude), and he abandons her from that moment on. The monstrous animals in Schiller's ballad, described with great vivacity and with a concreteness capturing the nature of the beasts in a manner as vivid as that of Rilkes "Dinggedichte", occupy a role parallel to that of the Rodenstein spirit in the "Grenadiers"; the fetching of the glove is parallel with the conjuration — each represents a task which love or friendship has no right to demand. Kunigunde's words "Herr Ritter ist eure Lieb so heiss / Wie ihr mirs schwört zu jeder Stund, / Ei so hebt mir den Handschuh a u f ' corresponds to Jonas' insistence that Schubkehl fulfill his vow; the knight's obligation by virtue of love parallels Schubkehl's by virtue of gratitude. In both stories, the friendship is broken off because one party has demanded what lies beyond the rights of friendship and is in fact contradictory to it, in Schiller's story because it wilfully and unnecessarily involves the beloved in personal mortal danger, in "The Grenadiers" because it demands an act difficult and terrible in itself and violating the principles of justice and right order in the universe. In short, "The Grenadiers" is primarily the story of a friendship. In Sections A and B, Jonas proves his friendship by doing a favor for his friend; in Sections C and D Schubkehl is required to return the favor. However, the difference between the two requests is radical. Jonas' aid in escaping from the Count's service was an act which Schubkehl could legitimately expect from a friend, because he proved satisfactorily that it entailed no danger for anyone but himself. What Schubkehl is asked to do, however, would bring destruction not only on Schubkehl himself and his family - thus destroying the benefit obtained from Jonas' prior help — but also possibly on Jonas' family and on Jonas himself, as well as on all mankind. This is the chief polarity of the story. A second important element of the internal structure is the restrictive, anti-vital nature of the Count's authoritarian regimentation. It posits the necessity for the demands the two friends must make on one another: each wishes to escape from the intolerable abuse and confinement of an excessively regulated system, which is directed to an artificial goal — the satisfying of one individual's whims — and does not strive for the common good distributively in each single member of that society. The Count, as a type of the rationalistic and militaristic, self-centered petty tyrant, is the center of his own artificially constructed little world; he wields authority in his own name and thus can do with it as he wishes. This portrait of a ruler is

66

"THE GRENADIERS'

meant to contrast with the image of the Emperor in the first story, a man weighed with heavy responsibilities before God and the common welfare. As for the grenadiers themselves, Schubkehl is identifiable with the natural life of the peasantry. He has never consented to the autocratic regime; it was an unwelcome encroachment into the flow of his life. After his escape he is perfectly satisfied with the modest but peaceful and fertile routine of a farmer. He is a man of peace; his family and property, his quiet happiness gives him a stake in peace. Jonas, on the contrary, is a man of war and atrocity. An unhappy man, he has nothing to lose personally and does not care if everyone else suffers, as long as he finds some relief from the intolerable restrictive regulations which hold him prisoner. In youth he had chosen the military as a means of escape; but now he sees himself caught in a world-order which has made no provision at all for his happiness; his only recourse is to evil. But this road too is closed to him, as is indicated by the fact of his being shot through the head in the first battle. As a man caught in an impossible existence he stands in the company of Brecht's "Mother Courage", Kafka's "Hunger Artist" or perhaps more directly of Biichner's "Woyzeck" and Brecht's Galy Gay in the play Mann ist Mann (Man equals Man). 5 In this story the Rodenstein spirit is not the spirit of an individual man, a knight riding out to warn the Empire of impending danger; its function has been changed from effect to cause, it is a dreadful spirit, the spirit of war and destruction — but not in the manner of a mere allegory. Its scale of substance is too broad for that. Its roots are anchored in natural imagery. It comes down from Schnellert's like a sudden storm-cloud (35). This simile is doubly replicated: the attendant images "Schreien, Hetzen, Peitschenknallen", etc., considered as sounds and sights, describe the naturally observable phenomenon of a violent thunder storm; they are heightened by being clothed in anthropomorphic language suggestive of the mad onslaught of a raging army and by other converging rhetorical effects to suggest a mighty and dreadful spirit; and then this extrapolated spirit is said to thunder down like a sudden storm-cloud; that is to say, a being which was composed of storm-imagery in the first place is compared retroactively with a storm. The band of its being is broadened by inclusion of terminology taken from war; the crackle and crash of burning houses, the frantic ringing of alarm bells, the whimpering of women and children, the clatter and crunch of bone-saws, and the like. The basic frame of reference is still the thunderstorm, all the sounds of war are suggested by sounds in a storm. And finally war itself is seen as only an image of a more profound and alls Woyzeck differs from the others in one important respect: namely, he is primarily a victim of outside forces, whereas Mother Courage, the hunger artist, and Galy Gay are all in some way responsible for their own misery, either through lack of insight, a warped mentality, or a defect of character.

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67

encompassing cataclysm when the mountains shall quake, cities fall, and towers split like glass vessels not only in one place or another, but everywhere, when the last trumpet shall sound, the foundations of the world be shaken, and the existing laws of nature destroyed. One sentence touches on a theme with which Bergengruen is often identified in secondary literature — by his own choosing since he has made it the title of a collection of poems as well as a single poem. When Jonas awakens from his fiery vision, he sees that the world is still as it was before; "Und es kam eine heisse Freude über ihn, dass die Welt heil dastand und Winters Schnee trug und Sommers Korn tragen würde" (and there came over him ardent joy that the world still stood intact and bore winter's snow and would bear summer's grain, 35). Here the term heile Welt (intact world) does not focus directly on the firm and unassailable metaphysical root of all things as in the poem: Niemand kann die Welt verwunden, nur die Schale wird geritzt. Tief im innersten der Ringe ruht ihr Kern getrost und heil. . . (No one can hurt the world, only the outer shell is scratched. Deep in the innermost of her rings her core rests confident and intact) but rather on its external manifestation in the relative permanency and reliability of the natural laws as in the following verses: Ewig wechselt Frucht und Blüte, Vögelzug nach Süd und Nord. Felsen wachsen, Ströme gleiten, und der Tau fällt unverletzt. (Eternally fruit and blossom alternate, Birds fly south and north. Cliffs grow, streams flow and the dewdrop falls unharmed.) 6 Just as the intuition of the ultimate catastrophe where time and creation will end was derived from the natural cataclysms of thunderstorm and war, so too the intuition of stability and order in the cosmos comes from the reliability and goodness of nature. In the prologue winter had been seen as 6

Bergengruen, Die heile Welt (Zürich, 1952), 94.

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" T H E GRENADIERS"

final; of itself it can produce no spring or summer. Here it is seen as a sign of the coming harvests because it is a part in the cycle of seasons which in the present world order reliably recurs. Thus, the Rodenstein spirit as the awesome foreboder of the coming cosmic cataclysm underscores both the eventual transience and by contrast the present bountiful stability of nature.

5

"THE TWINS FROM FRANCE"

"Die Zwillinge aus Frankreich", one of the stories not contained in the original 1927 edition of the Rodenstein Book but added to the second "revised and expanded" edition published in 1942, belongs not to the tightly-knit genre of story called Novelle but rather to the more looselyconstructed type called Erzählung or tale. It is included here for detailed analysis and interpretation because it is one of the better-known stories and yet presents special difficulties. The distinction between Erzählung and Novelle is theoretically quite easily drawn. Both are short narrative forms alike in their preference for event and compact scenes; but the novella has a strong structural orientation towards a single extraordinary central event and consequently a stylization of all parts in terms of the basic conflict leading to that event. This gives the novella a tone of direction and suspense; everything in it is directed towards the climax that will resolve the conflict. The Erzählung, however, in the specific sense of the word, has a non-directed cumulative sequence of events, each main scene having its own particular significance and not greatly outranking the others. The Erzählung lacks the concentration through a central conflict, the strong contour aimed at a climax. Rather than mounting towards a high point, its events follow one another without suspenseful gradation like beads on a string. Its unifying element is often in the characters) rather than in the events as such, i.e. one or several persons are led through a series of occurrences in a framework of the general lifesituation rather than being caught in a strong single current of events which carries them relentlessly towards the vortex or turning point of the story. As a result the tone of an Erzählung is generally more leisurely and less intense than that of a novella.1 Clear as the definitions seem, the borderline is often not so readily i This depiction of the Novelle and Erzählung is a free composite based mainly on: E.K. Bennett, A History of the German Novelle (Cambridge, 1961); Johannes Klein, Geschichte der deutschen Novelle (Wiesbaden, 1954); and Fritz Lockemann, Gestalt und Wandlungen der deutschen Novelle (München, 1957).

70

THE TWINS FROM FRANCE"

distinguishable when particular examples are considered, because the novella is a very flexible form and has gone through many modifications which defy the definition. This particular story too has some characteristics often associated with a novella. It has "a strong silhouette", only three main events or rather event-clusters, episodes. These episodes are extraordinary, not commonplace. It has "thing"-symbols. It has a leitende or central idea. Nonetheless, the meaning of this story stands out more clearly if it is classified as an Erzählung, and the manner in which these ingredients are combined permits its classification as such. The three outstanding episodes of the story are: A. The arrival of the twins with their grandfather, his death, and their upbringing as orphans (from the beginning to 54). B. Their flight from Fränkisch-Crumbach and encounter with the robbers at the Rodenstein ruins ("Die Rodenstein Geschichten", to 54 and ff.). C. The return of the twins, their testimony against the robber-chief, rescue of another robber, and finally their death ("Viele Jahre später", 62 to end). These sections have only a loose internal and external unity. The reader's curiosity and suspense as to the eventual fate of the twins stems not from all-pervading mechanisms of style so much as directly from the general content, from involvement with the characters, the twins themselves (who are they? Will they find their family? What will happen to them? and other general questions of this sort). Each section, and in fact often the paragraphs which make up the sections, rests in itself, has its own center of gravity rather than pointing to a particular event in the future; the unity is one of general topic rather than of a single encompassing structure. Many details are included for their own sake rather than as clues planted far in advance in form of content and leading to a pre-specified outcome. The result is, from the point of view of eventual destiny, an "open" form which is the particular charm of the Erzählung as genre and this story in particular. The problem is kept general. One does not know in advance what concrete problems or conflicts will have to be faced, what disasters or good fortune will occur. The emphasis is on the " s t u f f of the moment, the content rather than the form; and because the story lacks the Durchgeformtheit, the purposeful stylization, the "one-track-mind" of the novella, it has a tonality reminiscent of real life, where the present moment is usually more significantly vivid than the past or future. In "The Twins from France" the greater part of the story is narrated in the casual "lowpressure" manner typical of the Erzählung in genre. Substantiation for the above remarks can be provided by examination of isolated paragraphs. Almost any single paragraph, because it contains a wealth of detail not essential to the plot, can be omitted without drastic detruncation of the text.

"THE TWINS FROM FRANCE'

71

In Section A, the most vivid scene is the first paragraph, describing the arrival of the old scissors-sharpener with his dog-cart and two children, and the second, depicting his sudden death and its after-effects. The children, Jean-Philippe and Annette, do not know their family name nor where their grandfather was taking them. Thus they are left in a wide world without any clue as to their antecedents and identity except the few belongings which were found in their grandfather's possession: an archaic little gold baptismal cross, a tobacco box, and a carnelian seal ring with an emblem showing a nine-pointed crown. The greatest human-interest factor, indeed the central theme of this section is the character of the two children as it develops in their isolation and forelornness. Since the people of the region are poor, the children are shunted singly from one family to another, and they earn their keep by watching the herds and trapping moles. Sie blieben höchst unwissend, ersetzten aber solchen Mangel durch eine waldtierhafte Schläue und Gewandtheit; denn sie wuchsen ja unbehütet auf und mussten lernen, sich selber zu helfen und ihr Vertrauen nicht auf Menschen oder Einrichtungen zu setzen. Ihre Unsesshaftigkeit innerhalb eines und desselben Ortes, ihre Einkehr in vielen Häusern und Familienverhältnissen entwickelte in ihnen eine Gabe der Beobachtung und Unterscheidung, wie sie diesem Alter sonst nicht eigen ist; sie stand mit ihrer beweglichen, unternehmungslustigen, alles Neue behende an sich ziehende Art in Wechselwirkung. (54) (They received little education, but they made up for this deficiency by an animal-like cunning and adroitness, for they grew up unprotected and had to learn to fend for themselves and not set their trust on men or institutions. Their lack of a permanent home within one and the same place, their entry into many houses and family situations developed in them a gift of observation and insight not usual at their age; it stood in close relation to their mobile, enterprising manner of eagerly putting a hand to things. Apart from its role of interest in this section, this quality of enterprise and initiative in the character of the twins is the central point and essential unifying element of the story; as such it is also, as will be seen below, a key determinant of its genre and meaning. The children are never fully assimilated among the villagers; they regard the people of Fränkisch-Crumbach as something like jailers: "Sie dachten: 'Wir waren zu den Eltern unterwegs, sie haben uns aufgehalten; wir wollen weiter und sie lassen uns nicht fort' "(53). The only thing that keeps them from being permanent waifs is the existence of the three objects left by their grandfather. In these objects, which are kept under lock and key at the mayor's house, they see both their only, invaluable possessions, and talismans, guarantees and credentials of their true homeland. This narrow thread holding them from complete anonymity adds a touch of precariousness to their situation.

72

" T H E TWINS FROM FRANCE'

Section B begins with a paragraph associating the story with the Rodenstein ruins: this paragraph is peripheral — appropriate but not essential — to the story, but significant for the book as a whole since it brings the story into the Rodenstein context. Two new alternate hypotheses are presented in the form of rumors: that the real explanation of the Rodenstein mystery lies not in any ghostly doings but in the activities of robber bands, which are plundering and pillaging in various places. Stories of buried and enchanted treasure are also in circulation. In the narrative both hypotheses are brought in conjunction. The two children, as they are running away, wish to dig for the Rodenstein treasures, and they stumble across a band of robbers. The long paragraph, "Langsam klomm er" (58), is like a word-painting depicting the robber band around their campfire in the Rodenstein ruins as perceived by the boy from the top of an old wall. The signals to the reader that these men are outlaws, bandits, are unmistakable: heaps of objects bundled in blankets, a tall silver drinking cup of ecclesiastical design, pistols and heavy clubs; but the boy persists in the illusion that these men are treasure hunters. The reader knows more than the character. This device of incredulity or false judgment about an event lends reality to the unexpected, since existence is prior to receptivity, i.e. for a thing to be misjudged, it must first be. An unrealistic point in the external action is the hanging. It is necessary to the plot, but as described it is a little difficult to picture how anyone could survive it, even with the help provided by one of the robbers. The abrupt springing of a bent tree upon release would in all likelihood snap the neck even if the noose were adjusted not to slip; the support with the feet when the tree is bent also is hard to visualize since the fork of the branches would be pointing downward. This may seem a minor detail, but even minor details should be correct. 2 Apparently Bergengruen also was aware of the difficulty, for he has inserted a not altogether adequate explanation after the fact: "Das ist gewiss, man geht beim Hängen anders zu Werke, wenn man nüchtern ist, sagte Jean-Philippe" (62). A few other particulars of Section B are that: (a) the children's thoughts are sometimes expressed in long abstract nouns: "Sie [Annette] verstand nicht alles; aber sie verstand, dass die drei kostbaren Dinge entfernt werden sollten, entfernt vermutlich in eine Unüberschaubarkeit und Uneinholbarkeit" (56) — 'incomprehensibility' and 'irretrievability' — big words for a little girl who did not understand everything. Similar words are Ausser-

2 Bergengruen in Das Geheimnis Verbleibt, 113, distinguishes between two types of errors: (a) errors which occur because the author cannot possibly experience everything he writes about and yet should not restrict the scope of his writing only to what he has actually experienced, and (b) errors which occur through lack of observation (Anschauungslosigkeit). The former are inevitable, the latter inexcusable.

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73

gesetzlichkeiten (59) and Anwartschaft (57). (b) Two of the robbers are very clearly seen by the boy. This is necessary because "many years later" he will have to recognize them, one to the man's doom and the other to the saving of his life. They are the cruel, cold-voiced leader with a red birthmark on his face as if a fiery hand had once struck him across the cheek (58) and the man who saves his life, a short, heavy-set man with a reddish pointed beard and watery, protruding eyes (60). Later Jean-Philippe can identify only these two among the bandits, (c) Interesting is the use of the various senses: smell, sight, and hearing as the children approach the campfire-site ("Der Wind kam", etc., 57 ff). Section C depicts the return of the twins as a young French Lieutenant and married noblewoman. The old maidservant's greeting "Herr Jesus! . . .die Zwillinge sind wieder da! "(63) with the homeliness of profanity expresses the astonishment of the villagers. The history of the twins since their flight and the story of the robbers are presented in the long paragraphs about the content of the conversations around the tavern table. The most vivid scene is the release of Johann Adam Creutzermann, the man who saved Jean-Philippe's life. In the eyes of the Hessian law, one good deed was not enough to counterbalance a lifetime of crime. But the twins take the law into their own hands. With a squad of French soldiers JeanPhilippe fraudulently enters the jail and gives the man the choice between service in the Napoleonic army or execution. Creutzermann is then sworn in by a solemn but unauthorized oath. The most revelatory passage in the story presents Jean-Philippe's attitude towards the oath: Er, der ja nichts von Justizbestimmungen wusste noch wissen wollte, hatte die einfältige Vorstellung, seine Handlungsweise werde durch diese Vereidigung weniger anfechtbar, ja vielleicht untadelhaft. Aber schlüge sie selbst aller Justiz ins Gesicht, — darin waren ja die Zwillinge einig von klein auf und durch die Erfahrungen ihrer Kindheit belehrt, dass noch nie einem Menschen von einer bürgerlichen Amtstelle etwas Gutes geworden sei und jedermann recht habe, in Behörden das Feindliche zu erblicken und ihnen Abbruch zu tun. (70) (Neither knowing nor wanting to know anything about judicial regulations, he had the simple notion that his manner of acting was by this oath rendered less open to criticism, indeed perhaps completely blameless. But even if it threw all justice to the winds, — since they were little the twins were of one mind and had learned from the experiences of their childhood that no good has ever come to anyone from a department of government and that everyone has the right to regard officialdom as the enemy and to do damage to it.) This passage brings together the two main contrasting elements of the story, which can serve as the cleavage point for the wedge of interpretation: the independent character of the twins and the fumbling mechanism of governmental agencies.

74

THE TWINS FROM FRANCE" INTERPRETATION

The character of the twins is the focal point of interest. They display strong traits of personality and self-reliance due to their exceptional position as outsiders, which renders them relatively immune to the encroachments of traditional values or contemporary ethical standards. They combine naive simplicity with cunning and a bold, vivacious spirit of enterprise. For example, Jean-Philippe, when captured by the robbers as a boy, answers their question as to whether he would be able to recognize them again not according to the measure of truth or falsehood, but of personal advantage: " . . .es könne sein Vorteil sein, Ja zu sagen; so bejahte er" (60). Yet his naive failure to recognize these men as robbers and to see the consequent dangerous import of the question has led to an almost fatal miscalculation. Later, as a young Lieutenant, he shows the same disregard for truth when he uses fraud and force to liberate Creutzermann. But here especially the brave originality of spirit seems to be combined with an unerring sense for what is right. The man has saved his life, and so nothing else matters. First, JeanPhilippe had calculated whether to pretend not to know him (67) but that would not have helped, since the man already had confessed to several crimes, and so he had to be whisked away physically out of the hands of the court. Annette too has an attractive childlike single-mindedness in this matter. Like a little tiger-cat she hisses at the court official who says that the man's one good deed cannot eradicate a lifetime of crime. From the first the twins are marked apart from the villagers as aristocratic by the superficial sign of facial appearance: "Den noblen Schnitt des Gesichts hatten auch die Kinder" (50). This nobility of countenance is a class characteristic connected with their noble origin; for instance, it is said of the grandfather: "Aber sein Gesicht war so vornehm geschnitten, das ihm ein jeder ohne weiteres den rechtmässigen Besitz eines solchen Ringes zutraute" (50). Nobility of features is interpreted as a sign of nobility of class and character. Yet the adherence to a class is not an absolute biological quality, it is a cultural phenomenon dependent on circumstances especially of attitude and memory. Had the twins been just a year younger on their arrival in the village or had there not been two of them they would have become fully amalgamated into the local life and their memories would soon have faded away. As it was, however, these memories, though not strong enough to supply their names, still just barely sufficed to keep alive in the brother and sister the power to resist complete assimilation (52). The degree of assimilation or non-assimilation with the Oden-Forest population can be measured by the disparity of language. Approximately ten references to language disparity or similarity occur in the story, mostly in Sections A and C. For instance, the grandfather "rief in fremdartiger

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75

Redeweise sein Handwerk aus" (advertised his trade in a foreign accent, 50). The children spoke broken German on arrival. The Pastor's wife tried to establish communication with them in French, but finally gave up, saying they spoke a dialect — probably an ironic insinuation by the author that her own command of French was rather scanty. With time the children acquired a mastery not only of German but more particularly of the local OdenForest dialect, yet among themselves they still spoke French and the local children tried to imitate the incomprehensible foreign sounds (52). In Section A, as the above examples show, the function of the stress on language disparity is to show the foreignness and non-assimilation of the twins. In Section C, on the other hand, when they address the old maidservant "in odenwäldischer Mundart" this indicated that long years of absence have not eradicated the similarities acquired during their childhood in the village. This acquired affinity with the Oden-Forest people crosses two boundaries, that of nationality and that of class, as indicated by JeanPhilippe's signature in the guest book in an unpractised handwriting suggestive of a child or a peasant ("mit einer wenig geübten, kindlich-bäuerlich anmutenden Schrift", 63). Jean-Philippe himself is now at home in both worlds, that of the German peasants and that of the French military. This manifests itself in his language. He meets the protestations of the worried jailkeeper with the French imperative of haste: "Dazu haben wir keine Zeit. Allons" (69). The French command exerts pressure on the keeper by suggesting a different sphere of authority. But, after Creutzermann has been sworn in, the young Lieutenant shakes his hand and says the German equivalent of Allons, namely: Los. This accommodation suggests solidarity with a countryman and friend. Towards the end of the story, disparity of language takes on international dimensions, when officials of the two nationalities conflict. A Hessian court official's protests against the illegal liberation of Creutzermann, "in seinem schwerfälligen Französisch" (in his clumsy French, 70) suggest this division. The French commander tells him to go to the devil with his long tales, the troops are already on the march, if he has any complaints let him submit them in writing. This international disparity assumes a political form when the Archduke of Darmstadt breaks the alliance with France and changes to the other side. A more drastic contrast to the twins than the Oden-Forest population (for they stand in some degree of affinity) is the clumsy apparatus of official bureaucracy. Technically the passages about the governmental processes serve as an external skeleton or supporting framework of the story, as the following chart shows:

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THE TWINS FROM FRANCE"

Page

Opening Words

a.

51

b.

52

c.

53

d.

55

e.

57

Inzwischen war die Gelegenheit Da man ja mit seiner baldigen Die Ortseinsässigen hätten wohl Man kennt jene rätselhaften Sie sahen-die Gefahr

f.

62

g-

68

h.

70

i.

70-

No. of Lines

Der Fall wurde den vorgesetzten "Gut. .. jetzt soll die Welt sehen" Er, der ja nichts In der Morgenfrühe . . . (to the end)

7 9 8 16 9 12 5 10 41

Comment Matter-of-fact tone and innocuous content. Delay. Suppositional schien. Suppositional. No action. Suppositional. Mysterious workings of bureaucracy. Bureaucracy as the treacherous power of fate. Suppositional. End of Section B. Main conflict. Contrast between the twins and the government. The twins die before governmental authority overtakes them.

TOTAL: 117

Four such passages dealing with governmental bureaucracy are scattered through Section A which deals with the childhood of the twins; Section B, their running away and encounter with the robbers, ends in such a paragraph (62); and finally this becomes part of the central conflict in Section C which connects the two previous sections, since the twins return for a double purpose; to see the Oden-Forest friends of their childhood, and to testify for and against the outlaws, as the case may be. The first such passage of Section A is cold and matter-of-fact in tone and does not show the irony which will develop. The next three passages (b, c, and d) employ suppositional predication to heighten the uncertainty of the twins' predicament, their unknown origin and doubtful future. The inefficiency of governmental bureaus becomes more and more explicit in each passage till, near the end of Section A, government has become in the mind of the twins a treacherous power — related to Schicksal, an unreliable and inscrutable fate — with which the local people have allied themselves to keep them orphans forever: Jene unfassliche tückische Macht, die sich in dem Getriebe der verfügenden Schreibstuben ausdrückte und mit der Ortsbewohnerschaft ein boshaftes Bündnis eingegangen war, wollte sie endgültig an der Vereinigung mit den

"THE TWINS FROM FRANCE'

77

Eltern hindern. Man wollte sie zu Fränkisch-Crumbacher Waisenkindern machen und für alle Zeit in diesem Stande belassen. (57) In Section C the plot and principal conflict consist in the twins' outright defiance of authority. Thus the polarity of twins versus government has risen to prime importance in the story. " G u t . . . jetzt soll die Welt sehen, ob die Entschlossenheit eines kaiserlichen Offiziers nicht mehr Ausschlag zu geben hat als all diese verfluchte michelstädtische Gerichtsbarkeit" (68). Jean-Philippe's words amount to a declaration of war by a strong individuality against the stolid and musty governmental apparatus. The government has the last word; the final forty lines of the story trace the complaint filed against the twins. About a year and a half after Creutzermann's release a report comes to Darmstadt that the Second Lieutenant Count Lerancourt and the Grenadier Creutzermann both have fallen in battle near Malo-Jaroslavez. And about ten and a half years later, word is received that the widowed sister of the deceased Count has followed her second husband, the planter Passefleur, to the West-Indies, where she died of yellow fever not long after emigrating. 3 The last words of the story are: "Daraufhin wurden die Akten geschlossen" (Thereupon the files on the case were closed, 71). The government has the last word, but somehow the victory belongs to the twins. Their victory seems to consist in their obtainment of identity. At the start of the story it was stressed that they had no name: "Einen Familiennamen wussten sie nicht" (50). The thought moved some people to pity "dass sie von vornehmer Abkunft zu sein schienen und doch ihren Namen und ihre Eltern verloren hatten; andere freilich fanden hierin eine Art der Genugtuung" (that they seemed to be of prominent descent and yet had lost their name and their parents; others, it must be said, found a sort of satisfaction in this fact, 52). Their external victory is given them by the French army: "Schliesslich erhielten sie ein Identitätszeugnis, dergleichen ging schnell bei der Armee, es genügte, wenn zwei Offiziere für einen gutsagten" (Finally they obtained a certificate of identity; such things went fast in the army, it sufficed to have two officers testify in one's favor, 64). It is important to note that the regaining of identity by the twins is not to be equated with the winning of class-status. The parents play only a minor role; their views are traditional and particularist, limited by classconsciousness (cf. 65), whereas both the twins live a life contrary to their status of nobility. Annette marries twice, and in each case her husbands are 3 In this context of Annette's death, the name of her second husband, "Passefleur", calls to mind words from Chateaubriand's novel Atala at the death of the heroine: "J'ai passé comme une fleur; j'ai séché comme l'herbe des champs." (Cf. Job 14:2 and Psalm 102:15). François Auguste René de Chateaubriand, Atala, René, Les Abençerages, suivis du Voyage en Amérique (Paris, 1847), 98-99.

78

"THE TWINS FROM FRANCE'

of middle-class descent. Jean-Philippe becomes an officer in the Napoleonic army, which is actually a revolutionary citizen's army. Thus, their new status represents only an approximation of the class they were born into. They belong to the new post-revolutionary generation which will live in a world of middle-class democracy. Finally, the role of the Rodenstein legends acquires new meaning. Two new explanations are presented: gold hunters and thieves. Each evokes yet a new aspect of the legend: in this story we meet not the Rodenstein spirit but the spirit of Rodenstein, i.e. an aura of magic and mystery. This is felt by Jean-Philippe as he is perched in the darkness, peering down like an eagle on the unsuspecting robbers: Ja, mit dem Silberstück hatte es angefangen, da hatte er Handgeld genommen von einem Bereich der Schätze und der Aussergesetzlichkeiten, der heimlichen Wagnisse und Unternehmungen, und den Befehlen dieser neuen Welt würde er Folge zu leisten haben von nun an! 4 (59) (Yes, it had begun with the silver coin. He had taken a deposit from the realm of treasures and irregularities, of secret ventures and undertakings, and from now on he would have to obey the commands of this new world!) Included in the magic of Rodenstein is a feeling of freedom; Jean-Philippe is "von der schwarzen Nacht geborgen, der Dienstbarkeit entronnen, auf dem Wege in die Freiheit und zu den Seinen" (protected by the black night, fled from servitude, on the way to freedom and his family, 59). In this story Rodenstein is accordingly a catalyst of freedom: "Jeder Fund gab einen Schatz an Unabhängigkeit, der Silbertaler machte den Anfang, wer Geld hatte, konnte in die Welt hinausgehen." (Each find yielded a treasure of independence. The silver coin was the beginning; with money one could venture out into the world, 55). And the heart of the story lies not in the events, but in the personalities of the twins. Loosely strung together in the manner of the Erzählung, the events merely serve as the vehicle to present for contemplation the twins' human personality in its unfathomable dignity.

4 This is the law of Atum: "Wer nimmt, muss geben" (Whoever takes, must give), from Bergengruen's novel of that title: Das Gesetz des Atum (München, 1923). It is the principle of universal retributive justice fundamental to Bergengruen's thought and a basic structural moment of many stories in the Rodenstein Book.

6 FOLKLORE SOURCES

The English word legend and the German Legende are not exactly synonymous. The former, defined in Cassell's Encyclopedia of Literature as "any unauthentic or non-historical or partly historical story, especially one handed down from early times by tradition and popularly regarded as historical", taking its themes from hagiography, mythology and the lives of great individuals, encompasses both German terms: Legende and Sage though — as literary terms — these are sharply differentiated in the German. Legende is reserved for wondrous tales about Saints and their miracles in demonstration of articles of faith; the basic interest of this genre is directed not at the miracle as such but at the holy and grace-endowed character of the Saint or the compelling validity of the religious or moral truth being illustrated. Thus the emotional and stylistic tone of the Legende is keyed primarily to earthly reality and the miracles take place within that reality not as a disruption of it but as signs of holiness and grace. 1 The Sage, however, deals with the numinous as such; awesomeness and mystery are its basic key; extraordinary, strange and alarming persons, things or events, engross its attention. In its narrowest sense the Sage deals with ghosts, hobgoblins, giants, dwarfs, witches, and the like. Variants are the Heldensage, which attributes great deeds to popular heroes such as Theodoric the Great, Attila the Hun, or Siegfried, and the aitiologische Erzählung or Sage, which explains a permanent phenomenon of nature or environment by a single, previous event as its supposed cause. Such mythical explanations of reality are found, for example, in the Book of Genesis, where the origin of sin, death, language, the female sex, marriage, sexual awareness, shame, clothing, childpains and subjection of woman, the hardship of farming, and the wisdom of man, as well as the crawling of the snake on its belly, are traced back to supposed events. 2 The Sage differs from the Märchen or

1 "Legende", in Reallexikon der deutschen Literaturgeschichte (Berlin, 1958), ed. R. Merker and W. Stammler, 14. 2 Lutz Röhrich, Märchen und Wirklichkeit: eine volkskundliche Untersuchung (Wiesbaden, 1956), 28-29.

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fairytale in that it is dualistic, confronting the real world with an intrusive preternatural reality and retaining both planes, that of reality and of the preternatural, whereas the Märchen or fairytale moves on a single plane of being, creating its own imaginative reality in which the distinction between actual reality and the sphere of the marvelous is eliminated. The formative psychological activity of the fairytale springs, according to A. Jolles, from a "naively moralistic desire to see reality, which is felt to be unjust, overcome by a differently constituted world". From this follows the basic pattern of the fairytale: first the unjust world of reality is presented and then it is mastered by marvelous means.3 The same monsters can appear in the fairytale as in the Sage, but in the first they serve merely as instruments to guide the movement of the plot to an "ethically" desired end, while in the Sage they are the focal point of attention, so that horror, mystery, or awe result. Lastly, the Schwank or ribald tale can occur in every genre of popular narrative; it takes possession of the structural patterns of Legende, Sage, or Märchen and fills them with ludicrous content. Six stories in Werner Bergengruen's Rodenstein Book are direct retellings of legends found in Wolfs Hessische Sagen ;4 these are Chapters 11, 15, 17, 22, 24, and 29 of the Rodenstein Book. These stories owe much of their content and basic structure to the sources. Their literary genre is to some extent carried over from the popular short narratives recorded from oral tradition by Wolf. Chapter 15, "Unsere Liebe Frau im Forst", is a Marian legend; Chapter 17, "Die zwei Frauen des Herrn von Rodenstein" is an "aitiological" tale; while three chapters, namely 11, "Der Mann aus der Haal", 12, "Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein", and 24, "Die Männer im Schnellertsberge" belong to a basic group of legends centering on the Entzauberungsmotiv, i.e. the motif of release from a spell or curse. This formula of release or redemption {Erlösung) occurs not only in many Sagen, it is also the structural skeleton for one-third of all fairytales. By the accomplishment of a specific task (a kiss, marriage, cohabitation, burning of an animal's skin, or slaying), the person under a spell can be delivered (for example in the fairytales "Beauty and the Beast", "Sleeping Beauty", and "Snow White"). The hero, Prince Charming or his equivalent, carries out the conditions for the deliverance of the beautiful captive or bewitched princess from the enchanted castle. In the Sage, however, the condition is generally not ful-

3 "Formsinn", in Handwörterbuch des Deutschen Märchens, ed. Lutz Mackensen, Vol II (Berlin, 1934/1940), 195. 4 Johannes Wilhelm Wolf, Hessische Sagen (Göttingen, 1853). The basis for this judgment is twofold: (a) intrinsic - no sources were found with closer resemblances; and (b) extrinsic - Wolf is the first recorder of these tales, as attested by Meisinger, Der Rodensteiner, 11, and corroborated by Wolfs claim to have gotten the tales from oral sources.

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filled and so the outcome is tragic: the spell is not broken, the release or redemption does not take place, the treasure is not obtained. 5 The original models to these three chapters (11, 12, and 24) are not isolated legends occurring singly under the general heading Erlösungs-orEntzauberungssage. Rather, each is surrounded by such a cluster of variants that it can, together with them, form a subclassification under the broader "redemption" category. Chapter 12, "Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein" belongs to a sub-group which is distinguished by the condition on which its outcome depends, namely the failure to save a bespelled woman by a redemptive kiss because she appears under a repulsive form such as a toad, snake, or ugly hag. 6 Chapters 11 and 12 have some affinity with one another in that both depict an encounter with groups of ghostly men at a table either under a mountain or in a magic castle, or the like; incidentally they are related to the Kyffhäuser and Tannhäuser legends. For Chapter 11 this is the basic situation, while for 24 it is only a prelude to participation in the wild hunt, a separate category which is not usually connected with the "redemption" theme, and of which there are infinite varieties. 7 Since very often motifs from one classification of legends are fitted into functional slots within the basic structure of other categories, the possibility for the variation of standardized elements within a set structure is almost endless. In order to see more clearly the nature of the sources and what possibilities they presented for literary adaptation, it is perhaps best to study in detail not only that particular text of a legend which most closely resembles the literary version, but variants more or less closely related with it as well. Chapter 12, "Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein", has as its closest immediate model Number 44 of Wolfs Hessische Sagen, entitled "Das Edelfräulein von Rodenstein", to which Number 42, "Schlange auf dem Rodenstein", is an extremely close variant, and Numbers 46, "Der Bär", 49, "Schätze im Auerbacher Schloss" and 63 "Die Schlange mit den Schlüsseln" are direct parallels; while, 38, 43, 45, 47, and 48 are more rudimentary, related Sage« which lack sufficient details to be classified more precisely than under the general heading: "Redemption" sagen about white ladies (weisse Frauen). Number 36 is especially interesting because it is so rudimentary that the elements are not combined into a story at all. s Röhrich, Märchen, 14. Handwörterbuch, Vol. I (Berlin, 1930/1933), 580. 6 An invaluable source on this subject is Emma Frank, Der Schlangenkuss: die Geschichte eines Erlösungsmotivs in deutscher Volksdichtung, diss. Kiel (Leipzig, 1928). 7 Valuable starting points for the study of the wild army and wild hunt in general are: Hans Plischke, Die Sage vom Wilden Heere im deutschen Volke, diss. Leipzig (Eilenburg, 1914), and Karl Meisen, Die Sagen vom Wütenden und Wilden Jäger, Volkskundliche Quellen, Vol I (Münster/Westfalen, 1935).

82

FOLKLORE SOURCES

Number 267 has a long preamble and three beautiful ladies that change into fiery serpents; the man's relatives convince him not to go at all, and so they remain unredeemed. Grimm's Sage No. 13 tells of a Schlangenjungfrau, a serpent-girl; it represents another early version of this type of Sage.8 In the commentary to the following structural breakdown and parallel tabulation of variant sources of the "Lady of Rodenstein", the symbol (S) will indicate a trait proper to the Sage in general, (F) will indicate characteristics specifically belonging to the Fräulein or weisse Frau category, and (R) will indicate the distinguishing marks for the "redemption" factor in the white woman Sage. Capital letters mark the essential structural slots, and the principal variants are indicated by their number in Wolfs collection. Transposed or anticipated elements are enclosed within parentheses and lettered with their proper structural slot.

S T R U C T U R A L B R E A K D O W N OF V A R I A N T S O U R C E S TO " D A S F R Ä U L E I N A U F DEM R O D E N S T E I N "

(A) A definite time, place, and person are tersely established within the actual geographical, present, or historical world (S) (in contrast to the fairytale which takes place generally in an idealized never-never-land not precisely fixable in time or space): 44. The shepherd of Crumbach one Sunday was driving his herd past Rodenstein and little by little he came to the neighborhood of the Oak Spring (Eichbrünnchen). 42. A man from Fränkisch-Crumbach was with his son in the woods near Rodenstein. 46. In the ruins of the castle of Bickenbach, above the village of Alsbach along the Bergstrasse (there appears) at noon at 12 sharp (a white lady). A young farmer, who was not exactly the most timid, (met her) one day, (and greeted her most cheerfully, for he believed it was some prominent lady or other from the neighborhood) (B). 49. In the castle of Auerbach (great treasures lie buried, they are under a magic spell. A raven was to fly over the castle and let a nut fall from his beak into the courtyard. The nut was to take root and grow into a tree, and 8 Brüder Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, 4th ed., ed. Rheinhold Steig (Berlin, 1895), 9-10. Among Grimm's legends related to Rodenstein themes are nos. 7, 13, 47, 48, 107, 113, 143,169, 211, 220, 221, 223, 300, 303, 306,313, 314. Emma Frank, Der Schlangenkuss: die Geschichte eines Erlösungsmotivs in deutscher Volksdichting, diss. Kiel (Leipzig, 1929), 19, together with p. 165, gives evidence for the antiquity of the combination creature, part woman and part serpent. Courtly novels antedate the popular Sagen, and the serpent woman appears in one.

FOLKLORE SOURCES

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from the tree a cradle could be made and the first child to be rocked in that cradle would have the power to lift the treasure and redeem the princess who keeps vigil beside it. E) Now when all this had happened and the child had grown into a man (he dreamed three times in a row, B), that he should go to the castleyard at noon. On the fourth day he went up. 63. Near Eberstadt lies the village mill. Not long ago the miller's helper was paid 20 crowns more than in every other mill, because the place was haunted. Once a Saxon was hired there, he was a strong, large man and always claimed he was afraid of nothing on the face of the earth. 48. In the year 1822 around the Feast of St. John the Baptist two young boys were playing in Westhofen at the west gate of the city wall. The characters are not described in detail. They are not heroes, but merely ordinary persons who will accidentally witness or participate in an unusual preternatural situation. Their proper names are not given; they are identified by their profession: 44, shepherd, 46, a young farmer; 63, a miller's helper; and/or by their place of origin: 44, 42, 63; and/or by their age, 46, 48; in two cases psychological and/or physical traits are given: fearlessness, 46 and 63; great strength and size, 63. In two instances there are two such persons rather than one, 42 and 48. In numbers 46 and 49 later structural elements are anticipated. The place varies from version to version: 44, Oak Spring; and 42, the woods near Rodenstein; 46 the castle of Bickenbach, whose exact location is specified as a warrant of reliability and technique of objectivation; 49, the castle of Auerbach and 63, a village mill. All the introductory statements of time, place and person prepare the reader for weird events, 44 and 42 by their reticence, 46 and 49 by anticipation, 46 and 63 by stressing the fearlessness of the person, thus suggesting that this fearlessness will be put to the test and possibly found wanting, and 63 by underscoring the uncanny nature of the location. The "at noon, at 12 o'clock sharp" of 46 also has an ominous ring to it within the context. (B) An unusual or unexpected incident takes place, strange at the start but not beyond the realm of reality, though it is afterwards embellished by the phantasy into preterrealistic dimensions (S). A white lady appears (F). 44. All of a sudden he saw a beautiful white young noble lady, who stood washing the most beautiful snowwhite linen at the spring. [His reaction:] The shepherd began scolding her for desecrating the holy Sunday morning with the work of her hands. 42. Then a white little woman came to them. 46. [Anticipated under (A) above.] 49. As he came to the castleyard, there was a terrible rumble and a marvelously beautiful lady stood before him.

84

FOLKLORE SOURCES

63. As he was grinding flour on the first day, there came at about 11 o'clock a little gray man who ran about in the mill until 12 sharp. Then he disappeared. The next day he came back and so it went on for perhaps a year and a half, [Reaction:] and the miller's helper let him have his way, but the little man never spoke even a single syllable. But then suddenly one morning he stood directly in front of him. 48. At about dinner-time, they saw a splendidly dressed white lady coming towards them [Reaction:] and they went to meet her and asked her for a penny. Four of the cases (44, 46, 63, and 48) present a reaction corresponding to the character of the person involved. The nomenclature for the woman varies in each case: 44, "ein schönes weisses Edelfräulein" (a beautiful white young noblewoman), implies a difference of class; 48 likewise, plus a difference of age: "eine prächtig gekleidete weisse Frau" (a splendidly dressed white lady); "ein weisses Frauchen" (a white little woman) omits the notion of class, but implies an older woman of diminutive size; 46 "eine weisse Dame" also refers to nobility, for Dame is a term of social definition, just as junger Bauer is. In 49 "Königstochter" and "wunderschöne weisse Dame" are both used. Thus, in all cases except 42, a lady of the nobility is clearly indicated. In Number 63, the sprite is male rather than female and appears repeatedly before the direct confrontation. The hour of noon recurs with surprising frequency: i.e. under (A) 46, 49; under (B), 63, 48; under (C) below, 42 and would thus seem to be a preferred witching hour of this type of legend. (C) Next, the problematic situation or task to be performed is presented (S). In a different sub-classification, the "Vergiss-das-Beste-Nicht" Sage, this element is the distinguishing feature, the treasure has already been freely received and the warning is given "Vergiss das Beste nicht" (Don't forget the best thing), i.e. the key or flower which makes the treasures accessible. The warning is ignored or misunderstood and the rock or cavern where the treasures are kept closes sometimes with such abruptness that the person's heels are sliced off. Examples of the "Vergiss-das-Beste-Nicht" Sage are Wolfs Numbers 2, 39, 40, and 41. Legend 59 is an interesting variant: the warning to keep the flower is varied to "Vergiss den Schlüssel nicht!"(Don't forget the key!)and is misunderstood. In the present subgroup of "redemption" legends, however, the problem is not one of remembering the key but rather it is the problem of courage, of kissing the serpent or taking the key from it (F) (R) as precondition to the breaking of the spell or the receiving of the treasure: 44. But she answered that she was under a spell to do that and no man could free her except by kissing her three times on both eyes and mouth three days in succession under three different shapes.

FOLKLORE SOURCES

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42. and said that they should come on the next day between eleven and twelve, then the castle would again stand just as it had been long, long ago. She, the little lady, would appear to them as a serpent with a ring of keys in its mouth; the boy was to take the keys out of her mouth with his and to go with her into the castle. First they would pass through a second room in which the old Lords of Rodenstein sat drinking at a table; then they would pass through a second room into a third where a big dog lay on a chest. He could simply go ahead and open the chest, and the dog would spring down without doing him any harm. They would find out then what would happen after that, but at any rate they would be happy their whole life long. 46. and said: "If you want to make your fortune, today is the day for it." "For that any hour suits me", answered the farmer, "but how should I go about it?" "It's easy", said the white lady, "Just come to this place at night and give me three kisses, then all the treasures of the castle are yours and I am freed, but don't be afraid if I bring you the keys to the treasure under a different form." "Fear is not my habit." said the farmer and promised her everything. 49. who said to him that he could free her and become owner of all the treasures which lay buried in the castle. They were located downstairs in the cellar and next to them lay a fiery dog and a switch with which one must strike the dog and chase him away. All this must take place the next day at the same time. But when he returned he should not be harmed, for she would appear to him in a completely different form. 63. and said, I've been waiting for you for a long time." "Aye, you don't say", said the miller's helper, "Why me?" "Because you have courage", answered the little man, "and you can free me and make yourself the richest man in Hessen." "That wouldn't be so bad", said the miller's helper, "how can I go about it?" "Tomorrow noon I will come in a different shape", answered the little man, "and will carry three keys on me; if you take them from me and go with me, then you are taken care of for the rest of your life." "That could be done", said the helper and then the little man jumped with joy and ran off. 48. "You shall have more than that", said the white woman, "if you want to follow me and do everything I tell you." They promised. Indirect discourse is used in Numbers 44, 42, and 49; Number 48 has a single brief direct quotation; but 49 and 63 develop an extended dialogue. The conditions change from case to case; 44 requires nine kisses, three each day for three successive days; 42 requires the taking of keys from a serpent's mouth and the braving of a big dog; 46, three kisses at one time, and as an afterthought the keys are brought under a different form; in 49 the dog must be driven off, and again as an afterthought, mentioned as it were incidentally, she will bring the keys under a different, still unspecified form; 63, take three keys and go along; 48, the condition is still unspecified. The dog motif of 42 and 49 is a standard requisite of legends involving

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enchanted treasures; the men drinking at table of 42 are here only mentioned, but in many Sagen and in Bergengruen's Chapter 24 it is the main subject. (D) The frightfulness of the obstacle is built up to a crescendo, either by a mounting triple series of encounters or by other effects (S). 44. As she stood before him so beautiful and charming, the shepherd was quite satisfied and gave her three kisses. The next day he came back and found her in the shape of a toad and although he felt strong aversion still he managed to give her the three kisses. On the third day however she was a serpent. 42. (On the next day at the agreed time the man and his son were again at the place A), when suddenly it became dark for a few moments, there was an approaching noise and the castle again stood there just as it had long, long ago. At the same moment the serpent drew near, crawled towards the boy, and climbed up on him. 46. and at night at twelve sharp he was in place. A large serpent approached, carrying the keys in its mouth. The lad was horrified, but he thought of the treasures, gathered courage and stood still until the serpent was right near him. 49. The next day at twelve noon the man went in good spirits to the courtyard. Once again there was a thunderstroke and out of the same dark hallway, from which the white lady had come on the previous day, a horrible serpent now darted out, carrying a key in its mouth. 63. (a) That evening the miller came to check on how his helper was doing. He told him the whole story and admitted that he felt somewhat uneasy. "Good", said his master, "you stay in the mill room at that time and I'll hide inside the mill. If that little fellow wants to do you any harm, then just call and I'll run to your aid." No sooner said than done. (b) Towards eleven o'clock the helper sat at the table in the room reading a book, as Saxons like to do. He may have sat there for about a half hour, when the door sprang open; he looked around but there was nothing to be seen and so he read on. Soon afterwards he heard a rustling and he looked under the table, from where the sound was coming, and a serpent thick as his arm stared at him with huge eyes; it was holding three keys in its mouth and shaking its big head. 48. and the beautiful white lady led them next to the gate through a door which they had never seen before into a splendid, large room with old paintings and a large fireplace. In the middle of the room stood a chest and on the chest lay a dog that had three keys in its mouth. ("Now, children, fetch the keys", said the beautiful woman with a friendly smile, "Then I will make you so rich that you won't even know yourself how rich you are." C) In Number 44, three forms have to be kissed, the beautiful woman, the

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toad, then the serpent. In 42, 46, 49, and 63 only a serpent is to be met in a single episode; however 46 resorts to a startling flanking movement at the turning point (E) below). In 48, the dog rather than a serpent, has the keys in its mouth. Note the almost word-for-word repetition of the sentence in 42 about the castle standing just as before. Both the statement and its repetition are stock requisites of the Sage (S). (E) At the turning point, the person is overcome by fear and refuses to fulfill the condition (S). 44. and as it wrapped itself around him he screamed with terror. 42. The boy would have done it, he was brave enough for that, but his father was terrified, sprang to his help and tore him away. 46. He was about to kiss the serpent when suddenly a huge bear, covered with knives and sharp forks, trotted up screaming "Stab and cut to bits." and hurtled at the lad. "Yikes, that's not what I had in mind", said the lad and ran away. 49. Seeing that, the man was so frightened that he screamed aloud, "God help me!" and wanted to run away. 63. Then the miller's helper was gripped with such fear that he sat still as if pinned to the spot and did not dare take the keys from the serpent. It looked at him more and more pleadingly the more time went by, and even lay its head on his knee like a faithful dog does, so that all he had to do was open his hand, but then he pulled his hand back and even fell unconscious. 48. But when the children stepped towards the dog, he bared his teeth so horribly that they did not dare go any nearer to take the keys from him, and no matter how much the beautiful woman encouraged them, nothing was of any help. (F) Irretrievably the opportunity is lost (S). Now the white lady cannot be released until a long time has passed (F) (R). 44. then she disappeared immediately with great commotion. Now she can not be redeemed otherwise than by a boy who is rocked in a cradle made from the wood of a nut tree, which will grow from a nut from a small nut sapling, which stands in the castle's courtyard. 42. Then in one stroke the castle again became a ruin, the snake crawled away whimpering and complaining that it could now not be redeemed again until the little oak tree on the lower hill near Rodenstein had grown big enough so that a coffin could be made out of it. 46. while the serpent gave forth plaintive sounds and cried: "Now I have to wait again, until the cradle from the little tree is finished, in which my redeemer must be rocked!" What sort of tree that is, no one knows, but that the lady has a long while to wait, is certain.

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49. But that was unnecessary, for as soon as the word had left his mouth, everything had disappeared at one stroke. Since then the man often said that his life was now wasted, he had missed his one big chance. The maiden with the treasures can no longer be redeemed until the same raven again has dropped a nut in the castle courtyard, and until from the tree that grows out of it a cradle has been made and the child that has been rocked in it has grown into a man who will perform the task with greater boldness. 63. After midnight the miller returned to see how he was doing and found him lying there as if dead, not moving a limb. But when he regained consciousness, his first word was; "Let me out of here", and that very same day he tied up his bundle and went on his way. But the little man was never seen again. 48. Then the lady became so sad that crying loudly she took the children by the hand and led them outside in front of the door. When they turned around there to see her, she had disappeared and no trace of her was to be seen. Nor has anyone ever again laid eyes on that door. This formula of the nut tree, together with the turning-point of the serpentkiss or key is a distinguishing mark of this sub-type of "white woman" Sage (R)-9

The above tabulation should show that the listed Sagen represent a structured form, in which several genre-typical factors combine: a terse, objective manner of storytelling, a pre-established pattern of plot, a standard arsenal of Sage requisites: e.g. the white lady, the serpent with the key, the castle that comes back as of old, the dog on the treasure chest, the twelve men at table, and finally, original variations in combination and invention by the individual storyteller. The particular charm of this short narrative form lies in the delicate tension between the set pattern of the genre and the originality of the storyteller in filling the slots without much deviation from the standardly requisite type of content. The pattern outlined above is common to most Sagen of the type called "Redemption-" or Erlosungssage, and also is frequent for those involving the lifting of an enchanted treasure, where often the condition of success is merely the maintaining of silence. Often one or other structural element is stressed, or even developed to the exclusion of others (see Stage C above). An excellent example is No. 35 in Wolfs collection, where Stage B of our outline, namely the unexpected meeting with the white lady, forms - together with the "time-compression"

9 Grimm, in his Sage No. 107, p. 93, substitutes for the nut in the formula "ein schwaches Reis" (a weak twig), and Bechstein Sage No. 58, pp. 51-52, substitutes "ein Kirschkern" (a cherry pit).

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or Zeitraffung-efiect as in Agnes Miegel's ballad of "Ritter Manuel" 10 — the whole content of the story: a girl gathering wood with other children lagged somewhat behind, she climbed on a large rock and peeping to the other side saw a marvelously beautiful white lady who looked at her for a moment with a friendly smile, then disappeared. Immediately the child slid back down the rock and ran to the other children in order not to lag behind in the wood-gathering. But they had already collected large bundles and were getting ready to leave for home. The child had spent many hours on the boulder, but they had passed like so many seconds." Here we are in the middle of the Sage's world of experience. Nothing could be simpler, or more beautiful. Countless other parallel forms of the "white maiden" or "redemption" Sage also stood at Bergengruen's disposal for literary development, but "Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein" resembles most closely the ones analysed above. Manifest, first of all, is expansion of the material by a ratio of 12:1, since the legends listed above average a page or less in length and Bergengruen's story is twelve pages long. The basic pattern of the Sage-type presented above is, though diffused by much other material, retained as the central thread of the plot. (A) Statement of time, place and person: Ein junger Mann aus einem odenwäldischen Marktflecken, Sohn einer wohlhabenden Witwe, studierte die Heilkunde . . . Im Frühsommer verliess er die Hochschule und unternahm . . . eine kleine Fussreise . . . (265). Als der Mond silbern über dem stillen, blauschwarzen Tale stand, da stieg er in den Wald,. . . trat durch ein Tor und stand endlich im verwachsenen Burghof vor den schwarzen, efeuumsponnenen Trümmern, (267). (B) The unexpected incident, the encounter with the bespelled lady: Da hörte er aus nächster Nähe eine Mädchenstimme, die sprach sehr traurig und voll sehnsüchtiger Erwartung: "Der Mond ist da, / die Stunde ist da. / Wär nur der Mann da!" . . . und im gleichen Augenblicke hatte er . . . einen Mädchenkopf wahrgenommen, der aus einer der Fensterhöhlungen des Torturmes schaute. (268) (C) The condition for the breaking of the spell is announced: "Ich bin seit langer Zeit hierher gebannt und warte auf den Mann, der mich erlöst. ..". 10 Agnes Miegel, "Die Mär vom Ritter Manuel", in Gesammelte Balladen (Düsseldorf, 1953), 46-49. 11 Wolf, Hessische Sagen, 26.

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"In drei Gestalten muss ich mich dir zeigen, und in drei Gestalten musst du mich küssen, dann bin ich erlöst und gehöre dir und alle die Reichtümer, die hier vergraben liegen, gehören dann auch dir." (269) (D) The frightfulness of the task is gradually developed: Stumm breitete er die Arme aus, umfing die Schlanke Gestalt und küsste sie auf die Lippen . . . . (270) Da hörte er hinter seinem Rücken etwas wie ein Schlürfen und ein trockenes Hüsteln und fuhr zusammen . . . Er wandte sich um und gewahrte eine gekrümmte Altweibergestalt, die aus dem Burghof herangehumpelt kam, Der Student erschrak über ihr abscheuliches Aussehen . . . . (271) Er glaubte zu vergehen, stürzte der Alten blind in die weit geöffneten Arme und küsste sie wütend auf den übelriechenden, faltigen, zahnberaubten Mund . . . . (272) Da hörte er über sich ein Rascheln im Efeu der Schildmauer, er schrak zusammen und wandte sich um und sah eine riesige Schlange hinunterkriechen, feucht und glatt und mit Schwären bedeckt, und ein ekler Geifer troff ihr aus dem M a u l . . . . (274) (E) Out of fear, the condition is left unfulfilled: so schrie er in seiner höchsten A n g s t . . .: "Lass mich! Verflucht sollst du sein! Lass mich." (275) (F) As a result redemption from the spell is impossible: Sein irrer Blick fiel auf die Fensterhöhlung des Torturmes; aus der aber beugte sich der Kopf des Mädchens vor, kronenlos und dämmerblass wie vor zwei Tagen, und sie sprach mit grosser Trauer . . . "Nun werde ich noch sehr lange warten müssen. Hundert Schritte hinter der Freiheit steht ein Nussbaum in einem Kleefelde gegen Mitternacht. Der soll eine Nuss bringen, und die soll ein weisser Vogel davontragen und über dem Burghof von Rodenstein im Fluge fallen lassen, und aus ihr soll abermals ein Nussbaum wachsen, und aus seinem Holz soll eine Wiege gezimmert werden, und der Knabe, den man darinnen wiegen wird, der soll der Mann werden, der mich erlösen wird." The above abridgment shows that the story does indeed correspond to the pattern. In spite of the much greater length of the story, the basic structure is preserved. In Section A the main character is left unnamed, and, true to the form, he is identified by profession and place of origin and also by age and sex. The triple segmentation of (D) — pretty girl/ old hag/ snake — is found in the sources only in Number 44; pretty girl/ toad/ snake; all the other examples cited above have only one encounter in Section D. However, one detail belonging to the form is not contained in Number 44 but only in Number 49, namely the bird in the formula of the nut tree; but in the Sage

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it is black (a raven), while in the story its color is white. The promise "I shall belong to y o u " occurs in none of the above legends; the element of romantic affection is foreign to them. In 44 no reward is promised (cf. (C)), and the shepherd's first reaction on seeing the beautiful Edelfräulein is anger at her for breaking the Sabbath; he does find it quite agreeable to kiss her in her beautiful and charming form, but this is only a transient impression, just as later he finds it unpleasant to kiss a toad. At any rate the possibility of a romantic liaison between a young noblewoman and a shepherd does not seem to occur to these Sa^e-narrators. Number 42 promises life-long; happiness; all the others promise treasure or wealth. The aspect of romantic love thus seems to be an addition by Bergengruen. The romantic stanza: "Der Mond ist da, / Die Stunde ist da, / War nur der Mann d a ! " is adapted from Wolfs Sage No. 204: "die Zeit ist da! / die Stund' ist da! / wär nur der Mensch d a ! " which has quite a different meaning. There it is the call of a river, longing for a victim; each time when the millers and dyers along the Lahn hear these words inevitably someone drowns. Mensch is replaced by Mann, changing the meaning from the 'human being' desired for consumption by the carnivorous river to the romantic-heroic 'male counterpart' longed for as redeemer and lover by the phantom prisoner. However, Sage No. 201, which reports a similar tale about a different river, uses the form: "Die Stund' ist da, und der Mann noch n i c h t ! " The syntax is more complex and the scope of vocabulary broader. As selected examples of this, one can consider the extended participial constructions: "durch das kühle Feuchtigkeit ausatmende Wiesental" (267); "mit einer dunkel und anmutig klingenden Stimme" (269); and "des an die Schildmauer gelehnten Wohnhauses" (270). Only a single such construction occurs in the six legends, namely "prächtig gekleidet" (No. 48), however even this is simpler than the above-listed examples; the modifier consists of only a single adverb. Incidentally, in Bergengruen's story there occurs one apokoinu, an archaic grammatical construction, whereby a dependent syntactic element is shared by two main ones: "Das kann nicht ein jeder sein. Sondern nur, der mich wahrzunehmen vermochte, der ist auch geschickt es zu vollbringen." The middle clause modifies both the preceding and the following one. This intentional archaism, reminiscent of Middle High German, underscores the "strangeness" of the girl. Description abounds. The legends usually give one, or at most two, attributes and name the object or person and that is all, but Bergengruen goes into details of appearance. This can have its dangers, for it softens the silhouette, destroys the simplicity of contour. In literature, simplicity is one method of reproducing the original effect of an experience. For example, Sage No. 35, cited above, merely names the "wunderschöne weisse F r a u " and still the reader peers over the boulder with the young girl and shares in

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the direct experience of that momentary smile before the beautiful woman's disappearance. The danger of excessive description is diffusion; it can destroy the unity of the experience, comparably to looking at a news-photograph with a magnifying glass and seeing dots in greater or lesser density rather than a coherent whole. Bergengruen's girl has long, dark hair that shines in the moonlight like silk, she has almond-shaped oriental eyes. And the author adds: "Aber es lag eine solche Fremdheit um ihre Gestalt, dass es dem Jüngling war, als müsse das Land, dem sie angehörte, noch ferner von dieser Erde liegen als das fernste Arabien oder Persien" (260). This is diffusive writing, in contrast to that of the Sage where the reader knows without being told that he is witnessing a scene from beyond everyday reality. However, as we shall see, the purpose and accent of Bergengruen's story is different, the description diffuses the external contours because they are not the real subject, the primary intention of this story. More important — the objective manner of narration is replaced by a subjective one. The story "Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein" employs, as an essential factor of its form, a subjective reflector. The action in general is seen as really taking place, but through the mirror of the young man's subjectivity. It is true that each of the Sagen also uses real persons as witnesses and presents their reactions, but the emphasis is on objectivity — the persons were real, the act of seeing was real, and what they saw was real. The subjectivity is contained within the objective world. Here, however, priority is given to the impressions of the senses, feelings and mind — which leads to a further softening of the external contour. On each page the content is set in relation to the reflector by numerous expressions such as: "so malte der Student es sich aus" (so the student pictured it), "sondern gedachte zuvor" (but had in mind first), "in diese [Berggegend] zog ihn ein besonderer Anlass" (a particular purpose was drawing him to this mountain region) (265); "Wie es dem Studenten schien" (As it seemed to the student), "denn anders glaubte der Jüngling es nicht erklären zu können" (for the young man did not see any other way of explaining it), "Sorglos und glücklich streifte e r . . . und freute sich in dem Gedanken . . . . " (Carefree and happy he strolled along . . . and rejoiced at the thought. . . ) (266). The entire paragraph, "Den Studenten hatte" (266), presents its content by means of ratiocination and reflection, or perhaps more accurately these are its content. By that point, at any rate, the subjective manner has been firmly established, yet it is supported on each page by numerous clauses such as those given here. The point of departure for such subjectivity was given in the Sagen themselves, at least potentially, when the reaction of the persons was presented, for instance, the young farmer's reaction in No. 46: "denn er glaubte, es sei irgend eine vornehme Frau aus der Gegend" (for he thought it was some prominent lady or other from the neighborhood). Here the subjec-

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tive element supports the naturalness of the action by showing why he greeted and serves as a technique of objectivization because the interpretation of a phenomenon is posterior to the phenomenon itself. A false interpretation can be rhetorically even more convincing than a true one since it implies surprise at the occurrence, non-collusion between the event and the witness, non-stylization by the narrator for propaganda purposes; for example, at Christ's Resurrection Mary Magdalen mistakes Him for the gardener (John 20:14-15), the disciples on the road to Emaus take him for a stranger (Luke 24:18) and in Jerusalem for a spirit (24:37), and Thomas refuses to believe it is the Lord until he is given concrete evidence (John 20:24-39). However, in the Bergengruen story the proportion between external action and subjectivity has changed. The latter has acquired primary importance as a factor of the form. From the point of view of its constitution the subjective element of the story is much more complex in texture than in the popular narratives recorded by Wolf. The range of external sensation is broader, andmore intense since reflection gives it depth. More senses are engaged. For example, hearing: Aus der Tiefe des Waldes hörte er ein Käuzchen rufen, und nun erschrak er fast, unerachtet er mit der Natur aller Tiere von seinen Studien her auf das Genaueste vertraut war und wohl wusste, dass des Käuzchens Schreien keine andere Bedeutung hat als etwa das Blöken des Schafes oder das Trillern der Lerche. (267) Note the contrast between the primal atavistic reaction and the scientific attitude. The sense of smell (followed by another instance of vivid hearing): Er schloss die Augen, da wehte ihm ein Geruch entgegen, wie von Verwesung und kaltem Leichenatem, er hielt die Luft an, um diesen Geruch nicht spüren zu müssen, da gellte ihm wieder das schrille Meckern ins Ohr, Himmel und Hölle bissen ihn ins Herz, er glaubte zu vergehen . . . . (272) The sense of sight is, however, not neglected either: und nun sah er deutlicher das boshafte, pockennarbige und mit Eiterbeulen bedeckte Gesicht, über welches wirre, graue, verfilzte Strähnen fielen. Er sah das Ungeziefer aus ihren Haaren schlüpfen und über ihre Stirne kriechen, usw. (271) And touch: Jetzt hatte die Schlange den Boden erreicht, und mit einem feuchten Klatschen schlug ihr Hinterleib gegen das welke vorjährige Laub. (274)

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However the subjectivity goes beyond mere reflection of external action. It often consists of introverted reminiscence, rumination, or deliberation, not directly focused on outward circumstances but pondering the future or attempting to fathom the past. There is a strong engagement of the inner senses; that is, vivid sensory perceptions may result not from an external stimulus but from an inner projection to the imagination. The focus of attention is thrown off the external object and concentrates in this internal sensation which exists only in the imagination: Wie sie so vor ihm stand, da war der Student erschrocken und verwirrt und konnte kein Wort über die Lippen bringen; er meinte des Alten wehmütige und unruhig flackernde Augen auf sich gerichtet zu fühlen und ihn geheimnisvoll raunen zu hören . . . . (269) Here the girl is standing right before him, but what he is seeing and hearing is an internal, remembered image. Sometimes such internal sensations are voluntarily elicited: for instance, when the student, after the chilling experience with the old hag, is waiting for the third apparition, which he expects to be worse, he intentionally conjures up in his mind all sorts of horrors from his own experience or from readings or stories he has heard, in order to steel himself for the final trial of courage (273). But at the last moment, fear takes the upper hand and the pictures swarm across his mind despite himself: So sah er sich furchtsam nach allen Seiten um, während gestaltlose Schreckensbilder wie Fieberträume durch seinen Geist hinjagten. (273) The volitional psychology is intricate, especially at the turning points, but elsewhere also (note the motoral paralysis in the first quotation (above). At the turning points elements of reverse psychology enter in. At the ordeal of the second kiss, the student first mistakes the old woman for an intruder and in spite of her unimaginably repulsive appearance he is attracted to her because she is a human being as contrasted to the spinechilling spirit world. But he overcomes the temptation to use this human intruder as a pretext to interrupt the second encounter, which he both desires and fears. Just as he masters the temptation and decides to send her away, she pronounces the words of the moon-stanza, thus identifying herself as the bespelled girl. Angrily he overcomes his repulsion at the stench and kisses her. The conflict with the serpent is even more radical in this respect. After mustering all possible courage in order to go through with the kiss, he suddenly finds himself gripped in a life-and-death struggle (subjectively), in which his stance is reversed. Every ounce of his strength is now directed against the kiss, which is forcing itself on him. The serpent seems to be

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mesmerizing him to his doom; he braces himself against its spell, which is gradually gaining more and more power over him (275). With utmost exertion he resists and with all the strength he can muster he cries out refusing the kiss. His frantic outcry gives him the strength to look away, he picks up a stone and throws it at the serpent, which disappears. The spell is broken. Victory is his. Or rather, just the opposite: in succeeding in overcoming her spell, he has failed in his original mission, the implanting of the kiss that would bring redemption. He has failed in life, as it turns out. Here we are at the heart of the literary intention of this work. Just as subjectivity is the medium of the story, so the mutability of human impressions and attitudes and variability of volition as a function of these, with a resulting blockage or motivation of action, are its theme. The role of recognition is decisive at the turning points. It determines the outcome of decision. The first trial is successfully mastered because of it. In spite of the disgusting appearance and sound, it establishes the connection with the bewitched girl, it penetrates beyond the phenomena to the noumenon: und in ihrer Stimme meckerte alle höllische Begierde einer bosheitstollen .und brünstigen Hexe, und die Worte, welche der schaudernde Jüngling erkannte, waren dies: "Der Mond ist da, die Stunde ist da. Wär nur der Mann da!" Und nun begann sie zu lachen, dass dem Studenten das Herz stillstehen wollte vor Entsetzen; denn jetzt hatte er erkannt, wer da vor ihm war. (272) This clarity of recognition establishes the connection with external reality at its essence and thus overcomes the vehemence of sense-perceptions, which present only accidental qualities and do not penetrate to the substance. In spite of his revulsion, the student has the strength to carry out his original intention. However, the third kiss does not come about, because recognition is lacking, or rather, is misdirected. Two external clues for this are: the word erkennen this time does not point beyond the appearance to the girl, but instead it points at the external appearances, it accepts them as genuine reality and even potentiates them beyond what the senses directly present by a subjective impression drawn from cultural tradition. Directly seen is a snake whose dripping venom eats through all organic matter down to the bare rock. "Recognized" in the full context of experience, which includes culturally received imagery, is this:

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und nun erkannte er die Schlange des Paradieses, die Mutter der Sünde und Verderberin des Menschengeschlechts, wie er sie als Kind mit stockenden Pulsen in des Pfarrers Bilderbibel gesehen hatte. (274) (and now he recognized the serpent of paradise, the mother of sin and the destroyer of the human race, as he had seen it agasp as a child in the pastor's picture-bible.) Decisive in the achievement of recognition beyond the phenomena or in the fixation of a recognition at the level of the phenomenon, is, in short, not the phenomenon as such, but the center of gravity of its suggestive force whereby it brings into a play a whole imaginative complex. The snake itself is a triggering device, channeling the attention towards impressions of evil. So vivid is it in this respect that it obfuscates the words of the verse, which in previous apparitions has triggered recognition of the bespelled girl. This time the stanza is not quoted directly: "und aus dem Zischen und Fauchen wurden Worte, und wieder waren es die Worte vom Monde und der Stunde und dem Manne." The moon stanza is heard but it is not the center of attention and therefore recognition does not follow. An external framework spans the story from beginning to end. It could be summed up so: — before the experience, and after it. This is not a framework novella, in which a narrator in a storytelling situation is depicted and made to tell the enclosed story, but only in the sense that before the plot unrolls, strong expectations and clues are planted at the start and left in suspense until the very end, when they are finally resolved. In the first two paragraphs (265), the young man's great success at the university and happy hopes for the future are presented; association with a famous professor benefits both his scholarly striving and the development of his character and personality; he has a charming fiancée. The future seems simply too rosy — this in subjective terms, of course: und so war für ihn Grund genug vorhanden, mit seinem Lose, das ihm glückliche Hoffnungen für die Zukunft tausendfach verschönt und bereichert zeigten, vollauf zufrieden zu sein. (265) More immediately he looked forward to "Abende voll von Gesprächen" — about this pleasant future. All this is negated at the end of the story (276) that is, in the short span of a small journey on foot homeward he has changed completely. Industriousness and personality are gone; conversations and his bride do not interest him; he has been made useless, incapable of any career. The contrasts are stark. Earlier characteristics were intellectual industriousness and pursuit of the humanities. Now he sits matt und stumpf (languid and dull) and has no pleasure in any undertaking. He once yearned for evenings full of conversations. Now he has for his mother hardly an answer, "kaum

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Antworten", and for his fiancée a few indifferent words, "ein paar gleichgültige Worte". Previously he loved her; now he is a passive and indifferent partner — "der Student Hess alles mit sich geschehen" — to a wedding which the tearful bride still wants only because of fear of what the neighbors would say. His prospects for the future were good; he had "glückliche Hoffnungen" (hopes of happiness). Now he is considered a worthless individual "einen unnutzen Brotesser", not worth his keep. Within this general frame is a further preludatory episode, in which the principle for the transformation is stated. First, the question is raised whether insanity really is a condition of illness — the mentally deranged, though adjudged by doctors to be ill and to have "lost" their minds, often enough may have properly found them only in this condition. The student had often come into contact with people "die an solcher Krankheit litten oder aber, wie ihrer manche meinten, mit solcher Genesung zu ihrem Glück gefunden hatten" (266). Among them was an old man who claimed to have tried to redeem a beautiful ghostly girl who wanders about Rodenstein under a spell, but to have received such a fright in the process that he had not yet been able to rid himself of it. This old man corresponds functionally to the advancement of the nut tree formula (E) of Sage No. 49 (see page 82 above) into the structural slot (A), in that it also gives a preview of the problem to be faced and establishes suspense at the outcome of the student's involvement. The old man's experience, is it madness or reality? The young man's science — in fact, science as such — is it worthless, prosaic shallowness? These, concretely, are the two main poles for the subjective variability described above. In its positing of the problem, this story cuts through to the marrow of reality, because it is set in terms that do justice to an objective anthropology, i.e. the case for science is presented as strongly as possible, and the case for the more primitive, non-rational instincts, longings and impressions likewise. Science as opposed to the atavistic reactions which antedate recorded history; the shudder caused by an owl's hoot versus zoology's exact knowledge: from his studies he was familiar with the nature of all animals down to the last detail and knew very well "dass des Käuzchens Schreien keine andere Bedeutung hat als etwa das Blöken des Schafes oder das Trillern der Lerche" (267). Science records all the facts, and it finds no special Bedeutung, no transcendental meaning or significance. Analyzed findings are neutral; a fact as such is cold and indifferent. Furthermore, the student knew that there is nothing on this earth which cannot be comprehended by rule, scale, compass and scalpel: "da er wohl wusste, dass es nichts auf dieser Welt gibt, welches mit Massstab, Waage, Zirkel und Seziermesser nicht begriffen werden kann" (268). Thus, at first the scientific attitude (rationalism, or better, rationality) has the upper hand and the old man's non-rational tale is

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subjected to shrewd almost philological scrutiny: "Wie es dem Studenten schien, mischten sich in dieser Geschichte auf eine seltsame Weise frühe .Liebeserlebnisse mit geheimnisvollen bäuerlichen Überlieferungen und den Schauern einer ernsten und einsamen Landschaft; denn anders glaubte der Jüngling es sich nicht erklären zu können" (266). However, the form of scientific mentality here described is not aprioristically dogmatic and limited to positivistic empiricism. It does not exclude "Freude an Wanderungen und L a n d s c h a f t e n . . . und an solchen Örtlichkeiten, die merkwürdig waren um ihrer Lage und Art oder um der Widerspiegelung willen, die sie im Gemüt des Volkes hervorgerufen hatten" (266). The old man's experience is called "vermeintlich" (supposed, 266); it is doubted but not prejudged. Indeed, frequent thought about the matter has not been able to fathom a veil of mystery that seems to lie over the case: "Er hatte dessen Geschick häufig überdacht, ohne das es ihm gelungen wäre, ganz das Geheimnis zu entschleiern, das ihm über der Krankheit zu liegen schien und seinen nachdenklichen Scharfsinn reizte" (266). On this plane, the two opposite poles of the anthropological scale meet; science studies the irrational; the mind is directed at the dark emotive sub-strata of the species homo sapiens. At the same time, there is a possible leverage point for madness to take over: "nachdenklichen Scharfsinn" might, in this context, connote a finely calibrated inner eye, a poly-convoluted, superactivated acuteness of mind in hair-trigger proximity to raving insanity. And, as a matter of fact, the mad old man's world does gradually take the upper hand in his young friend's mind. Under the physical, sensory impressions of Rodenstein at night, the youth's feelings about the old man's plight are strangely bi-valent, including pity - "Er empfand ein grosses Mitleiden mit ihm„aber er spürte selbst, dass er dieses Mitleiden nur wie eine Gewohnheit aus dem hellen Tage in diese Mondnacht und an diesen Ort mitgebracht hatte" (267); and envy — "und dass er, freilich ohne zu wissen warum, nunmehr des Alten fast mit einem zaghaften Neide zu denken geneigt war" (267). Science, rationality fights back. After the mental contrast of the shudder caused by the owl's hoot against the cool objectivity of science, the student recognizes the affinity of the old man's plight with this atavistic layer of man's constitution and with a conscious effort turns back to a scientific manner of thought, namely in terms of architecture, history, and archeology: "Jetzt trachtete er, den alten Mann aus seinen Gedanken zu verbannen, und richtete sein Augenmerk fast gewaltsam auf die Beschaffenheit der Burg, aus welcher er ihren Bauplan, ihre Geschichte und ihr früheres Aussehen in seinem Geiste wiederherzustellen sich mühte (267). The result is a feat of analogy in which the systematic methodology and precision of the exact sciences is abandoned for the more sweeping flight of cosmic

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fantasy, more typical of Pansophism or of — Werner Bergengruen: 12 "Hier wollte er sich eine Pfeife stopfen und den Hunderten von Glühwürmchen zusehen, die ihm wie in einem Wunderspiegel die Bewegungen der Sterne am Firmament verstärkt wiederzubilden schienen" (268). After the appearance of the girl, the precise, scientific manner of thought makes one last defensive comeback (the quotation given above about rule, scale, compass and scalpel). Then a new polarity takes over, that between beauty and ugliness, good and evil, and both poles are within the nonrational, value-oriented plane. Thus the next stance of the scientific attitude has already been outflanked because it is in the service of one of these two poles; the conflict no longer is science versus madness or irreality, but whether beauty/goodness or ugliness/evil shall conquer the man's mind: Vor der Schrecklichkeit der Gestalten fürchtete er sich nicht; denn er besann sich darauf, dass er bei seinen Studien an Kranken, Sterbenden und Gestorbenen manches Grauenhafte gesehen hatte, über welchem sein Herz fest geworden war. So vertraute er darauf, er werde auch die schlimmste Gestalt des Mädchens zu ertragen vermögen. (271) From this point on, science vanishes from the scene. Now a further question arises: did all this really happen? Or has the student lost his mind? More accurately, at what point did he lose his mind, since evidently when it is all over withdrawal and lethargy cripple his capacity for efficient functioning? The question then is: is madness only an aftermath of the story, or is the story itself a description of the transition of a mind into madness? Strong signs support the latter possibility. There are indications that the student succumbed to quasi-hypnotic suggestion from his old friend and patient. An extremely close mutual relationship exists between the two. The old inmate trusts no one else; as he tells his story, he looks about fearfully to make sure there are no unwanted listeners (266). The student in turn has an unusual — merkwürdig — liking for the man, and is led to Rodenstein by a penchant for places that are merkwürdig. Just prior to the vision, the image of the old man comes penetratingly (eindringlich, 267) before his mind, and again for the last time, as the girl stands before him. From here on the girl in her various forms could be explained as an imaginary transformation of the old man caused by his suggestive spell on the mind of his young friend. The eyes and voice may be a clue to such hypnotic hallucination. As the girl stands before him, he imagines he sees the old man's sad and restlessly flickering eyes directed at him and hears his voice whispering mysteriously 12 Bergengruen loves to toy with miniature Others in this book are the satirical solar sycophants around the Princess of Darmstadt swell and grow to the size of globes and planets

models of the world or the universe. system analogy of the courtiers and (122-23) and the whortleberries which (140).

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the words of the moon-song (269). The girl's own eyes are almond-shaped and oriental under half-moon brows — which on face value seems to be a negative finding. However, as he is in fearsome expectation of the third encounter it is these eyes which summon him: "da glänzten die Mandelaugen ihn liebreich an" (272); and "Dann aber glaubte er den zärtlichen Schimmer der Mandelaugen auf sich zu fühlen . . . und es machte ihm das Herz weit und getrost" (273). In the meeting with the old hag, the eyes are also a focus of attention: "Er sah die ruhelosen, triefenden Augen und erkannte an ihrem Ausdruck, dass er eine Irre vor sich hatte" (271). Irre has particular significance, because it recalls the framework situation, where madness was the general climate. But more conclusive is the climax of the story, when the serpent expressly exerts hypnotic influence on him: "Immer starrer und böser und fester bohrten sich ihre Augen in die des Studenten" (275), and he felt the power its paralyzing stare was gaining over him. The momentum of the student's scientific striving also concentrates on this case. He has been industrious (overly so?) in his studies of the sick, dying and dead; he has frequently come in contact with the demented; and especially through such contacts he has been familiarized with the idea that insanity is perhaps not an abnormal condition (266). The moon, though at first sight it seems merely a sort of manneristic, extrinsic device heralding the advent and departure of the apparition, may also be a clue to hallucination. Apart from the four times in the song, it is mentioned twelve times. Twice it is part of the setting as the young man arrives at the ruins (267 and 271), thus marking the beginning of the scenes at the ruins prior to the girl's first appearance and prior to the old hag's coming. In the first instance, setting the mood of the ruins, the moon is mentioned three times, thus reinforcing the moonlight effect and perhaps anticipating the moon-stanza. The moon is also presented as a factor for influencing the emotions, changing pity for the old man into a hesitant envy — thus applying the mentally dangerous theory of the possible normality and happiness of insanity to this particular place and person. Four times, the departure of the vision is accompanied by the disappearance of the moon behind the clouds. First, the moon's disappearance is stated after the girl's (270), the next time simultaneously (273), and the third time the moon is first said to have disappeared, then the girl (276), though it is a priority not of time (for the tense is past perfect), but either of the unveiling of the direction of causality or of sequence of being noticed by the subjective reflector. The other reference to the moon is interwoven in the description of the girl (not of the other two shapes). The girl is seen to be made of moon-stuff:

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Sie nickte ihm zu, die Augen glänzten und die Krone blitzte, und dann war alles nur ein Mondstrahl gewesen, der über die nachttaufeuchten Efeublätter hingeglitten war und sie für einen Augenblick hatte aufschimmern lassen. (273) Her dress is also as transparent and delicate as if made of moon-mist (268) and her movements seem more like the gliding and swaying of mist than like the walking of a person. Her hair is dark and in the moonlight it has a lustre like silk. Her oriental, almond-shaped eyes are under brows shaped like half-moons (269). Is she real?The sentence above is ambiguous; is it a figure of speech stressing how totally she has disappeared, or is it a literal statement of what she consists of? Is she, in other words, a moon-figment existing only in the reflector's overwrought mind? Other signs which might be taken as symptoms of mental imbalance are: the extreme and alternating reversals of valuation, for instance after the first encounter (270 ff), and during each of the others. Also, the motor disturbances where the student stands speechless (269-270); and the mental block of not being able to remember her voice (270), which is then overcome after the old hag episode (272) and in the end remains as a paradoxical reversed fixation of his chronic dilemma: now he knows that he will hear this plaintive childlike voice echoing in his ears till he dies and yet no matter how he pleaded and begged, "ihre Stimme Hess sich nicht mehr h ö r e n , . . . die ganze, lange, finstere Nacht hindurch" (276). This also is ambiguous, the long night, of course, is a presage of his entire life. But that her voice could not be heard, could be taken in an objective sense or as a chronic fixation of a mental block towards the hallucination, as he had previously suffered as regards remembering the voice. Finally, after the first meeting he strays about in the dark forest "wie ein Kranker" and "kaum seiner Sinne mächtig" (270). And at the climax of the story, he shrieks "wie ein Kind aus einem Traum aufschreit". This recalls a case of hallucination presented by von Uexküll in the book Streifzüge durch die Umwelten von Tieren und Menschen.13 All these arguments are, however, based only on circumstantial evidence. The question is not resolved one way or another. Every fact pointing to the value of the student as a human being at the start of the story, or to his experience and human qualities could be interpreted to militate against the hallucination-theory, but on the other hand none of them are absolute guarantees against insanity. Furthermore, just as the question whether the phantom girl's womanly form is her true form as she claims (267), or whether the student was right when he saw that as a deceit of the devil 13 Jakob von Uexküll and Georg Kriszat, Streifzüge durch die Umwelten von Tieren und Menschen: ein Bilderbuch unsichtbarer Welten: Bedeutungslehre (Hamburg, 1956), 88.

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(275), is irresoluble, so it would not be unfitting if the broader question as to the real or hallucinatory nature of the entire adventure remained unsettled. One interesting sidelight is an instance of tactful reserve at the end. The student's bride wept before the wedding and went through with it only to keep people from talking, but still she is not explicitly included among those — "die Eltern und Anverwandten der Frau" — who considered him a useless mouth to feed (276). All this should show that Bergengruen's story, though it is indebted to the Sagen and has their basic plot structure and genre pattern, still is "a horse of a different color", a story with far greater psychological complexity. This does not however destroy some basic similarities, which in addition to those already mentioned include the following: The choice of person(s) in Section (A) of a Sage is not arbitrary, but it often coordinates with the nature of the white woman who appears and of other circumstances. In Sagen Nos. 46 and 63 the lack of fear in the protagonist was stressed, and in 63 size and strength as well, in order to present a worthy contestant for the struggle. Thus in No. 46, the snake was almost overcome, but then the fantastic bear outflanked the man, took him by surprise. In No. 63 a man's instinctive fear of snakes immobilizes his strength and brawn. Children are the persons in No. 48, and accordingly the lady is given motherly characteristics and divested of horror; the frightful aspect is thus transferred to a different creature, the big dog on the chest. Similarly here: the young man's profession as student and his admirable mental and personal qualities are suitable equipment for a mental and emotional conflict, a struggle of the mind rather than one of physical brawn or stamina. Therefore this story has an intricacy and multiplicity of planes which the Sage cannot achieve. Its broad anthropological spectrum reaches from the dark instinctive reactions such as the automatic fear of anything creeping up from behind (274/8) which is a relic of the prehistoric past, to the more sophisticated modes of human psychic activity such as scientific observation and analysis or pansophistic speculation. "Die Männer im Schnellertsberge", Chapter 24, is based on Legend No. 5 in Wolf. It is expanded from one page to four pages. The changes are quite numerous but seem to be of a minor nature. At any rate the first impression is that of a paraphrased retelling with many minor substitutions. Basically this legend is also an Erlösungs- or "redemptive" Sage. The meeting is with twelve men at the table who pass a sheet of paper, one to the other, saying "You write", each refusing. Then the earthly guest is asked to write. In panic he refuses, and everything disappears.

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Looked at more closely in order of appearance, the changes are: Sage 1. Location: a stone with a horseshoe mark on it near the road between Seeheim and Niederbeerbach. Such places are often considered uncanny, and serve as starting point for many Sagen or as subject for "aitiological" stories.

Bergengruen Bergengruen, for obvious reasons, transfers the scene to Rodenstein land, the top of Schnellert Mountain. Instead of the horseshoe mark in the stone, threepart singing by female voices and the crowing of a rooster on the isolated hilltop are inserted as distinctive landmarks. This material is taken from Wolfs Legend No. 9. There however the music is described as "soft, lovely singing . . . generally of church songs". Number of voices and sex are unspecified.

No. 9 also gives the rooster reference and also includes a very revealing anecdote about the mentality of the peasants among whom the Sage was told: "Often the rooster crows on the top of the mountain, where the ruins of the castle stand, and it has frightened many a person. For instance, not long ago, the people had gathered up there for a wood auction, and just as the forester was offering a piece of timber, the cock crowed. Instantaneously the place was empty and even the forester did not have the courage to stay." This parallels directly the fright at the climax of the treasure-lifting and redemption Sagen. 2. The person and time: a Prussian Corporal Petersee sent as orderly from one of the two towns to the other, during the French wars. The proper name gives a tone of authenticity, no explanation need be given for the man's being in the locality, because the stone is along the roadside; it is natural that he should pass there.

Time: unchanged, but the soldier is a Breton instead of a Prussian. Since Schnellert Mountain is out of the way a plausible reason must be given for his presence there. Bands of armed farmers make the roads unsafe for French soldiers not travelling in groups. Thus they resort to the woods rather than the open roads, and it is easy for them to get lost, as in fact this particular man is. In short, the change of scene to Schnellert Mountain probably generated the change of nationality in order to properly motivate the man's presence in that out-of-the-way place.

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3. The horse, more acute of sense, reacts first. The light is from the start preternatural: it is so bright that every twig becomes visible.

Bergengruen It is a stormy night, the light is dim and distant. First the rider is frightened, but then he realizes that he must inquire how to get out of these woods, since he is lost. He draws his pistol and, rides ahead. At the source of the light he meets three women with faces covered, one with a white cloth, one with gray, and one with black. The light is coming from a cave amid ruins of a castle.

5. Next to the stone is a table covered with a black cloth with writing implements on it.

Within the cave, in a vaulted room (cf. Wolf, Sage No. 2), is a massive round stone table. The black cloth is here omitted since the three women already provided the desired ominous symbolism with the three veils. The massiveness of stone is the note desired here because it carries over, by association, to the huge man who is subject of the next sentence.

6. The leader of the twelve men is clad blood-red.

The leader has only one eye, wears a huge black broad-brimmed hat, and stands a head taller than the others. The two wolf-hounds have long blood-red tongues. This is Bergengruen's version of Wodan, the Germanic God. 14

7. -

As the Breton enters, the men are speaking slowly and heavily and in a language he does not understand. (It had been carefully noted at the meeting with the women that he knows a few words of German in order to make it clear that these men are speaking some other language not of this world.)

8. A sheet of paper is passed around with the words Schreib du. No adverbs describe the tone of voice in which the men speak. They use direct address.

A large open book with blank pages is passed around in silence. The writing scene is completely pantomimed, but the meaning is made vivid by gestures and expression; the words mit einer Gebärde stummer Trauer, voll Trauer, and trübe describe the prevailing mood.

Bergengruen, Deutsche Reise (Berlin, 1934), 107.

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Bergengruen A long paragraph is inserted by means of the cue-line Den Reiter überrieselte es (The rider shuddered); it establishes the link between this country-side and the Breton's homeland. He associates the rustling of the forest, which echoes into the entrance-way, with the booming of the breakers against the cliffs of Brittany. Die Schauer der Heimat, the awesome mysteries of the homeland, thus applied to two separate countries, make Rodenstein a phenomenon not unique but part of a world landscape of wondersome nature and folklore.

-

10. After all the others refuse to write, the man in blood-red presents the paper to the Corporal, but he is so frightened he dares not move. The man in blood-red exclaims in wehklagendem Tone (in a plaintive tone) So will den Niemand schreiben! And everything disappears.

Here it is the massiveness of the leader that causes the fear and not only the general situation as in the legend. The one-eyed man stands up, his hat almost touching the vault, his eye flashing domineeringly, he grasps the book and is about to present it to the soldier.

11.

The soldier runs away. He hears a rooster crow three times. He realizes that he has committed a betrayal. Looking back, he sees that the light is extinguished and the opening is no longer visible, a large swarm of birds glides over the treetops. The dew-wet branches slap angrily against the rider's face.

-

12. The Corporal tells the story to a Pastor named Scriba. This name in conjunction with the repeated words Schreib du would seem to imply that this story dates from a time when writing was still an unusual activity, since so much importance is attached to it.

He tells the story to a runaway Priesterzdgling (person brought up by priests). This is a lowering of status compared with the legend. Thus his language will also be coarser.

13. The Priest scolded him and said, "If only you had written: 'The blood of Jesus Christ makes us clean of all sins', then you would be a rich man and the spirits would be redeemed. Now you have nothing from it but the fright and the spirits must wander about all the longer."

He said irritatedly: "You were stupid. You should have said: etc. Then all the magic would have been resolved and they would have had to give you their treasures."

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Bergengruen

13. - Cont.

Note how alle Zauber wäre gelöst gewesen differs from Die Geister wären gelöst. The Sage's ending treats the spirits as persons; one would almost suspect that Pfarrer Scriba actually stands for the author, probably a cleric with the outlook of a Seelsorger (a carer of souls).

14. The Corporal's reply is "Ja, wer das gewusst hätte!" ('Now who would have known that!'combined with 'If only I had known that!')

"I didn't know that. And anyway I can't write."

15.

For a while he looked pensively into the fire, then he spit, crossed himself and said: "These pines are black, and this forest is tall, and its spirits and its farmers are in league. It is not good to be waging war here."

-

The three women were introduced at change 4 apparently to make it evident even before the soldier enters the cave that it is a preternatural incident. Exactly what they symbolize is not clear, nor do they seem essential to the form. The initial change, which leads to many other changes after it, is the transfer of the setting to Rodenstein territory, to Schnellert Mountain in particular. This leads to change 2: in order to motivate a soldier's presence that far from the beaten track, he is made into an enemy courier forced to avoid the roads from fear of bands of armed peasants. A Breton soldier is chosen, a man whose own countryside is also full of mysterious folklore, in which the awesome wonders of the sea play a role similar to that of the Oden-Forest in the Hessian tales. Thus, the Breton is a susceptible reflector for the Schauer der Heimat (the awesome mysteries of the homeland) and has at the same time the distance of a stranger not yet familiar with the regional landscape and spirits. Change No. 3 in turn follows from 2; since the man is lost, he rides towards the light, to seek information. Nos. 7, 9, and 15 also directly depend on the selection of a Breton, a foreigner of related mentality, as witness. Indeed, the texture of the entire story is set by the Schauer-der-Heimat theme which is closely interrelated with the reflector. These spirits in the mountain with their silent and heavy sadness, the massive stone-table, the huge, one-eyed leader with the black hat and the two red-tongued wolf-hounds are a personification of the awesomeness of the local landscape (see No. 15).

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No. 11, the crowing of the rooster three times, is directly possible as a sign of betrayal without a breach of logic because of the rooster mentioned in No. 1 as a mark of the change of scene to Schnellert Mountain. It is borrowed, of course, from the Gospels, where Peter is admonished for his betrayal of Jesus (Matthew 26:75; Mark 74:72; Luke 23:61; John 13:38). The soldier's failure can be regarded as a betrayal only because of his affinity with this land though he comes from far away. The chief strength and beauty of the Saga version lies in the succinct pathos of its direct discourse, which springs from its expressive colloquial character as spoken language. Bergengruen sacrifices to his literary purpose such sentences as "Schreib du", "So will denn Niemand schreiben", "Wenn du nur geschrieben hättest", and "Ja, wer das gewusst hätte!" More details are given, but as in the previous story the silhouette of the Sage is softened. In summary, the most important change is the introduction of a Breton, a man both akin to and stranger to the Oden-Forest, as witness of the scene, a man thus provided with both susceptibility and distance. The change of setting suggested this change of figure, and it in turn brings about many other modifications in the story, since it establishes the general perspective. Gained as a result of the changes are greater richness of details and a wider international perspective of folklore; lost slightly is firmness of line, exemplified in the direct quotations of the Sage. One independent and incidental change is the introduction of the three veiled women. The title of Chapter 11, "Der Mann aus der Haal", which is taken from Wolfs Sage No. 23, "Der Mann auf dem Dreimarker", is a key to the difference of accentuation in the treatment. The Dreimarker is a boundary stone that marks the point where three borders meet. Its presence in the title of the Sage names the place where the apparitions occur; in Bergengruen's adaptation the title names two farms called the Haal, one of which for generations belonged to the Daum family, the principal witnesses of the Rodenstein apparitions during the investigations of the 18th and 19th centuries. The effect of the Sage title is to stress the incident, whereas the Bergengruen title emphasizes the man who experienced it, since the Haal is a proper designation applicable only to a particular place and, appended to Der Mann with its definite article, has almost the effect of a family name such as Gottfried von Strassburg, Walter von der Vogelweide, Thomas von Aquino etc. The words auf dem Dreimarker indicate a condition which existed only in conjunction with the incident. Examination of the story reveals that this clue leads to a correct inference. Instead of the general designation of person typical of the Sage "Ein Mann in Oberkainsbach", Bergengruen gives positive identification of his character and extensive delineation of the place. Accentuation of this place and especially of the personality of this man is the strongest formative

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principle in Bergengruen's version of the story. Just as Chapter 24, "Die Männer in Schnellerts" gives Rodenstein a wider geographical dimension extending all the way to Brittany and by inference to all other places where folklore flourishes, so Chapter 11 gives it a dimension of depth in time and in the soil of its own fixed and delimited region by showing its hereditary link with a particular family living within its immediate sphere of influence, the Daum family, "deren Glieder manches Menschenalter hindurch des Spukes Treiben und Art beobachtet haben und recht vertraut mit ihm gewesen sind, ohne dass sie ihr Grauen je hätten los werden können" (whose members have observed the nature and activities of the apparition for many generations, becoming very familiar with it, yet never completely overcoming their horror of it, 145). Georg Heinrich Daum is heir to this relationship with the ghosts. This is shown by various means: three times the ghostly hunter addresses him with familiarity by his full name (146 and 148); Daum himself mentions his grandfather's futile attempts to prevent the spirit from passing through his barn (147); and at the agreed meeting-place the hunter says: "Es ist gut, dass du gekommen bist. Einer deiner Vorväter hat mich einmal sonst warten lassen" (148). Moreover, Daum's entire life and character have been formed by the apparitions. Because of them he has not married: he has become too silent and pensive a man to enjoy dancing and wedlock. His attitude is one of resignation: "Es ist nicht anders, man muss dem Spuk zu willen sein" (146). In fact he has a sense of proprietorship towards the spirit: "Der Hof ist mein eigen, und die Nussbäume sind mein eigen, und was hier Arges geschieht, das ist auch mein eigen, und muss geschehen, und es soll mein eigen bleiben" (147). But he is a silent and pensive man (145); he does not like to talk about the apparition and when asked he shakes his head in alarm and says sadly: "Es ist ein grauenvolles Ding um ein Wesen, dass kein zeitliches Ende nehmen kann" (147). This expresses the basic dynamism of the story: Daum's awe at the ghastliness tempered by his deep pity for the spirits. Daum is a kindly man. He answers the knocking at the window because he thinks it might be someone lost or in need of shelter: "Es könne ein Obdachloser oder Verirrter sein" (146). The spirits know this trait and appeal to it. The hunter asks him if he wants to make his fortune and at the same time do an act of mercy, "sein Glück machen und zugleich eine Barmherzigkeit t u n " (146). The other spirits make pitiable pleading gestures, so that in spite of his horror he finds it impossible to refuse (146). At the two climactic points of the story, pity and horror are especially evident as Daum's basic emotions towards the apparition. The first climax, internal to the ghostly spectacle, is at the point where the dogs of the wild hunt find their quarry. A woman's scream of distress is heard, the redbearded nobleman exclaims, "Sie werden doch keinen Menschen angefallen haben!" (150). The one-eyed one answers with a laugh, "Mensch oder Tier,

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das gilt gleich." What they then find is a woman in blood-spattered clothing, with a little child in her arms: und auf der Erde sahen sie in blutüberströmten Kleidern eine Frau liegen mit einem kleinen Kinde im Arm, und beiden waren die Kehlen durchbissen, aber die schneeweissen Gesichter waren unverletzt und so schön und traurig, dass Daum nie etwas Ähnliches gesehen zu haben meinte. Der Rotbärtige starrte sie stumm und bedrückt an, der Einäugige aber lachte wieder. After this the hunting party returns to the castle. Within the ghostly apparition, one-eye kills red-beard for his incessant reproaches about the slaying of the woman and child, then himself hurtles to his death by springing on horseback off the castle wall. The second turning point includes Daum in the action. The hunter says, "Jetzt müssen wir unsere Toten suchen . . . . denn die zwei Leiber musst du begraben, eher kann dieses ganze Wesen kein Ende nehmen" (151). After much seeking they find the two corpses on sacks of flour in a mill behind the castle, "und das rote Blut war über die weissen Säcke geflossen, was bei dem wilden Fackelschein schaurig genug ausschaute. Georg Heinrich Daum sah die bleichen, zarten Gesichter an und gewann sie so lieb, er wusste selber nicht wie" (151/38). Suddenly the dogs charged in and wanted to pounce on the corpses. The farmer leaped to their defense "denn er konnte den Gedanken nicht ertragen, ihre gewaltigen Zähne möchten das wunderschöne Antlitz der Frau und die blassen Wangen des Kindes zerfleischen" (152). But the dogs are so fierce that Daum, for a moment losing all composure, raises his spade to strike them and shout, "Wollt ihr w o h l . . . " . And everything disappears. As is often the case, the speaking of a single word is enough to break the spell and the apparition becomes inaccessible for redemption. In grief at the thought that the spirits can now never find rest, Daum takes to drink and becomes even odder than before. At any hour of day or night he will suddenly go out to seek the apparition. One night he is found frozen to death at the Dreimarker. In contrast to this depth of emotion, the unnamed "Mann in Oberkainsbach" of Sage 23 receives only the offer to make his fortune: "so werde es sein Glück machen" (Wolf, 17), and at the end he says that if he had not let himself be bewildered by the dogs and had carried the corpses out and buried them, then he would now no longer have to eat potatoes (Wolf, 20). He has told the story many times. Other changes that follow upon the accentuation of Daum's character consist in the insertion of material from the testimony recorded in the Erbach files about the Rodenstein apparitions: the drive of the wild hunt through the barn doors (146), and the attempt to stop the ghost by means of a wall in front of the barn (147). The tapping at the window already exists in Wolfs Sage No. 23, but it is recorded in No. 19 in a form prior to

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incorporation in a story. In "Der Mann aus der Haal" it is mentioned three times; first, it gives the particular instance which starts the story (145), then it is represented as having occurred before, and more important, at the end of the story, it is a symbol of Daum's hallucinations and sense of urgency about the fate of the spirits, he is constantly imagining he hears somebody knocking and he runs outside to see if the three men are there (152). The building of the wall and its being knocked down three times is told in Wolfs Sage No. 30. Plischke says that in central and southern Germany the wild hunt often passes through houses, especially through buildings that have front and back doors in a straight line opposite each other. This would make the barn at the Haal just one case among many variations over a broad territory. 15 These three particular manners of contact with the Rodenstein spirit are given at the start of the story to, as it were, document the general statement that the Daums had a long history of contact with the wild army. Other changes are invented. Instead of peeling potatoes with his wife (Wolf No. 23, p. 17), Daum is cooking electuaries made of pears (145). The wife is eliminated, because Daum is depicted as a solitary and pensive bachelor. The potatoes are eliminated because peeling them is a year-round project, whereas canning pears can be done only in one season, in autumn after the pear harvest. Why autumn? Daum freezes to death at the end of the story, but it is uncertain, even unlikely that this occurs in that same year, because quite a few things happen between the vanishing of the wild hunt and his death: he becomes an alcoholic and somewhat demented; he makes himself a laughing stock in town because he is always asking if anyone has seen the two pale gentlemen and a hunter; many nights he wanders about Schnellert and Rodenstein mountains (152); and perhaps most indicative of duration he often interrupts his work in the plowfield or in the meadow to hurry home in case the three men might at that precise moment be standing at his door asking for him. One night in winter "Eines Nachts im Winter" he springs up from his brandy and storms out. His mother locks the door after him and he is found frozen to death (153). All these things could have taken place within a few months, but there is no clue that they actually did. If it were of any consequence, then the author would surely have chosen a more precise adverbial designation of time. Thus, some reason other than the freezing to death must be sought for the selection of autumn as the season. Only one other reference to autumn is made in the story, namely as Daum is waiting at the boundary stone for the hunter: "Die Nacht war windstill und klar aber kalt als eine Herbstnacht, ihn f r o r . . . " (147). Hour after hour went by, and still nothing unusual appeared. Conceivably the season was selected to make this scene right. Somehow a summer or spring night would not be as appropriate for this is

Plischke, Die Sage, 63-64.

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long wait as a chilling fall one is. At any rate, the general flavor or texture of the story itself is autumnal. Instead of the wife, the mother is inserted as a foil to Daum in his attitude towards the apparitions. Mother and son are alike in one thing: each has been indelibly stamped by contact with the spirits, each received his radical imprint and bent of character from the Rodenstein apparitions, only in one case the result is pensive, seclusive mildness and pity, in the other, acrid resentment and hostility. He accepts them as part of his lot in life, like the farm and the nut trees. She assumes an extremely antagonistic standpoint, and there is no reference to her where bitterness is not either clearly expressed or implicit. The mother's response to the knocking is "Geh nicht, es mag wieder der verfluchte Geisterlärm sein" (145). When her son reenters the house, she asks sarcastically, "höhnisch", what has happened. He does not answer, then she says if the spirits have asked anything of him, he should refuse (146). Her most revealing statement of attitude is: Ich wollte, er hätte deinem Grossvater den Hals gebrochen, da hätte ich nicht auf diesen verfluchten Hof geheiratet. Ich habe es dir hundertmal gesagt, du sollst ihn in andere Hände geben und Fuhrhalter oder Markthelfer in der Stadt werden. (147) Usually her son's response to her cantankerous attitude is silence: "Er gab keine Antwort" (146), "und ging fort, ohne seiner Mutter zu sagen, wohin" (147), and after the race with the wild army: "Als ihn anderen Tages seine Mutter befragte, gab er ihr keine Auskunft. Aber sie merkte, dass ihm etwas Absonderliches geschehen war, denn von nun an war er noch stiller und ungeselliger als früher" (152). Most puzzling and at the same time most revealing are the passages about the mother-son relationship, first, when the mother shakes her fist at the passing of the wild hunt, and second, the manner of Daum's death. In the first, Daum, racing wildly in the mad chase, looks down and sees that they are passing through the Haal, and with a sort of momentary x-ray vision he sees his mother inside the house: Seine Mutter stand am Herde und rührte, sie schlug ein Kreuz und drohte dem Zuge mit dem Faust, indessen ohne ihren Sohn wahrzunehmen. Der aber begriff in diesem Augenblick, wie sehr sie ihn hasste und dass er dieses Hasses nie würde Herr werden können. (149-150) This is almost Kafkaesque. Daum knows his mother's resentment of the apparitions, so he could expect her to shake her fist at its passage; furthermore, when she crosses herself prior to shaking her fist, it makes clear that the target of her hatred is the demonic passage of the wild hunt. In addition, it is evident that she does not see her son, yet nonetheless the shaking of her fist gives him a clear insight into her unrelenting hatred of him personally. The point of comparison with Kafka is that an apodictic insight is obtained

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by inconsequence, in fact by a sort of counterlogic, from incoherent or non-cogent data. After this Daum's death practically at the hands of his mother is conceivable, as presented in the last sentence of the story: Als er eines Nachts im Winter daheim über seinem Branntwein sass und plötzlich wieder hinausstürzte, da schloss die Mutter, an des Sohnes Artung verzweifelnd, hinter ihm die Tür und tat sie nicht wieder auf, und einige Tage später fanden Holzfäller die Leiche des Erfrorenen am Dreimarker, hoch oben auf dem Schnellerts. (153) She does not consciously intend his death. It comes as a result of her ingrained subliminal hatred of him as representative of the male line of the Daums which has brought her within the radius of Rodenstein. Actually this woman is a realistic portrayal from life of a person in whom bitterness has become all-pervasive and primary, no longer resulting from any particular cause, but self-existent and generating its own focus of resentment and external pretexts for bickering. The woman and child are likewise invented in function to Daum's character. Instead of them the victim in Sage No. 23 is a capuchin monk. According to Wolfs notes to Sagen Nos. 8 and 23, monks in the popular tales often stand for dwarfs or other spirits and in this particular instance it would be one of the wild men from the Wildeweibchenstein (Wild-women'sstone) near Rodenstein (cf. Sage No. 87). 16 Indeed Bergengruen's woman and child are partly a re-approximation to the older tales of the wild hunter, whose prey was often female, either his sweetheart or the Holz- or Moosweibchen, the wood or moss women, animistic vegetation spirits living in trees, etc., or — under Christian influence — the souls of priestly concubines, whores, witches, evil-doers, or unbaptized children.17 There is no trace of evil about this woman and child; if they are cognate to anything in the sources it would be to the female vegetation demon, but she would be recognizable as such by her long, copious breasts.18 Here sex is nonetheless pertinent, a man as the victim would give a completely different tonal valuation to the victim-slot in the story-structure, yet it is not femaleness in the sense of flowing abundance or robust providence that is here presented but rather fragile feminity, beautiful and sad, torn by cruel teeth. The mother-with-child grouping was in all likelihood suggested by the traditional Christian motif of the madonna-and-child, where at times the sadness of the Crucifixion is projected back to childhood scenes and, for instance, the Christchild plays with a little wooden cross. Yet regardless of origin, this mother and child are in the author's poetic intent outside the scope of

16 Wolf, Hessische Sagen, 181-84. 17 Plischke, Die Sage 65. 18 Plischke, Die Sage 65.

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Christianity except by virtue of analogy, which pervades everything. They are an integral part of the wild-hunt apparition, the passive counterparts to the frenzied chase. The scenes Daum witnesses are a return performance of a ghostly drama that is repeated time and again in an amoral world where neither right nor wrong exists but each figure does what it has to do. The burial of the two bodies would put all the actors equally to rest; the victims as well as the hunters. Daum's horror, melancholy and pity include equally the cruel one-eyed man and the fierce dogs as well as the pale, throat-torn mother and baby: "Ich hätte die armen Seelen lösen und dem Ding ein zeitliches Ende setzen können" (132/35). Die armen Seelen designates the individual figures, while das Ding considers the spectacle as a unity. This collective term corresponds to others which denote the phenomenon as a complex whole: Wesen (145, 151, 152), der Rodensteiner (145), Spuk (147 and 146), der Schnellertsherr (145), der Geisterlärm (145), Geist (147), Was hier Arges geschieht (147), es (149), and alles (152). Instead of in a dark, cold cellar, the corpses of the woman and child are found in a mill behind the castle, "und das rote Blut war über die weissen Säcke geflossen" (151). This is likewise an almost Kafkaesque symbolism. White and red are their colors. When they were first killed by the dogs, their faces were schneeweiss (150); on the sacks their faces are bleich, zart (151); and again when the dogs want to attack the corpses, the faces and cheeks of mother and child are wunderschön and blass respectively, with some spillover of meaning in both directions because previous adjectives were applied to both faces together. The identity of these two persons is not discoverable, all ties with their origins whether with pagan "vegetation" spirits or Christian madonna-and-child, have been severed. They have more the nature of chiffres, mysterious coded symbols. In them centers all the indecipherable beauty and sadness which is the object of Georg Heinrich Daum's horror and pity. And finally, in the shaping of the other figures of the wild hunt, there is a dual tonality corresponding to the pity and horror in Daum's mentality: namely sadness and wildness. This is made especially explicit in the passage of the hunting horn. The hunter stood up, nahm ein Horn und blies einen wunderlichen Jagdruf, halb traurig und halb wild, und dem Daum wollten die Tränen aufsteigen, und zugleich fühlte er doch eine mächtige Lust, mitzujagen und zu hetzen und vorher noch einen Schluck von dem blutroten Wein zu trinken, der vor ihm auf dem Tische stand. (149) This blood-red wine is singled out from the other victuals with which it was originally introduced: "Unaufhörlich liefen Diener herum, die trugen auf riesigen Schlüsseln ganze gebratene Eber und schenkten blutroten Wein aus gewaltigen silbernen Kannen" (148). Even in that first context connoting

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lavish abundance, the wine was tagged with the ill-boding modifier "bloodred" which it shared with the tongues of dogs: "Voran rannten die Hunde mit gierigem Kläffen, und die schmalen, blutroten Zungen hingen ihnen weit zum Halse hinaus" (149). But in the passage of the hunting horn the blood-red wine is explicitly the sacrament of wildness which would bring anyone drinking of it thereafter within the ban of the wild hunt. The strange horn-blast combines both sadness and wildness, it almost stimulates Daum to tears and at the same time it brings out momentarily a latent side to his nature which reverberates with wildness. The blood-red wine is a symbol of that wild side of man and nature. These two symbols, the plaintive wild hunting call and the blood-red wine are added by Bergengruen. Also added is the gamekeeper of Pfaffenbeerfurt who did eat and drink and ever since must ride in the wild hunt (148); in fact he shouts and agitates worse than the rest (150). He too is a foil to Daum; as a fellow mortal and former inhabitant of the Oden-Forest he represents what Daum would be had he taken the drink. Nor is it willpower or any other innate superiority that makes Daum different and prevents him from drinking. He is not really given the free choice, because before he has time to reflect, the occasion is already gone: "und nun war es auch schon zu spät, denn alle Herren waren mit grossem Getöse aufgesprungen und eilten davon" (149). This again is an element of the amoral: Daum is no better than the gamekeeper, his fate is merely different. There were two ways of failing at the redemption of the spirits: one was by succumbing to the call of wildness as the Pfaffenbeerfurter did and becoming oneself a part of the wild chase, and the other was to succumb to the side of sadness by pity as Daum did in defending the beautiful pale corpses from the fierce wolf-dogs. This put him in a position of excessive involvement and exposed him to terror at their vicious antics, leading him to break silence and cause the disappearance and subsequent inaccessibility of the apparition. The gamekeeper will be wild until the mad hunt itself is redeemed, and Daum in his pity is literally "sad unto death", a death by freezing. The color of the dogs is changed from white to gray in conformity with this principle of mixed elements. The Sage had "eine Menge von grossen, schneeweissen Windspielen"; Bergengruen substitutes "eine Anzahl grosser, grauer Wolfshunde". The Windspiel or whippit, a cross between the greyhound and the terrier, is a gaming animal suitable for chasing rabbits or racing, and "snow-white" is an adjective also applicable to beautiful ladies and their dazzling white linen. It is a pure color expressing idealized clarity, whereas the gray of the wolf-dogs is a mixture, more ambiguous, dangerous, less trustworthy. The wolf-dogs themselves are a more dangerous adversary, but even if they were not, their name has more frightening associations, whereas that of the Windspiel connotes lightness and speed rather than

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strength and ferocity; the Windspiel is also a descendant of highbred animals, a plaything of the aristocracy, whereas the wolf-dog is linked by his name with his undomesticated ancestors. Finally, the grosser, grauer adjectives are an onomatopoeic growling. The two noblemen whom the hunter identifies as the Lords of Schnellert and Rodenstein are also fitted within this dualistic framework of sadness/pity and wildness/horror. The Sage refers to them as "Zwei schön gekleideten Prinzen" and after the attack on the capuchin monk calls the mild one "der gute Prinz" and the other one "der böse". Bergengruen eliminates the moral epithets and the term Prinz, which smacks too much of the fairytale, but otherwise he retains the basic characters of the two men. One complains about the slaying, the other laughs cynically and finally kills the first for his reproaches. Instead of " g o o d " and "evil" they are identified as "der Rotbärtige" and "der Einäugige", i.e. the conceptual mode of knowledge is replaced by visual artistic signs, a sort of optical short hand. The red beard combined with plaintive pity is akin to the vibrant foliage coloration of autumn, it is the warmth of autumn. The one-eyed condition is privative, akin to the naked black branches of late autumn, the second, stark autumn with its cold and ominous winds. In this unreal world everything happens by immutable compulsion. Mystery replaces morals; it is the mystery of sadness and cruelty in the universe expressed artistically by colors, forms and actions, rather than of good and evil in terms of ethical categories. The red-bearded and the one-eyed man are derived from Bergengruen's concept of the two Germanic gods, Wodan and Donar, 1 9 but they are stripped of all identification with them and reduced to chiffres just as the woman and child were. Of elements of the Sage that are retained, the most notable is the hunter. He is a standard figure of the "Wild Hunt" and "Wild Army" and plays the role of warner. He is the getriuwe Eckhart of the Kyffhäusser and Venusberg Sagen. Of lower rank than the others he is spokesman for all and the only one who has any contact with Daum. His role too is paradoxical: he is striving for the redemption of the entire apparition, yet during the wild hunt, it is he who drives the dogs on. The notion of amoral compulsion is not far afield, and the germ for it in regard to this character is contained in the Sage itself. Chapter 15, "Unsere Liebe Frau im Forst" is taken from the 21-line Sage in Wolf, No. 277, "Des Rodensteiners Rettung", which is in genre a Marian legend, i.e. a story about how Mary as Queen of Heaven comes to the aid of a human, generally a sinner who in spite of his faults maintains a fervent devotion to her. The main features of Wolfs legend include an aitiological 19

Bergengruen, Deutsche Reise, 107.

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beginning: the legend is the founding story of a woodland chapel. The main character's chief defect is an irate and harsh temper. In spite of this he daily honors Mary with three "Hail Marys". One day he is attacked by a group of rascals and brought in danger of death. The holy Mother of God appears in a gleaming white garment and frightens the would-be murderers away. Mary requests as a proof of his gratitude that he show greater leniency towards his subordinates, which he does and in addition he establishes the woodland chapel. Bergengruen keeps the basic plot, but makes a few significant changes. The aitiological beginning is eliminated; the passage about the founding of the chapel is kept until the end, in order not to tell the outcome of the story in advance. Erkinger von Rodenstein's harsh treatment of his subjects is concentrated especially in a conflict with one man, Konrad Bock, a peasant and a notorious poacher. However, it is made clear from the start that Rodenstein is hostile to all women, children, and farmers. His devotion to Mary is placed under the motif Stella Matutina, an invocation from the Litany of Loreto, meaning 'morning star', a symbol of the Blessed Virgin as the dawn of the new human race re-created by Christ's redemption and as a pledge and foretaste of the great day of eternity when creation will blossom forth in its full glory. Though a hard man, asking nothing of God or man, Erkinger has one hour each day when his heart opens: das war, wenn der Morgenstern am blassen Gewölbe auffunkelnd vor seinen Fenstern stand und er die Mutter des Herrn, die mit ihrem Kind tief im blauen Himmel sitzt und den goldenen Sonnenflachs spinnt, mit drei Avemaria grüsste, ehe er zur Jagd auszog; und er hätte eher des Schlafes oder der Nahrung vergessen mögen als dieser Stunde und ihrer Übung. (195) Instead of being attacked by a random band of scoundrels, Erkinger is shot with an arquebust by his bitter personal enemy, Konrad Bock, whose life he has endangered by threats of prosecution for poaching. In the Sageversion of the legend, Mary prevents Rodenstein's death by frightening the would-be murderers away; here however the arrow strikes him in the heart and he is, as Bock confirms, actually dead. The manner of his salvation is by being drawn outside time into eternity: "Und weil die Zeit aufgehoben war, so waren auch alle anderen Abhängigkeiten und Ordnungen aufgehoben, und so hat das geschehen können, was mir geschehen ist" (199). Earthly patterns of cause and effect apply only within time and space. Miracles are possible because these categories are not all-inclusive; beyond them, in eternity, a completely different order prevails. As Rodenstein feels the arrow strike his heart, he cries out "Not yet, Mary!"and feels himself falling "durch dunklen Raum, tief und abertief, und alle Zeit war vorbei" (197). He awakens to a bright shining and to the caressings of a child. He finds himself in a room with skyblue walls and a fire casting the gleam of

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brilliant sparks against the blue wall like countless golden morning stars (197). He sees a woman spinning flax and a boy with a face radiant like a snowfield in the sunshine, and he plays with the child, laughing with a happiness he has never felt before: und es war ihm, als sei alle Zeit vergangen und alle Welt sei ein einziges Morgengemach, durch dessen Fenster der leuchtende Stern der Frühe hereinfunkelte. (197) In this passage, the origin of the genre as devotional propaganda is evident. The felicitous relationship established by prayer is depicted as having transcendental validity. In Wolfs form of the Legende, Mary admonishes Erkinger that as a proof of his gratitude he should strive for (sich befleissigen) greater mildness towards his subordinates. This is — as W o l f s short tales tend to be — sober and realistic, recognizing that a hard and rough-edged character does not change overnight. Bergengruen's Erkinger von Rodenstein on the other hand undergoes a radical conversion at the moment of his first death; i.e. at the turning point of the story he awakens in heaven wie ein Verwandelter (like a person transformed, 197). After his return to earth both he and Bock are radically transformed and become friends. Rodenstein no longer hates women, children, and peasants. The chapel is built. Bock is appointed gamewarden. The morning star is placed on Rodenstein's coat-of-arms (200). The two men talk about the incident only once; at the dedication of the new chapel, Rodenstein says: "Wir haben einander nach dem Leben gestanden, und es hat die Folge gehabt, dass die Zeit einmal ein wenig gelüpft worden ist und es ist ein Stückchen von der Ewigkeit vorgekommen wie der Morgenstern aus den Frühwolken." (200) Thus the basic parallelism of the Weltanschauung in this legend is: morning star _ prayer _ bright day

heaven

To which might be added:

Mary New Creation

_

time eternity

Earthly Mother & Child, Heavenly

since such a parallelism is obviously intended in the peasant Bock's wife and child (196, 198, and 199). As contrasted with the stern sobriety and realism in the style of the Sage-version, Bergengruen's story "Unsere liebe Frau im Forst" gleams with symbolism: the colors blue and gold of the heavenly chamber, framed in the blackness of the oak forest where the arquebust arrow is shot; the morning star; but most of all in the untheological imagery of the mother with her child sitting deep in the blue sky spinning the golden

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sun-flax. This is Christian Paganism, an artistic grasp of dogma as opposed to the systematic, cybernetic methods of theology. Perhaps a clue that the author is not unaware of this pagan affinity is given when Bock, after the murder, returning home in the darkness, sees the evening star above the pear tree. It is an omen of Mary's efficacy, yet it is perhaps not insignificant that both morning and evening star are in reality one heavenly body, the planet Venus. Chapter 17 comes from Wolfs Sage 235 "Die Doppelehe des Rodensteiners" (Rodenstein's Bigamy). In that story the humor about the ways of husbands and wives is the main point of interest. Rodenstein's reason for leaving home is boredom; "as often happens to great gentlemen, he found the time at home too long, said farewell to his wife and journeyed to Jerusalem, where the Turks have possession of the holy grave of Jesus". When the prison keeper's daughter offered to free him if he married her, he consented because he thought surely that his wife had meanwhile "died of grief because of his absence". As it turned out however his wife "was still quite healthy and fresh, and grief had not thinned her much". By permission of the Grand-Duke of Darmstadt the bigamy was allowed "because the case was so unusual". The two women became the best of friends and they lay buried on either side of their husband in the church at Fränkisch-Crumbach. Thus the story is aitiological in origin, an explanation for the gravestone listing two wives as buried in the church, though in reality they were probably married in succession rather than simultaneously. The same story is told of the Count of Gleichen. 20 Bergengruen transforms the story into a symbolic narrative, in which the two wives are really a single person under two different guises. The imprisoned Rodenstein's wife loved him so much she resorted to the black arts in order to free him. She sacrificed her younger sister to summon and master the great hawk Rys, er, der einzige, dessen Schwingen Kraft hatten, auszudauern im Luftraum vierzig Tage und vierzig Nächte, bis das Wasser vorüber war; einziges Tier der ersten Welt, das nicht in Noah's dumpfem Kasten alter Schöpfungsgrösse vergessen lernte. (220) But knowing that her husband would not accept deliverance by illicit means, she was forced to assume a second appearance and befriend him as a Grecian woman in Alexandria. Back at Rodenstein Castle, then, she had to appear to him in both forms. In her first form she resembles one of the wild women in Chapter 14 "Die wilden weissen Heiden und die wilden weissen Selben": 20

Wolf, Hessische Sagen , 2 1 3 .

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Seines Weibes Haar aber hatte im Schatten geleuchtet wie geschmolzenes Kupfer, und war ein Sonnenstrahl darauf gefallen, so hatte ein jeder die Augen abwenden müssen; und ihr Leib war weiss gewesen wie Silber. (206) Her second form however resembles that of the girl in Chapter 22 "Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein": Sie hatte reiches, tiefschwarzes Haar und eine bräunliche Hautfarbe. Ihre grossen, dunklen Augen standen unter halbmondförmigen Brauen nahe beieinander und hatten die Gestalt von Mandeln. (207) Gradually the two women take on the separate colors of day and night; in them the two poles of the female nature, gentleness and passion have separated; the one becomes "immer mädchenhafter, holdseliger und sanfter", the other "immer leidenschaftlicher . . . und wilder" (217). Finally Rodenstein changes the second wife's name from Adeodata to Asatanadata because only the beautiful Angel of Darkness, whose name be praised, can provide an intoxication like hers. Rodenstein poisons her and both forms are united in death. The structure of the story is loose in the manner of the Erzählung. There is a considerable use of explicit color: the black and green twilight of the Oden-Forest (205), the black crinkly hair of the old moorish woman (206), the hair like molten copper and the silver body of Rodenstein's wife (206), the light blue dress (206, 208), the very large snow-white hawk with the stone-like green eyes and hooked beak and the golden chain (206, 207, 209, 214, and 216), contrasted with the darkness: Der weisse Vogel stieg langsam in den dunkelnden Abendhimmel. (214) the yellow and red apple (207), its tart, white flesh (208), the ointment box of green stone (208), the blue-black blood of the slain Moors (210), the lonely moon-white street (210), the white minarets of Alexandria (210), the gleaming bridge built by the moon on the still waters, the seething white waves, Genoa with its deep blue sky and whitish yellow, ivory-like buildings (211), the black fruit and nut trees like figures on the chess board of the meadows and pastures (213), the gray and blue mountain chain (214), the castle-yard, black with night (214), hair like melted copper in the glare of torches (214), the tender yellow-haired child (215), the rosy pure morning and the dank night, the Angel of Darkness (217), the gray furniture at dawn (218), seven slender white towers (219), the snow-white dove with the black pentagram on its breast (220), the black cave and the girl's white neck (220), the bright and the dark (221 and ff.). From the above it can be seen that black and white are the chief polarity, but this is not to be understood as coincident with good and evil. The two colors interlock amid contrast: Adeodata, the dark-complected woman is from the bright sunlit Orient, the

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garden in Alexandria with its white towers and dome, Rodenstein's wife, bright-haired and light-complected, from the black-and-green Occident, the Oden-Forest with its dense shadows and dark caves. Both colors are brought in conjunction with green: black with the dark green of the shadows of the Oden-Forest vegetation, white with the stoney green eyes of the white hawk, which in turn conjoin with the green stone of the magic ointment box. The white minarets of Alexandria are explicitly linked with the hawk: "mit den habichtweissen Türmen" (with the hawk-white towers). Alexandria and Genoa, ports of embarkment and disembarkment for the mysterious journey are both white cities, yet the journey between them is at night, after the slaying of Moors with their curved scimitars and blue-black blood, over a white road, across the sea on a bird-like boat along a white moon-bridge and amid seething white waves. The entire scene is in black and white. In brief, besides the colors that attach to things, the alternation of day and night are stressed symbolically in this story, and the time of day is carefully controlled for the various scenes. Thus, the arrival at Rodenstein and the greeting with his wife occurs in the dark castle yard by torchlight. This arbitrary control of the natural lighting lends a note of the unreal and artificial to the entire story, so that its overall effect is not a portrayal of life but, rather, symbolic stylization. Strands of thing-symbolism also interweave intricately throughout the whole. Stone, in addition to the stoney green eyes (207) and ointment box (208) links Adeodata with the Egyptian Gods: "Die Fremde lächelte, und es war dem Gefangenen, als habe eines der Steinbilder gelächelt, welche von Jahrtausenden her in diesem Lande stehen und menschliche mit tierischer Bildung geheimnisvoll einen" (208). In the macabre scene when the Moors are killed by the white hawk, she holds out her arm to allow the bird free play from the golden chain which binds him to her wrist: "Die Griechin stand da fremd und schön wie ein marmorenes Bildwerk" (210). "Und nun kehrte der Vogel in seine steinerne Stellung auf ihrer Schulter zurück" (210). And finally at the climax of the story when Rodenstein decides he must kill one of the women he says: "Ich liege zwischen zwei Mühlsteinen . . . Schaffe ich nicht einen der beiden davon, so muss ich zermahlen werden" (218). The "animal" aspect of the quotation above (208) also recurs: "Mehr als einmal schrak der Ritter aus seiner Verzauberung auf und meinte, er habe in seinen Armen ein Tier, das im nächsten Augenblick ihm die Zähne in die Gurgel schlagen und sein Blut trinken werde" (212). Here we are at the core of the story: the female nature in its violent sexuality and its feminine gentleness: "in den Armen seiner Frau schmachtet er nach der Dämonie heidnischer Unterwelten, in den Armen Adeodatas nach dem reinen Hauch göttlich durchschimmerter Blumengärten" (217). Since he yearns for what in each case the respective woman cannot give, we have almost a reversal of roles, for originally Adeodata was

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the woman in the garden and his wife the woman of the caverns; however this division was from the start not kept clear, as witness the quotation (208) about the Egyptian idols. The garden too has reversed its valuation. First it was the place of his enslavement and hard labors (203), where he had to bear the brunt of the day's heat (205); it was a symbol of his abandonment by God (206), and deliverance from it was a grace (216) — the name Adeodata which he creates means 'given by God', i.e. 'Grace'. Later in his confusion he wondered whether his hard service there had not affected his sanity (214 and 216); in this respect the "mittäglicher Garten" (noonday, or also oriental, garden, 215 and 218) is closely associated with words referring to the heat, like "die böse Mittagssonne" ('the relentless noonday sun', 216). But in the end he longed for a return to that garden of his former slavery: "Er wünscht, er wäre als ein Sklave im Garten von Alexandrien geblieben. Dann aber jagt ihn die Sklavengier nach der Griechin die Stufen empor" (219). This recalls the motif of the chain: "Der Gefangene erzitterte, und es klirrte die Kette, welche seine Fussgelenke miteinander verband, und es erklirrte gleichermassen die Kette, welche des weissen Vogels rechten Fuss an der Armband der Fremden fesselte" (209). In other words, is Rodenstein being freed from one form of bondage into a worse one, or in terms of the central problem of the story, is the relation between the sexes free or coercive? And finally, the garden is seen in terms of the more inclusive problem which frames in that of the sexes, namely God's will as regards the burdens of the midday heat of daily living: Wie ist denn das geschehen, dass er nicht mehr nach Gottes Willen das Tragholz mit den Wassereimern durch den heissen Mittag schleppt? Alles wäre klar, alles wäre gut, könnte er nur wieder sein altes Sklavenleben bei den Ungläubigen führen . . . Am Ende seines Weges müsse der Garten liegen vor dem Schloss mit der Kuppel und den habichtweissen Türmen. (221) Thus by means of intricately concatenated thing-symbols, the mystery of female nature and of sexuality as well as of life and its relationship to God's will is presented in a highly stylized manner. However, once again the problem of ethics is completely eliminated. Life is seen as a mystery and not as a concrete judgment of the understanding and decision of the will. Two murders are committed, but the right or wrong of the matter is not in focus, the characters are simply doing what they must do (220 and 218). Almost throughout, Rodenstein acts as subjective reflector, and part of the form consists in the gradual unveiling of what has actually happened, through the content of his consciousness; the difficulty however is that the average reader will be quicker of understanding than Rodenstein and will know well in advance what is to come. This must be in conformity with the author's intention since he lays the clues for the reader, but the element of suspense is eliminated as a possible interest factor.

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The main change from Wolfs Sage No. 244 "Der Rodensteiner ermordet sein Weib" to Bergengruen's Chapter 29 "Der Fluch der Frau von Rodenstein" is in the intensification of the difference between Rodenstein and his wife. The Sage says of her that she was so beautiful that no one was equal to her: "so schön, dass es ihres Gleichen nicht gab". In Bergengruen's story her prerogative is not beauty but intelligence and learning. She is proud and shy. She has rejected all suitors, and her motto is Solitudo coelijanua (Solitude is the gate of heaven). Even her name, Maria von Hochberg suggests aloofness and pride. Her constant attendant, a Saracen eunuch, likewise represents mind as opposed to body. In the Sage she is merely a loving wife trying to hold back her husband from going off to war. But Bergengruen's story describes in great detail the dispute between the two, their basic incompatibility, which finally leads to the death of the pregnant woman and her unborn child by a hard push from her ruffian-husband. He is an extrovert, loving activity and the affairs of war. She is a book-lover, a humanist, an early adherent of the renaissance during the middle ages. Each is disappointed in the other, each seeks from the other what the other is unable to give. The story follows their thoughts as their bitterness mounts towards the inevitable tragic end. The curse which comes on Rodenstein does not emanate from an external apparition as in the Sage, but it is presented in the form of prolonged overintense rumination while waiting in ambush for the enemy, and in naturalistic terms could be described as a nervous breakdown or a heart attack resulting from hypertension. Then suddenly he feels himself withdrawn from the confines of creation; as a schematic figure he is cursed to float about on the fumes of blood and flame amid the demons of destruction. The death of his own wife and child did not stop him; nor does his own. This Sage seems to give the oldest explanation for Rodenstein's life after death: "You have sacrificed wife and child to your love of warfare, so I curse you to wander about in battle, announcing war and peace to the country." 2 1 In Bergengruen a more intrinsic reason is implied. The conclusion of the story describes Rodenstein's materialization after death with the words: "Aber die Leere füllt sich, die Leere um ihn her und die Leere in ihm selber; füllt sich auf eine schauerliche Weise. Aus dem Zeitlosen strömt ihm Witterung zu, dehnt sich und nimmt von ihm Besitz, Witterung noch ungeborener Gewalttat" (377). The use of the term Leere in the conclusion is an endorsement of the wife's subjective judgment of her husband: Doch was ihren Mann zu Fehden und Unternehmungen drängte, das war etwas anderes: es war die Unruhe einer leeren Natur, die von aussen her mit 21 Heinrich Zehfuss, Die Herren von Rodenstein nebst der Sage von den Wandergeistern auf Schnellerts und Rodenstein (Darmstadt, 1825), 47.

FOLKLORE SOURCES

123

allerlei Spannungen und Geschäftigkeiten gefüllt werden musste. Und vor dieser Leere begann es ihr zu grauen, . . . ein Grauen vor der Abgestorbenheit, Leere und unfruchtbaren Kälte des Totenreiches. (371) Accordingly, a new reason is given for Rodenstein's wanderings. Since his emptiness of character drove him to violence in his lifetime, he must wander about in death as a schematic figure, neither full nor empty, but consisting of an atmosphere or aroma (Witterung) of warfare and destruction that stirs up the lemuric demons. The ratio of expansion is from one page to fourteen. Most of the material consists in reflections of the two parties of the dispute. The original of Wolfs Sage is first reported by H. Zehfuss. The death of the pregnant woman seems to be the oldest explanation for Rodenstein's wanderings. The six stories analyzed to a greater or lesser degree above in terms of their origin were direct retellings of plots taken from Wolfs Sagen (a search of other ÄgeM-collections revealed no such close affinities). 22 An examination of the relationship of all the stories in the book to the sources reveals the four following general classifications: (A) Stories with plots directly derived from a single relatively detailed Rodenstein source or type of source: Chapter 11 15 17 22

24 29

Title Der Mann aus der Haal Unsere liebe Frau im Forst Die Zwei Frauen des Herrn von Rodenstein Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein

Die Männer im Schnellertsberge Der Fluch der Frau von Rodenstein

Source References Wolf No. 23 (also No. 30) Wolf No. 277 Wolf No. 235 Wolf No. 44, 42, 46, 49, 38, 43, 45, 47, 48. Cf. also Grimm No. 220, 223, 222, 221, 13. The moon saying: Wolf No. 201, 204, The nut formula: Cf. also Bechstein No. 48, Grimm No. 107. Wolf No. 5 Wolf No. 244

These stories (which were treated in detail above) were changed from the terse, objective style of the Sageti to a style characterized by: expansion of length at ratios of from 1:4 to 1:14; extensive use of subjective reflectors in such a manner that the story is not primarily external and objective but 22

See this chapter, note 4 above.

124

FOLKLORE SOURCES

primarily carried in the minds of the characters; a concomitant emphasis on characterization and problems of human relations; strong polarization of structure in terms of particular problems; and thing- and color-symbolism. (B) Stories which owe a considerable segment of their plot or their basic general contour to a relatively detailed Rodenstein source: Chapter

2 3 7 14

Title

Tod, Leben, Abertod und Aberleben Die Grenadiere Die Geschichte der drei Hopfenhändlei Die wilden, weissen Heiden und die wilden weissen Selben

References

Poem quoted p. 125 f., below. Wolf No. 103, 120, 3. Wolf No. 175, 112, 113. Executioner Schönbein: Wolf No. 97. Wolf No. 82, 17, 120.

This group is not homogenous in its relationship to the sources. Chapter 2 does not have a counterpart in the Sagew-collections. Ultimately it goes back to two scanty historical incidents. In 1529 one member of the Rodenstein family led a rear attack which broke the siege of Vienna by the Turks under Soliman II. 23 Over a hundred years later, in 1673, a different Rodenstein, Georg Friedrich, the last one in the male line, dies from a "fall" — the sources do not specify that it was from a horse. 2 4 The indebtedness of the Rodenstein family is abundantly documented, and Georg Friedrich, for instance, did spend years in litigation because of it. However he was not a soldier, nor was he ever a resident either at Rodenstein or at Schnellert as the story assumes; there is in fact no evidence for the existence of any castle at all at Schnellert. 25 As for Rodenstein's relegation to the raging army, in Chapter 29, which is recorded by Zehfuss in his Die Herren von Rodenstein (1825), Rodenstein is cursed to ride forever announcing deeds of violence because he has been guilty of the death of his wife and unborn child by an act of violence and from a passion for war. The main character of this version falls within the category of one type of people condemned to the wild army: namely evil-doers of one sort or another. But another type of character was frequently placed at the head of the raging army: namely, the popular national or regional hero, such as 23 Lorentzen, Sage, 36. 24 Lorentzen, Sage, 36. 25 Meisinger, Rodensteiner, 11, mentions scanty relics of a foundation, but nothing is known of the nature of the structure, and no documentation indicates that any nobility ever dwelt there.

FOLKLORE SOURCES

125

King Arthur, Dietrich von Bern (Theodorich the Great of Verona), Hackelberg, etc. And that is the case with the Rodenstein of this story. Even in the Zehfuss Sage, Rodenstein had the task of proclaiming the advent and recession of war. In the popular mind, the apparition was reputed to be an omen of an imminent military attack from across the Rhine; this trait the Romantics seized upon to fire up patriotic spirit for the defense of the fatherland, and then ensued the amalgamation of the factors listed above, and the closest model for Bergengruen's Chapter 2 would seem to be one of the nationalistic and political ballads of the Romantics such as the following by Albert Ludwig Grimm, written in 1822: Der Burggeist

Rodenstein

Was reitet vom Schnellerts? Was rauscht herab? Horch, Pferde rennen Galopp und Trab! Was knarren die Wagen? Horch, Peitschenknall! Was bellen die Hunde? Horch, Hörnerschall! Der tolle Fritz ists vom Rodenstein So zieht er jetzt in die Waldburg ein. Einst zog er fernaus mit des Kaisers Heer. Es stürmten die Türken auf Wien daher; Sie hätten erobert die Stadt wohl gleich — Der Rodenstein schützt sie durch kühnen Streich. Gerufen steht er vor seinem Herrn. Der Kaiser lohnet den Helden gern. Mein Ritter, Dir dank ich mein Erbe heut', Drum nimm, was Dir dankbar dein Kaiser beut. Es haben, so hör ich, die Väter dein Verpfändet Dein Stammschloss, Burg Rodenstein. Ich löse wieder die Pfandschaft Dir; Von heute trag es zu Leh'n von mir. "Mein Kaiser, ich nehme die Burg zu Leh'n Und ewiglich sollt Ihr mich dankbar seh'n Wo Euch und das Reich je ein Krieg bedroht, Treu dien' ich im Leben Euch und im Tod, Aus Todesschlaf und aus Grabesnacht Für Deutschland zieh ich noch aus zur Schlacht." Im Frieden zog er zur Stammburg fort. Treu hält er dem Kaiser und Reich sein Wort. Begraben zwar liegt er auf Schnellertsschloss; Dort starb er, dort stürzt er von seinem Ross, Doch wenn ein Krieg bedrohet das Reich, So hört man Rodensteins Auszug gleich.26 26

Meisinger, Rodensteiner, 126-27.

126

FOLKLORE SOURCES

The Ghost of Rodenstein

Castle

What's riding from Schnellert, so fuming hot? Hark, horses are prancing in gallop and trot! Hear the crack of the whips? How the wagons grind! Hear the blast of the horns? And the dogs yelping behind! It's old mad Fritz, brave and good Returning to his castle in the wood. Once he rode out with the Kaiser's men, When the Turks were attacking old Vienn'. They'd have conquered the city and broken inside But Rodenstein's courage turned the tide. The Kaiser called him for a reward. He likes to repay men brave with the sword. Sir Knight, to you I owe my kingdom this day, So accept my gratitude when I repay; Your ancestral lands are in mortgage, 'tis said So, take them as a trust from me instead. Swear alliance as my faithful vassal And, paying your debts, I'll buy back your castle. "My Kaiser, I'll gladly accept the trust And forever I'll fight, whenever I must, When wars threaten you or the fatherland In fighting spirit I'll be on hand. Out of death's sleep and the grave's night For Germany I'll rise to join the fight." He returned to Rodenstein undeferred And forever for Kaiser and country he keeps his word. He's buried in neighboring Schnellert's fort, Where he died in a fall from a horse, But when the land is threatened by war, You can hear him and his army, before. Here all the major elements for the plot of Chapter 2 are contained: the onomatopoeia of the marching army, the battle against the Turks, the indebtedness of Rodenstein, the interview with the Emperor, the fall from the horse at Schnellert, and the ride after death from patriotic motivation. Quite possibly this very poem was the direct pattern for the story. Chapter 3 "Die Grenadiere" is to a large extent a composite from several Sagen in Wolf. The Count of Darmstadt and Schubkehl are characters derived from Sage No. 103, "Die Fahrt durch die Luft". However the Sage's Count, in spite of his severity, still shows some human traits. The atmosphere of the Knoden witchcraft and the desertion theme come from No. 120, "Die Knodener Kunst". And finally the structure of escalation of the conjuration scene is taken from No. 3, "Drei Ritter beschworen".

FOLKLORE SOURCES

127

Similarly "Die Geschichte der drei Hopfenhändler is a composite. Its themes in sequence are: the seduced girl who dies in childbirth, three brothers (or friends) who stick together through thick and thin until a woman (in this case a dead one by proxy of her aunt) comes between them; a witch who hexes people in the night in the form of a cat, who is injured in her cat-form and thus discovered; Rodenstein as an old miser who buries his treasures with the aid of a faithful servant, kills the servant and then himself, so that the treasures may never be revealed; three evil-doers who kill one another from greed or mutual mistrust. Of these elements, the transmutated witch has pertinent parallels in Wolfs Sagen Nos. 76, 91, 94, 95, 97, 109, and 110. No. 97 is interesting because it shows how perfectly natural phenomena were probably interpreted to the harm of innocent persons in the times of the witch burnings. The wise executioner Schönbein, whose advice the older brother seeks, is extensively characterized in Sage No. 100. Rodenstein as a miser is a transferral to Rodenstein of Sage No. 175, about the old miser von Waldberg in the castle of Ernsthofen. The words of the old miser are quoted almost word for word. In the Sage they are: "Die Schätze könnt ihr haben, aber einer von euch muss sterben, denn das Blut, was darüber vergossen worden ist, kann nur durch Blut wieder abgewaschen werden." In the "Geschichte" they are: "Das alles kann euer sein. Aber einer von euch muss darum sterben, denn um diese Schätze ist Blut vergossen worden, und das kann nur mit Blut wieder abgewaschen werden" (87). The story of the three evil-doers who kill one another from greed or mistrust is likewise a popular tale. Chapter 14 derives its main character, Bitsch-Nickel from Sage No. 120, which was also a source for Chapter 3. But more important, its conclusion with the saying about the wild white heather and the wild white sagebrush {salvia officinalis, a menthacious shrub used for medicine or seasoning) comes from Nos. 82 and 87. In 82 the wild people are male and female; once when the man was caught, his mate called to him: "Tell everything, tell everything, but don't tell what the wild sagebrush is good for." Säge No. 87 first tells a long tale which Bergengruen does not use, but then it adds that the wild women often made prophecies and especially often said: "If the peasants knew what the wild white heather and the wild white sagebrush are good for, then they could hoe with silver mattocks." Once one of them was caught by the peasants, and the other called to her that she should not on her life - "nur ja nicht" - say what the wild white heather and the wild white sagebrush are good for. In the legend the silver mattock would be a result of this knowledge; it means that this knowledge would make the farmers so rich that their mattocks could be made of silver instead of iron. In Bergengruen's Chapter 14, the silver mattock becomes incidental; it is given to Bitsch-Nickel before he knows what the said plants are good for. And the point of the irony is that the knowledge of the riddle will be his

128

FOLKLORE SOURCES

destruction; the wild women lead him to dig his own grave by means of the same sort of reverse psychology that Joel Chandler Harris' "Brer Rabbit" uses on "Brer Fox" and "Brer Bear". 27 In summary, the stories of Section (B) draw on material from the Sage, but they are of considerable complexity, forging material from various sources into an integrated whole or, as in Chapter 14, inventing details for the concretization of a plot summary provided by the Sage. (C) Stories freely developed from scanty references in the Rodenstein sources: Chapter

Title

4

Der Wachtmeister und die Prinzessin aus dem Morgenlande

6

Rudolf von Rodenstein und die wilden Weibchen

9

Kirschwassergeschichte

10*

Fröhlich und die beiden Frauen

12

Der tolle Schmied

13*

Der Baumeister und die Kapsel

16

Der Schlafwandler

18

Das wütende Heer

19*

Die Holtzschen Erben

21

Das heilige Jahr

25*

Die schöne Frau Amanita

(D) Stories taken from another area of tales and posteriorly or incidentally linked with Rodenstein: Chapter

Title

5*

Die Zwillinge aus Frankreich

8

Die Zigeuner und das Wiesel

20*

Die Steine

23

Der schlesische Knabe

26

Die Bücher aus der Truhe

27*

Die Magd im Felsenhaus

28*

Die Dachser

27 Joel Chandler Harris, Told by Uncle Remus: New Stories of the old Plantation (New York, 1903), 64-65; 273.

FOLKLORE SOURCES

129

These two groups are listed together, to provide a better overall view, and because they both represent relatively negative findings, i.e. no direct basic pattern for the plot was discovered in the Sagen. Evidently — since a negative universal statement cannot be made with scientific certitude — these two classifications are capable of revision, for the possibility remains open that the sources may be discovered, and in the case of Group D intrinsic evidence in some cases points to the likelihood of such sources, though probably outside the Rodenstein circle of tales. Group C, however, is characterized by the fact that its stories center more or less closely ön, or germinate from the Rodenstein theme, or are logical variants or adjuncts thereof, plus the fact that some indication — more or less slight — in the sources would probably have sufficed to suggest their free composition to the author. In a few cases, the germ of the story stems from fragmentary historical sources. For instance, the title character of Chapter 6, "Rudolf of Rodenstein und die wilden Weibchen", is documented as pastor of Neunkirchen in the middle of the 14th century, 28 and the Junker Hans zu Rodenstein of Chapter 21, "Das heilige Jahr", is shown to have married a 14-year old girl at the age of 53, and to have made a trip to Rome in his 83rd year. However neither of the stories as such is contained in the sources. "Das heilige Jahr" is completely a fabrication of the author, while Chapter 6 combines a typical mythic substance about the wild hunt with material of the texture of Christian legends; the latter material, connected with Rudolfs personality as a saintly man, is Bergengruen's invention, while the former falls within the general pattern of the wild hunter Sagen - the wild women as his quarry, the cross as their defense — but as opposed to Chapter 11, "Der Mann aus der Haal", no single source is used as pattern and adhered to or altered detail by detail according to the author's literary intention, but rather the method of writing was free composition after a thorough study of the sources and a true grasp of their spirit, though without direct patterning on a particular model. Similarly Chapter 12 "Der tolle Schmied" is a free invention having as its starting point, antics of the Rodensteiner connected with the blacksmith shop and with mysterious wagon rides and as its aim the creation of yet another alternative hypothesis and acoustic variant to the Rodenstein phenomenon, namely the wild escapades and wagon ride of a smith gone mad. Likewise, Chapter 13 uses a historical starting point, the much-documented disrepair of the Rodenstein castle, and adduces a tale^about a young architect sent to survey the extent of damages and a kobold, a tiny woman he finds in a flask there. No doubt material from legends about kobolds was borrowed upon for the story, but in the main it is probably a free invention. Similar to it in its starting point is Chapter 10, "Fröhlich und die beiden Frauen"; the title hero is one of the 28

Meisinger, Rodensteiner,

5.

130

FOLKLORE SOURCES

examiners sent by the Erbach government to investigate the nature of the apparitions and protocol testimony of the peasants. In conclusion, even the stories of Group A, which were treated above in detail, and still more of Group B, involved a great deal of selection and invention by the author. But Groups C and D are yet more remote from the sources. The asterisks (*) after the chapter numbers indicate stories which are added only in the second edition. It is interesting to note that they are located exclusively in Groups C and D; that is, they tend to pull the book's center of gravity away from the sources: ten stories are listed in Groups A and B for the first edition and ten in C and D, but four each of the eight new stories fall within C and D respectively, thus tipping the scale ten to eighteen towards stories only remotely linked with the Rodenstein sources.

7 HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END OF TIME

A substantial part of the Rodenstein Book, centering directly on the core theme of the wild and raging hunter, rider, or army in the vicinity of the Rodenstein ruins consists of hypothetical fiction. The essence of this type of literature is that it posits action not as having actually happened but as possible or surmised. The predication is weakened from factual statement by being placed in the subjectivity or on the lips of unreliable reflectors who either do not know or are not willing to tell what actually happened; or by the counterposing of conflicting or contradictory plots or versions of the plot, which tend to cancel one another out. The author does not resolve the matter but leaves the reader dangling between alternatives. Examples are Hildesheimer's Tynset,l Uwe Johnson's Mutmassungen über Jakob,2 and Max Frisch's Mein Name sei Gantenbein.3 Das Buch Rodenstein antedates all these novels by over thirty years. It differs from them, but the difference lies not in the fundamental characteristic of the hypothetical nature of its predication, but in the absence of certain accessory experimental techniques which generally accompany the quality of hypothesis in modern hypothetical fiction, among them, the Simultanstil, i.e. the simultaneous fixation of a multiplicity of agents and actions in the awareness of the reader (cf. especially Tynset)-, the neuer Sekundenstil, i.e. extreme slowmotion and meticulous detail of action, even more intensely micro- or macroscopic than that introduced by the naturalists Holz and Schlaf; and the oblique vantage-point, (cf. Der Schatten des Körpers des Kutschers).4 Bergengruen too employed within the hypothetical context adroit stylistic techniques, of which perhaps the most outstanding in originality is the rhetorical escalation in the conjuration scene of Die Grenadiere with its flawless extrapolation into the metaphysical. Otherwise, however, his techniques, though original in the manner of their combination, are largely 1 Wolfgang Hildesheimer, Tynset (Frankfurt a.M., 1966). 2 Uwe Johnson, Mutmassungen über Jakob (Frankfurt a.M., 1959). 3 Max Frisch, Mein Name sei Gantenbein (Frankfurt a.M., 1964). 4 Peter Weiss, Der Schatten des Körpers des Kutschers (Frankfurt a.M., 1960).

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HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END OF TIME

inherited from the 19th century: color- and thing-symbolism, earthy realism or irony in character depiction, novelistic tightening of plot by control of motifs. The hypothetical element does not extend equally to all parts of the book. Only fifteen of the thirty chapters constitute the central core of counterbalanced stories in which hypothesis about the nature and origin of the Rodenstein apparition is a principal element of their form. These, together with their main contribution to the hypothetical polarities are:

Chapters

Contribution to Hypothesis

1, 18, 30

The framework. Chapter 1 sets the basic mood and establishes the link between the autumnal principle of entropy in nature and the Rodenstein apparitions as a particular example thereof. Among the Rodenstein rider's functions is the apocalyptic one of forecasting the end of time. Chapter 18, "Das wiitende Heer", links the autumnal principle with All Souls' Day, when the departed spirits are stirred up by the night storm and the living hold vigil through the night. "Every autumn night is All Souls' Day." The grip of the dead on the imagination of the living is central and the Rodenstein Army is identified with the author's own World War I company. Chapter 30 identifies the Rodenstein spirit with the privative principle of insatiable, Lucifer-like incompletion as contrasted to the moderation, resignation and mortality of men and the infinite and unchanging fullness and self-sufficiency of God. The contrast on the transcendental plane is between der Unbeendete and IHM, der ohne Ende ist. Genre: Lyrical prose.

2

presents the Oden-Forest and the Rodenstein ruins as the breeding place of legend. The sense of awe at the artifacts of bygone generations evokes vividly the image of the historical Rodenstein leader and his army at the battle of Vienna. Rodenstein dies in an ecstasy of love for the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, and he rides ever after as a herald of war and peace.

3

changes the Rodenstein apparition from effect to cause. Instead of merely proclaiming war and peace, it is a terrible spirit which causes war and peace. The awesomeness of the apparition is stressed.

4

discounts the stories which report of the noble military origin of the Rodenstein spirit. Even the sex of the apparition is disputed. The sergeant-at-arms and the princess from the Orient are presented as alternatives to the nobleman Rodenstein. The name "Rodenstein" is accepted for the spirit only as a geographical designation. This chapter was written solely to underscore hypothesis as the basic plan of the book and has no real story value of its own.

HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END O F TIME Chapters

Contribution

to

133

Hypothesis

5

The Rodenstein stories are associated with the activities of thieves and treasure hunters in the woods around the ruins. The apparition itself does not occur. Instead of the Rodenstein spirit we have the spirit of Rodenstein, a realm of adventure, marvelous events and freedom, beyond the conventional restrictions of ordinary prosaic life and beyond the encroachments of bureaucracy. The personalities of the twins manifest t h e spirit of Rodenstein by their independence, alacrity and spontaneity of life. The story is an Erzählung with some novelistic traits.

6

The wild hunter chases after the wild women. This is a pre-Rodenstein myth, combined with a legend about a saintly cleric of the Rodenstein family. The wild women are a symbol of the first autumn with its fullness of the harvest, the wild hunter symbolizes the second autumn of barrenness, austerity and storms. Both antedate Christianity and the Rodenstein legends.

7

Rodenstein was not really impoverished as many of the tales say. He was in reality an old miser who hated to part with his riches. The reason he rides out when war threatens is to hide his treasures, and when peace comes, he returns them to his fort at Schnellen.

9

Not a miserly old Rodenstein nobleman is custodian of the hoarded treasures, but a gray old lady, who has long ago poisoned her master, mistress and their child, for possession of this wealth. This is a hilariously ribald tale of the genre called Schwank.

11

A man living in the path of the Rodenstein hunt fails to redeem the spirits. The gray wolf-dogs kill a pale woman and child.

12

A mad smith terrorizes the countryside. His attacks on people and insane wagon ride prior to his execution are a parallel to the wild dash of the apparition.

17

Rodenstein really rides between Schnellert and the Rodenstein castle because he is torn between his love for each of his wives, the tender, maidenly one and the violently passionate one.

28

By witchcraft two Oden-Forest hunters become involved with the wild hunter. This is a story of passion and betrayal, and the eternal quest of the human heart after happiness. The prey of the hunters is a badger which is linked symbolically with the girl b o t h men desired. One ends up dead, and the other hunts on, forever chasing the white badger across the moonlit sky.

29

A counterpart to Chapter 2. Through his warlike penchant Rodenstein causes the death of his wife and child. He is cursed forever to ride as harbinger of violence. He was empty of genuine human substance in life, and now he has only a shadowy existence.

134

HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END OF TIME

In the first edition the scope of hypothesis as the basic framework of the book is more easily perceptible, because thirteen of the fifteen chapters listed above already occur therein (only Chapters 5 and 22 are new additions); in other words, over 60 percent of the total 22 chapters of the first edition are directly included in the plan of hypothesis. This is further strengthened by the fact that the nine chapters not directly included in the hypothesis are closely related in some manner with those which are: Chapter 8, "Die Zigeuner", reinforces the thesis of chapter 2, "Es ist ein wunderlicher Wald"; Chapter 14 with its beginning about Bitsch-Nickel's Knoden witchcraft recalls the similar skill of Schubkehl in Chapter 3 "Die Grenadiere"; Chapter 15, the Marian legend "Unsere Liebe Frau im Forst", is partly related in genre with 6, "Rudolf von Rodenstein und die wilden Weibchen", which is a combination of a myth and a Heiligenlegende or vita\ Chapter 16, "Der Schlafwandler" recalls other tales of buried treasures; Chapter 22 "Das Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein" represents an original version of the Sage of which Chapter 9 "Kirschwassergeschichte" is a ribald parody. Chapters 21 and 23 unite to the rest by the prominence of the Rodenstein nobleman in each, 23 is also a variant of the wagon-ride (which also is in 5, 6, 12, and 13); Chapter 24 "Die Männer im Schnellertsberge" is akin to the first part of Chapter 11 "Der Mann aus der Haal"; and finally Chapter 26, "Die Bücher aus der Truhe", can be associated with 17 and 29 where the witchcraft of Rodenstein's wife is revealed. Thus, in the original edition all chapters are either directly included in the basic plan of hypothesis about the origin and nature of Rodenstein, or are closely associated with stories which are. Stories added in the second edition (apart from 5 and 28) tend to diffuse the hypothetical element, since they do not deal directly with the Rodenstein rider or wild army, but give greater prominence to the wild women (10, 20, 25, 27) or other female apparitions (13, 19), i.e. they are more peripheral to the basic plan. However, even in them hypothesis plays a role, since the nature of the wild women changes from story to story. In Chapter 6 they were the helpless victims of the wild hunter; in Chapter 14, the Bitsch-Nickel story, they are beautiful metallic creatures extremely clever at outfoxing even the wily young peasant. In Chapter 10 they assume the form of the abused women in the status-seeker Fröhlich's life, and play the part of avenging justice as they bury him in a final scene similar to the burial of Bitsch-Nickel, who had tempted fate in trying to capture them; in Chapter 20 they are older women cruel to the ingrates who violate their benevolence, but once atonement has been made, their generosity and kindness are as great as their wrath had been; in 25 "Die schöne Frau Amanita" beckons little children to eat of her poisonous mushrooms in a dramatic monologue somewhat reminiscent of Goethe's "Erlenkönig"; and finally in Chapter 27 "Die Magd im Felsenhaus" they represent a

HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END OF TIME

135

metaphysical kindness and refuge for the persecuted when all else fails and the external world offers n o escape. The mysterious wagon ride likewise figures prominently and in different forms in four chapters: 4 , 1 2 , 13, and 2 3 , while in others it has only a minor role: 5, 8, 17, 19, and 20. The conclusion here is that a counter-balancing extends not only to the nature o f the Rodenstein rider and the wild army but t o other themes such as the wild w o m e n and the mysterious wagon ride. What role does the apocalyptic saying of the m o t t o , "und es wird keine Zeit sein", play in the individual stories? i.e. what is the role of time and the end of time in them?

Chapters

Role in the story

1

Identifies the Rodenstein rider as the announcer of death, horror, autumn, and the hour when there will be no more time. He is not himself the end but merely its prefigurement (8).

18

Here the theme is only implicit. Every autumn night is All Souls'. The dead do not rest until all their comrades-at-arms have joined them.

30

The end is destined by God and desired intrinsically by all beings including man. Incompletion and the spirit of immoderation are the enemy.

2

Here time first represents the crushing and inescapable burden of financial obligations (13 & 14), from which military routine offers only temporary relief. After his exoneration by the Emperor, Rodenstein sees time as the orderly and providential regulation of life under the imperial rule (compare "Glockenschlag", 14 with 20). Dying in ardent fervor for the Empire, Rodenstein lives on beyond the time of his death, in an existence supported by hypothesis. The Holy Roman Empire too lives on in the realm of ideals, beyond reality with its universal subjection to the laws of time. (Cross reference: a coin in Chapter 27 reads Roma invicta, 336). During the ride against the Turks, the fog has obliterated everything and time seems to be suspended.

3

The vivid apocalyptic vision of the dreadful horsemen and the destruction brought on by war (35) is itself only a symbol and portent of the actual event (36), when the world will no longer remain intact (35). In this story the theme of the end of time is central.

4

Possibly the old sergeant-of-arms clung to some triviality and through a minor immoderation refused to say "All time is over", when the appointed moment came (39). A clue is given that the timeless realm lies in memory and the thoughts of men. "Stampfen der Grossen nicht übergenug durch die kahlen Ruhmeshallen des Gedächtnisses? Und ist es denn nicht schöner zu denken . . .?" (38). The mad ride of the carriage with the oriental princess or of her tormented husband is rumored to continue bis die Zeit zerbricht (49).

136 Chapters

HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END O F TIME Role in the

Story

5

In the story about the twins, time is not part of the subject-matter, but part of the form; the passage of time at greater or lesser speed and with greater or lesser definition is a structuring element. The time expressions fixate the captivity of the twins. The wondrous years of their liberation are passed.over timelessly except in the subsequent telling. The following expressions serve as a technique of objectivation: Zur Zeit der französischen Wirren . .. (50), Viele Jahre später, im Mai 1812 .. . (62), In den ersten Novembertagen des Jahres 1813 . . . (71). The complexities of bureaucratic inefficiency are shown by time expressions. The genre of the story as an Erzählung, with its distributive structure is not unrelated to the spreading of its material along a chain of time.

6

The two autumns, the golden one of the wild women and the harvest, and the bleak one of the wild hunter and the great eternal storms are a mythological time, ever present in nature (72). On hearing of the children's Crusade the fatherly pastor says to the community: "Meine Kinder, ich bin ein Menschenalter bei euch gewesen, jetzt ist es Zeit, dass ich mich anderer Kinder annehme (My children, I have been with you for a lifetime. Now it is time for me to take care of other children, 76/24). Corresponding to the aspect of the genre as a Heiligenlegende (legendary Saint's religious terms): God sends an angel to erect a cross above the good man's grave and "das sein Holz war genommen vom Baume des Lebens. (76)

9

In the "professional geologist's tale, time too takes on the nature of ribaldry proper to the Schwank', "ich bin seit vierzehn Jahren in dieser Gegend, Berufsgeologe, habe keine Zeit, muss hammern, muss graben, muss suchen, muss finden, jawohl finden, finden, trinken, trinken muss i c h ! " (110).

10

In the last episodes of this story, the end of time plays a role. At one point the stars and planets (Weltkugeln 'globes') are compared to berries which will be plucked at the end of time (141). One scene has various symbols to denote the end: "Er zog die Uhr und bemerkte, dass sie über Nacht stehen geblieben war. Er sah um sich, aber die Sonne liess sich nicht blicken, obwohl es bereits Tag sein musste. Über allem lag ein totes und falbes Licht, das keiner Tageszeit hörig schien. Er horchte eine gute Weile, ob vielleicht die Neunkircher Turmuhr sich vernehmen lassen würde, allein kein Schlag drang zu ihm. Nichts liess die Stunde erraten, und plötzlich fiel dem Sekretär aus seiner Kinder- und Schulzeit das Wort des Apokalyptikers auf der Insel Patmos in den Sinn, dass hinfort keine Zeit mehr sein soll" (142).

11

Georg Heinrich Daum, while waiting for the three men, contemplates his and other men's lives, "Spuk und Zeit und Zeitende und Ewigkeit" (147). The basic feeling is of horror at a being that will come to no timely end (145, 152).

12

At the gallows the mad smith first has a child-like composure but at the last moment he bellows like a wounded ox. This bellow symbolizes the end of time. Immediately after his death the first snow covers the ground, a sign of the mercy of existence: all things pass and are covered over by time.

HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END OF TIME Chapters

137

Role in the Story

13

In this story time and timelessness are the main theme. "Auf einem Tischchen stand ein Globus. Capricomus rührte ihn an, aber er war eingerostet und mochte sich nicht drehen lassen, als sei hier alle Bewegung der Welt zum Stillstand gekommen. Capricornus hatte seine Begleiter verloren." (167). The contrast between the timelessness of the kobold's existence and the transient nature of man is an important theme of the story (cf. 179 ff). "Wir rechnen die Zeit nicht so wie ihr". Time is conceived as running on various planes, even backwards or as circling about a central point. (175)

16

After the arrow pierces Erkinger von Rodenstein's breast, he falls deep, deep into dark space, "und alle Zeit war vorbei" (197/7). At the end of the story, Rodenstein explains what had happened: "Wir haben einander nach dem Leben gestanden, und es hat die Folge gehabt, dass die Zeit einmal ein wenig gelupft worden ist und es ist ein Stückchen von der Ewigkeit vorgekommen wie der Morgenstern aus den Wolken." (200)

17

In the story "Die zwei Frauen", time and space are bypassed in a magical fever: "Er war krank, als habe man ihn vergiftet, und begehrte zu sterben oder auf festem Lande Ketten zu tragen" (211). " 'Du warst krank, Lieber, du hast der Zeit vergessen, der Sturm hatte dir Fieber gemacht.' " (212). But this transitional device couples with an important theme of the story: the bonds and limitations of life, including those of time and space, come from God and cannot be broken and transgressed with impunity.

21

The old man's life has been long and active. He knows it will end: "seine Zeit wird zu Ende gehen" (254), but first he has one thing to take care of, his forgotten sin, for he knows that the hour must come after which there is no more time (256).

23

The central theme of this story is the boy's saying "ich bin fremd hier" (279 and 295). The boy's entire desire and striving is to go back to his mother (298), "fort aus der Zeitlichkeit, fort aus dieser Welt" (288).

25

The beautiful woman Amanita Muscaria entices the children to eat poisonous mushrooms. The end of time in her dramatic monologue is described to the children as a sleep and a playing with wonderful bright things, an allusion to the poisonous mushrooms which they have eaten (308).

27

The unjustly accused maid-servant Dorothea (the name etymologically the Greek equivalent to the Latin, Adeodata, of "Die zwei Frauen"), is taken up by a hidden mercifulness within the world (of 327, 328, 330, 333, 335, 336). In this story the basic thought is Christ's invitation: "Knock, and it will be opened unto you", which is interpreted to mean that eternity opens up to those who have no refuge in time and seek escape from this world (327).

28

Man's desire goes beyond the limits of time. The white badger and the girl are earthly representatives for all the happiness on earth (361).

138 Chapters 29

HYPOTHETICAL FICTION AND THE END OF TIME Role in the Story At the moment of death Rodenstein senses the terrible silence of creation that has lost its form, and to which time no longer applies (377).

This brief survey shows that the theme of the end of time is explicit or implicit in most of the chapters; and that to some extent it is subject to variations in treatment similar to those undergone by the wild army, hunter, and women. It includes in a broader unity those stories which do not belong to the central core of the book, the hypothetical variations on the wild hunter theme.

8 EVALUATION AND MODE OF KNOWLEDGE

The mode of insight of a literary work and an evaluation of it are closely connected. Das Buch Rodenstein displays a considerable degree of technical skill and ingenuity. Ultimately, however, a critical estimate of the book as a work of literature must revolve on the validity and value of its content, the relevancy of the knowledge and insight it provides. The difficulty of such an evaluation lies in the absence of an Archimedic pivotal point, an absolute scale of values acceptable by all as a criterion of judgment. A dominant characteristic of our times, indeed, is that the traditional absolutes are in rapid process of erosion. This very fact led W.A. Willibrand, in an address before the SouthCentral Modern Language Association in October, 1955 to make a highly positive evaluation of Bergengruen's works.1 Willibrand sees in Bergengruen a source of hope and strength against the forces of disintegration, despair, and materialism which threaten the very existence of our civilization. He considers Bergengruen's basic philosophy "that the world, with all its apparent cha'os, is sound and invulnerable" a suitable instrument for counteracting the trend of ideology and society towards a fragmented world and towards self-destruction. Bergengruen's conviction that despite moments of heart-rending despair we live in a world that resists destruction, he thinks, can help cultivate the attitudes of courage and atonement necessary for the survival of civilization. Willibrand's positive evaluation rests basically on Bergengruen's theistic and spiritual message: Even in our optimistic America the short-comings of purely material progress are serious enough to cause worry among thinking men. Unless it receives a profound spiritual orientation our secularism may cause us to stumble blindly into tragedies of human sacrifice similar to those inflicted upon Europe and Asia in our own century by well-known forms of materialism. Years before the ideological carnage of our time Woodrow

i W.A. Willibrand, "The 'Sound World' of Werner Bergengruen", The South-Central Bulletin XVI (Feb. 1956), 1-5.

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Wilson sounded the warning: 'The sum of the whole matter is this, that our civilization cannot survive materially unless it be redeemed spiritually .'2 The term "spiritual" is here employed in connection with Arnold Toynbee's definition of history as "a vision of God revealing himself in action to souls that are sincerely seeking him". 3 It is on the basis of this view of the world that Werner Bergengruen's works in general and Das Buck Rodenstein in particular might be considered a legitimate antidote to the impending total dissolution of human values and consequent self-destruction of mankind. Thus, the central value of the book even as literature is not subject to a literary but to a pre-literary judgment; it is not primarily a question of skill in the use of language and literary techniques but rather one of valid philosophical and theological insights stemming from a correct epistemology, i.e. manner of apprehending truth. To a great extent Bergengruen's work stands or falls on the question of theism. If God does not exist, if there is no basic principle of order and justice in the universe, guaranteeing protection to the weak and oppressed and bringing all things out of the crucible of life into a total harmony, then Bergengruen's work offers only a specious consolation, it is rotten at the core, because it is not founded on a true picture of reality. Implicit in the thetic element of the Rodenstein Book as in much of Bergengruen's work is indeed the doctrine of the "Sound" world regarded by Willibrand as the antidote to the modern disintegration of thought, values, and society. Beyond the three dimensions of space and the unilinear, inexecrable flow of time, is the realm of Eternity or Infinity, stable and unchanging, no matter what cataclysms or tragedies may occur within the time-and-space continuum. God, in his immutable serenity and fatherly love, has set the laws of creation in operation and whatever blemishes, hardships or tragedies, whatever absurdities or evils may result, they are meant for man's well-being, and in God's good time they will be righted. At any point the earthly laws of cause and effect can be suspended, if God so wills, and at the end of time, the present order of things will be rendered completely obsolete and a radically new set of interrelations will be ordained. Thus Bergengruen's philosophy of a sound, integral, or intact world is, in its general lines, a literary embodiment of the Judeo-Christian doctrine about God's existence and His relationship to creation. This Weltanschauung is of a genuine value only if it is objectively and literally true, otherwise it is only a spurious opiate for the mind. If false, this doctrine is noxious and harmful, since it poses false issues and complexities which prevent an adequate grappling with real problems. For the human being

2 Willibrand, "Sound World", 5. 3 Willibrand, "Sound World", 3.

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caught in the merciless vise of totalitarian rule or other extreme adversities caused by man or nature, a fictional God would be at best a worthless delusion, LSD for a tormented brain. If God is to be of any value as a recourse from calamity he cannot be a mental fiction, but must be as real as the calamity itself. It cannot be sufficiently stressed that objectivity must be the fundamental criterion for valid literature, but not in the sense that only the naturalistic school, with its quasi-photographic manner of reproduction, would be acceptable, but in the broader sense that no matter how far the literary artist may wander in search of adequate expression, the ultimate standard of relevance or validity remains the real world. In some way literature must illumine reality. With the wisdom of the slaves of the old Southern plantations, Uncle Remus expresses a similar thought: "What diffunce do it make what I b'lieve honey? Ef dey [the animals in fables] kin talk in dem days, er ef dey can't, b'lievin' er not b'lievin' ain't gwineter he'p matters." 4 One can see the twinkle in the old colored-man's eyes, but his dictum of earthy wisdom stands: a fact is impervious to opinion: if a thing is the way it is, no amount of divergent depiction alters it. This principle is universal, applying not only in literature but in all fields of thought. Thus in politics, the Johnson administration, following a policy of propagandists opinion-engineering not geared to fact, found itself burdened with a "credibility gap", i.e. failure even in the target area of opinion control. Or in the field of social ethics, Cardinal Cushing of Boston appealed for civil justice for Blacks using this principle as major premise and deriving the minor premise from teachings of church authority: Moral action is action which is based on right thought, and right thought is based upon reality, upon things as they are. Vatican Council II tells us that 'the root reason for man's dignity lies in his call to communion with God.' . . . Man does not seek out his salvation, nor does he come to communion with God, in isolation or as a solitary individual.... All men are called to God in communion with one another . . . . 5 In literature an instance of the application of this principle as evaluative criterion is the reproach made against Neo-Romanticism that it is "escapist" or "idyllic". On the other hand, Kafka's surrealistic stories, though they seem to deviate astoundingly from experienced reality, presenting fantastic and, on the surface, incoherent combinations of objects and situations, are nonetheless profoundly realistic, since they reveal structures of the objective world, and their meaning — Basil Busacca compares them to Aesop's fables — is concerned not with the specific termini but with particular relations, 4

s

Joel Chandler Harris, New Stories, 267. Cardinal Richard Cushing, Servant, 26-26.

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which enlarges their scope of application, since any set of termini can be substituted if its relations may be conceived as analogous.6 How broadly this principle of objectivity in literature must extend can be illustrated by the following quotation from Kirtlan's Introduction to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight '. The Arthur Legends are an eternal credit to humanity. For man is ever in revolt against sordid actuality. He is ever seeking the land of his heart's desire. There is probably no other saga that has so universally captured the heart and imagination of the world as the Arthur saga . . . . Yet King Arthur probably never existed. And it is just because humanity's heart feels that he ought to have existed, and that all the great and high ideals of the Arthur saga ought to be realized, that the saga has completely saturated the soul of the world. Humanity's destiny lies along a path never yet trodden, and will never be realized till it becomes something it has never yet been. Man's path is upwards, along the shining way of the sun, not downwards among the sordid failures and sins of the past. 7 If the principle of objectivity is not to become a straight-jacket, it must include the various subjectivities and aspirations of man as legitimate themes, because the real world encompasses all these. L.C. Knights expresses the general rule for which Kirtlan gave a particular instance; the point he is making seems, on the surface, diametrically opposed to what has been discussed above, but orientation on objectivity is nonetheless implicit: It is, then, simply in the growth and strengthening of the imagination that the value of literature resides. Imagination . . . is simultaneously the central creative drive of each human being and the organ of all knowledge in which the individual is involved as more than a detached observer. It is an active, relating, realizing power, through which the limited self, with its unlimited desires and its abysmal ignorance of everything that cannot be used or manipulated, grows into a person, freely moving in a world of values and relationships. It is the mediator between the unknown depths within and the so little-known world without. ("Every symbol is two-edged", says Tillich; "it opens up reality and it opens up the soul.") As a unifying power it simultaneously works towards the integrity and wholeness of the person and the creation of a cosmos from the world of mere experience which, without it, would remain fragmentary and deceptive.8

6 Basil Busacca, "A Country Doctor", in Franz Kafka Today, ed. Angel Flores and Homer Swander, (Madison/ Wise., 1958), 45. Also: "The meaning could be expressed in the x's and of symbolic logic more economically than in language, albeit less charmingly, because it is concerned with particular relations and not with specific termini. . ." ibid. 7 Rev. Ernest J.B. Kirtlan, Introduction to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (London, 1912), 2-3. 8 L.C. Knights, "In Search of Fundamental Values", in The Critical Moment: Essays on the Nature of Literature (London, 1964), 80.

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Knights stresses the dynamic nature of literary creation and appreciation, but he does not de-objectivize the two poles in the knowledge process, namely subject and object. The creative process is a function of the interaction of two really existent things, the mind and the world. Knight's depiction of the literary imagination does, however, greatly enrich the idea of objectivity by calling to mind the different strata of the objective world, the stages in the subjective apprehension of it, and the infinite possibilities of variation in the cosmos as apprehended, since each imaginary cosmos is a variable function of two factors, the external world as it is and the apprehending subject according to its respective nature. Conceivably then, from the multiplicity of minds a rich variety of derivative subjective worlds could result, each really existent in its subject. On a biological plane this is beautifully expounded by Jakob von Uexküll in

his Streifzüge durch die Umwelten von Tieren und Menschen.9 With the

millions of subjects there objectively exist millions of different subjective worlds. Accordingly, the scope of objectivity is much broader than a mere surface "naturalism" can portray. A principal task of objectivism consists in the awareness of the mode of existence and interrelationship of the various contents, so that something that exists "merely" in a subject is not posited as externally existent and vice versa. The real world remains the standard of measurement, but its vast complexity must be recognized. The material object of knowledge is not, for Bergengruen, primarily the external world as it stands apart from sentient subjects, but rather the reflection of that world in the minds and hearts of men: Wichtigkeit hat ja nicht nur, was im Klaren und Unabstreitbaren geschieht; Wichtigkeit und keine geringere, hat auch das, was in den Gedanken und Träumen, in den Hoffnungen und Befürchtungen der Menschen und der Völker vollzogen wird. Das leibhaft geschehene kann abgetan sein, das Ungeschehene aber plötzlich wieder aufleben, sobald eine dunkle Stunde gekommen ist. (Not only what happens clearly and indisputably has importance; the things that go on in the thoughts and dreams, in the hopes and fears of men and nations are no less important. A physical event can be outlived but that which has never happened can suddenly flare up again as soon as a dark hour comes.) 10 In the Rodenstein Book an example of such a mental entity is the secondary theme of the Roman Empire, Roma invicta (336), which at the end of Chapter II, "Tod, Leben", etc. is linked with the Rodenstein apparition by the term unbeendet ('uncompleted', 21). Both the ideal of the knighted 9 Von Uexküll, Streifzüge, 159. 10 Bergengruen, Schreibtischerinnerungen

(München, 1961), 95.

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nobility and that of the Roman Empire belong not merely to the realm of empirical reality, but rather to that of transcendental ideals which have earthly existence primarily in the hearts of men but their ultimate root, in a Platonic sense, beyond the confines of creation. Such ideals Bergengruen compares to the stars, which shine on unchanged, whether we see them or not: Viele der grossen, von uns für ewig gehaltenen Urbilder verdunkeln sich von einer Zeit auf die andere. Im Bewustssein der Menschen schwächen sie sich ab, ohne damit allerdings ihre lichte Essenz zu verlieren. Freilich, die himmlischen Gestirne fahren unangefochten zu strahlen fort, wenn auch das Gewölk sie unseren Blicken entzieht. Ist aber das Gewölk allzu dicht, so verliert der Mensch die Möglichkeit, sie sich vor Augen zu halten und sich an Ihnen zu orientieren . . . (Many of the great archtypes, which we consider eternal, darken from one age to another. They lose their strength in the consciousness of men, though in essence they remain untarnished. Indeed, the celestial constellations continue to shine indomitably on, even when the clouds hide them from our view. But if the clouds are too thick, then man loses the possibility of keeping them in sight and orientating himself by them.) 11 In his book of travel sketches, Deutsche Reise (1934), Werner Bergengruen reproaches the romantic poet, Scheffel, for having debunked the Rodenstein apparitions, an ancient and deep mystery of the land, disrobing it of all its sombre resonance of night, forest, and death and exposing it to mockery in student drinking songs. But Scheffel's two verses: O römisch Reich, du bist nicht mehr, doch reit ich noch zu deiner Ehr'! Bergengruen considers sufficient to exculpate the poet of all mortal sins and says that he would like to have them inscribed on his own gravestone. 12 The Rodenstein apparition itself has for Bergengruen, if not literal reality, still some sort of reality and dignity: Man kann allerlei gelehrte Erklärungen mythologischer und naturwissenschaftlicher Art herannehmen, aber das Geheimnis gibt sich nicht preis. (All sorts of learned explanations from mythology or natural science can be adduced but still the mystery does not yield itself.) 13 In his eyes the investigations of the enlightened Darmstadt regime only served to confirm the mystery which they had set out to eliminate. The 11

Mündlich Gesprochen, 24. 12 Deutsche Reise (Berlin, 1934), 108. 13 Bergengruen, Deutsche Reise, 107.

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legend of the wild hunt still lives. It is the deepest mystery of the OdenForest, a countryside rich in mysteries and Sagen which are not merely collected in the dry herbaria of the Sage«-anthologies but alive in their natural habitat, the forest, villages, and ivy-covered ruins. 14 Bergengruen is not interested primarily in determining the literal historical occurrence or non-occurrence of Rodenstein or other events. What interests him is not the events as such. These bear the character of their time and place. The focus of his attention is directed on the feelings and passions of men in reaction to events; these, he thinks, remain forever the same. The destinies of men change, but the task of man to confront his destiny remains forever unchanged. Thus, the events of the past, regardless of their reality, can serve as analogical images of the human condition in general.15 In his "Bekenntnis zur Höhle" (Allegiance to the cave), Bergengruen states that almost everything he has written has its latent or apparent foundation in the countryside, both empirical and mythical. He defines a countryside {Landschaft) as composed of two elements, nature and history, which are the two manifestations of organic life, i.e. of that which grew and that which became as contrasted with things that are made. Nature and history together create a countryside and its strongest expression: its mythology. 16 All this brings us very close to the world of Das Buch Rodenstein. For instance, the student in Chapter 22 "[hatte] seine Freude an Wanderungen und Landschaften . . . und an solchen Örtlichkeiten, die merkwürdig waren um ihrer Lage und Art oder um der Widerspiegelung willen, die sie im Gemüt des Volkes hervorgerufen hatten" (266). This character is one after the author's own heart. The subject of these stories is the spirit of the land as reflected in the spectrum of its legends. The object of the author's study is not an empirical fact, but the content of an entire region's subjectivity. And the attitude of the author towards this subject matter is not rationalistic analysis (in fact, recurrently a strong antirationalistic bias makes itself felt); but reverent contemplation of a mystery. In short, the subject matter of the Rodenstein Book has, in the main, a mythological, subjective basis. In this the book resembles others of Bergengruen's works, where the subject matter is not factual, but a problem or reality that exists only in the minds of the characters. In the novels, for instance, these nonempirical entities are the central themes or closely connected therewith: in Herzog Karl der Kühne, the ideal of the Roman Empire in its splendor is opposed to its unreal and crumbling reality: in Der Starost, the great Alkahest or touchstone of the alchemists gives power to 14 is 16 Die

Bergengruen, Deutsche Reise, 106-107. Bergengruen, Schreibtischerinnerungen, 96. Bergengruen, "Bekenntnis zur Höhle: Ein Nachwort", in Theodorich Kampmann, Welt Werner Bergengruens (Warendorf i Westf., 1952), 74.

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unite and dissolve all things; in Am Himmel wie auf Erden, a great flood predicted by means of astrology terrifies the city of Berlin; in Der goldene Griffel, an angel in heaven records all the deeds of men; and finally the main character of Der letzte Rittmeister, embodies a person who lives for the nonempirical ideal of the mounted nobility, an ideal which for him retains its reality despite all obsolescence. In this, then, The Rodenstein book stands squarely in the mainstream of Bergengruen's works. Its subject matter at its starting point is subjective, nonempirical, and mythical. As in these other works, the central, subjective theme is also heightened to transcendental proportions. The Rodenstein apparition is not merely the legendary embodiment of a landscape in some remote corner of Germany, it represents, among other things pointed out in this book, the last apocalyptic ride of the four deadly horsemen, when the end of time is decreed. Bergengruen's basic mode of knowledge is analogical. Its underlying assumption is the ontological judgment that the world is a unitary cosmos in which "quod est inferius, est sicut id, quod est superius, et quod est superius, est sicut id, quod est inferius" (that which is below is like that which is above, and that which is above is like that which is below).17 Bergengruen did not invent this principle; he found it in the writings of the post-medieval alchemists and astrologers whom he studied with respect. This idea permeates his entire thought. His adherence to the political ideal of the Roman Empire, for example, is merely a corollary of this general notion of the unity of the universe applied to the field of history. 18 His conversion to Roman Catholicism was the logical conclusion of this principle, since the sacramental system of the Catholic Church is based on analogy: just as water cleanses the body, so baptism cleanses the soul of original sin; just as bread and wine are the symbols of all earthly nourishment, since in Western history they were the simplest and most readily available foods, so too the Body and Blood of Christ are the spiritual nourishment of man. Bergengruen is a sacramental thinker: "Sacra mysteria venerari" (To revere the sacred mysteries) is what he considers the meaning of creation and the real task of man. 19 He says: "Die Dichtung bedarf nur weniger grosser Symbole. Im Grunde ist mit Brot und Wein alles gesagt." 20 But in his practice as author, Bergengruen is not limited to only the central symbols of Catholicism; the scope of his symbolism is open to all things. Thus, he does not hesitate to call himself "a Christian pagan". 21 Analogy coordinates with the twofold objectives of literature as envisaged by Bergengruen in that each objective represents one pole of 17 Bergengruen, Das Geheimnis Verbleibt, 35. '8 Ida Friederike Görres, "Werner Bergengruen", in Das Geheimsnis Verbleibt, 148. 19 Bergengruen, Das Geheimnis, 65. 20 Bergengruen, Das Geheimnis, 125. 21 Bergengruen, Das Geheimnis, 125-26.

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analogy. The first objective, namely the evocation of images, represents the earthly end of the analogical scale; the second objective, the manifestation of eternal laws, represents the transcendental end of the analogical scale. The first of these objectives is contrasted to thought and doctrine. Literature's goal is not to teach or to preach, but to erect images and forms. In this connection Bergengruen quotes Hugo von Hofmannsthal: "Wir vermögen nur die Gestalt zu lieben, und wer die Idee zu lieben vorgibt, der liebt sie immer als Gestalt. Die Gestalt erledigt das Problem, sie beantwortet das Unbeantwortbare." 2 2 A critical appraisal of this first literary objective must point out a potential weakness of Bergengruen's conception of literature which could debilitate or even totally undermine the efficacy of his principle of analogy as a source of information about the real world. The emphasis is not on precise reproduction of natural or historical events; the images and forms are not mere tools for the apprehension of objective actuality but in Bergengruen's wording of the principle they seem to exist for their own sake: "nicht so sehr Gedanken, als vielmehr Bilder und Gestalten aufzustellen" (to set up not so much thoughts as rather pictures and forms). 2 3 The problem is that if the images and forms assume total or excessive independence rather than being functions of reality, if they themselves become the objects of artistic contemplation rather than the objective world from which their raw material is derived, the danger arises that they will not be true reflections of the real world and that literary structures or knowledge based on them will be informative not about the real world, but only about the aesthetically isolated world of these images. Thus, any "eternal laws" derived from these images according to Bergengruen's second objective, would apply only to these pictures and forms and not to the objective world. In short, unless the imaginative level of literature is firmly established on the world as it really is, a metaphysics based on that literature is impossible; instead we have aesteticism on the imaginative plane, while on the other, the extrapolated plane of analogy, we have only metaaestheticism or meta-literature, that is, extrapolated abstract principles which have validity only in terms of the assumptions of that aestheticism and of that literature and no relevance to real life. The logic for this inference parallels that of Kant's argument against the ontological proof for the existence of God: Wenn ich das Prädikat in einem identischen Urteile aufhebe und behalte das Subjekt, so entspringt ein Widerspruch, und daher sage ich: jenes kommt diesem notwendiger Weise zu. Hebe ich aber das Subjekt zusamt dem Prädikate auf, so entspringt kein Widerspruch; denn es ist nichts mehr, welchem Widerspruch werden könnte. Einen Triangel setzen und doch die 22 23

Quoted in Bergengruen, Privilegien des Dichters (Zürich, 1957), 63. Bergengruen, Privilegien, 63.

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drei Winkel desselben aufheben, ist widersprechend; aber den Triangel samt seinen drei Winkel aufheben, ist kein Widerspruch. Gerade ebenso ist es mit dem Begriff eines absolutnotwendigen Wesens bewandt. Wenn ihr das Dasein desselben aufhebt, so hebt ihr das Ding selbst mit allen seinen Prädikaten auf; wo soll alsdenn der Widersoruch herkommen? (If I deny the predicate in an identical judgment, but retain the subject, a contradiction results, and therefore I say: that predicate is necessarily ascribed to this subject. If however I deny the subject together with the predicate, then no contradiction results, for nothing is left to be contradicted. To posit a triangle while denying its three angles is contradictory; but to deny the triangle together with its angles, is no contradiction. The same is precisely the case with the concept of an absolutely necessary being. If you deny its existence, then you deny the thing itself along with all its predicates; where then could the contradiction stem from?' 24 In short, as applied to literature, internal contradiction is a proof of falsehood somewhere in the work. But no degree of internal consistency is a warrant of truth. The entire work may be false or irrelevant.25 Only the objective world presents apodictic and incontrovertible material from which metaphysically "eternal" laws may be derived. Furthermore, the danger of aestheticism is greatly increased by the emphasis on images and forms, i.e. products of the imagination, as opposed to thoughts. Imagination is indeed the primary and natural instrument of literary creation. This faculty, like sensory perception, is inerrant, but not in the sense that it never judges wrongly or always judges rightly; but in the sense that it never judges at all.26 The imagination indeed produces internal sensory or literary images and forms, but only discursive thought can judge whether these are correctly concatenated. Only thought can give structure and form to the products of the imagination, just as only thought can recognize the laws of nature as manifested in sense data. Thus, unless discursive thought and judgment are constantly at work in a regulatory capacity as the imagination produces its literary images, external forms of reality will enter the work of literature but basic structures of that reality may be left out. We have seen that Bergengruen's strongly visual emphasis did actually lead to a certain ethical blindness in a few parts of the Rodenstein Book.

24 Immanuel Kant, Kritik der reinen Vernunft, edited by Albert Görland (Berlin, 1922), 411. 25 This is in contradiction to Emil Staiger's stipulation that apart from consistency with the language, internal coherence should be the only standard of criticism: "Any evaluation that does more than show the harmony of the parts says something about the critic, but scarcely about the work of art." Emil Staigei, "Time and the Poetic Imagination", in The Critical Moment (London, 1963), 136. 26 Cf. Kant, Kritik, 244-45.

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Bergengruen's second literary objective, the revelation of "eternal laws" on a supposedly metaphysical plane, also is problematic insofar as this second, derivative, extrapolated, metaphysical plane is considered absolute, while the images and forms which were the basis for its perception or postulation, are relativized. This is only an apparent difficulty if the objective world, clearly looked at, is so constituted that it is insufficient to itself and requires a further, absolute plane of being to explain its existence and its nature. However, thinkers who oppose metaphysics are right at least insofar as they affirm the primacy of the physical world from the point of view of our knowledge. It is the real world of sensory objects that we know directly; any knowledge we may have of any metaphysical order must be inferred or denied from our analysis of the real world. Bergengruen, in short, is a Platonic symbolist. An excellent contrast of this mode of knowledge with an opposite modern possibility can be obtained by comparing the attitudes of the early and the late André Gide (cf. Catherine H.Savage, "Gide's Criticism of Symbolism", MLR, Oct. 1966). Gide's early symbolistic attitude and its general affinity with Bergengruen's lifelong stance can be seen in the following quotations: Le poète . . . devine à travers chaque chose — et une seule lui suffit, symbole, pour révéler son archetype. (The p o e t . . . senses through things, and just one is enough for him, as a symbol, to reveal its archtype.) 2 7 Soutenu par Schopenhauer . . . je tenais pour 'contingence' (c'est le mot dont on se servait) tout ce qui n'était pas 'absolu', toute la prismatique diversité de la vie . . . (Encouraged by Schopenhauer . . . I considered "contingent" — that was the word in vogue — everything that was not "absolute", all the prismatic diversity of life.) 28 Later Gide rejected symbolism in the Platonic sense, claiming that it turned its back on concrete reality and arbitrarily endowed images with transcendental value. The mature Gide still used symbols but only to refer to psychological and individual ethical realities. He set stronger focus on the things themselves, regarding them as what they are and not as vehicles of meaning. 29 This emphasis on objectivity, on things as things rather than as vehicles for a meaning, is carried to a still greater extreme in Germany by Peter Weiss (Der Schatten des Körpers des Kutschers, 1960) and in France by Alain 27 Catherine H. Savage, "Gide's Criticism of Symbolism", Modern Language LXI (4 Oct. 1966), 602. 28 Savage, "Gide", 603. 29 Savage, "Gide", 604-08.

Review,

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Robbe-Grillet. Robbe-Grillet has elaborated the theory for the fiction of the future in terms of the elimination of "depth" and meaning. There is no dimension other than the geometrical; and the presence of things is much more important than any explanations of them, than meanings they may have, or systems of reference (sentimental, sociological, Freudian, metaphysical, etc.). The object in all its intactness and opacity is the center of such literature. This standpoint is both anti-symbolic and anti-existentialist: Or le monde n'est ni signifiant ni absurde. II est, tout simplement.... Autour de nous, defiant la meute de nos adjectifs animistes ou ménagers, les choses sont la. Leur surface est nette et lisse, intacte, mais sans éclat louche ni transparence. Toute riotre littérature n'a pas encore réussi á en entamer le plus petit coin, á en amollir la moindre courbe. (The world is neither significant nor absurd. It is, that is a l l . . . . Around us, defying our pack of animistic or economizing adjectives, things exist. Their surface is clear-cut and smooth, intact, but without a lurid gleam or transparency. All literature has failed to encroach upon their least corner or to soften their least curve.) 30 The odd thing about this striving for an economy of absolute objectivity is that it results in extremely unreal effects. The world of solid, non-vehicular objects created by both Weiss and Robbe-Grillet seems to have resulted from a vision or a hallucination. The facts and events are indeed stripped of "depth", which the author chooses to deny them, but by the same token they are deprived of the qualities which would make it possible to believe in their existence. The attempt at absolute objectivity results in crass subjectivity and lack of verisimilitude.31 It is perhaps worthy of note that RobbeGrillet's theory of literature has an almost opposite emphasis from that of Bergengruen. For Robbe-Grillet, the intact world (cf. intacte, in quotation above), is the world of objective things stripped of all signification. For Bergengruen the intact world (die heile Welt) exists only on a transcendent level; on the level of things and events the world is unstable, disparate, divided, at odds with itself, confused, mysterious, and tragic. The task of an author is to reveal the eternal laws of the transcendent level in spite of the turmoil that constitutes the surface of the world: Der Dichter soli.. . aus der Fiille des uns allenthalben Umwogenden urbildliche Erscheinungen herausheben, festhalten und vor uns aufrichten. Damit dient er den ewigen Ordnungen, nicht einer fliichtigen Tagesláufigkeit.

30 Alain Robbe-Grillet, Une voie pour le roman futur", in Maurice Nadeau, Le roman français depuis la guerre (Paris, 1963), 238. 31 Nadeau, Le roman, 165.

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(From the abundance of material surging about on every side, the author should . . . select, fixate, and set up before us archtypal phenomena. Thereby he serves eternal laws and not the fleeting demands of the day.) 3 2 For Robbe-Grillet the concrete world is absolute; for Bergengruen its absoluteness is only apparent and the central aim of his art is to transcend it: Die zeitlichen Situationen, sie mögen den Betroffenen sich noch so sehr als ein Absolutes darstellen, sind etwas Fliessendes, etwas Verfliessendes. Das Bleibende ins Bild zu stellen, das ist die Aufgabe des Dichters heute und morgen, wie sie es gestern und ehegestern gewesen ist. (Temporal situations, n o matter how absolute they seem to the person confronted with them, are transitory and fleeting. To fixate in images that which is permanent is the task of the author today and tomorrow, just as it has been yesterday and the day b e f o r e . ) 3 3 Pertinent for the investigation of these contradictory theories of literature is the fact that all our experience of Transcendentals or even of psychological matters can be expressed only in terms borrowed f r o m the concrete, external world, as Ralph Waldo Emerson points out: Every word which is used to express a moral or intellectual fact, if traced to its root, is found to be borrowed from material appearance. Right means straight; wrong means twisted. Spirit primarily means wind; transgression, the crossing of a line; supercilious, the raising of the eyebrows. We say the heart to express emotion, the head to denote thought, and thought and emotion are words borrowed f r o m sensible things, and now appropriated to spiritual nature. Most of the process by which this transformation is made is hidden f r o m us in the remote time when language was formed . . . . 3 4 A valuable contribution on this question is the demonstration by Owen Barfield that words f r o m their first beginnings were probably already vehicles with a tenor, i.e. they not only designated concrete things, but they simultaneously suggested ideas, beings, or qualities not accessible to senseobservation. The conclusion follows naturally that: If the word on its very first appearance was already a vehicle with a tenor, then the given affinity which I suggested between the concept of wind and the concept of spirit must have been "given" in the nature of things and not by some kind of friction in the machinery of language. 35

32 Bergengruen, Privilegien, 68. 33 Bergengruen, Privilegien ,71. 34 Quoted in Owen Barfield, "The meaning of the word 'Literal' ", in Metaphor Symbol, ed. L.C. Knights and Basil Cottle (London, 1960), 51. 35 Barfield, "Meaning", 55.

and

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This genetic argument is far from proving or even attempting to prove the validity of transcendentalism. One point to be remembered about both Robbe-Grillet's and Bergengruen's literary theories is that what is seen and the way it is seen are often almost inextricably interwoven. In criticizing a philosopher, for instance, the chief difficulty often lies in isolating premise from conclusion; his starting point and statement of the question often surreptitiously anticipate the answer to the question or even his entire philosophical system by a hidden petitio principii. However, this much is certain: the more natural manner of knowing includes symbolism and analogy. This is attested by (a) the aseptic, unrealistic effect of literature which stresses a strictly sense-oriented economy and limits the scope of view to the concrete world, such as does that of Weiss and Robbe-Grillet; and, (b) by the probability that language from the first pointed beyond the concrete object at less tangible meanings and things not by an innate defect of language but because this correlation pre-existed in nature. In this light, how does the Rodenstein Book fulfill the hopes that Willibrand places on Bergengruen's work in general? In what way, if at all, does the Rodenstein Book support a theistic heile Welt ('sound or intact world'), which is to offer spiritual orientation for our modern value-arid and disoriented world? First of all, God is seldom mentioned in the book. This accords with Bergengruen's scale of analogy: the absolute plane is transcendental, i.e. it lies beyond the scope of sense-perception. Thus: "Das Gleichgültige tritt in eigener Gestalt auf, das Wichtige liebt Hindeutungen und Verkleidungen" (That which is indifferent appears in its own form, that which is important loves allusions and disguises). 36 Explicit mention is however made of God at some key points of the book: (a) in the apocalyptic motto from the Book of Revelations: " — and swore by the Living One from eternity to eternity, . . . that henceforth there shall be no more time" (Rev. 10:6); (b) in the prologue, where the ghostly rider is called "Bote Gottes und seiner Nacht" (messenger of God and his night, 8); (c) in the God-the-Father images of the altar as analogues of the imperial authority (20); (d) as the clinching argument of Jonas' dialogue "und dein Schwur wird dich vor Gottes Gericht verklagen" (and your oath will accuse you before God's judgment, 32); (e) at the eschatological climax of the conjuration scene in "The Grenadiers": "Dies ist der grosse und schreckliche Tag des Herrn. Hinfort soll keine Zeit mehr sein." (This is the great and terrible day of the Lord. Henceforth there shall be no more time, 35); (f) and finally, in the closing invocation of the epilogue: "Gott wolle uns beenden . . . in IHM, DER O H N E E N D E I S T . " (May God perfect u s . . . in HIM W H O IS W I T H O U T END, 379). These references to God at key places in the prologue and 36

Bergengruen, Die Rittmeisterin

(Zürich, 1954), 380.

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epilogue and in the first two stories of the book have the over all effect of anchoring the book firmly within the theistic frame of reference. It is a safe interpretative judgment that this frame of reference is not relativized; the various hypothetical variations of the Rodenstein legend leave it unshaken. In fact they strengthen it, because the various hypothetical alternatives employ merely different symbols and events and different degrees of explicitness to underscore the same theme; namely, that this external world is not absolute, that it will come to an end, and that beyond it is a jus f and merciful God who will comfort the weak and oppressed and punish the wicked and hardhearted. In most of the stories, God is not mentioned at all. And where mention of him is made, it is called for by the form of the respective story or in consistency with a particular literary effect. Accordingly, three stories, Chapter 8, "Rudolf von Rodenstein und die wilden Weibchen", Chapter 15, "Unsere Liebe Frau im Forst", and Chapter 17, "Die zwei Frauen des Herrn von Rodenstein", account for about half of the twenty or so explicit references to God other than those enumerated above. The reason is their form: all are legends — here in the sense of Legende as opposed to Sage. Chapter 8 combines a nature-myth with a Heiligenvita or legendary life of a saint. Its references to God accord with the content and form of the story as follows: (a) "Denn wo die Manner anstehen, Gottes Willen zu tun, da müssen die Kinder ihnen vorangehen" (74). These words are uttered by the kindly priest Rudolf von Rodenstein to his parishioners after he has tried in vain to get them to erect a cross to protect the wild women (mythical personifications of the first autumn of ripeness) against the attacks of the wild hunter (here the personification of the second autumn of bleak desolation). Later Rudolf dies in the snows with the Children's Crusade. There is great truth in the implications of the statement — about the universality of God's love, the childlike goodness of the holy man, and the recalcitrance of men; moreover it fits the character, the genre, and the plot: it is medieval, religious, tolerant towards the pagan nature-figures, and as naively idealistic as the Children's Crusade, (b) "Meine Kinder sollen wissen, das Gottestat frei sein will" (75) — again the fatherly forbearance which makes the godly man an image of God on earth, (c) "Introibo ad Deum, qui laetificat juventutem meam" (75). The grateful wild women offer the priest three rewards. The scene is reminiscent of the temptation of Christ in the desert (Matthew 4:1-11) and still more so because the above response, like Christ's, is also a biblical quotation (Psalm 42:4), adapted from the prayers at the beginning of the Mass. Rudolf, however, is not coping with a satanical adversary, he is speaking with vulnerable natural creatures whom he has helped and whom he addresses as "meine Kinder". He rejects the first two gifts, as Christ did, because his sufficiency comes from God. The first gift is negative: an herb to heal all sicknesses; "Behaltet es, meine K i n d e r , . . .

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Werden mir Krankheiten geschickt, so will ich sie liebhaben wie andere gute Dinge auch." The second is positive: a beverage that gives eternal youth. To this he responds with "Introibo ad Deum", an act of faith in the eternal youth to come, quoted above. Here we are at the heart of Bergengruen's thought and at the heart of the Rodenstein Book', whatever is, is good, because it comes from God. When the wild women offer Rudolf gold and silver, he accepts them for the poor of his parish, and ironically the wild women give only reluctantly because the peasants have earned little gratitude from them, (d) "Gott aber sandte den Engel, der ihm der liebste ist, und hiess ihn ein Kreuz zur Erde tragen, das war nicht von Eiche oder Tanne gezimmert, sondern sein Holz war genommen von Baume des Lebens. Und dies Kreuz hiess er ihn aufrichten über der wilden Gletscherspalte als ein Zeichen, dass hier der gute Pater Rudolfus begraben liegt" (76-77). External stylistic characteristics appropriate to a legend are: archaisms of language — the second relative clause without end position (Endstellung) of the finite verb, and the Latin name of the saint: Pater Rudolfus; biblical language and imagery — "Gott sandte den Engel" and "Baum des Lebens". More strongly indicative of the medieval Christian legend is the direct vision into the 'transcendental' sphere, as in the books of Job or Tobias. In sum, God is mentioned in the above-cited examples because it is appropriate and necessary for the particular story. The same is true for Chapters 15 and 17, the first being a Marian Legend and the second a sort of Gnostic tale of the struggle between the powers of darkness and the powers of light. Allusions to God in "Unsere liebe Frau im Forst" are: (a) "Wie er sich nie von Menschen etwas erbeten hatte, so erbat er sich auch nichts von Gott" (195); (b) " H i m m e l s t o r . . . Muttergottes" (197); (c) "Er weiss ja, dass das Geschehene des Rechtes ist und ihm aus der Hand Gottes zukam" (198); (d) " . . . weil Gott dir nun einmal die Rede versagt h a t . . . " (199). Allusion (a) is required by the genre and character; the point of a Marienlegende is generally that a hardened sinner or person not devoted to God can be saved by his devotion to Mary. In (b) the visual image of the Madonna and Child is central; for the God of rational theology plays a secondary role in Marian legends. In (c) we again have the central Bergengruen doctrine of universal Divine Providence. And (d) is addressed to a horse as a fictitious knower of the secrets of creation (this is a 'Bergengruenism', a formula focusing all mystery or knowledge in a single object or symbol). 37 Again, in (a), (b), and (c), allusion to God is made because required by the genre. This legend is described in more detail on pp. 115117 above. 37 This figure, consisting of a symbol connected with an explicit statement of universality, abounds in Bergengruen's works. A classic example is: Könnten wir sehen, was in Dürer's Melancholie, das unter der Waage sitzende Engel-

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In Chapter 17, "Die zwei Frauen des Herrn von Rodenstein", the quasiGnostic polarity Aefeodata and Asatanadata is central to the form. The theme of Divine Providence (206), and the human reaction to it in the form of acceptance or rejection of God's will, in terms of bondage to the dark passions or voluntary bondage if God will it (218), is its ethical corollary. Extensive treatment of this story is presented on pp. 118-121 above. Thus, the three stories which mention God most frequently, do so because that is required by genre and characterization. Each also expresses the basic doctrine of the sound or intact world in terms of God's providence and man's acceptance thereof. Similar discretion is observed in other more localized allusions. However, even when no mention of God is made, the same message is generally implicit, especially in the turning-points of the stories. When justice and/or mercy appear as absolutes beyond the normal laws of nature, or when the wild army announces the end of time, they represent Divine Providence. It makes little difference that mythical figures are used. God himself, as a spirit, is inaccessible to sense-perception and thus he cannot be directly depicted in any case; the mythical images serve as vehicles for the divine absolutes of mercy, justice, and omnipotence, as the case may be. Especially striking in this regard are the turning points of Chapters 7, 10, 12, 14, 16, 19, 20, and 27. To give a single example: in the last mentioned Chapter 27, "Die Magd im Felsenhaus", the wild women tell Dorothea that if she ever desires she should return to the house "und anklopfen; wenn es not tue, werde ihr aufgetan werden" (327). At the end of the story as an extremely old woman, her senses fading and herself a burden to her grandchildren and their children, she does: "Sie kam an das Felsenhaus und pochte an. Es wurde ihr geöffnet, und sie ist von niemandem mehr erblickt worden" (337). Here we are not far from Christ's words: "Knock and it shall be opened unto you" (Matthew 7:7) — again the theme of Divine Providence! In conclusion, Willibrand's endorsement of Bergengruen as a source of hope for our disoriented civilization accords with Bergengruen's own literary objective. Bergengruen does try to establish an orientation on ultimate values; he offers comfort and courage based on the transcendental integrity of the cosmos beyond all adversities of daily living. The Rodenchen auf seine Tafel schreibt, - vielleicht wäre dann alles an Erkenntnis gewonnen. (If we could see what the little angel sitting under the scale in Diirer's "Melancholy" is writing on his tablet, - perhaps everything in knowledge would be gained. (Bergengruen, Das Geheimnis, 64). The recipe for everyman to make his peace with destiny — "Das Rezept müsste man haben! . . .Vielleicht wäre dann alles gewonnen." (One ought to have that recipe! . . . Perhaps then everything would be won, Die Rittmeisterin, 144) - and the taming of lizards (142) are others.

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stein Book falls in the mainstream of Bergengruen's work as he intended it to be: Es ist nicht die Aufgabe des Dichters, den Menschen in ihren aktuellen Nöten beizustehen. Statt dessen soll er in ihnen einen Seelenzustand bewirken, der sie fähig macht, und sei es auch nur für Augenblicke der Ahnung teilhaftig zu werden, dass ihre Nöte nicht den ganzen Kreis des Löbens umschrieben halten und dass dieser ganze Kreis in ewigen Ordnungen eingebettet liegt. (It is not an author's task to help men in their day-to-day difficulties. Instead of that he should bring about in them a condition of soul which enables them, if only for moments, to participate in the insight that their needs and troubles, however hard they may be, do not circumscribe the entire scope of life, but that this entire life is firmly imbedded in eternal laws.)38 This message is essential to the Rodenstein Book. However, it is not deduced a posteriori from its images and events. Rather, it is the initial idea which structures the images and plots into an artistic form (in this it is comparable to the string of a pearl necklace). 39 Accordingly the Rodenstein Book is an artistic testimony of Bergengruen's view of the world. Of itself the book does not provide conclusive intrinsic evidence that the objective world is really the way it is depicted. In fact the genre of Sage is particularly appropriate to Bergengruen's purpose because it allows him to alter the natural course of events, in order to express his view of reality. 40 The idea is not proven by the images and plots; the direction of causality is the opposite: the images and plots are instruments, vivid symbols, used as vehicles for the pre-existent message. From this point of view, the book as such is vulnerable to Kant's argument against the ontological proof as discussed above. The relevancy of the book for our age in its dilemma of world-view disorientation is attained only if its rich and to a great extent harmoniously structured partial values lead the reader to critically reexperience and re-examine the objective world for himself in the light of Bergengruen's Weltanschauung of trust in Divine Providence as he vividly and vitally presents it. Apart from the principle of entropy which is at the heart of the framework, the book does not seem to incorporate an intrinsic ontological foundation. Among other things the analogical mode of knowledge is an a priori assumption, and must be verified or rejected by the reader for himself.

38 39 40

Bergengruen, Privilegien, 67. Cf. Bergengruen's use of the analogy in Die Rittmeisterin, 145-46. Cf. Bergengruen's definition of poetic liccnse, Privilegien, 23.

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Robbe-Grillet, Alain, "Une voie pour le roman futur", in Maurice Nadeau, Le roman français depuis la guerre (Paris, 1963). Röhrich, Lutz, Märchen und Wirklichkeit: eine volkskundliche Untersuchung (Wiesbaden, 1956). Savage, Catherine H., "Gide's Criticism of Symbolism", Modem Language Review, LXI 4 (Oct. 1966). Schiller, Friedrich, "Der Handschuh", Sämtliche Werke (Stuttgart, 1844). Schneider, Wilhelm, Stilistische Deutsche Grammatik (Freiburg, 1959). Staiger, Emil, "Time and the Poetic Imagination", in The Critical Moment: Essays on the Nature of Literature (London, 1964). Storm, Theodor, Der Schimmelreiter, Sämtliche Werke, 8 vols. (Leipzig, 1920). Strich, Fritz, Der Dichter und die Zeit (Bern, 1947). Thomas a Kempis, De Imitatione Christi: Libri Quatuor (Madrid, 1866). Toller, Ernst, Eine Jugend in Deutschland (Amsterdam, 1933). Uexküll, Jakob von, und Georg Kriszat, Streifzuge durch die Umwelten von Tieren und Menschen: Ein Bilderbuch unsichtbarer Welten: Bedeutungslehre (Hamburg, 1956). Wellek, René, "Some Principles of Criticism", in The Critical Moment (London, 1963). - , René, and Austin Warren, Theory of Literature (New York, 1956). Willibrand, W.A., "The 'Sound World' of Werner Bergengruen", in The South-Central Bulletin XVI (Feb. 1956), 1-5. Wolf, Johannes Wilhelm, Hessische Sagen (Göttingen, 1853). Zehfuss, Heinrich, Die Herren von Rodenstein nebst der Sage von den Wandergeistern auf Schnellerts und Rodenstein (Darmstadt, 1825). Zimmermann, Paul, Die Sage von Hackelberg, dem Wilden Jäger (Wernigerode, 1879).

INDEX

aestheticism, 9 , 1 4 8 aitiological Sage, 79, 80, 118 alliteration, 14-15, 35, 39, 48 Am Himmel wie auf Erden, 146 analogy, 146 f f . apocalyptic catastrophe, 8, 9, 62, 67-68 Aristotle, 12 atavism, 97-99 Atum, the law of, 78 authoritarianism, 65

Einstein, Carl, 17 Emerson, R.W., 151 Empire, ideal of the Roman, 42-43, 51, 143, 144, 146 entropy, 10-11, 16, 18, 19, 132,156 Entzauberungssage, 80-81 'Epilogue,' 18-23, 24, 26, 132, 135, 152 Erlösungssage, 80, 81, 88, 102 Erzählung, defined, 69-70 escalation, rhetorical, 61-63

Barfield, O., 151 '(Der) Baumeister und die Kapsel,' 128, 129, 134, 137 Bekenntnis zur Höhle, 145 Bennett, E.K., 69 Bergengruenism, 154 Borchert, W„ 25-26, 28 Brecht, B., 66 Brockes, B.H., 18 '(Die) Bücher aus der Truhe,' 128, 134 Büchner, G., 66 Busacca, B„ 141, 142

false interpretation, as a rhetorical device, 61-63 Fechter, P., 7 '(Der) Fluch der Frau von Rodenstein,' 122-123, 124, 133,138 Frank, Emma, 81 '(Das) Fräulein auf dem Rodenstein,' 80, 81-102, 123, 134 Frisch, Max, 131 'Fröhlich und die beiden Frauen,' 128, 129, 133, 134, 136

Catholicism, 146 Chateaubriand, F.A.R. de, 77 color, use of, 15, 18, 30, 41-42, 43, 64, 113-114, 115-117, 119-120 Communism, 19 Cottle, B„ 151 Cushing, Richard Cardinal, 22, 141 '(Die) Dachser,' 128, 133, 137 Daum, Simon, 8, 107 ff. Dehmel, R„ 16, 17 Deutsche Reise, 104, 144, 145 diffusion, 92 distancing, 14 Donar, 7, 115 Dürer, A., 154-155

(Das) Geheimnis Verbleibt, 58, 59, 72, 146, 155 '(Die) Geschichte der drei Hopfenhändler', 124, 127, 133 (Das) Gesetz des Atum, 78 Gide, A., 149 Goethe, J.W. von, 15-16, 134 (Der) goldene Griffel, 146 Corres, Ida, 51, 146 '(Die) Grenadiere,' 53-68, 124, 126, 132, 134, 135, 152 Grimm, A.L., 125 Grimm, Brüder, 82, 88 Harris, J.C., 141,128 (Die) heile Welt, 67,139 ff. '(Das) heilige Jahr,' 128, 129, 134, 137

INDEX

161

Herzog Karl der Kühne, 145 Hildesheimer, W„ 131 historicity, 7, 8, 9 Hofmannstahl, H. von, 16 '(Die) Holtzschen Erben,' 128 Holz, A., 131 hypothetical fiction 131-135, predicat i o n , ^ , 44-45, 132 ff.

pathetic fallacy, 18 perspective, 30, 31; collective, 34-35; double, 37, 38 Platonic symbolism, 149 Plischke.H., 81,112 Privilegien des Dichters, 147, 156 'Prologue,' 9-18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 132, 135, 152

incredulity, as a literary device, 72

question-and-answer structure, 63

John of the Cross, St., 22 Johnson, Lyndon, 141 Johnson, Uwe, 131 JoUes, A., 80

recognition, 94-96 rhythm, 14-15, 23, 28-29, 35 Rilke, R.M., 16, 21 (Die) Rittmeisterin, 152, 155,156 Robbe-Grillet, A., 150, 151, 152 Röhrich, L„ 81 'Rudolf von Rodenstein und die wilden Weibchen,' 128, 129, 133, 134, 153-154

Kafka, F., 66, 111, 113, 141 Kampmann, T., 145 Kant, I., 21, 147-148, 156 'Kirschwassergeschichte,' 128, 133, 134, 136 Kirtlan, E.J.B., 142 Klein, J., 69 Knights, L.C., 142-143, 151 Kriszat, G., 101 Legende, defined,79 (Der) letzte Rittmeister, Lorentzen, T., 124 Lockemann, F., 69

146

Mackensen, L., 80 '(Die) Magd im Felsenhaus,' 128, 134, 137, 155 '(Der) Mann aus der Haal,' 80, 107-115, 123, 129, 133, 134, 136 '(Die) Männer im Schnellertsberge,' 80, 102-107,123, 134 Märchen, defined, 79-80 Meisen, Karl, 81 Meisinger, T., 7, 80, 125, 129 Miegel, A., 89 Mündlich gesprochen, 144 Nadeau, M„ 150 name-analysis, 18 National Socialism, 19 Novelle, defined, 69-70 objectivity in literature, 141-143 onomatopoeia, 17, 38, 48 Otton, K., 17

Sage, defined, 79, characteristics of, 88 Savage, C.H., 149 science, 10, 97-99 Schiller, F., 64 Schlaf, J., 131 '(Der) Schlafwandler,' 128,134 '(Der) schlesische Knabe,' 128, 134, 137 Schneider, R., 51 '(Die) schöne Frau Amanita,' 133, 134, 137 Schreibtischerinnerungen, 145 Schwank, defined, 80 second person listener, role of, 10, 21-22 Sekundenstil, neuer, 131 Simultanstil, 131 Staiger, E., 148 (Der) Starost, 145 '(Die) Steine,' 128, 134 Storm, T„ 50 Strich, F., 17 symbolism, 7, 15-17, 35, 43, 114, 120-121,146 theatricality, 17 Thomas a Kempis, 22 time, 8, 12, 36; compression, 88-89; shift, 31-34; schema, 45-47; role of, 135-138 'Tod, Leben, Abertod und Aberleben des Herrn von Rodenstein,' 30-52, 124-126,132, 134, 135

162

INDEX

80,

wilden, weissen Selben,' 124, 127-128, 134 Willibrand, W.A., 139, 140,155 Wodan, 7, 104, 115 Wolff, J.W., 80-130 '(Das) wütende Heer,' 23-29, 128, 132, 135

'(Der) Wachtmeister und die Prinzessin aus dem Morgenlande, 128, 132,135 war, 66, 122; World War I, 8, 25; World War II, 8, 19 Weiss, P„ 131, 149, 150,152 '(Die) wilden, weissen Heiden und die

Zehfuss, H., 122, 124 '(Die) Zigeuner und das Wiesel,' 128, 134 Zimmermann, Paul, 7 '(Die) zwei Frauen des Herrn von Rodenstein,' 80, 118-121, 123, 137, 154, 155 '(Die) Zwillinge aus Frankreich,' 70-78, 128, 133, 134, 136

'(Der) tolle Schmied,' 128, 129-130, 133, 134, 136 Toller, E., 25 Toynbee, A., 140 Uexküll, J. von, 101,143 'Unsere Liebe Frau im Forst,' 115-118, 123, 134, 137, 154 Verlaine, P„ 17