NEW COMPARISON A Journal of Comparative and General Literary Studies Published for the British Comparative Literature Association

Editors: Susan Bassnett (Comparative Literary Theory and Literary Translation, University of Warwick) Theo Hermans (Dutch, University College London) Holger Klein (Modern Languages and European History, University o f East Anglia) Editorial Board: Leon Burnett (Literature, University of Essex). Eva Fox-CAI (English and Related Literatures, University o f York), K e i t h Hoskin (Classics/Education, University of Warwick), George Hyde (English and American Studies. University o f East Anglia), Andre Lefevere (Germanic Languages. University o f Texas at Austin), Susan Melrose (Drama and Theatre Studies, Murdoch University, Australia), Philip Mosley (Comparative Literature, Pennsylvania State University). Saliha Paker (London/lstanbul), Robert Pynsent (School o f Slavonic and East European Studies, University of London), Brigitte Schultze (Slavonic Studies, University o f MaindTranslation Studies Centre, University of Gottingen), Christopher Smith and Clive Scott (Modern Languages and European History, University o f East Anglia), Stephen Walton (Scandinavian Studies, University College London), Peter V. Zima (Comparative Literature, University o f Klagenfurt). NEW COMPARISON is published twice yearly, in the Summer and Autumn. Administration and Subscriptions: D r Susan Bassnett. New Comparison, Graduate School of Comparative Literary Theory and Literary Translation, University o f Warwick, Coventry CV4 7AL. Prices and subscription rates: see last page.

Editorial address: D r Theo Hermans, New Comparison. Department of Dutch, University College London. Gower Street, London WClE 6BT. Books for review, etc.: t o D r Holger Klein, New Comparison. School o f Modern Languages and European History, University o f East Anglia, Norwich NR4 7TJ.

Typing and layout:

0

Carol Haines

Individual authors

Printed at the University of East Anglia

NEW COMPARlSON
A J o u r n a l o f C o m p a r a t i v e a n d G e n e r a l 1 2 ~ ~ e r , S r~ u d ~ c ~ \ N u m b e r 6: Literary Themes Autumn 1988 E d i t e d by Holger Klein

H O L G E R KLElN ( N o r w ~ c h ) T h e m e s and T h e m a t o l o g y ANGELIKA CORBINEAIJ-HOFF'M4NN ( k l a ~ n z ) V e n i c e a t F i r s t Sight: P r o l e g o m e n a for a N r w V ~ e won l l i r r n ; ~Il< , \ A N D R E E MANSAll (Toulouse) Venice P r e s e r v e d : History, Myth and L i t ~ r a r y( ' r e d [ ~ o n HANS-GEOHG G R ~ ~ N I N( G a c e r a t e ! M T h e " T r a i t o r t o his People": A C o n t r i b u t i o n t o t h e P h e n o m e n o l o g y of T r e a c h e r y in L i t e r a t u r e GYORGY E. SZONYl ( S z e g e d ) V a r i a t i o n s o n t h e hlyth of t h e M a g u s T E R E N C E DAWSON (Singapore) V i c t i m s of t h e i r o w n C o n t e n d i n g Passions: Ilnexptbctcd I)c,;~rh in Adolphe, Ivanhoe, a n d W u t h e r i n g H e ~ g h t s ELISARETH RRONFEN ( M u n ~ c h ! Dialogue with t h e D e a d : T h e D e c e a s e d S e l o v c d as kluat. SlEGHlLD BOGUMIL ( B o c h u m ) I m a g e s of L a n d s c a p e in C o m t e m p o r a r y F r e n c h I'octr!.: Ponge, C h a r and Dupin WALTER RACHEM ( R o c h u m ) N a t u r e and P e r c e p t i o n : Versions of a I l ~ a l e c t i c . 111 European City Poetry ZlVA B E N - P O R A T ( T e l Aviv) A u t u m n P o e m s a n d L i t e r a r y Impressionism: C o n c e p t u a l ~ s a t ~ o n , T h e m a t i z a t i o n and C l a s s i f i c a t i o n

WENDY M E R C E R (London) F r o m Idyll t o Arsenal: T h e C h a n g ~ n gI m a g e o f G e r m a n y In F r a n c e a s s e e n through t h e Work of X a v ~ e rM a r m e r 11808-1892) J U L I A N COWLEY (London) T h e A r t of t h e Improvisers: Post-Bebop America J a z z and F i c t ~ o n in

E. W. H E R D ( O t a g o ) Tin D r u m and S n a k e - C h a r m e r ' s F l u t e : Debt t o Gunter Grass REVIEWS R E P O R T O N 'WORK IN P R O G R E S S ' NEWS OBITUARY

Salman Hushd~e's

THEMES AND THEMATOLOGY

Holger Klein (University o f East Anglia) "If ever a word was set up to he knocked down", Levin w i t t i l y remarked twenty years ago, "it is that p.94). pass. forbidding expression

..." ("Thematics

...I1,

Yet we have been bombarded with so many more formidable terms

I t is useful:

i n various spheres o f critical inquiry that this particular one may surely scholars writing i n French have talked o f th6matolop;ie
i t has i t s obvious equivalents in other

at least since Van Tiegham (though he and many others used i t purely as a translation o f Stoffgeschichte), in Dutch (without doubts the and aigu on Romance languages (tematologia, tematologia, etc.) and is known also e.g. the el. Moreover, is against gaining variously ground in expressed cerman2 opposition1 Thematologie

not just to dissociate new efforts from what most perceive as field. Levin prefers thematics, which also has there is a tendency to call the'matique/ On

the stuffiness o f traditional Stoffgeschichte and Motivgeschichte, but to designate a much wider obvious equivalents; thematiek1Thematik however,

the thematic elements in particular works and the

methods o f their analysis,3 which again is only one area of the field.

balance, then, thematology is preferahle as a general term for that branch o f learning concerned, whether theoretically or i n practice, with the study of literary themes. of Using i t contributes a l i t t l e towards a convergence terms and the notions they express The problem is not, o f course, languages use different words Babel" scholars different affairs, and (not is largely exclusively, but

a development which,

though

perhaps not essentia~,~ certainly apt to help. is that scholars working in different has been our general lot "After

that

remediable by dictionaries5 perhaps more than

but that in

literary

those

the other

humanities) using the same language often employ phenomena and vice versa.6

identical terms for this state o f afforr!s

The reasons for

and for the unlikelihood of its being wholly overcome That is not my present concern.

opportunities for speculation on the business of criticism as well as on i t s materiaL7 Nor do I wish t o dwell once more8 on the fact that "theme" and "motif" (as opposed to "motive") along with a host of related terms drastically varies in French,''

have no generally agreed signifieds

for those writing i n ~nglish,' that scholarly usage of and that,

theme

and r n d

finally, the distinction between

S t o f f and & M is neither uniform in German'' nor, in t h e dominant tradition, very serviceable. J o s t urges t h e rest of t h e world t o adopt t h e
G e r m a n distinction ( a s if a g r e e m e n t about it existed), obviously in e v e r y o n e ' s own language; however, this would only spread confusion and t h e Weisstein, o n t h e o t h e r hand, r e m a r k s it w e r e t o b e dropped in favour of T h e m a need f o r e l a b o r a t e contortions. t a k e n o v e r in o t h e r languages)'' matter/matikre).

might b e helpful if t h e G e r m a n word S t o f f (which has frequently been (p.137) (and S t o f f t o b e r e t a i n e d only in t h e s e n s e of Rohstoff/subject Although h e immediately s t e p s back from this suggestion , it is m o r e realistic and m o r e promising t h a n J o s t ' s and h a s a l r e a d y been fruitfully t a k e n up. If we add t o i t a n o t h e r t e n t a t i v e suggestion, t h i s t i m e by Rremond, t h a t t h e d i f f e r e n c e b e t w e e n m o t i v e ) l 3 i s not o n e of p r a c t i c a b l e scheme. T h e s o o f t e n l a m e n t e d terminological c h a o s and wrangling should not m e s m e r i z e us. Nor must this d e b a t e b e allowed t o obscure t h e f a c t t h a t , particularly in t h e last t w o decades, thematology (under w h a t e v e r name) h a s m a d e g r e a t progress in c o n s t r u c t i n g f r a m e w o r k s of study and opening perspectives which, besides accounting f o r a g r e a t d e a l of exciting work already evolution for done, and encourage reflecting in both further on promising labours. Tracing i t s own i t s a i m s and but methods a r e two activities Much h a s been achieved must of course two t h e process kind but of

theme and
degree,14

motif ( a s opposed t o w e may a r r i v e a t a

incumbent o n e v e r y branch of a c a d e m i c study. thematology In principle, directions, continue. thematology

has t w o a r e a s of

practical

work,

approaches t o literature.

O n e looks mainly a t single t e x t s , perceiving in This might b e T h e o t h e r looks

t h e m o r endowing them with a s t r u c t u r e of meanings. called a horizontal, o r dynamic, o r s y n t a g m a t i c approach.

a t u n i t s of c o n t e n t known t o r e c u r in various ( o f t e n q u i t e d i s t a n t and unconnected) works, and m a k e s those u n i t s i t s principal object of study; this might b e called a vertical, o r s t a t i c , o r p a r a d i g m a t i c approach. o u r s u b j e c t s and what As in o t h e r branches of o u r discipline, m e t a p h o r s a r e o f t e n needed t o describe w e d o with t h e m , though they all h a v e t h e i r
Of t h e t h r e e metaphorical pairs t h e last o n e

limitations and drawbacks.

s e e m s o n t h e whole t h e least p r o b l e m a t i c a n d will b e employed here. l n t r a t e x t u a l and i n t e r t e x t u a l could b e an a t t r a c t i v e a l t e r n a t i v e , w e r e i t not t h a t t h e t e r m is by now s o m e w h a t charged. Indeed, t h e links, overlaps and

differences narrower,

between

thematology

and studies

of

intertextuality in the sense still await

manageable 15 investigation.

(as opposed t o

the universal)

The syntagmatic approach t o themes belongs mainly t o those Wellek and Warren call "intrinsic" studies (and cherish) - magnificently exemplified 16 by the New Critics and by practitioners o f werkimmanente Interpretation. Themes question. here have an established place which was never called in They are an integral part of the functional web which fuses

elements o f content and form (Gehalt and Gestalt) into a unique whole including cases o f deliberate jarring and disjunction, o f course. The paredigmatic approach to themes, the one t o which many scholars writing i n French have until fairly recently confined th6matologie (Trousson being a conspicuous protagonist), and which flourished as - t o quote the t i t l e o f one o f Frenzel's weighty contributions - Stoff-und Motivgeschichte i n German, is t o be aligned with the range o f "extrinsic" studies in Wellek and Warren's system, though they, for slightly different reasons than croce,17 regrettably did not think much of it.I8 ness serves the cause o f literary criticism better than exclusivity. atic, are but, InclusiveResides,

not only is the division into intrinsic and extrinsic studies itself problemwhile pure concentration on content, ideology, message, etc. construed in isolation from their environment and certainly does an injustice to the literary work as art, many such works inadequately historicity. century upon.) I t is perfectly true that many (And the very vogue for "intrinsic" studies during the midbears thinking

decades had i t s own historical background that

by no means only early

paradig-

maticstudies of themes are l i t t l e more than collections of examples with summaries and at best cursory comment. such collections can be very concordances literary Moreover, just and other scholars have spent useful, Against the strictures which this though they demand (like author on the production of which cogitative complementation. One can kind of thematological study has attracted one may justly argue that even invaluable tools,

untold years)

as with religions, critical approaches and methods should

be judged not so much by their adherents than their potential.

furthermore point out that in discussions of thematology great value has often been placed on reception, and due regard demanded for the relatiorlship of thematic instance and i t s immediate context19 and that there exist

numerous studies which do o f f e r incisive observations and conclusions. Both thematic approaches are fruitful, both can enhance our understanding and appreciation o f literature as well as of i t s relationship t o i t s various contexts. Moreover: tend t o complement one another i n convincing examples o f either sort, they 20 : the interpretation o f the single work

gains by the consideration o f i t s thematic units in larger contexts, and the tracing o f the fortunes o f such units within a given synchronous or diachronic scope gains by the close analysis of the units' functions in significant texts. What does manifestly not work well and lies, I suspect,
A way forward offers itself i f one

at the root o f much anguish and trouble is the identical use o f terminological systems i n both approaches. does not only differentiate between the t w o approaches, as Pollmann (esp. pp.182-86) has perhaps most clearly done, but extends this differentiation t o terminology (something he emphatically rejects). In a given text (or a group o f closely related texts) a theme is whatever element

more usually an accumulation or rather constellation

o f elements2' - is important enough t o characterize the whole or a portion, making i t possible t o talk o f i t as being about this or that (in accordance with the role o f the theme) centrally, mainly, or only in part. also formal elements.22 comes t o i t s best use. interlingually, In this sense, any content element can be the theme or contribute t o i t , as may I t is in syntagmatic interpretations that further And here some o f the traditional terminology m o t i f as a For, i f there is a measure o f agreement intra- and or trait, i f one distinctions can be helpful.

i t resides i n thinking o f theme as a larger, being still smaller.24

smaller unit o f significant and distinct content,23 with wants t o go further,

One may add, depending on

what is found in a text, such terms as formula, leitmotif, and symbol t o describe particular uses t o which specific, usually small units are put. Evidently, identifying a theme

"theming" a text (Prince), "labelling" Yet there are limits t o arbitrequire someone o f more than On to theme perception,

(Rimmon-Kenan) or "naming" i t (Hamon) is t o some extent conditioned by the context of the person who does it.25 rariness i n "seeing as"26: the other hand, there i t would e.g. are personal

angelic tongue t o convince many that pearls are a theme i n Hamlet. limitations especially i f a theme is not made explicit i n a text. t o theme recognition. theme (taking
it

The same applies possible" or

Yet one can constructively Leroux lp.4501

identify a particular

as what

calls a "th8me

"intensionnel") In

i n a given work without realising that i t has in itself a studies these distinctions, useful in the other If, as

history (is " r k e ~ " or "extensionnel"). paradigmatic approach, hinder rather than help perception and communication. scholars have frequently observed, a -/trait
1 one or several Motive, i f a -

can become a M-/motif

and vice versa, and i f a StofT/theme may basically be stripped down to may through a given work acquire the characteristics of a StoTf27 - if, in other words, thematic units can change their appearance and function from text t o text, as overwhelming evidence shows they do

i t is surely appropriate not to hypostasize terms built on

all sorts of special and variable factors such as area of provenance, first known or best known example, constellations o f components, frequency of use i n one or another shape. (p.417). quality, that and what for Rather, one might accept, with Bremond thematic Dyserinck Advocating purposes call them, as these elements have in common is their paradigmatic themes.

(Kompararatistik, but seeks to

p.110) suggests, comprehensively: which neither

this usage does not entail promoting "nebulous" (Chardin, p.30) imprecision, remove futile rigidity meets the volatile conditions of the material nor the endlessly variable circumstances and forms o f i t s reception. Furthermore, there are no convincing grounds t o limiting (as has been common in theoretical treatments of thematology until about 1970) such thematic studies t o some specific kinds, notably human situations, types, heroes and heroines. groups (pp. l ]Of.): Dyserinck, by contrast, divides themes into two large And he rightly stresses that those of various, extra-literary provenance,28 and those He details sub-headings within both

that already have a tradition in literature. both groups are worthy of treatment. groups,

but i t is more practical here t o draw for such specificity on additions that seem apposite are indicated by parentheses) : reaction t o them (add: man-made perennial eternal facts of human existence;

Prawer, who already shows an equally inclusive stance, listing five main groups (pp.99f.; (1) Natural phenomena and man's environments and objects); feelings). (add:

human problems and patterns of behaviour (add:

ideals, ideas, moods and historical events legend,

(2) Recurring motifs (better called small themes) in literature

' and folklore (add: t ~ ~ o i ) . ~(3) Recurrent situations; conditions).

(4) The representation of (professional and other) types.

mythology,30

(5) The representation of named personages "from

earlier

literature or history".

Prawer

has no difficulty

in pointing t o

worthwhile studies for each group, his as well as Dyserinck's (and more recently e.g. Chardin's) comprehensive concept o f thematology is close to to individual texts, framework of thematology can conthe actual scholarly practice. Applied syntagmatically tribute to increasing, in the integrative analysis,

aesthetic pleasure t o be derived from them,

and moreover play a vital Para-

role i n establishing the scheme o f values they manifest as well as, should they happen to propound or suggest theses, help to highlight them. digmatically applied as systematic surveys and/or developmental histories

o f themes (in the comprehensive understanding of the term), thematology can contribute t o our insight into literature i n general, and beyond that into the societies and cultures in which i t was and is being produced. close contact with, of mentalities, draw on and in their studies, art If i n the course o f such work literary scholarship and criticism come into turn contribute something to sociology, economic and other disciplines - philosophy and history o f ideas, the analysis and history folklore history, political history, and many others - so much the better. This should not

deter us but on the contrary be an added incentive and cause for joy. Not only no man, as Donne says, but no academic discipline is an island, or rather, should behave as i f that were the case. others Pollmann (pp.13f.I Moreover, as among has emphasized, the relevance o f literary studies

as such has come under very non-idealistic scrutiny, and this field belongs to those where such relevance can most easily be shown - among other things because the paradigmatic approach rarely gets far w ith an exclusive concentration on Literature with a capital L, but must cast i t s net more widely," discourse. and indeed does well also look at altogether different kinds of 32

Even apart from such considerations a strong fascination attaches t o following the history of a theme o r o f a group o f themes: their preponderant tracing their increasing or diminishing use and resonance i n various periods, studying affinities with certain genres as well as the special movements, geographical, national The difficulties are and seeing their literary representation i n relation attraction to them o f certain authors, and linguistic entities, numerous.

t o that i n other kinds o f texts and i n other arts.33

What constitutes the theme (or whatever other term is chosen,

as the likelihood o f general conformity is small), how much i t may be

varied and still be identifiable spheres of competence,

that is by no means always clear.34 and energy can hardly

The

vastness of literature (let alone the arts) and the limits o f an individual's knowledge guarantee exhaustiveness even within certain bounds;35 deemed representative samples. that aim36 is in itself not

unquestionable, but i f i t is abandoned, the problem arises o f what may be Thirdly, there is the interface o f paradigmatic with syntagmatic study - how far must, how far can one enter into the fabric of particular works and take into account the function o f a theme even i f one's aim is the theme itself, or at least a section or stretch of i t s history? These and other dilemmas will presumably continue to beset such investigations and rise in proportion with the scale and ambition of the enterprise. The fascination nevertheless exerts its sway. continued to Numerous scholars in many countries have, despite real obstacles and all sorts o f adverse dicta and cautions from other colleagues, ones. The bibliographies are full of them. One may properly doubt whether comparative literature as a discipline has not only a subject ent methodology. differing from a those of literary studies confined t o one language or one region or state, but also i t s own, differWith, for instance, ~ ~ and a ~ (Introduction, p.24) d Jost ~ howwrite paradigmatic contributions to thematology as well as syntagmatic

I incline to the view that it does not.

Thematological work is t o some

extent feasible within a confined national or linguistic framework; obviously such restrictions must recede.38 tive (or general)39 literature;

ever, the more the paradigmatic approach comes to the fore, the more Thematology is, alongside the study of genres and that of many movements, a prime domain of comparathematic studies are the kind of work in which i t s efforts yield particularly fruitful results. Some words about this number of New Comparison are indicated. with our usual policy, devoted t o a specific topic In line

the lion's share o f the available space has been

Literary Themes.

A number o f scholars were

It

invited to write articles on a specific theme of their own choice.

seemed worthwhile t o find out, in this manner, how thematic studies are being conceived of and practised in various places at the present time, and to gather the results between two covers. viewpoints and methods. However, Clearly, a conference would Instead, the have been best and might have led to a more intensive interaction of this was not feasible.

contributions

coming

in

did

not

only

g o through

t h e usual

bilateral

editorial process (without, r e a d e r s will b e a m u s e d t o n o t e while applauding t h e principle, a n y persuasion t o unify terminology), but w e r e circularised a m o n g t h e authors,40 t o whom I wish t o e x p r e s s s i n c e r e thanks. Thus t h e s e a r t i c l e s a r e based o n a knowledge of o n e another, which in s o m e c a s e s a t least g a v e rise t o cross-references. within t h e given constraints. More o n e could not aim a t T h e s t u d i e s t r e a t a v a r i e t y of t h e m e s

though t h e r e exist illuminating c o n t a c t s - a n d u s e very d i f f e r e n t procedures, which i s all t o t h e good. employed And in e a c h case, I think, t h e method as demonstrating the shows i t s p r a c t i c a l usefulness a s well

vigour a n d s c o p e of thematology in general, e v e n though t h e limitations of s p a c e allowed only f o r modest samples. 1. See e.g. Frenzel, S t o f f - und Motivgeschichte, p.30; Risanz, "Zwischen pp. 148, 159; Knapp, "Robbespierre ...Iv, p. 130. Where Stoffgeschichte n o d e t a i l s a r e given in t h e s e notes, t h e contribution is listed in t h e S e l e c t Bibliography below.

...",

2. See e.g. Reller, Theile, p.49, Dyserinck, e v e n p.xiv), J o s t in "Grundbegriffe", Dyserinck. Motive

...,

Frenzel

( l a t e , in

3. S e e e.g. Rrunel/Pichois/Rousseau, p.117 (though t h e distinction tends t o f a d e o u t l a t e r ) a n d s o m e c o n t r i b u t o r s t o Pogtique 16 (in c o n t r a s t t o t h e organisers: Alleton, Rremond, Pavel, pp.395f.; f u r t h e r m o r e Pollmann, p.192, n.31. Kurman follows Levin in choosing T h e m a t i c s ; P r a w e r (p.99) u s e s both (curiously enough as synonyms f o r Stoffgeschichte) a s d o e s Weisstein, while C o r s t i u s o p t s f o r Thematology. Either i s b e t t e r than T h e m a t i s m , used by Bernard Weinstein introducing Falk.
4.

A s J o s t believes, cf. Introduction, p.177, a l s o Czerny.

5. A ~ a r t i c u l a r l v relevant o n e being Wolfgang V. Ruttkowski a n d R. E. Blake, ~iteraturw~;terbuch/Glossary f - l i t e r a r y ?erms/Glossaire d e s t e r m e s o litt&raires, Rerne a n d Munich: F r a n c k e , 1969. 6. S e e esp. Bisanz, ' S t o f f , T h e m a , Motic", pp.317f., 321f. 7. S e e e.g. Beller, "Von d e r S t o f f g e s c h i c h t e p.4, Bisanz, "Zwischen Stoffgeschichte Dyserinck, Komparatistik, pp.l09f., Kurman, pp.471. 8. A s I did in "Autumn P o e m s t h r e e y e a r s ago.

...",

...",

..."

9. Even studious observations and proposals such a s those s u b m i t t e d by Levin in "Motif". D a e m m r i c h in "Themes a n d Motifs" o r by F r e e d m a n will not help, a s t h e e n t i t i e s t h e m s e l v e s a r e not s t a b l e ( s e e below, p. ). 10. J u s t o n e f u r t h e r example: Jeune, p.62 a n d B ~ n e l / P i c h o i s / R o u s s e a u , p. 128 against Trousson, Un problhme, p. 13; c f . a l s o generally Chardin, p.27. 11. S e e f u r t h e r Dyserinck, Komparatistik, pp.lO8f.; a s well a s G e r m a n ) Bisanz "Stoff, T h e m a , Motiv". a l s o ( t r e a t i n g English "Plaidoyer",

Raldensperger/Friederich, B i b l i o ~ r a p h y , Trousson, 12. E.g Weissteln ( C h a p t e r heading), e t c .

13. The two are often linked in discussions of motif; however, motive i n the sense of motivation, psychological drive, etc., is clearly something else; interest in i t has led to author-centred but highly interesting thematic studies particularly by Gaston Bachelard. Charles Mauron, Georges Poulet, Jean-Pierre Richard as well as the (frequently attacked) Jean-Paul Weber. I t is feasible and preferable t o keep the two terms separate; cf. Glaser (see esp. Vol.1, p.7) offers a striking recent also Weisstein, p.145. example o f the results of oscillation between the two. 14. Bremond, p.417, n.2; he even ventures as far as saying: motif peut &re consider6 comme un thkme."
"

...

le

15. The decision for syntagmatic and paradigmatic in this specific For the application has its precedent i n Liithi, "Motiv, Zug, Thema two senses in which "intertextuality" is now being applied (and an argument for the narrower sense) see Ulrich Broich and Manfred Pfister, eds., Intertextualitat (Tiibingen: Niemeyer, 19851, esp. pp.11-15, 31, 179; see also my discussion o f reception studies i n "Preface: Receiving Hamlet Reception", New Comparison 2 (Autumn 19861, 5-13. 1 have not found any references t o intertextuality in discussions o f thematology so far.

...".

16. And again championed with passion and severity by Bernard Weinberg i n his Introduction to Falk's book. 17. See Croce's review of a book on the Sophonisba theme in Critica 2 (19041, pp.483-86, and Weisstein's discussion, p.128. Also Croce's essay "Storia di temi

...".

18. Ren6 Wellek and Austin Warren, Theory of Literature (New York: ? Harcourt, Brace L World, 1947, 2nd edn 1949, repr. 1956), p.260. A convenient summary of their and others' standard ohjections is given in Comparative Literature: Matter and Method, ed. A. Owen Aldridge (Urbana: Illinois UP, 1969). Editor's Introduction to Ch.lll "Literary Themes'' pp. 106-08. 19. See Van Tieghern, p.89, Guyard, p.52, Frenzel, Motive, p.xi, Trousson, "Plaidoyer", p.107, Corstius, p.93, Prawer, p.101, etc. An opposite point of view is taken by Sauer (see below, n.31). 20. Cf. Bisanz, "Zwischen "Thematologie", p.77. Stoffgeschichte
...It,

p. 158,

Beller, Jallat,

see also e.g. Jeannine 21. Brunel/Pichois/Rousseau, pp.121; "Lieux balzaciens", Po6tique 16 (1985), pp.473-81, here: 475.

22. See esp. Rimmon-Kenan, p.404f., generally Prawer, p.103, Kaiser, p.90, etc. A practical example o f joining thematology and poetics is Theile's article. 23. Cf. e.g. Levin. "Thematics". ~ . 1 0 7 , Potet, p.376 and 382, Prince, p.425; also: (substhuting .fo; theme) ~ r e & e l , Stoff- Motiv- und Symbolforschun , p.28, Stoff- und Motivgeschichte, p.12 and Motive, p.v, Greverus, p.39+, Pollmann, p.193, Beller, "Von der Stoffgeschichte ...Iv, p.39, Kaiser, p.80; and Risanz, "Zwischen Stoffgeschichte p.163 n.42, considers adopting this as the main difference, i n analogy t o music.

Stoff

..."

24. But not so small as the extreme sense o f m o t i f advocated by Tomachevski (esp. 268), i.e. as the residual unit o f meaning i n every proposition; nor i n the related sense o f theme current i n linguistics, cf. Rimon-Kenan's discussion.

25. 26. 32.

See esp. Hamon, p.431. See esp. Brinker, p.440-43; also Bremond, p.421 and Prince, p.430-

27. See e.g. Frenzel, Stoff- Motiv- und Symbolfirschunq, pp.23, 73-77 and Stoff- und Motivgeschichte, p.17, Pollmann, pp.182-83, 188, Luthi, "Motiv, Zug, Thema", pp.16, 20, Baeumer, " ~ b e r g a n g...", passim, Trousson, Thbmes e t mythes, p.27, Prince, p.427. 28. As opposed e.g. t o Guyard, Dyserinck excludes the study o f national auto- and hetero-images (Komparatistik, p.105), which he has so energetically advanced, and gives i t a separate heading (pp.124-131). These images appear, however, as themes i n literature and cannot simply be hived off. 29. For the enormous development of topology after Curtius see esp. the extended research survey by Veit. 30. This corresponds t o long-established practice and theoretical sanction. See esp. Trousson, ~ h k m e se t mythes ... and e.g. Brunel/Pichois/Rousseau, pp.124-27, though they outline the differences. Chardin (p.29) and others argue for completely separating the study i n the volume L a recherche o f myths from that o f themes; whereas Weisstein's exclusion o f symbols (p.129) is at least arguable (their study is certainly more profitable in the syntagmatic approach), the exclusion o f myth is neither possible nor desirable.

...

31. See e.g. Beller, "Von der Stoffgeschichte ...'I, p.15 and Trousson, "Plaidoyer", p.105; also e.g., already Sauer, whose remarks on pp.224 and 227 strike one indeed as an early recipe for a "Readers' Literary History". In his radical application, the notion provides ample ammunition for the well-known charge that Stoffgeschichte exhausts itself with indiscriminate levelling i n the service o f a history o f taste, or - at best - cultural history. (Incidentally, both are neither negligible nor detachable from literary history.) By contrast, "High" literature above all still guides the views of Pichois/Rousseau (p. 150). Pollmann (p. 197) handles the issue in a more circumspect manner. 32. For a practical example, see Beller, "Thematologie", issue is at least briefly considered by Prince, p.433. pp.85-92; the

33. See Czerny, and for a concrete application e.g. Calvin S Brown, . "Theme and Variations as a Literary Form", Yearbook o f Comparative and General Literature 27 (1978). 35-43. In general see the informative discussion by Beller in "Thematologie", pp.dlf., and Giraud's decisive stand (La fable de Daphne, Geneva: Droz, 1969, p.d8), which his study as well as those o f others fully bear out. Curiously enough Weisstein, whose concept of, and work in the field of the "Mutual Illumination of the Arts" (see his Ch.VII) has proved immensely fruitful, skirts this aspect i n his treatment o f thematology. 34. Kaiser's progression from Queen Gertrude's (choric) description o f Ophelia's death to Brecht's "Vom ertrunkenen Madchen" (pp.81-89) demonstrates this as well as Bremond's graph (p.419) o r Schulze's deliberations. 35. Though i t seems an obvious step t o take, group research as a means o f bridging the gap between material and human capacity has not apparently been employed i n work on a specific theme. Thematologists tend t o be loners; here is plentiful scope for new projects.

36. Stressed e.g. by Sauer, p.227; the problem is pondered with the requisite awe by Brunel/Pichois/Rousseau, p. 127. 37. Gyorgy M. Vajda, "Stand, Aufgaben und methodologische Position der Vergleichenden Literaturwissenschaft in Ungarn", in Aktuelle Probleme der Gerhard Ziegengeist (Berlin: Vergleichenden Literaturforschung, ed. Akademie-Verlag, 19681, pp.88-99; here p.95. 38. Cf. e.g. Beller, "Von der Stoffgeschichte ...", p.30 and Prawer, p.176. I t is no accident that thematology has been largely developed by comparatists and regularly features i n surveys o f this discipline, alongside folk tale studies, which have been comparative ah ovo. 39. E.g. Jeune places thematology under Iqlitt6rature g6ndrale - another wide field for terminological wrangling. Simply "Literature" might be best for both comparative and general (as distinct from disciplines studying literature only from one language or one country); hut the odds against replacing traditional nomenclature are high. 40. This was made easier by a grant from the Research Committee of the School of Modern Languages and European History. University of East Anglia, Norwich, which is gratefully acknowledged. Select Bibliography Abastado, Claude. "La trame et le licier: Des themes au discours thematique", Revue des Langues Vivantes 43 (1977), 478-91. Albouy, Pierre. Mythes et Paris: Colin, 1969. Alleton, Viviane. mythologies dans la ~ i t t d r a t u r e francaise.

"Le thkme vu de Babel", Po6tique 16 (19851, 407-14. "Vers une thkmatique",

Alleton, Viviane, Claude Bremond, Thomas Pavel. Podtique 16 (1985), 395-96.

Aziza, Claude, Claude Olivi&i, and Rohert Sctrick, eds. Dictionnaire des types et caractbres littkraires. Paris: Nathan, 1978. Baeumer, Max L., ed. Toposforschung, Darmstadt: WR, 1973. Baeumer, Max L. "Uebergang und dialektischer Wechsel von Topos, Motiv und Stoff dargestellt am griechischen Dionysos", in Elemente der Literatur: Beitrage zur Stoff- Motiv- und Themenforschung. FS Elisabeth Frenzel, ed. Adam J. Bisanz and Raymond Trousson with Herbert A. Frenzel. 2 vols ( ~ t u t t ~ a r t KrBner, 1980j, Vol.1, pp.25-44. : Baldensperger, Fernand, and Werner P. Friederich. Bibliography o f Comparative Literature. Chapel Hill: North Carolina UP, 1950, repr. New York: Russel Pr Russel, 1960. Sixth Part: "Literary Themes (Stoffgeschichte)", pp.70-178. Beller, Manfred. "Von der Stoffgeschichte zur Thematologie: zur komparatistischen Methodenlehre", Arcadia 5 (19701, 1-38. Ein Beitrag

Beller, Manfred. "Thematologie", i n Vergleichende Literaturwissenschaft: Theorie und Praxis, ed. Manfred Schmeling (Wiesbaden: Athenaion, 1981), pp. 73-97. Ben Amos, Dan. Co.. 1982. Folklore i n Context. New Delhi: South Asian Publishing

Bisanz, Adam J. "Zwischen Stoffgeschichte und Thematologie", Deutsche Vierteljahresschrift fur Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 47 ( 197 I), 148-66. Risanz, Adam J. 'Stoff, Thema, Motiv: Zur Problematik des Transfers von Begriffsbestimmungen zwischen der englischen und deutschen Literaturwissenschaft", Neophilologus 59 (19751, 2 17-23. Blumenberg, Hans. "Paradigmen Regriffsgeschichte 6 (19601, 7-142. Bodkin, Maud. repr. 1963. zu einer hletaphorologie", London: Archiv fur

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Bodkin, Maud. Studies of Type Images i n Poetry, Religion and Philosophy. London: Oxford UP, 1951. Bremond, Claude. Brinker, 435-43. "Concept et thkme", Po6tique 16 (19851, 4 15-23. "Thkme et interprdtation", Podtique 16 (19851, Menachem.

Rrunel, Pierre. "Le mythe et la structure du texte", Revue des Langues Vivantes 43 (19771, 510-21. Brunel, Pierre, Claude Pichois, Andr6-M. Rousseau. Qu'est-ce que la IittBrature compar6e?. Paris: Colin, 1983. Ch.6 "Thgmatique et th6matologie", pp. 115-34. Burgos, Jean. "Thkmatique et hermeneutique ou le thhmaticien contres les interpr&tesl', Revue des Langues Vivantes 43 (19771, 522-34. Buuren, M. B. van. "Le concept de motif", Rapports 48 (19781, 171-76. Chardin, Philippe. "Approches th6matiques1', in La Recherche en Litt6rature gCndrale e t comparge en France, ed. Daniel-Henri Pageaux (Paris: SDLGC, 19831, pp.27-45. Chudak, H. "Bachelard et (19771, 468-77. le thkme", Revue des Langues Vivantes 43 Symbols, transl. Jack Sage.

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"Sur la critique th6matiqueW, Poktique 16 (1985). 505-16.

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Greverus, Ina-Maria. "Thema, Typus und Motiv: Zur Determination i n der Erziihlforschung", i n Vergleichende Sa enforschun , ed. Leander Petzoldt hp i,22 (19651, 131-39.1 (Darmstadt: WB, 1969), a".

Guyard, Marius-Fran~ois. La littkrature compar6e. Paris: repr. 1961. Ch.lV "Genres, ThGmes, Mythes", esp. pp.49-57. Hall, James. 1974. Subjects and Symbols i n Art. "Theme et effet du &el", New York:

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% .

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Hunger, Herbert. Lexikon der griechischen und romischen Mythologie Vienna: Hollinek, 1953, 5th edn 1959. Herden, Werner. Stoff, Thema, Ideengehalt. Toposforschung: Eine Leipzig, 1978. Dokumentation. Jehn, Peter, ed. Athenaum, 1972.

...

Frankfurt: Essai vers

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Klein, Holger M. "Autumn poems: Reflections on Theme as tertium comparationis" (in: Proceedings o f the X l t h ICLA Congres, Paris, 1985, forthcoming). ed. Eva Kushner e t al.; Knapp, Gerhard P. "Stoff - Motiv - Idee", i n Grundziige der Literatur- und Spachwissenschaft, ed. Heinz Ludwig Arnold und Volker Sinemus (Munich: dtv, 19731, pp.200-07. Knapp, Gerhard P. "Robbespierre: der franzosischen Revolution", in Baeumer above), pp. 129-54. Prolegomena zu einer Stoffgeschichte Elemente der Literatur (see under 3 vols,

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tdchniques ~ogtiques dans I'epoque romane.

VENICE AT FIRST SIGHT: PROLEGOMENA F O R A NEW VIEW O N THEMATICS Angelika Corbineau-Hoffmann (University o f Mainz) t h e abundance of a m a t t e r i s o f t e n t o a m a n a g r e a t e r hindrance than T h i s observation by a m a n of l e t t e r s 2 m a y b e followed, o n t h e

'I...

help".'

p a r t of any t h e m a t i c s scholar, by a deep, h e a r t f e l t sigh. And if this s c h o l a r h a s chose" Venice a s his subject, his i m a g e c a n easily b e transf o r m e d i n t o t h e c a r i c a t u r e of a man hidden behind his c a r d indexes, Indeed, thematics, s i n c e knowing much without understanding anything.3 t h e v e r y beginnings of c o m p a r a t i v e literature, has had a bad reputation, e n c o u n t e r e d many c r i t i c s and f e w apologists, and, e v e n worse, t h e most f a m o u s among t h e f o r m e r , but not always t h e most reputed among t h e ~ a t t e r . ~ h i s is, however, not t h e p l a c e t o t r a c e t h e history of thematics, T which anyway would b e a s a d o n e

...

In modern times, during t h e last t w o decades, s o m e a t t e m p t s h a v e ~ been m a d e t o r e v i v e thematics, in p a r t i c u l a r by Raymond ~ r o u s s o n and Manfred ~ e i l e r . ~ h e discussion continues, unanimity a m o n g scholars is T not t o b e e x p e c t e d , but actually a vivid i n t e r e s t in t h e c o n t e n t s of T h i s is proved l i t e r a t u r e , neglected for a long time, c a n b e d e t e c t e d 7

by a special issue of Poe'tique, "Du t h k m e e n litte'rature", in 1985, by a r e c e n t l y published s t u d y o n topics from a linguistic point of view,8 and, last b u t not least, by t h e publication in hand. T z v e t a n Todorov, perhaps speaking not only f o r himself, deplores his "maigre bagage t h k ~ r i ~ u e " although ,~ t h e c o n t e n t s of literature, the is p a r t of t h e most obvious information it gives "aboutness" of a text,'' t o t h e reader. Is t h e problem of t h e m a t i c s only a "chim&re", something w e b e a r o n o u r shoulders without knowing why? I I r e f e r e n t i a l level of literature.12 A t first sight, t h e m a t i c s c a n b e s u m m e d up and defined a s t h e This rough definition, which n e e d s t o b e

m a d e m o r e specific, runs g r e a t risk of taking away all possible i n t e r e s t in s t u d i e s about t h e m a t i c s , s i n c e t h e evidence d o e s not demand scientific exploration. T h e "aboutness" of a t e x t s e e m s t o exclude, a f t e r a n initial look, a n y o t h e r glimpse a t t h e m a t t e r b e c a u s e of t h e a p p a r e n t simplicity of w h a t i s related. If s t u d i e s in t h e m a t i c s a r e o f t e n isolated in t h e larger c o n t e x t of c o m p a r a t i v e literature,13 t h i s exclusion is perhaps t h e result of t h e i r o w n way of t r e a t i n g a t e x t , reducing i t t o i t s c o n t e n t or, m o r e

particularly, separating form and content.

The following reflections, for

which even a modest word like "prolegomena" is not suitable, will t r y t o place a very small aspect o f thematics, namely, the first sight of Venice, i n i t s poetical context. They want t o show that a literary text, in choosing and treating i t s theme, is merely speaking about i t s own poetics, and, even more, about the place this theme takes i n the realm of human experience. general. Travelling t o Italy has, since the late hiliddle Ages, had a long tradition in the countries of Northern Europe. Considered as a pilgrimage The With some fifteen or twenty pages before us, our subject must remain only a small section of a larger problem - like thematics in

and, later on, as the grand tour, i t often led t o the Venetian Republic, the capital of which was perceived with astonishment and admiration. first sight of Venice, however, inevitable i n reality, because the traveller cannot help looking at the place where he arrives, only hesitatingly finds i t s way into literature; late discovery of the reason for this delay is t o be sought in the in travel literature.14 Indeed, the first The figure o f an subjectivity

impression Venice makes on i t s visitors implies

besides a personal con-

sciousness - the sensibility for the course of time. eenth century. Although impression:

observer struck by the beauty of Venice appears only in the late eightFrancis Mortoft (1658) begins his chapter on Venice by

expressing his astonishment, this reaction can scarcely be called a personal

Venice I...]which c i t t y is enough to astonish any stranger at first sight, t o see how the water runs all about it, being built, as i t were, i n the midst o f the sea [.. I. This sentence, summing up a very general first vision and the (possible) astonishment o f any stranger, leads directly t o commentaries on the boats and "gundaloes", losing sight o f the first Venetian impressions. Another example for an author who preserves his first impressions i n the text he publishes about his travels, is Jean Huguetan i n his Voyage d'ltalie curieux e t nouveau (1681): Venise nous parut en I'abordant. Cette belle, riche Rr puissante ville, le f ~ d a udes Tyrans, I'azyle des affliggs, & l a Reine de la mer. l6

This way of characterizing Venice by very common and traditional epithets and metaphors destroys the reader's hope for a personal glance, and the first sight o f the c i t y conveys less what the author sees than what he knows: Venice is a commonplace, astonishing, but without any influence on the traveller's personal view. These t w o examples, rare and belated i n Venetian travel literature, serve t o show that these accounts, for many centuries, only sum up a certain knowledge o f the c i t y without finding any personal approach t o it. This impersonality of the first impression begins t o change by the middle of the eighteenth century: like Samuel Sharp, the widespread Pierre information about Arthur ltaly in and general, and Venice i n particular, calls for innovation, which is given by travellers Jean Grosley, Young Hester Lynch Piozzi. A dialogue begins between the town and the visitor.

Through i t s long literary tradition, Venice has achieved an obvious intertextual density, so that one's first perception of the c i t y may evoke other impressions and recollections, or manifest i t s singularity by comparison and i n contrast t o what the visitors know and expect. speaking of "surprise" like many travellers I n 1720, Edward Wright , explains this before him,

reaction i n evoking a contrast between his expectations and the real scene before him: To begin then w i t h the distant view o f the City: 'Tis a pleasure, not without a Mixture o f Surprise, t o see so great a c i t y as Venice may be trully call'd, as i t were, floating on the Surface o f the Sea; t o see Chimneys and Towers, where you would expect nothing but Ship-Masts. 18 The changing language - "pleasure" instead o f "admiration" - announces an essential difference i n perceiving the city. would have been nearly impossible without contrast: a possible o f Venice.
it

Rut the personal impression the previously established

i n the middle o f the sea, indeed, you expect t o see ships not Venice proves i t s diffkrence at the very moment when with another reality comes into sight. Such a relationship

houses and palaces.

relationship, however, is soon rejected, manifesting the strange peculiarity

I t is by contrast only that this c i t y manifests i t s individuality

needs a criterion t o measure i t s own value.

Young's Travels through

France and ltaly show the same tendency t o value Venice by comparison:

I...]i t was nearly dark when we entered the grand canal. M y attraction was alive, all expectancy: there was light enough t o show the objects around m e t o be among the most interesting I had ever seen, and they

struck m e m o r e than t h e first e n t r a n c e of any o t h e r place 1 had been at. 18 It would b e m e r e speculation t o suppose that this striking impression of Venice depends on t h e specific light when approaching it in t h e evening ("it was nearly dark"). T h e travel a c c o u n t s before t h e end of t h e eightT h e tendency t o eenth century never mention particular t i m e s of t h e day, because they had not yet discovered any a t t r a c t i o n of t h e atmosphere. c o m p a r e Venice with o t h e r places, t o see it in t h e larger c o n t e x t of what t h e traveller had encountered before, t h e discovery of a specific atmosphere (of t i m e o r weather) - all t h e s e innovations a r e t o b e seen in t h e c o n t e x t of what may be called Venetian relativity: a t t h e t i m e I speak o f , Venice has c e a s e d t o h e incomparable. Situated in a g r e a t e r a r e a of human experience, t h e city, however, continues t o mark i t s individuality, but only by comparison ("they struck m e more"). Whereas for many c e n t u r i e s Venice had nothing t o b e compared with, t h e traveller now disposes of s o m e prior knowledge, like Pierre-Jean Grosley, who published his Nouveaux me'moires in 1764: Ouelque d t u d e cependant q u e I'on a i t f a i t e d e ces 6 c r i t s 1 sc. s u r ~ e n i s e j , on n'est point h I'abri d e la surprise qui na?t du premier coup d'oeil: coup d'oeil qui surpasse t o u t e s les id6es q u e les relations e t les descriptions peuvent donner o u q u e I'imagination peut se former. l 9 T h e "coup d'oeil" of Venice, r e p e a t e d twice, becomes a personal one,

although many writings prepared i t t o such e x t e n t t h a t it had t o exclude any s o r t of surprise. Venice is not only incomparable, but also indescribable: you must h a v e a look a t it. This rescue of Venetian reality against all forms of preparative descriptions may b e considered - paradoxically a s t h e g e r m of Venetian literature sui generis. T o s e e Venice means t o feel i t s singularity and difference. Description, a s usual in t h e traditional travel accounts, i s incompatible with t h e impression Venice makes on i t s visitors now. In 1801, J a c q u e s Cambry sums u p t h e literary innovations of his t i m e in writing: I1 e s t impossible d e ddcrire I'effet qu'8 son reveil produit sur le voyageur le premier c o u p d'oeil s u r Venise: c e s canaux bord6s d e b l t i m e n t s d'un goQt si diffkrent d e s f o r m e s communes d e I'architecture [.. I ici t o u t e analogie e s t interrompue, qui voit Venise voit la ville d'un a u t r e monde. 20

Even i f the singularity correlation: the relationship persists.

is emphasized, this text preserves the idea o f a Strangeness ("&tranget6"), difference, individuality This Hester Lynch Piozzi, on her

t o speak of another world implies a difference t o this world -

are only perceptible with regard t o the normal, everyday experience. difference leads t o a strange coincidence:

way t o Venice, finds the two exactly as i t had been painted by Canaletto what might seem a fiction of art is confirmed by reality. fully entertaining", excellent

"It was wonder-

she writes, "to find thus realized the pleasures that

painter had given us so many reasons t o expect

. . . w . ~ ' The

pleasures mentioned are those of art; Mark's Square, Piozzi notices, beauties:

i n her first impression of Saint

i n particular, a constellation o f artificial

St Mark's Place, after a l l I had read and all I had heard of it, exceedes expectation: such a cluster o f excellence, such a constellation of artificial beauties, my mind had never ventured t o excite the idea o f within herself; 22

...

After

having heen an admired work of human ingenuity, Venice is now Rut whatever the context may be - a literary or a pictorial and by contrast to everyday experience. For many the

perceived as a work of art, certainly through Canaletto's influence and inspiration. a one - the particular difference o f Venice becomes perceptible only within relationship, centuries and for generations o f travellers from the Northern Countries o f Europe, Venice had been situated within a greater sphere of interest: through Italy. starting point of a voyage t o the Holy Land, later on part o f a journey Certainly, these travellers did not spare their expressions Only by comparison t o the other o f admiration - exceptions confirm the rule - but they were not aware o f the particular, aesthetic character o f this city. the points o f comparison differ Venice prove i t s singularity. i t may be literary, Venice appears. from

and does

one author

When a context o f experience is evoked -

pictorial or only personal - the special character o f

I stop for a moment in order t o summarise the results and relate

t h e n t o the general, theoretical problem o f studies in thematics. If, as has been said before, the isolation of a thematic approach t o literature seems t o ensue from i t s own method, which is t o isolate a subject from i t s context, a glance at Venice illustrates at the same time the problem Venice confirms i t s importance for thematic and i t s possible solution.

studies just at the moment when i t ceases t o be an isolated state on the periphery of Europe, and begins t o evoke a larger realm o f human experience. A t that very moment i t already had a long literary tradition, which Such a theme may is the background for the discovery of i t s individuality. the context aesthetic of this text.

he considered not only as the content of a text, but also as the result o f I n a larger sphere o f realistic perception, human experience, the more or less approach and general

accidental content of literature becomes a theme - in the most complex sense o f the term.23 literature transforms striking experience, literary connotations: dimension comprehends, author. In describing what he sees and not what he knows arrival i n Venice into an "Italian The tilore the Venetian context grows, the the first "first glimpse sight" of Venice to into lose a the more significant, visual

enriched with personal imagination and linguistic or tends i t s only

qualities in order t o become a metaphor for an insight - and this inner i n an intimate dialogue, both the c i t y and the

about Venice and

its strange situation in the sea - Charles Dickens transforms his nocturnal

ream".^^

Through such an impressionist

procedure (ante litteram) Venice loses all i t s realistic elements, transforming itself into a dreamy picture the meaning of which has to be decoded by the reader. For Dickens, Venice is a nameless place, although every The reason for this transformation is twofold: when As the reader recognizes it.

approaching the city, the boat passes a cemetery, and the following description confers upon the c i t y itself the character o f a burial place. author's state o f mind becomes strangely similar to the state of dying city. Dickens' sleep has been considered as the brother of death since antiquity, the Being only a vision and not a realistic image, Venice is sight", although meaning, within the framework of the

separated from all information with which former periods had burdened it. "first narrative, the first view he gains o f Venice, is essentially a primary one, as i f the author did not know anything about the city, seeing i t for the first time. same time, In a sort o f mythical construction, this first glimpse is, at the the absolute beginning and definitive end, holding reality in Even the question i n his possible

suspense, neutralizing the common differences between past and present, between life and death, between fiction and reality. dreams, the author wakes up or falls asleep, of whether the traveller is asleep or awake is l e f t unanswered: destroying all

s p e c u l a t i o n about t h e s t a t u s of r e a l i t y in his text. is e f f e c t e d beyond realism. In t h i s "ghostly city"

T h e c o n s t i t u t i o n of with i t s "phantom

sense, d i f f e r e n t t o all w e a r e f a m i l i a r with in t h e l i t e r a t u r e a b o u t Venice,

street^",^'

visual impressions a r e n o longer a d u p l i c a t e o f t h e c i t y ' s o w n T h e following

s t r u c t u r e , but a n agglomeration of d e t a i l s without a n y obvious significance a w a y of suspending all kinds o f meaning o n c e a n d f o r all. passage c o n f i r m s t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n : O t h e r boats, o f t h e s a m e s o m b r e hue, w e r e lying moored, I thought, t o p a i n t e d pillars, n e a r t h e d a r k m y s t e r i o u s d o o r s t h a t opened s t r a i g h t upon t h e water. S o m e of t h e s e w e r e e m p t y ; in s o m e , t h e r o w e r s lay asleep; t o w a r d s one, I s a w s o m e figures c o m i n g down a gloomy a r c h w a y from t h e i n t e r i o r o f a palace; gaily dressed, a n d a t t e n d e d by torch-bearers. 26 J u s t like t h e t e x t in general, t h e significance of t h e s e s e n t e n c e s r e m a i n s in a s o r t of darkness. c o m m o n knowledge. F o r Dickens, t h e r e i s no reason t o d e s c r i b e Venice T h e v e r y o b j e c t of t h i s t e x t is n o longer a c i t y y e t again, a f t e r all t h e t r a v e l a c c o u n t s which had m a d e it a s u b j e c t of c a l l e d Venice, but a question raised by a t r a d i t i o n of l i t e r a t u r e beginning with t h e Venetian fiction by M m e d e S t a e l a n d Lord Byron, namely, t h e s t a t u s o f reality. only in a d r e a m . By c o n s t r u c t i n g a world m a d e of words, Dickens p l a c e s T h e dissubstantiation could hardly b e g r e a t e r . But t h i s Venice beyond t h i s world, in t h e r e a l m of d e a t h a n d fiction, p e r c e p t i b l e t r a n s c e n d a n c e o f Venice s u m s u p f o r m e r a t t e m p t s t o c r e a t e a ficticious c i t y , symbol of political d e a t h a n d l i t e r a r y resurrection. without a name is, nevertheless, impregnated with a Dickens' c i t y meaning which beyond

c o n c e r n s not only t h e individual t r a v e l l e r , b u t humanity in general: fiction, a m y t h i c a l p l a c e of refuge.

o u r world of e x p e r i e n c e , w e find a n o t h e r reality, a r e a l m of d r e a m a n d S i n c e t h e e n d of t h e e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y , t h e c o n t e x t of Venetian t r a v e l h a s changed. C e r t a i n l y , i t w a s l i t e r a r y f o r H e s t e r Piozzi just a s it w a s f o r Dickens, b u t t h i s l i t e r a t u r e itself w a s s u b j e c t t o transformation. S i n c e f i c t i t i o u s persons l i k e C o r i n n e o r Childe Harold had s u b m i t t e d Venice t o t h e i r o w n visions, t h e c i t y had a s s u m e d a l a r g e r s p e c t r u m of meaning t h a n e v e r before. I t s r e a l a s p e c t , including palaces, paintings a n d c h u r c h e s , t h e d e a t h of b e a u t y on So T h e destiny of Venice i s n o longer had b e c o m e a c r y p t o g r a p h y f o r a d e e p e r sense: e a r t h a n d i t s r e s u r r e c t i o n in t h e arts.

a political question, b u t a n a e s t h e t i c a n d particularly a poetical one.

Dickens' phantom c i t y d o e s n o t only r e f e r t o a first glimpse of nocturnal

Venice in a dream (all this may be considered as a poetical, fictitious construction), but also to a literary artefact which, during the first decades of the nineteenth century, had lost much o f its referential reality. Gaining a new sense as a c i t y of death, Venice now implies the experience of transcendence, and i t s geographical and political situation, as well as The i t s exterior beauty, refer t o a place somewhere beyond this world. changing of time and the vicissitudes o f fortune. burial place, i n this quality i t survives

c i t y has a new existence i n literature, which cannot be destroyed by the Even i f i t is a dead, a The death of an

paradoxically.

reality guarantees the survival of fiction.

Dickens' "Italian Dream",

impressionistic sketch rather than a realistic description, creates and marks a new relationship between Venice and literature. a c i t y o f death i n a metaphorical sense: Venice: geographically marginal in The first sight discovers reality did die, but literature, Venice now becomes the

even i n representing this death, discovers a new sense i n the concept of Europe, threshold of another world extravagant. relationships

at first sight.

Although highly unrealistic, Dickens' impressions are not singular and Only a few years later, i n 1852, Gautier describes his arrival Night and darkness suspend the ordinary Some lights appearing here and there between objects. in Venice i n a comparable way.

accidentally lay stress on picturesque scenes: L'orage qui tirait B sa fin, illuminait encore le ciel de quelques l u e ~ ~ r s livides qui nous trahissaient des perspectives profondes, des dentelures bizarres de palais inconnus. A chaque instant I'on passait sous des ponts dont les deux bouts rdpondaient B une coupure lumineuse dans la masse A quelque angle une veilleuse cornpacte et sombre des maisons. Des cris singuliers et gutturaux tremblait devant une madone. un cercueil flottant, au bout retentissaient au detour des canaux; duquel se penchait une ombre, filait rapidement b c6td de nous; une fendtre basse raske de pr&s nous faisait entrevoir un inte'rieur e'toile' d'une lampe ou d'un reflet, comme une eau-forte de Rembrandt. 27 What was implicit in Dickens' prose, the reference t o literature and art, becomes explicit i n Gautier's text: the light effects make appear "des figures e m b ~ k m a t i ~ u e s " cut~ o f f from their ordinary surroundings. ,~ analogous t o the isolating process o f art. Gautier's

world which loses i t s normal relationship receives a strange new structure, first perception of Venice may be compared t o the different ways o f looking at a collection o f paintings and drawings, and his arrival i n Venice resembles a visit to a gallery. But more than a transposition of well-known artistic impres-

sions into a poetical reality, Venice in Gautier's description becomes a place of exuberant imagination and mysterious threat. quoted above, "bizarre", "singulier", "cercueil flottant", In the passage though not the

most significant in this respect, indicate a menace inherent in Venice. Gautier speaking of "l'hippogriffe d'un cauchemar" and of "un voyage dans le noir, aussi itrange, aussi mysterieux que ceux qu'on fait pendant les nuits de c a ~ c h e m a r " ,adds a connotation of danger to Dickens' nocturnal ~~ impressions: the dream is now a nightmare. Thus, it appears less as a state of suspense between fiction and reality than as a realm of imagination - Venice city of the soul and of its spectres.

If it has been empha-

sized before that Dickens' reference was a tradition of fictitious literature, now this implicit context becomes explicit in Gautier's description: Nous croyions circuler dans un roman de Maturin de Lewis ou d'Anne Radcliff illustrk par Goya, Piranbe et Rernbrandt. 30 Gautier is right in thinking of the gothic novel, because preromantic and romantic Venetian fiction often follows this t r a d i t i ~ n . ~ ' His somewhat excited imagination reaches historical truth. ted "est de la r6alitk la plus exacte": Une terreur froide, humide et noire comme tout ce qui nous entourait, s'ktait emparke de nous, e t nous songions involontairement B la tirade de Malipiero h la Tisbe', quand il depeint I'effroi que lui inspire ~enise.32 Indeed, Hugo's Angelo, which Gautier refers to, is one of the most striking examples of Venetian "darkness".33 stage decoration: Cette impression qui semblera peut-btre exage're'e, est de la verite' la plus exacte, e t nous pensons qu'il serait difficile de s'en de'fendre, m6me en philistin le plus positif; nous allons mdme plus loin, c'est le vrai de Venise qui se d6gage. la nuit, des transformations modernes; Venise, cette ville, qu'on dirait planthe par un d6corateur de thkltre, et dont un auteur de drame semble avoir arrange les moeurs pour le plus grand intkrdt des intrigues et des de'n0uements.3~ Venice a theatre of dreams - reality, Gautier tells us, resembles itself: but what reality? stage.
A tourist's first impression turns out to be the effect

What seems to be exaggera-

Transformed into a literary place, a

scene of dramas and novels, Venice presents to the visitor an imaginary

of literary knowledge, and Venice, the place of action, is changed into a The difference between fact and fiction, between geographical

places and imaginary stages, is abolished, and what Gautier calls "reality" is to be understood as an inextricable mixture of impressions and inventions. Nevertheless, i t is necessary to emphasize a mere fact which, as i t stands, has nothing to do with any real or fictitious travel to Venice. Since the end of the Serenissima Repubblica, Venice, the victim of foreign political interests, has gained in literature what i t lost in politics. literary and aesthetic values. The purely Its insignificance in real (economic, political) life is compensated by new imaginary constructions of This complex correlation literature make Venice the centre of a new interest, and even more, confer a new reality on the city of fiction. makes the real sense of Gautier's strange arrival at the city a pragmatic fact which leads to an encounter with literary reality or real fiction. I f theatre can be defined as that which is shown pretends that he has before his eyes all he describes term indicates, is something which must be @Id.

and Gautier

a fairy tale, as the

The marginal situation

of Venice in Europe, which links up with a general tendency of poetical evasion in the nineteenth century,35 encounters during these 1850s another paradigm, more literary and even more fantastic. of stone: So ware ich endlich in diesem Stein gewordenen Mlrchen, dieser zauberhaften Stadt angelangt, die mit keiner anderen verglichen werden kann und von keiner anderen an Reiz ubertroffen. Strenge deine Phantasie an, wie du willst, zum Wunderbarsten und Abenteuerlichsten, Venedig wird es iiberbieten. 36 The author's allusion to a fairy tale means more particularly the collection of A Thousand and One Nights, where Sheherazade tells her stories in order to remove the menace of death. The analogy to the fate of Venice In Pecht's and to the function of Venetian literature is quite obvious. text, Venice is transformed into a scenery of oriental fantasy of time. In a forgotten German text, Pecht's Ein Winter in Venedig, Venice appears as a fairy tale made

a stage

which, for the duration of the fictitious representation, stops the course This realm of connotations, underlining not only the peculiar Definitively, the referential quality of the city, but also its mythical power to escape from political death, refers to the concept of imagination. level of Pecht's text is less the real appearance of Venice than the author's and the reader's consciousness, or, in Husserl's terms, his "experi37 ence":

D a s Z a u b e r h a f t e d i e s e s Anblicks [sc. d e s Markusplatzes] ist nicht zu schildern, Du glaubst in e i n F e e n r e i c h v e r s e t z t z u sein, e i n e jener Erzahlungen a u s T a u s e n d und e i n e r N a c h t m i t i h r e r iippigen orientalischen P h a n t a s i e plotzlich vor d i r verwirklicht zu sehen, d e r Bau, d e r d i r e n t g e g e n f l i m m e r t , ist e i n e r jener f a b e l h a f t e n P a l a s t e a u s S m a r a g d und D e m a n t m i t goldenem Dache, a u s d e n e n v e r z a u b e r t e F r l u l e i n s von kiihnen R i t t e r n w i e gebrauchlich e n t f u h r t werden. 38 What at t h e beginning of t h i s passage s e e m s t o b e only a personal not

impression ("you think"), c h a n g e s i n t o t h e r e a l i t y of t h e p l a c e itself:

only d o e s t h e a u t h o r b e c o m e t h e v i c t i m of his illusions, b u t t h e t e x t n a r r a t e s a fairy tale, t r a n s f o r m i n g t h e Venetial p a l a c e s i n t o a p h a n t a s t i c scenery

imagination t r a n s m i t s i t s f e a t u r e s t o reality. l i t e r a t u r e h a s b e c o m e t h e predominant

All t h e s e e x a m p l e s paradigm of of human

show that

e x p e r i e n c e in Venice.

T h e p l a c e i s now i m p r e g n a t e d w i t h fiction - e v e n Instead multiplying which would easily b e

in a non-fictitious g e n r e like t h e t r a v e l account. t h e e x a m p l e s o f Venetian "first-sight-thematics", t h e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s above. reader, e v e n without a

possible, i t i s m o r e i m p o r t a n t t o d r a w s o m e t h e o r e t i c a l conclusions from In his s t u d y T e x t und T h e m a , A n d r e a s L o t s c h e r s p e c i a l e d u c a t i o n in linguistics o r in literary proves by e x p e r i m e n t t h a t t h e t h e m e o f a t e x t c a n b e recognized by any criticism.3g T h e d i f f e r e n t t h e o r i e s LGtscher s u m m a r i s e s

theme as the Rut the

r e f e r e n c e o f a t e x t , i t s focus of interest4' little practical importance

t h e r e f o r e s e e m t o b e of a text.

f o r t h e understanding of

d i f f i c u l t i e s begin when Lijtscher, a l w a y s from a linguistic point of view, t r i e s t o point o u t t h e t h e m a t i c s t r u c t u r e s of texts: course. t h e m a t i c s not only r e f l e c t o u r e v e r y d a y e x p e r i e n c e , b u t a l s o c o n s t i t u t e t h e s t r u c t u r e of disGiven t h e e x i s t e n c e of m a n y m o d a l i t i e s of discourse, e v e n beyond g e n r e s l i k e narration, description a n d a r g u m e n t a t i o n , t h e The problems and complications a t h e o r y of thematics t h e "classical" of discourse.

function of t h e m a t i c s m u s t b e d e s c r i b e d w i t h r e g a r d t o t h e d i f f e r e n t kinds e n c o u n t e r s a r e e a s y t o imagine: e n v i s a g e t h e l a w s of discourse. if a t h e m e i s considered a s a function A t f i r s t sight, a t h e o r y of t h e m a t i c s d o e s As a theme refers t o the

in t h e g r e a t e r n e t w o r k o f a t e x t , a valuable t h e o r y of t h e m a t i c s h a s t o not s e e m t o r a i s e insuperable difficulties. u n d e r s t a n d t h e text. determined.

e x p e r i e n c e of reality, i t i s s u f f i c i e n t t o identify this r e a l i t y in o r d e r t o But t h i s understanding c o m p r e h e n d s only p a r t of t h e meaning of a t e x t , t h e l a r g e r a n d m o r e i m p o r t a n t p a r t r e m a i n s t o b e R e d u c e d t o i t s c o n t e n t , t h e t e x t loses w h a t c o n s t i t u t e s i t s

interest:

to be, rather than a mirror of reality, an interpretation of it. As far as I know, this significance of

A theme becomes functional at the very moment when i t makes possible

a new understanding of reality. thematics has, contents of texts. In literature, texts, theme itself. which forms only a small section in the production of the function of a theme seems to be more important than the Indeed, studies i n thematics generally show the diffusion of But what could create until now, escaped from all attempts of theorizing the

a theme and illustrate its widespread familiarity.

the incessant interest in a theme, so well known both to author and reader, i f not its different functions in a text and its way to interpret reality? Since a theory of thematics from a linguistic point of view raises many difficulties, there is no reason to believe that i t would be easier to theorize thematics in literature

on the contrary.

To describe

and to explain the different functions of a theme, to seize all the connotative meanings a text adds to it, presupposes a theory of discourse and a theory of literary communication as well of literature. The task becomes gigantic.

to say nothing of the socioI t has been deplored that some general considerations

logical and psychological aspects of what is naively called the "content" thematics still lack an appropriate theoryi4'

concerning the status of contents in literature are probably more necessary than ever, otherwise thematics will remain a neglected child in the realm of literary criticism. them): However, I wonder i f such a theory, once developed, can resolve all the problems of thematics (or even the most urgent of either i t will be too general for a special case, or too specific to I t is tempting, but not very Literary studies i n themainclude the variety of themes i n literature. fruitful, to expect support from linguistics.42 general bearings of their methods. The example of "Venice at first sight" was not chosen in order to create or to substitute a theory of thematics. a subject to inspire such a pretention. ence are taken up by literature the germ of thematics part of a work of art. Literature about Venice, although covering a long period of literary history in Europe, is too small But the first impression of Venice can illustrate that whenever data of concrete reality or of human experi-

tics are often too concentrated on their special subject to reflect the

and this process might be considered as

they are placed in a new context and become Their reference is no longer their importance in

reality, but t h e i r function in t h e text.

T h e t h r e e e x a m p l e s of nineteenth-

c e n t u r y travel accounts, analysed above, o b t a i n their right t o b e noted (given t h e long tradition of Venetian description) only through t h e f a c t t h a t t h e y c h a n g e t h e significance of t h e place. now m a k e s Venice a t h e m e in l i t e r a t u r e . Not power a n d w e a l t h a s before, b u t in C c n c o r d a n c e with h u m a n e x p e r i e n c e a n d a r t i s t i c impressions Marginal and e x c e n t r i c qualities impregnated with Just c o n f i r m t h e symbolic function of Venice in l i t e r a t u r e :

a r t i s t i c experience, e v e n t r a n s f o r m e d i n t o a work of a r t , Venice b e c o m e s a sign f o r t h e s t r a n g e fascination, b u t also f o r t h e i m p o t e n c y of art. poetically charming, but politically insignificant of t h e other. If t h e c a s e of Venice is p a r a d i g m a t i c (which r e m a i n s t o b e proved) l i t e r a t u r e , transforming r e a l i t y i n t o a "theme", n e w significance. c r u c i a l t a s k s o f a n e w thematics. many cases, an interpretation of invests r e a l d a t a with a T o d e s c r i b e t h i s process would h e o n e of t h e most T h e v e r y h e a r t of m y a r g u m e n t could reality a n d not this reality itself, like t h e a r t i s t himself, t h i s r e f u g e o f b e a u t y i s marginal a n d isolated -

o n e being t h e r e v e r s e

i n v i t e o t h e r t h e m a t i c s scholars t o wonder if a l i t e r a r y t h e m e is not, in inscribed m o r e o r less roughly in a l i t e r a r y text. t i c s in general, a r e not only a wicked C r o c e ' s d o u b t s about t h e against positivistic

a r t i s t i c value of t h e c o n t e n t of l i t e r a t u r e , his scruples concerning t h e m a parti-pris procedures deriving, a s it s e e m s t o him, f r o m a d e e p insensibility f o r a r t i s t i c problems:43 y e t eliminated. tion of reality; t h e y a i m a t a c r u c i a l insufficiency of t h e m a t i c s not a s long a s l i t e r a r y c r i t i c i s m is unable t o revise t h e T h e c o n t e n t s of l i t e r a t u r e might a p p e a r a s a poor imita-

s t a t u s of c o n t e n t in a work of a r t , t h e possibilities t o r e f o r m t h e m a t i c s a r e scant. It w a s t h e purpose of m y r e f l e c t i o n s t o show in w h a t direction t h e m a t i c s could h e e f f e c t e d . A t f i r s t sight, t h e n e c e s s a r y revival of

indeed, t h e t r a v e l a c c o u n t s s e e m t o s u m u p visual impressions, b u t soon it b e c o m e s obvious t h a t t h e glimpse o f Venice m e a n s m o r e t h a n a m e r e l y e x t e r i o r reality creation.

i t alludes t o larger c o n t e x t s of knowledge and imagina-

tion, transforming t h e c i t y i n t o a symbol of human e x p e r i e n c e and a r t i s t i c T h e s o r t o f Venice r e p r e s e n t e d in modern l i t e r a t u r e coincides Although acquiring imaginwith t h e role of t h e a r t i s t in modern society.

a r y f e a t u r e s , Venice r e m a i n s a marginal a n d s o m e w h a t e c c e n t r i c place. T h e r e a l i t y of t h e c i t y , s u b j e c t o f so many t r a v e l a c c o u n t s s i n c e t h e l a t e Middle Ages, is r e p l a c e d by a r t i s t i c values, a p r o c e d u r e which p r e p a r e s t h e

new significance of a c i t y as a work of art. processes.

This transformation makes

it

the theme refer, first of all, to the text itself, showing i t s genuine poetic Venice becomes a literary theme only on condition that then i t represents, isolated as i t changes into a work of art: is in In this

political and geographic respects, the social conditions of the arts. i t was summarised at important issue: 44 sight.
I. (...),

sense, Venice oddly enough becomes part o f the problem o f thematics as the beginning of these preliminary notes on an the content o f literature, which is so evident - at first

G. Gailhard, The Present State o f the Princes and Republics o f Italy 2nd edition, (London 16711, p.120 (e.0. 16691.

2. As personal dates cannot be determined, I consider him only as the author of this book.
3. This problem of thematics is a very old one; cf. E. Sauer, "Verwendung stoffgeschichtlicher Methoden i n der Literaturforschung". Euphorion 29 (1928), 222-229. 4. Croce's objections against thematics: "11 tema di Sofonisba" 119041. In Saggi filosocici I: Problemi di estetica e contributi alla storia dell' estetica italiana (Bari 19101, pp.77-84, have been a sort o f ostracism; in their famous Theory o f Literature Renk Wellek and Austin Warren argue "'Stoffneschichte' is the least literary of histories." in Croce's sense: (London 19491, p.272. 5. Cf. for example: Un problkrne de litt6rature compar6e: les etudes de thkmes. Essai de mdthodologie, Paris 1965; Thhmes et mythes questions de nkthode, Bruxelles 198 1. 6. "Von der Stoffgeschichte zur Thematologie. Ein komparatistischen Methodologie". Arcadia 5 (19701, 1-38. Beitrag zur

7. I t was the authority of formalism in all its colours which, for a long time, made studies in thematics nearly impossible. (Cf. V. Alleton, C. Bremond et al., "Vers une th6matique1' In: Poe'tique 16, 1985, p.395). 8. A. Lotscher, Text und Thema: von Texten, Tubingen 1987. 9. 10. Studien zur thematischen Konstituenz

Introduction B la littkrature fantastique (Paris 19701, p.106. Cf. N. Goodman, "About", Mind 70 (19611, 1-24.

II. Ch. Baudelaire, "Chacun sa chim8re" (=Le spleen de Paris, VI), In Oeuvres compl&tes, Bd. C. Pichois (Paris 19751, Vol.1, pp.282f.
12. Cf. A. Lotscher, op. cit., pp.7-14. 13. A. Owen points out that "[tjhe subject o f themes is one o f the most controversial in comparative literature" and continues by summing up the most common objections against thematics: Comparative Literature: Matter and Method (Urbana: Illinois UP, 19691, pp.106-108. 14. Cf. G. B. Parks, "The Turn to the Romantic in the Travel Literature of the Eighteenth Century", Modern Language Quarterly 25 (19641, 22-33.

15. His Book: Being His Travels through France and Italy 1658-1659, eo. by M. L e t t s (London 19251, p. 181. 16. Lyon 1681, p.199. 17. Some Observations made in Travelling through France, Italy, etc. In t h e Years 1720, 1721, and 1722. 2 vols (London 17301, 1, p.45.

1789,(London

18.

Travels through France and Italy, during the years 1787, 1788, and 19061, p.252.

19. Nouveaux Mkmoires, ou observations sur I'ltalie e t sur les Italiens, par deux gentilhommes Su6dois 3 vols. (London 17641, 11, p. l f.

...,

20. Voyage pittoresque e n Suisse e t e n Italie, la ~ d p u b l i q u e ; 11, pp. 178f.

..., 2

vols, Paris, an IX d e

21. Observations and Reflections made in t h e Course of a journey through France, ltaly and Germany, 2 vols (London 17891, 1, p.150. 22. Ibid. p.151. 23. For C. Abastado, t o whom we o w e some of the most striking reflections on thematics, a theme is an element of poetics: " la notion d e 'thkme' e s t commandge par une penske d e structure e t n'a d e sens qu'8 partir d e l ' i d 6 d e syst&me." S e e "La trarne e t le licier: des thkmes au discours thkmatique", Revue des Langues Vivantes 43 (1977), 487.

...

24. Hard Times and Pictures Information about t h e genesis of "Dickens's Pictures from I t a l ~ Dickens's Method of Composition", 25. 26. Op. cit. p.210. Ibid. p.211.

from ltaly (London n.d.1, pp.210-214. this work is given by D. H. Paroissien, Stages of t h e Work's Development and English Miscellany 22 (19711, 243-262.

27. Voyage e n Italie, In: Geneva 19781, vol.1, p.68. 28. 29. 30. Ibid., p.69. Ibid., p.67. Ibid., p.69.

Oeuvres compl6tes.

(Paris, 1877-1894, repr.

31. E.g. A. Radcliff, The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794); F. Schiller, Der ~ e i s t e r s e h e r (1788); H. Zschokke, Aballino der grosse Bandit (1794); M. Savory, Barozzi, o r t h e Venetian Sorceress (1815); Ch. Nodier, Sbogar (1818). 32. Op. cit., p.69.

Jean

33. "( ) il y a une chose grande e t terrible, e t pleine d e tbn&bres, il y a Venise." Edition Nationale (Paris 18871, vol.XVII1, p.314. 34. Op. cit., pp.69f. 35. Cf. H. J. Lope. "Der Reiz des Fremden". Exotismus d e r Ferne und Exotismus d e r Nahe in den europaischen Literaturen, in: Europaische Romantik 111: Restauration und Revolution (Wiesbaden 1985), pp.619-648. 36. Leipzig 1859, p.3. und Urteil: Untersuchungen zur Genealogie der Logik; 37. Erfahrung esp. 8.

...

38. 39. 40.

Op. cit., pp.5f. Op. cit., pp.60-71. Cf. pp.7-35. "La thgorie y est [sc. in thematics] comme cf. "Qu'est-ce-

41. T. Todorov, op. cit.: interdite de sdjour", p.104.

42. Indeed, Rimmon-Kenan's results are disappointing; qu'un thkme?" In: Poe'tique XVI (1985), pp.397-405.

43. ''I libri che si tengono strettamente in quest' ordine d i ricerche prendono di necessit'a la forma del catalog0 o della bibliografia [...I. Manca (e non pub non mancare) lo studio del momento creativo, che e quello che davvero importa alla storia letteraria e artistica." "La letteratura comparata," in Saggi Filosofici I: Problemi di estetica e contributi alla storia dell'estetica italiana (Bari 1901), p.73. 44. The concept o f perception in Bachem's contribution, Bogumil's poetics of landscape and Dawson's distinction between theme and motive can help to localize my approach to Venice in a larger and more general context. I should like to thank llolger Klein for his subtle stylistic revision of my text.

VENICE PRESERVED: HImORY, MYTH AND LITERARY CREATION And& Mansau (University of T o u l w s e )
Contemplating the theme of the Preservation of Venice against the

Spanish Plot, a r e w e f a c e d with history o r with myth? We c a n say right a w a y t h a t t h e Conspiracy is not itself myth but opens t h e way f o r myth t h a t of Venice, o r r a t h e r t h e various m y t h s forming t h e complex which c r i t i c s h a v e dubbed t h e "Myth of Venice". Following on from an original based o n t h e u s e of historical sources, imitation through t h e c e n t u r i e s generally took t h e form of works which confine themselves t o psychologic a l i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s mainly of P i e r r e and Jaffier. century, aspects. Myth of Then, in t h e twentieth l i t e r a t u r e s e e m s t o h a v e rediscovered t h e myth, o f t e n in t h e T h e following notes will ponder mainly t w o things: Venice and how it i s linked firstly, t h e the

process abandoning t h e original s t o r y in o r d e r t o lay s t r e s s on d i f f e r e n t t o t h e l i t e r a r y t h e m e of

Conspiracy;

and secondly, ways in which "Venice Preserved" has, a f t e r i t s

c a r e e r o n t h e s t a g e in t h e w a k e of Otway's success, in t h e modern period been turned into much wider reflections on t h e f a t e of individuals and communities. Is Venice a mythical c i t y ? Already t h e first literary t e x t w e have, Saintto use the

Real's L a Conjuration d e s Espagnols c o n t r e la ~ 6 ~ u h l i q udee Venise e n

J l (1674) w a s guided by d e f i n i t e political objectives: J

historical account for passing judgement o n t h e s t a t e of t h e s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y city, o n t h e policies of t h e Doge, t h e powers of t h e S e n a t e and t h e Council of Ten; and t o exploit in p a r t i c u l a r t h e Spaniards' a t t e m p t f o r an a t t a c k o n a t subduing Venice ( t h e bastion of Italian independence) t h e might of Spain and i t s a c t i v i t i e s in t h e peninsula. A t t h e s a m e time, t h e polemical rendering of what was really a n a c t of disinformation, a successful of turning of public opinion against t h e i r chief adviser, the the Spaniards on the part t h e Venetians and

Servitian Paolo Sarpi, bases itself on several myths: t h e cult of t h e sea. t h e Sea.

liberty, d e a t h , and

T h e l a t t e r i s foregrounded in t h e substantive, not

merely descriptive evocation of t h e ceremonious nuptials of t h e Doge and L a t e r l i t e r a r y t e x t s d o not always show comprehension of t h e It s e r v e d t o p e r p e t u a t e and renew t h e pagan mythical s e n s e of t h e s e nuptials, reconstructing t h e festival without underscoring i t s s a c r e d meaning.

c u l t of t h e s e a with a political intention c o m p a r a b l e t o t h e abduction of S t Mark's relics (or what w a s supposed t o b e his relics) from Alexandria in 829 and t h e superimposing of t h e c u l t of t h e Evangelist on t h a t of t h e city's first patron, t h e G r e e k S a i n t Theodore. Studies of literary t e x t s c o n n e c t e d with this t h e m a t i c complex should ideally not rest satisfied with juxtaposing them and their historical sources, o r with demonstrating t h e variations from o n e version t o another. Such studies must a l s o show how c e r t a i n t e x t s a r e linked t o t h e g r e a t historical cities. myths about t h e founding by t h e g o d s of t h e g r e a t ancient Indeed, after R o m e and Byzantlum, Venice continued, outside

historic time, a s it were, t h e c i v i c and religious r i t e s of t h e m e d i t e r r a n e a n cross-roads. Thus a n analysis of t h e l i t e r a r y history of t h e Conspiracy c a n through t h e d i f f e r e n t readings and adaptations, t h e and i t b e c o m e s possible t o show how lead t o perceiving,

transformation of t h e city's image;

t h e history of l i t e r a t u r e and t h e a r t s r e f l e c t s t h e political potency of t h e Venetian myth a s i t w a s formulated by Michelangelo Muraro:

"... o n c e

the

policy o f expansion and t h e d r e a m of power had been abandoned, t h e r e began t o t a k e s h a p e t h e myth of Venice, which continued into t h e eighte e n t h c e n t u r y and t o s o m e e x t e n t still e x i s t s today."' Fernand Braudel, following in t h e f o o t s t e p s of Lucien ~ e b v r e , *s e e m s t o help f u r t h e r t o e n t r e n c h this mythical image: "Next t o Venice, decepAt tively immobile, lies t h e massive industrial c o n g l o m e r a t e of Mestre.

o n e a n d t h e s a m e t i m e w e a r e i m m e r s e d in t h e a r c h a i c s p h e r e of insular worlds and a m a z e d a t t h e e x t r e m e youthfulness o f v e r y old c i t i e s t h a t a r e o p e n to all t h e winds of c u l t u r e and of profit, a n d h a v e f o r c e n t u r i e s been watching and devouring t h e sea."3 Y e t Braudel avoids talking of myth in relation both t o Venice a n d t h e whole Mediterranean by stressing t h e "infinite s u m o f r e p e a t e d s t r o k e s o f chance, failures and successes which t o g e t h e r a m o u n t t o history", and talking of t h e "tenuous and constantly t h r e a t e n e d s p a c e o f t h e cityn.l T h u s t h e critic's problem i s t o g r a s p how, from t h e s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y down t o t h e present, w r i t e r s h a v e m a d e use of t h e s e historical modifications o f t h e c i t y while presenting o n e s p e c i f i c moment: 1618. Beyond t h e l i t e r a r y forms, beyond e v e n t h e m y t h linked t h e sacred, Venice challenges criticism t o t a k e i n t o t o t h e realm of politics.

a c c o u n t t h e city's changing i m a g e a l s o in t h e r e a l m s o f e c o n o m i c s and

Every epoch modifies not only t h e l i t e r a r y form given t o t h e event, but also i t s meaning. T h u s t h e first reflection on t h e liberty of Venice, t h e Squittinio della IibertA v e n e t a I1618?1, a t r a c t inspired by t h e Marquis of Bedamar, b e c a m e in t h e hands of Sarpi and o t h e r Venetian propagand i s t s a very d i f f e r e n t s t o r y indeed, which t h e n led t o t h e first literary r e c r e a t i o n of t h e e v e n t by t h e Savoyard Saint-Rkal, w r i t t e n under Louis XIV and a i m e d against t h e Spanish influence in Italy. Though h e m a d e u s e of s u c h historical d o c u m e n t s a s w e r e available in France, Saint-Re'al did not know t h a t it w a s Paolo Sarpi who told t h e Venetians what best t o publish against Spain. tarily helped During t h e R o m a n t i c period t h e Austrians, involunwho seized t h e Republic and burned the by Napoleon,

Bucentaur ( t h e ceremonial ship of s t a t e used for t h e nuptials with t h e s e a ) in May 1797, managed t o put a n end t o t h e succession of 120 Doges who h a d ruled Venice. And i t was in this e r a of t h e city's history t h a t t h e l i t e r a r y travellers - Byron, Musset, G e o r g e Sand, Stendhal and Delavigne used t o s t o p in front of t h e black splash e f f a c i n g t h e portrait of Marin Falier (1274-1355); his s t o r y c a m e t o b e s e e n a s a parallel to the Conspiracy, and t h e d r a m a c r e a t e d around him shows t h e s t a t e s of mind of a d e f e a t e d h e r o who w a s t o b e e r a s e d from t h e historical m e m o r y of Venice. T h e good fortunes of Venice P r e s e r v e d among audiences, r e a d e r s and t r a n s l a t o r s hrought about not only imitations but an extension of literary treatment. T h e forms varied: from historical t a l e t o t h e novel of t h e absurd, from R e s t o r a t i o n d r a m a t o r o m a n t i c d r a m a and a s e a r c h f o r a new form of t h e a t r e altogether. L a t e r r e c r e a t i o n s also l e f t behind t h e tradition of c o n c e n t r a t i n g o n an historical figure of t h e C a e s a r o r Napoleon type, turning t o o t h e r figures r e l a t e d t o Venetian history such a s Quevedo and Falier, t h e h e r o i c m e r c e n a r i e s Renaud, J a f f i e r and P i e r r e in parallel t o t h e Spanish grandees Osuna, Toledo and characters: Bedamar, and t h e f e m a l e T h e r e also o c c u r r e d a t h e patrician woman, t h e courtesan.

widening of t h e t h e m a t i c complex from t h e specific Conspiracy t o conspiracy in general, from t h e o n e c i t y t o t h e birth and decline of powerful c e n t r e s of civilisations. human F u r t h e r g r a f t i n g s of variables o n t h e original t h e weight of solitude, the come v e n t presented studies of power, liberty, death; sacrifice;

f e a r in t h e f a c e of c r i m e , violence, death, and t h e s e n s e of t h e sacking of c i t i e s and t h e destruction of s t a t e s ;

patibility of e n d s and means, t h e boundaries b e t w e e n t h e r e a l and t h e

imaginary.

History is indeed being rejoined by myth.

Within the vast

body of literature devoted to Venice, in order to pose the question of the

the complex we may call "Venice individual's role in the fate o f

Preserved" eventually leaves behind factual history and thematic evolution communities and power structures.

I have chosen the two earliest and

three modern versions for a closer look, though in each case i t is only possible to bring to the fore some salient features. "Venice Preserved" is often vaguely regarded as a thematic complex of

English origin, but Otway's play was - a common phenomenon in Restoration England - built on a French source, already mentioned above. In Saint-Real's Conjuration, quickly translated into English (1675, repr. 1679), the emphasis lies on the city's political system and on "Death in Venice" the latter element, initiated by Quevedo, was later to he significantly firstly the heads Marques of

developed by Maurice Barrgs, Thomas Mann and Gabriele dlAnnunzio. L a Conjuration presents t w o categories o f heroes: of the conspiracy: of Osuna, Viceroy of Naples, and Alfonso de Pedro de Toledo, Viceroy of Milan, Pedro Giron, Duke la Cueva, secondly three soldiers as Renault, and Jacques;

Medamar, the Spanish Ambassador to Venice; a group concretely organising the coup; spirators.

Jaffier,

the Creek courtesan merely places her house at the disposal of the conThe text - half essay on the plot, half historical novel on the and his resolve, watching the nuptials regatta on soldier figures - has at i t s centre Jaffier's change o f heart after Renault's address (pp.279-82) Ascension Day (pp.288-89), ness: "Fortune is a woman". to reveal the plot to the Council of Ten.

Saint-~e'al's work demonstrates a Machiavellian view of the world's fickleVenice is preserved, the aristocratic figures second-rank conspirators are killed, and come o f f unscathed, the poor,

things continue much as before: Jaffier fut pris combattant h leur teste, comme un hornme qui ne i Venise peu de cherche qu'8 vendre cherement sa vie, R ktant conduit ? jours apres, il y fut noy6 le lendemain de son arrivge. La mort de ce Malheureux ayant acheve de retahlir la tranquillit6 dans cette grande Ville, le premier soin du Senat fut de demander un autre Amhassadeur Madrid. (p.320) L a Conjuration contains Renault's speech, before the much material cut out lor a dramatist:

Jaf fier's hesitation and inner struggle, his appearance of Ten, Bedamar's entrance at the session of

Council

t h e S e n a t e - t h e s e and o t h e r portions h a v e considerable s c e n i c potential, o n m u c h of which O t w a y could s e i z e when h e t r a n s f o r m e d t h e historical novel i n t o d r a m a f o r t h e R e s t o r a t i o n stage. O t w a y s h i f t s t o a n e w emphasis by adding t h e love s t o r y of Relvidera and Jaffier. H e a l s o c h a n g e s t h e original s e n s e of t h e struggle, turning it i n t o a fight against t h e patricians' power and for a liberty impossible t o achieve, underlining t h e heroism of P i e r r e and J a f f i e r c o n f r o n t e d with t h e S e n a t e ' s tyranny. subsidiary courtesan against plotlines, F u r t h e r m o r e , h e c r e a t e s additional c h a r a c t e r s with introducing Antonio Belvidera's cruel a n d developing father. On t h e anonymous the other hand,

i n t o Aquilina, and P i e r r e wanting t o help his friend J a f f e i r Priuli,

Senator

R e d a m a r and t h e Doge a r e r e n d e r e d a s s e c o n d a r y c h a r a c t e r s only, a n d T o l e d o a s well a s Osuna a r e l e f t out. Also, in O t w a y t h e e v e n t s a r e c h a r g e d w i t h a n e w import derived from his own historical c o n t e x t t h e e y e s of his London audience, 'Machiavellian' t h e English King. A f t e r O t w a y , L a Fosse g a v e a n a d a p t a t i o n combining e l e m e n t s f r o m O t w a y and s a i n t - ~ k a l in Manlius Capitolinus (16971, while Lord Ryron in Marino F a l i e r o (1821) transposed t h e s t a t e plot and t h e love plot t o t h e medieval Doge. However, it was O t w a y who, rivalling Shakespeare, particularly b e c a m e t h e g r e a t m a g n e t of t h e English t h e a t r e in Paris; b u t f o r all romantically

in

Italy and t h e conspiracy

(now shorn of i t s Spanish associations) s t o o d f o r t h e Popish plot against

H a r r i e t Smithson a s Relvidera (1827) b e c a m e , not only for H e c t o r Rerlioz minded people w h o s a w h e r p e r f o r m a n c e , t h e his first purpose P o e t r y and music Aquilina e m b o d i m e n t of t h e 'Italian w o m a n in love'. In t h e w i n t e r of 1904, Hofmannsthal w a s in Venice; w a s t o w r i t e a n a d a p t a t i o n o f Otway's play. initiatory journey a n d a m e e t i n g of love and death. Eventually h e d e p i c t e d a n

r e p r e s e n t Venetian a r t , a n d t h e c i t y ' s history is foregrounded: against t h e Turkish e n e m y of Venice i s being evoked.

'sees' i t s fall a n d t h e burning down of t h e Bucentaur, a n d Z a n t e ' s d e f e n c e

Venice had a l r e a d y e a r l i e r on b e e n i m p o r t a n t f o r Hofmannsthal's work. D e r T o d d e s Tizian, a s h o r t p o e t i c d r a m a (1892) picturing f o r t h a Venice provides in i t s Vth A c t t h e m a t e r i a l from which t h e 'baroque'

d r a m a t i s t now f o r m s his r e f l e c t i o n s o n t h e d e a t h of a s t a t e - a d r e a m , b u t o n e full o f violence, people being m u r d e r e d in t h e Venetian morning mist which a f f e c t s like a labyrinth, a claustrophobic palatial space. In

1896 Hofmannsthal read Ben Jonson's Volpone; to our theme. In Das gerettete Venedig the c i t y mysterious;

and even his Jedermann

(19021, the meditation on fate, salvation, and money, is not without links is dying, even i f heroic and

as Lord Chandos and the last Contarini (cf. also the late

short story "Der Brief des letzten Contarin", 1929). Captain Pierre will die : "And he is dead, and I have my hands free and may throw myself overboard and swim in the dark towards a new shore." o f Aquilina, view and a historical vision: (p.269). The dream the courtesan (Act II), represents both a personal, fantastic

Im Traum. Und hier herein zu gehn mit einem Leuchter in der Hand. Auch hier war alles, wie es ist. Nur dort am Pfeiler hing ein Bild von Pierre, ein schones: es schien im Rahmen sich zu regen. I...] [...I Und wie ich starrte, immer lag ein Schatten auf dem Gesicht, und naher hob ich zitternd den Leuchter. Da auf einmal hor ich, ich hore (p. 152)s

...

...

The conspiracy changes into a dream and a painting of the Venetian night. The political plot is secondary, the first place belongs t o Pierre and Thus Hofmannsthal places at the Jaffier looking at Venetian society. city. Les Espagnols (music), Venise by Georges Limbour (text) and Rene' Leibowitz first performed in 1970 at Grenoble, afterwards at the Piccola In his dedication t o Zette and Michel

centre o f interest the power of art and the agony of a great historic

Scala at Milan, offers variations t o the material by introducing Quevedo and Death as a mythical personage. Leiris, Limbour states that he was inspired by Quevedo's biographers Although this is not attested, we a rich Turk, a Death

Ramon Gomez and Rene Bouvier, who imagine the presence of Quevedo (secretary to Osuna), i n Venice i n 1618. city. beggar. do know that dummies o f Redamar, Osuna and Quevedo were burned i n the Limbour concentrates on Quevedo, the courtesan, petty citizen of Venice called Beppo, finally Death in the shape of a

Scene 5 derives from Ouevedo's Visita de 10s chistes.

speaks with Dinero (Money) and Mundo (the World) at Ouevedo's bedside.

... entro
I...]

una que parecia mujer, muy galana y llena de coronas, cetros, chapines, tiaras, caperuzas, mitras, rnonteras, brocados, pellejos,

seda, oro, garrotes, diamantes, I...] perlas, y quijarros. Un ojo abierto y otro cerrado y vestia y desnuda de todos 10s colores. Por un lado era moza y por otro era vieja ...6 As the scene develops, passage: LA MORT Tu e s mon poete favori Pokte des songes macabres. Le chantre de n o n empire Et de mes ravages. J'aime les poetes pessimistes, ma foule, Ceux qui font gloire lnterrogent les squelettes. Sur leur cercueil Agitant des dreapeaux de suaires En langage prCcieux, Tu as brod6 la vanit6 de toutes les choses. we may switch t o Limbour in the climactic

QUEVEDO

0 ma bonne inspiratrice, Pour une nuit, reine de Veni'se, Parcours-la dans une gondole. Les canaux vont exhaler Des odeurs qui t e plafront.

The work closes with a chorus singing "The Triumph of Love in Venice". In El Lince de Italia Ouevedo has characterised Venice a s "the disturber of the world and

I...)

the quicksilver among princes;

it is a

republic which one can neither believe in nor forget1'.'l life in the city:

Overall, the opera

is clearly guided by Gomez's graphic fantasies about Quevedo's mode of

Head of a group of beggars, Ouevedo wandered about the tavernas of Venice, trying to escape alive from this hell-hole, in which the Ducal myrmidons were in their turn looking for him as for an enemy of the He remembered the poor of Spain [...I and by a kind of s t a t e [...I grafting made himself into a povero napoletano, talking away in Italian like a vagabond. Fanciful and fantastic in a historical as well as a literary sense, Espannols transforms the theme into a carnival.

&

The meeting of Quevedo,

Death and Venice is presented as a splendid farce in the face of horror. In 1942, while Mussolini and Hitler were still in power, Simone Weil adapted Saint-R6al and Otway in her Venise sauv6e. about this work: She herself wrote

"... le

besoin d'arniti8 en Europe est mis en lumikre miserable

I...]

k~ I'entretien Renaud-Jaffier dans le deuxikme acte.

destinke personelle, leur passe

Pierre e'voque leur

[...I

Renaud a 6t6 exile' en

France, Pierre et Jaffier de Provence." ing entries i n her Cahiers: Colleone': and:

Also fascinating are the follow-

"Bedmar comme Richelieu, Pierre d1apr8s Le

"Renaud=Trotsky pauvre, estimait plus la vertu que les

richesses, mais plus la gloire que la vertu"

I...]Horrible

amertume, non de

mourir, mais de perdre tout espoir de puissance, de fortune et de gloire". The historical context holds other interesting facets require particular emphasis here. peur: la mort met mon h e

we know, for

instance, that Weil had met Trotsky i n France, yet two elements o f myth Firstly, Weil portrays Jaffier while alone "Le soleil me fait in the city with echoes from Sophocles's Antigone:

B nu".

More importantly still, Jaffier, as

informer,

is no longer a Judas, a traitor betraying his friends, but is

shown alone like Christ in the garden of Gethsemane: Dieu, mon $me a besoin de la chair pour cacher sa honte, la chair qui mange et dort, sans avenir et sans pass& Je tremblerai d'horreur en passant dans 11Qternit6; Trop faible pour la mort, mais comment demeurer vivant?'' As Patricia L i t t l e has observed, Jaffier here has lost his human features; Venice, city o f Monteverdi and Colleone, Weil has to he preserved just as Social, historical and Jaffier humanity has to be preserved by Christ's sacrifice. religious meaning coalesce:

remembers art and politics, but she A t first he intends to kill:

overlays the conspiracy against Venice with a stratum o f myth. does not achieve this status all at once.

La ville et le peuple et la mer vont m'appartenir. La cite paisible est dans ma main sans le savoir; Mais dans peu de temps elle apprendra qu'elle est a moi: Car voici qu'il vient, le dur moment ob tout d'un coup Ma main va se fermer et I'Bcraser. Ce qu'a tu6 le fer, nu1 soleil ne le voit plus. Quelques heures encore, et la c i t e sera morte. Des pierreq un dbsert, des corps inertes e'pars. Ceux-la qui survivront, ce seront tous des cadavres. Etonn6s et muets, ils ne sauront qu'oheir. Ayant tous vu souiller ou tuer des 6tres chers, Chacun se h"aera de se soumettre b ce qu'il hait. In the very universality and intensity o f this anticipatory vision of the horror we already sense something strange preparing itself within his soul. I n the end, he does not carry out his dire intentions, but betrays t o save, sacrificing himself instead o f others.

I...]

A f t e r Jaffier's death, Violetta looks o u t on t h e city, but does not s e e t h e Ascension Day's r e g a t t a and entertainments, nor t h e Venice built of s t o n e amidst t h e w a t e r hy t h e tough industry of men and holstered t h e abduction of Saint Mark's relics from Egypt; primal creation: day of humanity: J o u r qui viens si beau, sourire suspendu Soudain s u r m a ville e t s e s mille canaux, Combien aux hurnains qui r e ~ o i v e n tt a paix Voir l e jour e s t doux! This is t o d a t e t h e most c o m p l e t e transformation of Saint-Re'al's text. Taking a broad view of t h e t h r e e modern plays w e have briefly introduced, and trying t o c h a r a c t e r i s e t h e directions which t h e influx of myth has taken on t h e twentieth-century s t a g e when adherence t o history concerned with "Venice Preserved" was abandoned, o n e might say t h a t Hofmannsthal, meditating on a r t and t h e d e a t h of a city, presents a decadent vision; Limbour and Leibowitz, adapting t h e D e a t h figure from Quevedo, o f f e r a carnivalesque fantasy; Weil, transforming J a f f i e r on t h e model of Antigone and Christ, gives a version of t h e myth of humanity's preservation. Chronology 1674 1675 1682 1697 1699 1746 by what s h e s e e s is t h e

Violetta a t this moment is innocence looking a t t h e first

saint- gal, La conjuration d e s Espagnols

Transl. of Saint-Rdal: Otway, Venice Preserved

...

A Conspiracy of t h e Spaniards

...

Antoine d e L a Fosse d'Aubigny, Manlius capitolinus, 1697 Gregorio Leti, Vita di Don P e d r o Giron Pierre-Antoine d e Laplace:

...
les Venetiens

Luc d e Clapiers, Marquis d e Vauvenargues, Dialogue d e s morts O t w a y Adaptation Antoine Vincent Arnault, Blanche e t Montcassin ou George Gordon, Lord Byron, Marino Faliero Casirmir Delavigne, Marino Faliero Giuseppe Revere, Venezia e gli Spagnuoli Hofmannsthal, Das g e r e t t e t e Venedig Weil, Venise sauv6e Louis Guilloux, Parpagnacco ou la Conjuration Limbourg/Leibowitz, Les Espagnols Venise

...

1.

Michelangelo Muraro, Les Trbsors de Venise (Skira, 1963), p.27. Lucien Febvre, Annales 12 (1929), quoted by F. Braudel (11.31, I'Histoire, (Paris:

2. Cf. p.10.

3. Fernand Rraudel, L a ~e'diterranke: I'Espace et Flammarion, 1977, repr. (1985), "La mer" pp.401. 4. Braudel (n.3), pp.194f.

5. Hofmannsthal: "In a dream. And to go i n here/with a candlestick in my hand./Also here everything was as i t is now. Only there/On the pillar hung a portrait of Pierre, a beautiful one/it seemed to stir within i t s frame/[ ...I And as I was gazing fixedly, there was always a shadow/on his face, and I tremblingly/lifted the candlestick closer. Then suddenly I heard/l hear ..!I (my translation). 6. Quevedo, Ohras completas "There entered one who seemed a woman, very elegantly d r e s s e d u n d a n t l y decked with crowns, ceptres, [...I high-heeled shoes, tiaras, hoods, mitres, caps, brocade, hides, silk, gold, garottes, diamants, [...I pearls, and pebbles. One eye she had open and the other closed, and she was clad with, and bereft o f all colours. On one side she was young and on the other she was old." 7. Quevedo, Obras completas, "chisme del mundo y I...] azogue de 10s principes; es una republics que n i se had de creer n i se ha de olvidar." Bibliography

1. quoted Texts Francisco de C)uevedo, Mundo caduco y des varios de la edad i n 10s anos de 1613 hasta 1620; Suenos; E l Lince de Italia; in Obras completas, ed. Luis A. Marin, Madrid: Aguilar, 1943.
CBsar Vichard, Abbe de saint-~e/al, Conjuration des Espagnols contre la R6publique de Venise, 1674; ed. A. Mansau, Geneva: Droz, 1977. English trans. A Conspiracy o f the Spaniards against the State o f Venice. London, 1675, 2nd edn, 1679.

Works, ed. J. C. Ghosh, 2 vols, Oxford:

Thomas Otway, Venice Preserved, or A Plot Discovered, 1682; in The Clarendon, 1932; cf. also Venice Preserved, ed. M. Kelsall, London: Arnold. 1969. Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Das gerettete Venedig, 1904; Herbert Steiner, Frankfurt: Fischer, 1954. in Dramen, 11, ed. 1955, repr.

Simone Weil, 1968.

Venise sauvGe,

1942;

repr. Paris:

Gallimard,

Georges Limbourg and Rend Leibowitz, Les Espagnols B Venise, O& bouffe, Opus 60, (1st Performance: 9 Jan. 1970, Grenohle; unpubl.).

2. Historical Texts and Studies Brown, Horatio F. Studies i n Venetian History, 2 Vols, London: 1907.
Cessia, Roberto, 1944-45. Storia della Repubblica di Venezia, 2 Vols,

Murray, Milan,

Colleccion de documentos ineditos para la historia de Espaiia, Madrid, 1861 . Vols XLVI-XLVII. (On the Conspiracy and Pedro Giron, Duke o f Osuna.)

Daru, P i e r r e A. N. R.. C o m t e de, Histoire d e la ~ 6 p u h l i q u e d e Venise. 8 Vols, Paris: Didot, 1826. (Vols. V, VII, Vllf.) Fulin, Rinaldo. Visentini, 1868. Studi nell'archivio degli lnquisitori di Stato. Venice:

La Lumia, Isidoro. "Ottavio d'Aragone e il d u c a dtOsuna, 1605-1623", Archivio s t o r i c o Italiano, N.S. XVIII, 1855. Luzio, Alessandro. La congiura spagnuola c o n t r o Venezia nel 1618, second0 i d o c u m e n t i dell'Archivio Gonzaga. Venice: S o c i e t a di s t o r i a v e n e t a , 1948. Luzio, Alessandro. Miscellanea di s t o r i a veneziana. Diputazione di s t o r i a p a t r i a , S e r i e 111, Vol. XIII, 1918. Venice:

R.

J l I

Ranke, Leopold von. L'Espagne sous Charles-Ouint, Philippe I1 e t Philippe transl. and augm. J. H. Haiber. Paris, 1873.

Raulich, Italo. "La congiura spagnuola c o n t r o Venezia", Nuovo Archivio veneto, VI (1893), 586. Schipa, Michelangelo. "La p r e t e s a fellacia del d u c a d'Osuna, 1619-162OW, Archivio s t o r i c o p e r la privincia napoletanea, XV-XXV, XXXV-XXXVII. Zambler, Amelia. "Contributo a l l a s t o r i a della congiura spagnuola c o n t r o Venezia", Nuovo Archivio v e n e t 4 XI, 1896. 3. General Studies Bourges, Elkmire. R e v u e d e s c h e f s d'oeuvre, Vol.VI1. Bouvier, Renk. Rraudel, Fernand. F l a m m a i o n , 1985). La Mediterranke: I'kspace Paris, 1880-84. Paris, 1928. (Paris: et I'histoire

Quevedo, h o m m e du diable, h o n m e d e Dieu.

Charlanne, Louis. L'lnfluence f r a n ~ a i s e e n A n g l e t e r r e a u XVIl&me sihcle. Paris: S o c i 6 t k f r a n ~ a i s ed i m p r i m e u r s e t d e Lihrairies, 1906. Dulong, Gustave. L'Abbe d e Saint-Rdal: E t u d e s u r les r a p p o r t s d e I'histoire e t du r o m a n a u XVIIkme si8cle. Paris: Champion, 1921. G o m e z d e la Serna, Ramon. Aguilar, 1959. Quevedo, in R i o g r a f i a s completas. Madrid:

Johnson, Alfred. Lafosse, O t w a y , Saint-Rdal: d'un t h e m e tragique. Paris: H a c h e t t e , 1901.

Origines e t t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s

Klieneberger, H. 9. "Otway's Venice P r e s e r v e d and Hofmannsthal's g e r e t t e t Venedig",J& 6 2 (19671, 292-97. L .l Andr6e. Mansau, Champion, 1976. Saint-Rial et I'humanisme cosmopolite.

Das
Paris:

Mansau, AndrBe, "1618: Conjuracidn d e 10s Espanoles c o n t r a Venecia o d e Venecia c o n t r o los Espagnoles?", A c t a s del Congresso International d o s Hispanistas, Sulzoni, Rome: 1982. Muraro, Michelangelo. R a t h e r y , E d m e J. R. F r a n c e e t I'Angleterre. Riva, Serafino. 1935), 278-282. L e s ~ r g s o r sd e Venise.. Geneva: Skira, 1963. D e s R e l a t i o n s s o c i a l e s e t intellectuelles e n t r e la Paris, 1856.

"Otway, s a i n t - ~ 6 a l e t la Venezia Salvata",

Dante

(June

Viilemain, Abel Fransois. Litdrature au XVliBme si8cle. 113&me Leson: k4anlius de Lafosse compare h Venise sauv6e d'Otwayl'. Paris, 1828. Voltaire, "Discours sur la tragidie" [Preface to Brutus 1730); compl&tes, ed. Louis Moland. Paris: ~ a r n i e r , 1 8 7 8 , Vol.11; Louis XIV, in Oeuvres compl&tes, Vols XIV and XV. 4. Otway Grisy, Romain A. de Etude sur Thomas Otway. Paris: in Oeuvres Sibcle de

Thorin, 1868.

Moore, John Robert. "Contemporary Satire in Otway's Venice Preserved", A = 43 (1928), 165-81. Nicol, Allardyce. A History of English Drama 1660-1900. 6 Vols. London: Cambridge UP, 1952-58. Voi.1. Restoration Drama, 1967. Rives, Fran~oise. "Un Dramaturge 'a la croisie des chemins: Otway dans Venice Preserved1', Annaies FLSH Toulouse/Calliban, VI (Jan. 19691, 17-26. "Un Bcho d8Absalon et Achitophel dans le prologue de Poyot, Albert. Venice Preservedn, Annales FLSH, VI (Jan. 1969), 27-28. Taylor, Aline M. Next to Shakespeare: 'The Orphan". Durham: Duke UP, 1950. 5. Hofmannsthal Bianquis, Genevibve. Paris: PI.IF, 1926. Bianquis, Genevieve. La P&sie Otway's "Venice Preserved" and

autrichienne de Hofmannsthal

b Rilke.

"Hofmannsthal et la France",

RLC

27 (19531, 301-18.

Bianquis, Genevlkve. "L'lmage de Venise dans I'oeuvre de Hofmannsthal", RLC 32 (1958), 321-26. Hofmannsthal's Dramas. Oct./Nov. 1929; Melbourne: Cambridge UP, 1964. Harvard Revue dlAllemagne special Hofmannsthal Number. Cambridge, MA:

Coghlan, Brian. Schwarz, Egon. UP, 1962.

Hofmannsthal and Calderon.

6 . V e J ) Cabaud, Jacques. 1957.

L1Exp6rience vkcue de Simone Weil

...

Paris:

Plon, J.

Cahiers du Sud, 304, Marseille, 1942. busquet.) Davy, Marie Magdeleine. 1961. Debidour, Victor Henry. Lettres, Feb. 1956. Halda, Bernard. chesne, 1964. Simone Weil.

(Weil's correspondence with Paris:

Editions Universitaires,

"Venise sauvee de Simone Weil", Bulletin des Paris: Plon, 1963. Paris: Beau-

Debidour, V H., Simone Weil ou la transparence. .

L'Evolution spirituelle de Simone Weil. L a Vie de Simone Weil. 2 Vols, Paris:

Petrement, Simone.

Fayard, 1973.

T H E 'TRAITOR T O HIS PEOPLE": A CONTRIBUTION T O T H E PHENOMENOLOGY O F T R E A C H E R Y IN LITERATURE Hans-Georg Griining (University of M a c e r a t a ) T r e a c h e r y and l i t e r a t u r e - t r e a c h e r y in l i t e r a t u r e of lettrists:

s o m e a s p e c t s of this t h e m a t i c complex have been examined,

treachetyon the part I Pal.lensperger/ The

but t h e t h e m e h a s not y e t been approached in i t s entirety. first, "individual motifs" (German and Rrutus. t r e a c h e r y itself.

~ r i e d e r i c h ' generally list t h e m a t i c complexes in t w o sub-species.

Stoffe) includes

figures like Judas, Medea of

T h e second, "collective m o t i f s " (German Motive) d e a l s with This a r t i c l e a t t e m p t s t o outline a phenomenology

t r e a c h e r y by breaking it down into i t s components in o r d e r t o focus on s o m e a r c h e t y p e s of t r e a c h e r y and t o i l l u s t r a t e t h e m through examples in modern European literature. treachery approaches: in literature, but T h e intention is not t o present a history of t o e n u c l e a t e t h e concept, psychoanalytic, social, using different political, and

linguistic-philological,

juridical analysis.
A useful first s t e p in outlining a c o n c e p t is t o define i t by etymo-

logical and s e m a n t i c analysis.

This approach, though d e a r t o philosophers,

c a n b e deceptive, a s various languages m a y present t h e s a m e c o n c e p t under f o r m s derived from d i f f e r e n t root-words evoking divergent connotations. F o r t h e s e m a n t i c complex t r e a c h e r y t h e r e a r e t w o main root-words. T h e first, present in t h e R o m a n c e languages and via French also in English, derives from Latin t r a d e r e which (changing conjugation) was transformed into Vulgar Latin tradire, with t h e original meanings of deliver and t r a n s m i t still preserved in t h e noun tradition (Tradition,etc.) and i t s derivatives. T h e a d v e n t of Christianity added a pejorative m e a n i n g , a s t h e t e r m w a s used in t h e New T e s t a m e n t t o describe t h e 'delivery' of Christ by Judas, supplanting in Vulgar Latin and t h e R o m a n c e languages t h e classical Latin t e r m f o r betray: in juridical terminology. prodere, and i t s noun proditio, e x c e p t

The basic meaning "deliver a person o r a thing, o r t r a n s m i t a s e c r e t h a s in G e r m a n and Dutch been absorbed by t h e t e r m which derives from t h e second root. This is of G e r m a n i c origin, based o n rat - = advice, counsel (verb: raten) with t h e prefix E-, which originally
t o a third party'' c o n f e r r e d o n t h e word v e r r a t e n (nouns: Verrat, V e r r a t e r ) t h e meanings

"mislead a secret".

s.0.

by false advice" or "have in mind s.o.'s for the purpose o f ruining s.o."

ruin",

and later

"undertake s.th.

and "ruin s.0. by revealing

A t present the verbs guishes seven groups:

hetrav

(from Old French trair),

trahir,

tradire

and verraten have a very similar spread of meanings. enemy, by treachery or disloyalty." or person who trusts one); expectations of". error,
5.

The OED distin-

I. "to give up to, or place i n the power of an

2. "to be or prove false to (a trust

t o disappoint the hopes or

to be disloyal to; to mislead,

3. "to cheat, disappoint."

4.

"to lead astray or into deceive (the trustful)."

as a

false guide;

seduce,

"to disclose or reveal with hreach o f faith (a secret or that which

should be kept secret)". intention the existence,

6. "to reveal or disclose against one's will or

identity, real character o f (a person or thing 7. "to reveal, disclose or show incidentally; the French Robert over twenty-five The

desired to be kept secret)". keep secret)". presents

to exhibit, show signs of, to show (a thing which there is no attempt t o O f these semantic groups (which e.g. arriving at eight groups and analogously,

synonyms), not all, but in particular

1,

2, 5 and 6 are relevant.

corresponding nouns have nearly exclusively pejorative meaning: betrayal t o treason. the more intensive treachery t o the specifically

e,
political

trahison, tradimento, with English offering three variants, from the general

An analysis of grammatical and syntactic constructions offers guidance to the components of the act of treachery. construction is: "s.h. betrays s.b. (or s.th.) The most comprehensive (or s.th.1 i n a given for a determinate reason and

with a determinate aim t o the advantage of s.h. means".

I.

moment and place with (or without) the help o f s.h. and by determinate This, adapted along the lines o f communication models, leads to betrays: the the person (or group) who commits the treacherous his position (insiderloutsider) in relation to the t o which he belongs. sovereign, concept master, (homeland, friend, wife, the object, victim of the treacherous act; abstract fatherland, a comprehensive scheme o f components:

who
act;

'traitor',

country, race, religion, ideology, etc.,

2.

who or what is betrayed: husband), a collective or

one or more people (the feoffor,

country, family, race, culture, religion, ideology).

3.

why.

t h e motive and aim of t h e treacherous a c t : ideological reasons.

personal reasons

(such a s offended honour, love, hate, cowardice, revenge, ambition); economic reasons;

4.

t o whose advantage: institution, group;

t h e beneficiary of t h e treacherous a c t : individual; religions, ideas, ideologies).

(a) the

t r a i t o r himself o r herself (own profit);

5.

(b) o t h e r s (country, s t a t e ,

when:

t h e historical moment and situation in which t h e treacherous war, civil war, cold war, guerilla warfare, occupat h e t r e a c h e r o u s act: a n occupied country, a social o r religious o r correspondents, advisers,

a c t t a k e s place:

tion, revolution, conflict situation, peacetime.

6.

where:
groups);

t h e s c e n e of

divided country;

a country with a mixed population (different e t h n i c t h e home. the collaborators,

a f r e e society, repressed society; help:

ideological grouping;

7.
8.

with

whose

"seducers". by what means: of means: t h e t r e a c h e r y is c a r r i e d o u t principally by t w o types (a) passive means

abandoning (German Aufgabe) o r and (b)

desertion (e.g. of one's spouse), leaving t h e family o r social, political, ideological group t o which o n e belongs;

active

means

surrendering a town, country, e t c . t o t h e e n e m y (German ijbergabe), betraying a s e c r e t t o t h e enemy, changing t o t h e enemy's side t o fight against one's own group (in the political sense: treason (German Landesverrat); a n a t t e m p t on t h e life of t h e head of s t a t e , While t h e first type, t h e a c t of

a n a t t a c k on t h e constitutional system (high treason, Hochverrat); collaboration with t h e enemy, e t c . abandoning, nearly always reveals t h e intention t o betray, t h e second t y p e may b e a n a c t of open treachery, a s in t h e c a s e of a renegade, or

and this is usually regarded a s most perfidious

a n a c t of

s e c r e t t r e a c h e r y (espionage, etc.) c h a r a c t e r i s e d by dissimulation, a 4 mask. Besides t h e interaction among t h e s e components of t r e a c h e r o u s a c t s o t h e r points require emphasising and exploration. treachery is usually triadic, Firstly, t h e s t r u c t u r e of the t h e t r a i t o r being positioned between

betrayed party and t h e beneficiary of t h e a c t (though in t h e c a s e o f desertion t h e r e may b e no apparent beneficiary); when, however, t h e sole Secondly, who llsually t h e beneficiary is t h e t r a i t o r himself, t h e s t r u c t u r e is dyadic. defines somebody a s a t r a i t o r and t h e a c t a s treacherous?

designations represent the point o f view o f the 'injured party'. the beneficiary even the 'traitor' considers the act as treacherous,

Rut also the And

does not trust

traitor, suspecting that a person who betrays once will betray again. sidered treacherous by others, i f not by himself. secret treachery.
1.

himself is normally aware that his action will be con5

In the triadic situation the main distinction is between open and The traitor, either spontaneously or forced by political, economic or ideological reasons abandons the system t o which he had belonged i n favour o f another system into which he wants t o become integrated, but which often refuses t o accept him; on the other hand, he may leave his own system without any desire t o be integrated into another.

2. The traitor appears t o remain in his own system hut secretly contacts
another

the first phase o f the treacherous act;

when, in a second

phase, his treachery is discovered,

he will be punished by physical or The beneficiary system either or i t may not observe the 'traitor land

psychological elimination, or by expulsion.

honours i t s obligations by paying the agreed reward (which may consist, or partly consist, in acceptance o f the traitor); pact betrayed'). and sometimes even deliver up the traitor (case o f the treachery

Thus the traitor - and this is one o f the nuclei o f the

prohlematic complex o f

finds himself in a no-man's

position between the two systems. There is no possibility o f belonging simultaneously to two systems (communities, groups) o f the same species, and even the attempt t o act as mediator may he counted as a treacherous act; 'either with me or against me'. individuals Systems there is no choice:

communities, groups and even This

erect real or conceptual boundaries, perhaps less t o defend In their view

themselves against invasion from outside than for interior cohesion. kind o f behaviour is typical o f "closed crowds" (canetti).'

the mere act o f leaving, abandoning one's own system (group, etc.) constitutes treachery because i t not only numerically weakens i t but may cause damage t o the economy or the image o f the victim; spouse, the abandoned state. the abandoned One o f the clearest manifestations of this

protection mechanism is the Berlin Wall, with the order t o shoot as the ultimate attempt t o stop Republikflucht, considered as an act o f treason, a crime against the state, (gewaltsamer a "breaking through the frontier by force" and 7 a "treacherous breach of faith" Grenzdurchhruch)

(Landesverraterischer Treuebruch).

A t t h i s point t h e s e m a n t i c field n e e d s t o b e widened t o include in i t s d i f f e r e n t f o r m s and derivations: v a r i a n t s like b r e a c h o f faith,

rides

confidence, trust, faith, loyalty,

Vertrauen, foi, loyaut6, fede, fiducia, lealta, e t c . a n d t h e n e g a t i v e

Treuebruch, disloyalty, slealth, until w e r e a c h

t h e e x t r e m e s of rebellion a n d r e v o ~ u t i o n . ~ T h e G e r m a n r o o t o f dimension of t h e vilest of crimes. tract o r of a

break,

b r e c h e n (a c a l q u e o f L a t i n infrangere) i n d i c a t e s t h e juridical a n d social

fides c o m p l e x
social pact;

and explains why treason is considered t h e indeed, the German term for adultery, Every person is a supreme is e v e n

T h e t r e a c h e r o u s a c t m e a n s a violent breaking of a con-

Ehebruch, originally had t h e meaning of b r e a c h of c o n t r a c t . political, example. between social, people religious system; the feudal system

o r g r o u p is linked by reciprocal bonds o f f a i t h t o h i s o r h e r c o m m u n i t y , O n a m o r e personal, p r i v a t e level, t h e s e m u t u a l bonds exist in friendship a n d marriage. t h e ritual T h e social p a c t

s t r o n g e r if i t coincides w i t h so-called 'blood ties', which c a n also h e a r t i ficially established by a c t of blood-brotherhood. The more closed t h e g r o u p o r s y s t e m , t h e m o r e exclusive and s e c r e t , t h e h a r d e r i t is t o l e a v e i t , a n d in e x t r e m e c a s e s t h e a t t e m p t a t d e s e r t i o n i s punished by d e a t h ( t h e Mafia and o t h e r c l a n d e s t i n e organisations). C l e a r l y t h e m o m e n t , t h e political a n d social situation and t h e s c e n e of t h e t r e a c h e r o u s a c t a r e i m p o r t a n t f a c t o r s influencing t h e i n t e n s i t y of reaction. T h e person o r c o l l e c t i v e w h o f e e l t h r e a t e n e d by a r e a l o r This causes imagined d a n g e r f r o m o u t s i d e o r inside f o r t i f y t h e frontiers. paranoia: beds'), potential

a n intensification of t h e i r hysterical behaviour, in t h e e x t r e m e leading t o conspiring against t h e p o w e r s t h a t be, against t h e s t a t u s quo. t r a i t o r s a r e s u s p e c t e d e v e r y w h e r e ( ' r e d s under t h e 9

Among t h e m a s s of potential t r a i t o r s t h e r e a r e c a t e g o r i e s considered m o r e likely t h a n others, mainly people o r groups of dubious i d e n t i t y w h o find t h e m s e l v e s o n t h e periphery, f o r i n s t a n c e pacifists, cosmopolitans, homosexuals, hybrids o f e v e r y species. Usually t h e c a t e g o r y 'traitor' ~ews," i s not applied t o individuals o r g r o u p s looked a t d i f f e r e n t l y anyway - foreigners, a l s o in many c o u n t r i e s Gipsies and a s never having b e e n a n integral p a r t of t h e s y s t e m a n d t h u s n o t linked by a

fides

relationship.

T h e r e f o r e o n e of t h e principal c r i t e r i a of t h e t r e a c h e r o u s a c t i s missing, though such people could, f r o m t h e ideological viewpoint o f a "closed crowd", fall i n t o t h e allied c a t e g o r y o f 'internal enemies'. Even Nazi ideology, e x t r e m e l y a l e r t t o t h e t r a i t o r problem, did not consider J e w s a s

traitors, but as antagonists.

Witness the manifest Wider den undeutschen

Geist, issued by the Qrman students' association on 8 April 1933:

4. Unser gefahrlichster Widersacher ist der Jude und der, der ihm horig ist. 5. Der Jude kann nur iiidisch denken. Schreibt er deutsch. dann liigt er. Der Deutsche, dkr deutsch chreibt, aber undeutsch deikt, ist z n Verrater ! I...] 7. Wir wollen den Juden als Fremdling achten, ...I1
A traitor is here defined as a German who thinks, writes or behaves like a Jew and who has contact with Jews. identity; betrayal. 12 (frightening) example leads t o the consideration of another This This thus to deny the The traitor blurs the demarcation between groups is seen as line between the two groups or systems, which thereby risk losing their differences

aspect of the traitor complex:

whether a treacherous act counts as a

legally punishable crime or only as morally or socially reprehensible. time.

clearly depends on the ideological basis o f a society or state at a given While i n Nazi Germany marriage, cohabitation or mere contact o f Jewish race, a member of the Aryan race with a person of the 'lower'

or the defence and protection o f Jews, was made a crime called Rassenschande viz. Rasseverrat (racial shame, treason of the race), elsewhere and in other periods the dominant code was different. As we know only too well, even today racial discrimination exists i n some countries, though i t does not often involve the juridical plane (let alone paralleling the cruel excesses o f the Third Reich), but operates on the social plane, and i n any 'traitor' is socially demoted or indeed excluded from his own society. The historical moment as a determinant factor i n the treacherous act has been emphasized not only by Talleyrand i n his famous dictum "la trahison

c'est une question du temps", but by nearly all authors dealing For example Enzensberger asserts that in his l i f e a traitor".13 This applies "nearly every to

with the issue. some heaval, moment

inhabitant of this continent has, i n the eyes o f the state power, been at i n particular countries which experience a war, revolution, or other kind of major upfor during and after such crises the ideological basis o f a state They often changes, causing a conflict in individuals and groups (even majority groups) between their former position and the newly imposed one. are forced into ideological treason, because i f they remain loyal t o the

f o r m e r s y s t e m t h e y a r e disloyal t o t h e n e w one, w h e r e a s if t h e y a r e loyal t o t h e new. t h e y b e t r a y t h e f o r m e r s y s t e m (and their f o r m e r convictions); and, a s w e h a v e s e e n , e v e n a n i n t e r m e d i a t e position c a n m e a n t r e a s o n t o both systems. T h e t r a i t o r , then, by his o w n volition o r by f o r c e majeure, i s placed in a conflict situation. He has t o decide between opposing values In considering t h e h e i s a c t o r and/or Every t r a i t o r m a y belonging t o t h e s a m e o r t o d i f f e r e n t moral categories, a n d in s o doing b e c o m e s guilty of t r e a c h e r y t o o n e s i d e o r t h e other. t r e a c h e r o u s a c t , t h e a t t e n t i o n i s focused o n him; victim, t h e o n e who holds t h e balance, t h e third party.

not b e a t r a g i c figure, but nearly e v e r y t r a g i c figure is s o m e o n e who, by his choosing b e t w e e n values, i s c o n s t r a i n e d t o c o m m i t a n a c t of treachery. If o n e tries, based on t h e s e c a t e g o r i e s a n d principles, t o e v o l v e a classification of t r e a c h e r y in l i t e r a t u r e , t h e main considerations a r e t h e s p h e r e o r s p h e r e s in which t h e t r e a c h e r o u s a c t occurs, a n d i t s motivation. We both. can distinguish two spheres: the private and the public. The t r e a c h e r y m a y involve o n e of them, in most cases, however, it involves F u r t h e r m o r e , it m a y h a v e b a s e o r noble, s u b j e c t i v e o r o b j e c t i v e A s t h e t r i a d i c or, m o r e rarely, d y a d i c s t r u c t u r e of t r e a c h e r y i s motives.

usually tied t o a historical o r mythological basis a n d i s t h e r e f o r e mostly c o n s t a n t , variations developed by individual a u t h o r s mainly c o n c e r n motivation. Judas, t h e b e s t known t r a i t o r figure, whose n a m e h a s b e c o m e synonym o u s w i t h t r a i t o r , m a y s e r v e a s a first example. relationship of loyalty; The betrayed party is Jesus, his m a s t e r , t o whom J u d a s a s a disciple i s bound in a personal b u t J e s u s i s a l s o a religious and political leader, T h e beneficiary of t h e and J u d a s is a follower of t h i s n e w c r e e d , s o h i s relationship w i t h J e s u s passes from t h e p r i v a t e t o t h e public sphere. t r e a c h e r o u s a c t , t h e religious, legal a n d political a u t h o r i t i e s o f t h e Jewish community, t o whom J u d a s a s a m e m b e r o f t h i s c o m m u n i t y i s obliged t o b e loyal, a l s o belong t o t h e public sphere. Avarice, t h e m o t i v e traditionbut already for ally assigned t o Judas's treason, a n d o n e of t h e m o s t vile, i s shown by t h e symbolic a c t o f t h e "selling f o r t h i r t y p i e c e s of silver"; Luke (22.3) and J o h n (13.2,27) t h i s m o t i v e i s not sufficient t o explain such infamous t r e a c h e r y , s o t h e y a t t r i b u t e Judas's a c t t o t h e work of t h e devil. A s t h e devil's tool, J u d a s i s n o t s e e n primarily a s a n a c t o r , but a s a victim in t h e s t r u g g l e b e t w e e n t h e p o w e r s o f good and evil. The sphere

of

treachery

here embraces not only

the private and the public but

becomes cosmic. Judas's betrayal: power.

In his Messias Klopstock gives a political motive for by his act Judas attempted to force Jesus to show his

In this light Judas might be regarded as a patriot who felt that

Jesus had failed to come up to expectations, as he had done nothing to liberate the Jews from Rome o r to create the promised kingdom on earth. Instead, he insisted on the efficacy of the kingdom of heaven. For this reason Pontious Pilate could eventually charge Jesus with High Treason. Beyond the public nature o f political motivation for Judas's act, the interpretation of i t as not spontaneous but predetermined (necessary for the completion of the divine project o f salvation) makes us consider Judas as himself victim and instrument o f God and not as a tragic person. 14 had no possibility to decide, there is no conflict. Another famous case o f treason is Brutus. As he

Caesar, the victim o f the

treacherous act, is a friend, but is also the head o f state, the "tyrant". Brutus is hound to him by personal, private bonds of friendship and by public bonds o f loyalty and subordination. ous act is the (abstract) The beneficiary of the treacherThe motive for republican political ideal.

Brutus's treason is noble - i t has certainly been presented as such i n periods characterised by a marked i n tyrannos attitude (when Caesar himself was seen as a traitor to the republican ideals because o f his hunger for power), whereas in less idealistic than realistic periods more weight was given to Caesar's value as a statesman. oscillation between Here again we notice the The Hagentreachery: Siegfried is the private and the public spheres.

Siegfried theme belongs to the same type of

betrayed by his friend Hagen, who commits the treacherous act out of loyalty to his feoffor, the beneficiary of the treason. tion raises the act to the public level; instance Hebbel's), The noble motivathus some interpretations, however (for As F. W Maitland observes, . While the

introduce the vile motive o f envy or rivalry,

lowering the act to a simple, personal level. centre";15

"treason is a crime which has a vague circumference and more than one hence the near-impossibility of a precise definition. Judas-Rrutus type has as its most important nucleus the juridical dimension of crimen laesae maiestatis and therefore a fairly clear collocation o f crime,
it is more difficult

to classify other types o f traitors i n cases

where the relationship between the betrayed person (or group, or ideology) and the traitor has no juridical component.

O n e such c a s e is t r e a c h e r y f o r love a n d t h e d a m a g e it d o e s t o parents, family, homeland, country, ethnic group, etc.16 The Rible (Genesis 2.24) s a y s t h a t a m a n (and in a w i d e r s e n s e a w o m a n ) h a s t o l e a v e f a t h e r and mother, uniting himself (herself) w i t h his ( h e r ) spouse. This n e c e s s a r y a c t o f 'treachery' w i f e a n d t h e i r o w n families. may c r e a t e conflicts between man and Pre-existing c o n f l i c t s b e t w e e n t h e families

c o m p l i c a t e t h e c a s e , and t h e n relationships b e t w e e n m e m b e r s of t h e s e groups ( s e e R o m e o a n d J u l i e t ) m a y b e judged a s t r e a c h e r o u s a s relationships w i t h t h e e n e m y in w a r t i m e . A n a r c h e t y p a l figure for t h i s is Medea, F o r Jason s h e i s And, t h e b e t r a y e d , her w h o b e t r a y e d h e r " f a t h e r and fatherland" o u t of love for Jason, but w h o f r o m t h e beginning i s herself t h r e a t e n e d w i t h betrayal. particularly in Grillparzer's version, t h e r e a c t i o n of only t h e i n s t r u m e n t by which h e c a n o b t a i n t h e Golden Fleece. f a t h e r A i e t e s , e x e m p l i f i e s t h e t r a i t o r problematic: Du h a s t mich hetrogen, v e r r a t e n . Bleib ! Nicht rnehr h e t r e t e n sollst d u mein Haus. Ausgestossen sollst du sein w i e d a s T i e r in d e r Wildnis, Sollst in d e r F r e m d e s t e r b e n , verlassen, allein. Folg ihm, d e m Ruhlen, nach in s e i n e H e i m a t , T e i l e sein B e t t , sein Irrsal, s e i n e Schmach, Leb im f r e m d e n Land, e i n e F r e m d e , Verspottet, v e r a c h t e t , verhijhnt, verlacht; E r selbst, f u r d e n du hingibst V a t e r und Vaterland, l7 Wird dich v e r a c h t e n , wird dich v e r s p o t t e n ,

...

A i e t e s r e j e c t s Medea's a t t e m p t a t conciliation b e t w e e n himself a n d Jason; h e i s c a t e g o r i c a l , only a c l e a r - c u t c h o i c e is possible, e i t h e r w i t h him o r against him ("qui non e s t m e c u m c o n t r a m e est"). He expels Medea a s a t r a i t o r a n d prophesies t h a t s h e will b e b e t r a y e d in h e r turn, t h a t s h e will live a s a n e t e r n a l s t r a n g e r in a foreign c o u n t r y , t h u s t h r e a t e n i n g h e r with t h e loss of r o o t s and i d e n t i t y - t h e usual s i t u a t i o n of t h e t r a i t o r , w h o by his o r h e r a c t c e a s e s t o belong t o a g r o u p and b e c o m e s a hybrid. In t h e last hundred y e a r s ideologies h a v e evolved v e r y f a s t , especially t h o s e of communism, nationalism, a n d racism. ones. political Correspondingly, in t h e typology and terminology of t r e a s o n n e w s p e c i e s h a v e joined t h e s t a n d a r d Communism coined t h e t e r m o b j e c t i v e t r e a s o n f o r a n y f o r m of deviation from the dominant system.18 National Socialism,

besides a d a p t i n g i n h e r i t e d t e r m s l i k e Volksverrat ( r e s t r i c t i n g i t t o t h e r a c i a l issues) a n d H e i m a t v e r r a t ( r e s t r i c t i n g i t t o a r e a s w i t h e t h n i c , i.e. German minorities), created neologisms like Rasseverrat ( a l r e a d y dis-

cussed)19 and even Kulturverrat. traitor: fifth column,

In the wider semantic field of treason Dolchstoss, ddfaitiste, bochisme, emboch6

one notes a swarm of such expressions for the treacherous act and the collaboration, quisling, (germanophile), colkborateur, pacifiste, cosmopolite,

vaterlandslose Gesellen, Nestbeschmutzer; or with the 'racial enemy':

for women having 'treacherous' ~ussenliebchen,~' Amihure,

love-relationships with the occupying enemy: 21 Judenhure.

The terms and their applications have multiplied, but the nucleus of treason is the same - and Medea still has progeny. South Tyrolian author Joseph Zoderer. One of her daughters is called Olga, the heroine of Die Walsche, a novel by the contemporary Already while discussing the components of treason we noticed the importance o f the geographical and temporal factors which form, i n the words of Boveri, the "landscape of treason". The South Tyrol (similar to regions like Alsace and even, i n some respects, Northern Ireland) has proved fertile ground from this point of view, and an extremely interesting object of study in the present context: i t is a frontier area with a pluriethnic, plurilingual population, a land of continual political and social tensions. The present situation i n the South Tyrol was principally brought about by the decision of Italy's Fascist regime to favour the immigration of Italian workers and civil servants into the region (which Austria had been forced to cede t o Italy after the First World War). alteration of the social, political and economic balance; in public life. including This led to an i n its wake, place

names were changed, and the use of German was forbidden i n schools and However, after the Second World War and especially after the German ethnic group re-acquired more the Statute of 1972, which granted administrative and cultural autonomy plurilingualism, importance and power. I n fact, the Statute reduced the Italian group,

which had become the majority, into a minority inside the autonomous province of BozenIBolzano. The experiences during the Fascist era had hardened the position of the German ethnic group, driving i t into defending the social, cultural and linguistic character of i t s Heimat (homeland) with nearly hysterical, paranoiac frontline symptoms. The erection of all kinds of barriers and restrictions has been described by parts of the Italian group as a policy of apartheid, while for a large proportion of the German group every attempt at stepping across the boundaries from the inside, even the mere use of the other language, constitutes a betrayal of the Heimat or

t h e Voikstum (the ethnic group, the German essence), because i t entails jeopardising t h e ethnic identity. 22 Such is t h e background, the 'landscape' of Zoderer's novel. The dialect term Walsche (standard German: Welsche) with which German South Tyrolians designate t h e Italians, t h e 'interior enemy', is applied t o Olga, a village schoolmaster's daughter, because a t school she was t h e only pupil t o do the Italian homework and was therefore deemed guilty of an a c t of collaboration with t h e enemy. Later on she leaves t h e village with her mother t o live in a big town and e n t e r s into a relationship with Silvano, an Italian from t h e South. We s e e her trying t o integrate herself into the Italian ethnic group, struggling not only with linguistic hut also psychological difficulties. Her position between the two languages and cultures c r e a t e s a feeling of insecurity and alienation in Olga (p.15). She feels a stranger in her new milieu (not through any fault of the Italians, however, who accept her willingly), and her new, hybrid mentality precludes a 'homecoming', which is impossible anyway, because her original group has expelled her a s a traitor, now regarded a s a - W enemy; and her private a c t acquires a public dimension

a foreigner, an not so much a s

'treason of t h e race' (that factor is not emphasised) than a s damage t o t h e group because her desertion diminishes i t s numbers. "Die Heimat ist in Gefahr" (the homeland is in danger) functions a s a leitmotif, a s d o some verses of t h e song "Und kommt d e r Feind ins Land hinein - Uns 1st das Land, haltet ihm die Treue", which near the beginning (pp.22-23) and t h e end of t h e novel (pp.118-19) symbolize and comment on Olga's 'treason', her a c t of disloyalty in a situation of peril, when an intermediate, conciliatory a t t i t u d e is not considered possible. Zoderer criticizes this way of thinking, which reflects t h e logic of t h e majority in t h e German ethnic group (and t h e South Tyrolian mass media) by creating t h e courageous and humane figure of Olga, who almost transforms t h e pejorative expression Walsche into a badge of honour. Olga's 'treason' has, however, been deemed less serious than that of her creator Zoderer, who has been reviled by parts of t h e South Tyrolian public and i t s mass media. He is being presented as t h e real traitor of t h e ethnic group, because by realistically and critically depicting (though perhaps with some poetic exaggeration) t h e small community of a South Tyrolian village h e offended his own compatriots and moreover appeared t o them t o have befouled his own nest; secondly, because h e did not

describe as shameful 'Italian' groups. enemy;

the

relationship o f

the

'German'

girl with the

finally,

because he tried to mediate between the two

Zoderer is of course not the only intellectual t o have been accused of treason i n our times, especially during and immediately after the two World Wars. clerksz3 shall, In the various countries there occurred several types of That which may be called The Treason o f the present, complete our survey,24 with Romain With his Rildungsfor the treason by intellectuals.

Rolland and the brothers Mann serving as examples.

roman entitled Jean C h r i s t o ~ h eRolland had, in a period dominated by hate between the French and the German nations, tried to stimulate mutual understanding by underlining the cultures. complementary character of the two In peacetime this attempt at mediation had been acceptable, but

after the outbreak of the First World War the view that enemies are in reality brothers, that the true fatherland is humanity, and the appeal t o ignore frontiers became obnoxious. During the War the very concept of
I t was not

pacifism was seen as defeatism, as treason of the collective i n France and as suspect even on the other side (see Thomas Mann). possible t o stay Au-dessus de la m&l;e, collection of essays published i n 1915. est mecum contra me est" prevailed. In his novel Cl6rambault (1917) Rolland, building on his own experiences, treats the theme o f the intellectual seen as a traitor by the public in his own country.
It is the story o f a writer who tries t o stop the war

the position Rolland took in his Once more the attitude of "qui non

machine and is killed by a nationalist fanatic. between his personal concept of t o choose: conviction o f

Faced with a conflict has

human solidarity and the abstract

questioning o f which is inadmis~ible,'~ the 'clerk' either he betrays humanity

"et vous la trahissez, si vous

vous trahissez" (p.3) - or he commits the 'crime de h e - p a t r i e 1 (p.173). Like Rolland himself, his hero prefers t o be a traitor to the patrie i n the narrow sense given to i t by nationalistic ideology, because he is committed to a different concept:

...

les frkres sont shpar6s des frkres, et parquds avec des Btrangers. Chaque Etat englobe des races diffdrentes, qui ne sont nullement faites pour penser et agir ensemble; chacune des familles ou des belles familles qu'on appelle des patries, enveloppe des esprits qui, en fait, appartiennent h des familles diffhrentes, actuelles, passGes, ou a venir. Ne pouvant les absorber, elle les opprime; ils nldchappent a la

d e s t r u c t i o n q u e p a r d e s s u b t e r f u g e s I...] Leur r e p r o c h e r d'&tre insoumis 5 l a p a t r i e , c ' e s t r e p r o c h e r a u x Irlandais, aux Polonais, d'e'chapper k~ I'engloutissement p a r I'Angleterre o u p a r la Prusse. Ici e t 18, ces h o m m e s r e s t e n t fidkles k la v r a i e P a t r i e . (p.139) This a u t h e n t i c f a t h e r l a n d i s t h e "R6publique disperske d e s libres i m e s du m o n d e entier". Rolland perceptively describes t h e political a n d historical f o r treason, t h e c o n f l i c t s which may processes which c r e a t e t h e p r e m i s e s

c o n s t r a i n t h e individual o r whole groups t o b e c o m e traitors. In his a r t i c l e "Les idoles" (1914) Rolland a t t a c k e d T h o m a s Mann for being a s u p p o r t e r of t h e w a r ( b e t r a y i n g t h e principles of humanity). his side, Mann, particularly On in B e t r a c h t u n g e n e i n e s Unpolitischen (1918), And h e impugned Rolland's good a s well a s indirectly regime

p r e s e n t e d t h e w a r a s a c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n Kultur (symbolized hy G e r m a n y ) a n d Zivilisation (symbolized by France). par a excellence,26 national literary while Heinrich faith, coupling him w i t h his own b r o t h e r Heinrich, t h e Zivilisationsliterat Mann d i r e c t l y a s l a v e of a c c u s e d his b r o t h e r T h o m a s of having, f o r vile m o t i v e s (personal glory a s figure), become t h e backward ~~ dominating ~ e r r n a n y . This ideological Rruderkrieg (Betrachtungen, p.186) c o n f i r m s t h a t t h e c l o s e r t h e relationship b e t w e e n b e t r a y e r a n d betrayed, t h e m o r e deeply t r e a s o n is f e l t a n d reprehended by t h e l a t t e r , while a foreigner o r e v e n a n e n e m y , including a n internal e n e m y , i s not normally considered a traitor. T h u s t h e b r o t h e r s Mann a c c u s e o n e a n o t h e r of treason. Thomas r e j e c t s t h e charge, flung a t him by Heinrich, of having renounced his o w n intellectual, moral, independent c o n s c i e n c e in e x c h a n g e f o r r e w a r d s from t h e ruling c l a s s e s (p.13); and counter-attacking, h e comes closer t o the He traditional s e m a n t i c a n d c o n c e p t u a l field of treason, e v e n though - m a s t e r of polemical language t h a t h e i s - h e a d d s s e v e r a l n e w nuances. argues that Moreover, treason against a rift the f a t h e r l a n d a s c o m m i t t e d by t h e pacifist, (unnational, p.50) Heinrich 28 a l r e a d y m a n i f e s t s itself in his u s e of t h e language. between republican rhetores-

perceiving

bourgeois a n d sons of t h e Revolution (p.24) a n d t h e honest g e n t l e m a n e n e m y , t h e official traditional F r a n c e , T h o m a s a r g u e s t h a t , a s Heinrich identifies with t h e socialist F r e n c h opposition, his t r e a s o n i s t h e m o r e heinous f o r a t t e m p t i n g t o c h a n g e t h e political o r d e r of a c o u n t r y f r o m without.

Overall, Thomas Mann's concept i n the Betrachtungen is that every act o f abandoning (even for humanitarian reasons) one's hereditary family, national, ideological status, especially in times o f conflict, and accepting the status of an 'enemy', or making the attempt t o mediate between one's own group and the enemy, constitutes treason. And, firmly convinced that there can be no justification for treason o f the fatherland (the nation) and its institutions, he closes his argument by quoting Wieland's words about having every real German patriot, friend o f the people and [true] cosmopolitan on his side:

...

dass ich hierin jeden achten deutschen Patrioten, Volksfreund und Weltburger auf meiner Seite habe und behalten werde. (p.580) Later on, when the National Socialist flood began to shake all security and values, Thomas Mann "betrayed", Betrachtungen. times? 1. E.g. Elisabeth Frenzel, Motive der Weltliteratur (4th edn, Stuttgart; Kroner, 19761, s.v. "Verrater", "Der herkunftsbedingte Liebeskonflikt", die heimliche Liebesbeziehung"; and Frenzel, Stoffe der Weltliteratur (Stuttgart: Kroner, 1970), S.V. "Caesar", "Judas Ischariot", "Medea", etc. Margaret Poveri, Der Verrat i m zwanzigsten Jahrhundert (Reinbek: Rowohlt, 19761, offers a panorama o f political and cultural treason with Hans special reference t o intellectual treason (Hamsun. Pound, etc.). Magnus Enzensberger has attempted a more sociological approach i n "Zur Theorie des Verrats" (1964, in Politik und Verbrechen (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1978), pp.361-97. Jean-Paul Sartre treats the treason complex from a philosophical standpoint in "Qu'est-ce qu'un collaborateur?" i n Situations I11 - (Paris: Gallimard, 1949), pp.43-61 and i n "Des rats et des hommes", originally the introduction t o Andre Gorz's autobiographical novel Le Traitre (Paris: Seuil, 1958), repr. i n Situations IV (Paris: Gallimard, 1 9 6 x pp.38-81. For aspects o f the subject (esp. high treason) treated from a juridical point o f view see Mario Sbriccoli, Crimen Laesae Maiestatis Giuffr'e, 1974), see esp. Ch.111 "L'ossessione del tradimento", (Milan: pp.149-72. A psychoanalytic study of treason was presented by Enrico Pozzi in a paper (not yet publ.) at a conference on "The Lie" held i n May 1987 at Gargonza, Italy. 2. Fernand Baldensperger and Werner P. Friederich, Comparative Literature (1950), repr. New York, 1960. 3. Cf. Duden, Herkunftswijrterbuch (Mannheim, also Boveri (n. I), p. 15. 19631, Biblio~raphy of
S.V.

or rather revised his position o f the is treason really a question of the

We are l e f t to ask:

"Verraten";

4. The spy; but often the traitor i n such cases is the victim of professional 'seducers' working for the more or less official intelligence Governments accept the agencies, cf. Enzensberger (n.l), pp.380-82. traitor i f he is a spy as a necessity, but are afraid of open treason i n the form of abandoning, mainly because i t cannot be devalued as perfidy.

5. See e.g. lngeborg Bachmann, D a s dreissigste J a h r , in , * W Vol.11, ed. Christine Koschel and lnge von Weidenbaum (Munich: Piper, 19781, p. 119.

6. Elias C a n e t t i , Masse und Macht (19601, transl. a s Crowds and Power by Carol S t e w a r t (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 198 1), p. 17. 7. See DDR Handbuch, publ. by Bundesministerium fiir innerdeutsche Angelegenheiten (Cologne: Wissenschaft und Politik, 1975), S.V. "Republikflucht". 8. Cf. Enzensberger (n.11, p.374: "high treason is nothing but t h e juridical n a m e for revolution" (here a s l a t e r on, unassigned translations a r e my own).
9.

Enzensberger (n. I), pp.37 1-73. Boveri (n.11, p.9: "The J e w who under Hitler had t o b e e x t e r m i n a t e d they a r e all 'potential' t r a i t o r s of a value m a d e absolute".

I...]

10.

11. Quoted from Die Biicherverbrennung: Zum 10. Mai 1933, ed. G. Sauder (Munich: Hanser, 1983), p.93 - "4. O u r most dangerous adversary is t h e Jew, and t h e o n e who is enslaved by him.15. ~ h &e w c a n think J only in a Jewish way. If h e w r i t e s German, h e is lying. T h e G e r m a n who 7. We writes German but thinks in a n un-German way is a traitor! [.. I will respect t h e J e w a s a foreigner,

...".

12. 13.

Cf. Enzensberger (11.11, pp.367-68. Enzensberger (n. I), p.363.

14. See Frenzel, Stoffe (n.1). S.V. "Judas Ischariot"; in Mario Brelich's novel L'Opera del t r a d i m e n t o (19751, Poe's Dupin is called in t o solve t h e 'Judas Case'; i t e m e r g e s t h a t Judas is not guilty, but sacrificed t o higher i n t e r e s t s without a c h a n c e of salvation; and J e s u s begs him for forgiveness. 15. F. W. Maitland and F. Pollock, T h e History of English Law before t h e T i m e of Edward I (Cambridge, 1895), p.503; cf. also Sbricolli (n.l.1, p.171. 16. S e e Frenzel, Motive (n.l), pp468-85, discussing this t y p e of treachery within t h e complex of "love-confllct conditioned by origins". 17. Franz Grillparzer, Die Argonauten, A c t 111; quoted from , W F. Schreyvogel (Salzburg: Bergland, n.d.), Vol.11, p.240. 18. Cf. M. Merleau-Ponty, Humanisme e t t e r r e u r (Paris: 19471, p.36, where P i e r r e Unik c i t e s t h e formula of Saint-Just. ed.

Gallimard,

19. When, by contrast, L e c o n t e d e Lisle s p e a k s of " t r a i t r e a s a race" in "Le Massacre d e Mona'' (Pokmes barbares), 1.417, h e means "traitor t o his people". 20. See e.g. Loni's f a t e in Heinrich Boll, Gruppenbild mit D a m e (1971). 21. Cf. Bertolt Brecht, "Die Ballade von d e r Judenhure Marie Sanders" in Kalendergeschichten (Berlin: Weiss, 1949); h e r e and elsewhere (e.g. "Die zwei Sohne" and "Lied vom Fraternisieren" in M u t t e r Courage) Brecht incites people t o c o m m i t treason in t h e n a m e of humanity, guided by a realistic and materialistic view of t h e treason problem. 22. See J. Kramer, Deutsch und Italienisch in S i d t i r o l (Heidelberg: in his novel D a s Gliick beim Handewaschen Winter, 1981), p.116;

(Frankfurt, 19841, Zoderer has the hero's father say that the homeland o f Mario Wandruzka. the South Tyrolian is the German language (p.111). "Plurilingismo europeo" in L ' U n i t i d'Europa: A t t i del XV Converno Internazionale dei Studi Italo-Tedeschi (Merano, 19781, p.215, quotes an analogous utterance from a leader of the Breton autonomy movement, also equating homeland and language. Another variant o f cultural-linguistic treason surfaces i n J. E. Schlegel's preface t o his translation o f a comedy by Destouches where he notes that translators tend nearly t o be looked at as traitors to their fatherland and enemies o f Germany's glory, cf. Meister der deutschen K r i t i k 1: 1730-1830, ed. G. P. Hering (Munich: dtu, 1961). p.45. 23. Julien Benda, La trahison des clercs (Paris, 1927). Benda's interesting theses concerning the relationship o f intellectuals and politics are not without internal contradictions. 24. The whole complex of collaboration and its reflections in literature still demands closer analysis, especially i n a comparative perspective. 25. Rolland, guerre (Paris: Clkrambault: Histoire d'une Michel, [1920]), p. 155. conscience libre pendant la

26. Thomas Mann, Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen, repr. Frankfurt: Fischer, 1956; cf. pp. 154- 179 against Rolland, pp. 179-213 against Heinrich. 27. Heinrich Mann, Geist und Tat (19311, repr. Munich: dtv, 1963; cf. For a discussion o f the esp. the essays "Zola" and "Ceist und Tat". culture/civilisation debate see Andre Banuls, "Die Rruder-Problematik in Thomas Manns Fiorenza und im Essay iiber den Kiinstler and Literaten" in hantastisch zwecklos? Essays iiber Literatur (WLirzburg: Konigshausen (L ieumann, 19861, pp. 146-42. 28. Betrachtungen (n.261, p.51; - "He not only thinks in French syntax and grammar, he thinks in French terms, French antitheses, French conflicts, French affairs and scandals. The war, i n which we are engaged, seems to him, wholly in line with entente thinking, a struggle between 'Power and Spirit'."

VARIATIONS ON THE MYTH OF THE MAGUS' G y d r g y E Sziinyi (University of Szeged) .

I T h e Magus (or, a s s o m e might c a l l him, t h e Magician) i s e n t e r i n g his laboratory. His r e t o r t s a r e full of boiling-bubbling liquids; h i s mind is o n t h e boil too, nursing d r e a m s , noble o r m a d a m b i t i o n s of omniscience, omnipotence, e t e r n a l life, t h e ability t o c r e a t e gold o r s y n t h e t i c l i f e - t h e f a m o u s homunculus. nal help i s needed. A s t h e G r e a t Work c o m e s t o a halt, s o m e superT h e Magus now t u r n s t o God, praying for more Often h e is

s t r e n g t h , or, resorting t o illicit assistance, c a l l s o n Satan.

c o n f r o n t e d with o t h e r men, friends o r adversaries, d i l e t t a n t e a n t i q u a r i a n s o r g r e e d y princes, w h o look t o him w i t h e x p e c t a t i o n o r a w e , who t r y t o s t o p him o r u r g e him t o f u r t h e r e f f o r t s invariably t h e e n d i s failure.

b u t c e r t a i n l y c a n n o t follow him

o n his d a n g e r o u s p a t h t o w a r d s t h e unknown, t h e forbidden

...

Almost

T h e M a g u s is punished for his a r r o g a n t self-

c o n c e i t , o r t h e O p u s Magnum is disturbed by intruding b o r e s - t h e r e t o r t blows u p o r t h e a d e p t c a n n o t e n d u r e t h e p r e s e n c e of t h e Devil finally the adept is paradigmatically killed laboratory. T h i s n a r r a t i v e p a t t e r n h a s r o o t s a s old a s l i t e r a t u r e ; popular e v e r since. the archetypal magician-story gained c o s m i c significance in t h e Renaissance, and h a s been Is t h i s a p a t t e r n t a k e n from life, o r m e r e l y from t h e Does pressure of l i t e r a r y conventions, t h e d e m a n d s of t h e reading public? t h e supernatural? d i r e c t relevance? e v e n passed into

until his

a m o n g t h e f l a m e s of

i t follow t h e logic o f s c i e n t i f i c investigation, mixing e x p e r i m e n t a t i o n with Is t h i s all allegory a n d parable, o r d o e s i t h a v e a m o r e O n e might f e e l s u r p r i s e t h a t t h i s l i t e r a r y f r a m e w o r k h a s twentieth-century fiction, virtually unshaken by the

d e v e l o p m e n t o f n a t u r a l s c i e n c e s a n d t h e disqualification of m a g i c a s a s c i e n t i f i c discipline. O r should w e r a t h e r see t h i s l i t e r a r y phenomenon a s a r e a c t i o n against t h e self-assuredness of t h e n a t u r a l sciences? Is t h e r e a n y w a y of reconciling t h e rational-scientific magical-occult world view? This question and m a n y m o r e m a y b o t h e r t h e r e a d e r who finds himself in t h e w e b of modern fiction focusing on t h e t h e m e of t h e magus, such a s T h o m a s Mann's D o c t o r Faustus, M a r g u e r i t e Yourcenar's T h e Abyss, Robertson Davies's What's Bred i n t h e Bone, o r Antal Szerb's T h e Penw a y of thinking and t h e

dragon Legend. the Renaissance,

Looking at these 'novels o f esoterica' we can clearly see even i f they place their fiction in a contemporary

the fascination o f modern writers with the culture and world picture o f setting. Due to the fascination with the sixteenth century these magus

figures paradigmatically seem to be variations on the character o f the historical-legendary Faust, perhaps the most famous black magician, o r his contemporary, the white magus-scientist Paracelsus. essay.
I t is the reincarnation

of the Paracelsian type o f magus in modern literature that concerns my

complementary aspect will be the study of

the intellectual

undercurrents which are responsible for the recurrence o f this archetype, thus hoping to get nearer t o understand the nature o f esoteric discourse.
11

Trying to map the place o f magic i n the complex o f human culture, E. M. Butler said that she did not want to define i t i n any restrictive way such as "'pseudo-science', or 'pretend art', o r 'debased religionu'.* By treating magic as a self-contained discipline she did choose a good approach and at the same time pinpointed the areas i n relation to which magic should be treated i n i t s full complexity. ture. Since the scientific revolution science has traditionally been ignoring magic modern as something fiction, outdated and nonsensical. the problem, Even i f art, including reconsidering has tried t o express some One may usefully follow her typology and move from science t o religion, finally t o reach the domain of litera-

doubts about the validity o f this verdict, the existence o f the duality o f the two modes o f thinking

scientific and esoteric-magical

has never the

been questioned since the seventeenth century. the last century that emphasized

I t was especially

contrary movements of Romanticism and Positivism around the middle of a fatal antagonism. The scientists interpreted the esoteric attitude as a kind o f primitive phase in the development of sciences. mankind, which, to i n the course o f intellectual progress, logical thinking and the experimental Let us compare, necessarily had t o give way

The adepts of the spiritual sciences, on the other hand, excluded

discursive logic and historical thinking from their field.

for example, t w o opposed early nineteenth-century statements: The improvements that have been effected i n natural philosophy have by degrees convinced the enlightened part of mankind that the material

universe is e v e r y w h e r e subject t o laws, fixed in their weight, measure, and duration, c a p a b l e of t h e most e x a c t calculation, and which in no c a s e a d m i t of variation and exception. Reside this, mind, a s well a s m a t t e r , i s subject t o fixed laws; and t h u s e v e r y phenomenon and o c c u r r e n c e around u s is rendered a t o p i c f o r t h e speculation of sagacity and foresight. Such i s t h e c r e e d which s c i e n c e h a s universally prescribed t o t h e judicious and reflecting among us. It w a s o t h e r w i s e in t h e infancy and less m a t u r e s t a t e of human knowledge. T h e chain of c a u s e s and consequences w a s y e t unrecognized; and e v e n t s perpetually occurred, f o r which n o sagacity t h a t w a s t h e n in being w a s able t o assign a n original. H e n c e men felt themselves habitually disposed t o r e f e r many of t h e a p p e a r a n c e s with which they w e r e conversant t o t h e a g e n c y of invisible intelligence^.^ A t about t h e s a m e t i m e a s William Godwin's proclamation of scientism, Mary Atwood w a s already working o n her e s o t e r i c philosophy, which was finally anonymously published in 1850. D u e t o a religious revelation and T h e t e x t has fora moral panic, s h e l a t e r considered h e r book t o o dangerous f o r t h e general public and took g r e a t pains t o suppress t h e edition. tunately survived and provides u s with valuable insight i n t o t h s t :node of thinking which s e e m s t o h a v e changed so remarkably l i t t l e from H e r m e s Trismegistus through Paracelsus, J a k o b Boehme, and Swedenborg t o herself, Rudolf Steiner, M a d a m e Rlavatsky, and indeed t o many of o u r own contemporaries. follows: Rut many things h a v e in like manner been considered impossible which increasing knowledge h a s proved t r u e Speaking about alchemy, Atwood asserts its reality as

...

This m a y sound nearly s c i e n t i f i c but

t h e second p a r t of t h e s e n t e n c e

touches upon t h e t h e m e which i s corilmon in all e s o t e r i c thinking:

...

and o t h e r s which still t o c o m m o n s e n s e appear fictitious w e r e believed in f o r m e r times, when f a i t h w a s m o r e enlightened and t h e s p h e r e of vision open t o surpassing e f f e c t s . Daily observation e v e n now warns us against s e t t i n g l i m i t s t o n a t u r e I...] T h e philosophy of modern times, m o r e especially t h a t of t h e present day, consists in e x p e r i m e n t and such scientific r e s e a r c h e s a s may tend t o a m e l i o r a t e o u r social condition, o r b e o t h e r w i s e useful in contributing t o t h e e a s e and indulgences of life; w h e r e a s in t h e original a c c e p t a t i o n , philosophy had q u i t e a n o t h e r sense: i t signified t h e Love of w i s d o m 4

Relying o n this principle, s h e did not see much u s e in employing a systema t i c historical approach when studying and explaining t h e H e r m e t i c philosophy. Her standpoint i s remarkable, and, considering the context of positivism, hardly reprehensible:

Nothing, perhaps, is less worthy or more calculated t o distract the mind from points o f real importance than this very question of temporal origin, which, when we have taken all pains t o satisfy and remember, leaves us no wiser i n reality than we were before. (p.3) The more the positivist enthusiasts of the scientific and industrial revolutions asserted the notion of linear progress and heralded man's In literature we find the victory over nature, the more the adepts and mystics became imbued with the search for forgotten, followers of both camps. scientists; is just hermetic knowledge. The writers o f Naturalism considered themselves

the custodians of the legacy of the Enlightenment, so they sided with the on the other hand the symbolist poets rejected the primacy of one example of many. The symbolist theories o f language, pure reason and looked for more mystical ways of knowledge. W. 0. Yeats expression, o11d poetic inspiration are very much in line with philosophical mysticism, amplified by the general mood and taste of the fin de sikcle. A growing cult of the obscure, the exciting, the illicit, and the unknown as well as the rejection of academism by the decadents and the exponents o f A r t Nouveau likewise contributed equally t o this interest. The most notorious literary reflection of the occult revival was The Huysmans' LB-bas (IR~I),~ i n which a tale o f nineteenth-century Satanists is interwoven with a l i f e of the medieval Satanist Gilles de Rais. main characters o f the novel - Durtal, the biographer of de Rais, Des Hermies, a psychiatrist well versed in homeopathy and occult lore, the learned astrologer Gkvingey, and the pious bell-ringer pleasure i n the cult o f the Middle Ages.

are all hermit-like

figures who separate themselves from the stream of modern l i f e and take Durtal's inclination for things mystical and i l l i c i t is kindled by a strange woman, Mme Chantelouve, who by day is an unsatisfied bourgeoise but at night becomes a succubus and a participant in the Black Mass celebrated by the diabolic Canon Docre. When finally Durtal gains access t o the Satanic Mass himself, he finds i t disappointing and disgusting, very l i t t l e mystical, but all the more characterized by erotomaniacs. "Faith This experience leads him toward a new evaluation of faith which prefigures Huysmans' famous reconciliation wit:] Catholicism: is the breakwater o f the soul, affording the only haven i n which dismasted man can glide along i n peace" (p.279). Especially significant for our present concern is the them? o f the controversial relationship of the occult and the rationalistic sciences, as

manifested by Durtal's and D e s Hermies' mistrust of t h e i r period's positivi s t i c scientism. What c a n h e believed and what c a n b e proved? T h e materialists have t a k e n t h e trouble t o revise t h e a c c o u n t s of t h e sorcery trials of old. They h a v e found in t h e possession-cases t h e s y m p t o m s of major hysteria I.. ] t h e r e remains this unanswerable question: is a woman posjessed b e c a u s e s h e i s hysterical, o r i s s h e hysterical h e c a u s e s h e i s possessed? Only t h e Church c a n answer. Science cannot. (3.141) But if s c i e n c e is weak and unable t o see through a p p e a r a n c e t o t h e very e s s e n c e of things, t h e H e r m e t i c lore i s imperfect, too. This is what Gevingey h a s t o say on spiritism, t h e sensation of t h e fin d e si8cle: proceeding a t random without science, i t h a s a g i t a t e d good and bad spirits together. In Spiritism you will find a jumble of everything. It i s t h e hash of mystery, if I may b e p e r m i t t e d t h e expression (p.132). This vacillation b e t w e e n a t t r a c t i o n and mistrust t o w a r d s both s c i e n c e and t h e occult i s a very c h a r a c t e r i s t i c f e a t u r e of this 'neo-esoterism' literature: t h e a t t i t u d e has c r e a t e d c h a r a c t e r s such in a s t h e madman and t h e sceptical He is

...

haunted by alchemical-esoteric d r e a m s of t h e Middle Ages and t h e Renaissance, who descends t o t h e most dubious practices; historian w h o i s s y m p a t h e t i c t o w a r d s Hermeticism hut d o e s not believe t h a t t h e c o n t a c t s with t h e supernatural still have much validity. on t h e basis of discursive logic o r e x p e r i m e n t a l science. t h e s e novels ists, creating t h e s u p e r n a t ~ l r a l a l w a y s m a n i f e s t s itself uncertainty as to whether t h e n usually confronted with shocking phenomena t h a t cannot b s explained By t h e end of in o n e way o r acts

another, hut t h e r e is always s o m e m o d e of irony employed by t h e novelt h e inevitable magical described a r e t o b e t a k e n realistically, o r a s t h e product of m e r e m e n t a l processes, o r indeed a s a literary device, a form of allegory o r parable. S o m e r s e t Maugham's e x a m p l e of this p a t t e r n . e a r l y novel T h e Magician ( 1 9 0 8 ) ~ i s a go>d It was inevitably inspired by L i - b a s a s well a s T h e main c h a r a c t e r s of t h e

by t h e c h a r a c t e r and notoriety of A l e i s t e r Crowley, known t o t h e English press a s "the Wickedest Man in t h e World". about t h e occult. girl. book a r e A r t h u r Burdon, a practical-minded surgeon, absolutely s c e p t i c a l Margaret Dauncey, his fiancee, is a n innocent, beautiful Margaret's room-mate, T h e r e i s Susie Boyd,

less a t t r a c t i v e but

sensitive and intelligent.

D r PorhoEt i s a real stock c h a r a c t e r , a d o c t o r

who t a k e s s o m e historical i n t e r e s t in tlermeticism, who h a s lived in t h e

East and seen many a strange thing, even published a book on Paracelsus. And there is the magician, Oliver Haddo, an English magnate, totally imbued with magical practices, a strange mixture of charlatan and adept. His goal is t o produce a homunculus, and his purposes are vile. Maugham's novel is well-constructed and elegantly written, but rather shallow, lacking any original insight into the problems o f mysticism and esoteric knowledge. I t is still interesting as a document o f a continuing literary topos and a vogue so strongly infiltrati.ig the early modernist movements. Arthur's
it

scepticism is strongly emphasized at the beginning of the

story, i n order t o contrast with his later encounters with the supernatural; is also necessary t o create tension between him and Haddo, as this out of revenge, Oliver D r Porhoet is the conflict brings about the catastrophe o f the book:

bewitches Margaret, ieduces, then marries her, only t o ruin Arthur's life and use the unfortunate woman for his experiments. mouthpiece of those obligatory vacillating opinions which will not deny the reality of occult forces, but at the same time cannot take them entirely seriously. He always approaches the subject from the superior standpoint The most powerful character is undoubtsinner, Goethe's Faust, his seduced of the historian who is outside the range o f phenomena, who always knows the end of the story (cf. p.56). edly Oliver Haddo. ambitions recall that other He makes no concession t o modern science, and his great But Haddo's statements about the thirst

victim likewise called Margaret.

for power that consumes the magician remind one even more of the crude and infinite passions of Marlowe's characters, Doctor Faustus and Tamburlaine: And what else is that men seek i n life but power? I f they want money, i t is but for the power that attends it, and i t is powsr again that they strive for i n all the knowledge they acquire. Fools and sots aim at happiness, but men aim only at power. The magus, the sorcerer, the alchemist, are seized with fascination of the unknown: and they desire a greatness that is inaccessible t o mankind. (p.76) The case o f Oliver Haddo introduces a new element to the typology o f the Magus. with Faustus While Huysmans drew a parallel between the modern black who represents the black magician, on the other with magicians and a medieval Satanist, Haddo is 3n the one hand contrasted Paracelsus, who apparently never got under evil domination and whose aims were always pious. D r Porhoet vaguely makes this distinction, although

t h e general drift of his opinion r a t h e r converges with t h a t of t h e moralizing Chorus in b4arlowe1s Doctor Faustus: It was a s t r a n g e d r e a m t h a t t h e s e wizards cherished. I...) Above all, they sought t o become g r e a t e r than t h e common run of men and t o wield t h e power of t h e gods. They hesitated a t n o t i i i n ~ t o gain their ends But Nature with difficulty allows h e r s e c r e t s t o b e wrested from her. In vain they lit their furnaces, a n d in vain they studied their crabbed books, called up t h e dead, and conjured ghastly spirits. Their reward was disappointment and wretchedness, poverty, t h e scorn of men, torture, imprisonment, and shameful death. And yet, perhaps a f t e r all, t h e r e may b e s o m e particle of truth hidden away in these dark placer. (p.151) All t h e e l e m e n t s surveyed s o f a r a r e uniquely b l e ~ ~ d eand presented d in an entertaining a s well a s a philosophic way in a Hungarian novel which, despite i t s translation i n t o English, has been undeservedly neglected in t h e European literary scene. literary historian, T h e writer, Antal Szerb, was a n excellent t r e a t e d t h e important intellactual while his novels

issues of his age, t h e period between t h e t w o World Wars. 7 T h e hero of Szerb's T h e Pendragon Legend (1934), JQnos BQtky, i s a Hungarian scholar who, enjoying s o m e inheritance, s e t t l e s down in London, n e a r t h e British Museum, and immerses himself in t h e most exciting (and least apparently practical) subjects. Porhoet, but h e is more lively. Dr Bdtky is like D e s Hermies and Dr This is He has amusing and not a t all innocent

adventures with women and also likes t o g o t o evening parties. story.

how h e m e e t s t h e Earl of Gwynedd, who becomes t h e real hero of t h e Their first meeting is worth quoting a t length, since i t introduces t h e main topics of t h e book a s well a s shows Szerb's wry wit: "At present I'm doing research on t h e English mystics of t h e sevent e e n t h century." "Are you, indeed?" t h e Earl exclaimed. "Then Lady Malmsbury-Croft has again miraculously blundered upon t h e truth. s h e always does. If s h e s e a t s t w o men side by side thinking t h a t they w e r e together a t Eton, you must be s u r e t h a t o n e of them is German and t h e o t h e r a J a p a n e s e but both of them have specialized in Liberian stamps.'' "So a r e you interested in t h e s a m e subject?" "That is too strong an expression in this island of ours. You study something - we only have hobbies. [.. I Because, with us, mysticism somehow belongs t o family history. But tell me, Doctor [.. I mysticism is r a t h e r a vague concept. A r e you interested in it a s a religious phenomenon?" "Oh, no. I have hardly any feeling for that. I t a k e a n interest in [..I t h e mysterious fantasies and operations by which in former t i m e s people wanted t o m a s t e r nature. T h e s e c r e t s of alchemists, of t h e

homunculus; the universal panacea, the effect o f minerals and amulets I...]Fludd's philosophy of nature by which he proved the existence o f God by means o f a barometer." "Fludd?" the Earl looked up suddenly. "Fludd shouldn't be mentioned i n the same breath as all those fools. Fludd wrote a lot o f nonsense because he wanted to explain things that couldn't be explained at that time. But essentially, I mean about the very essence o f things, he knew much more than today's scientists, who are no longer able even to laugh at his theories. 1 don't know what your opinion is, but I feel that we know a great deal about the minute details o f nature today, whereas then people knew more about the whole. About the great interrelations which can't be weighed on scales and can't be cut neatly into slices like ham" (pp.9-11). There are at least half a dozen layers in the novel, blended with elegant craftsmanship: experiments which are the Earl is working on some mysterious biological distinct reflections on the ambitions o f the I n the meantime Bhtky is dropped in

Paracelsians, t o create an artificial man, homunculus. he is entangled with a crime story: to k i l l him in connection with an inheritance case. terror:

his ex-fiancde and her associates t r y

the whirl of events which develop from everyday mystery to mystical

i t turns out that the old Pendragon castle on the neighbouring hill

hides the tomb of Christian Rosencreutz, Rosicrucians. a fifteenth-century Earl o f Gwynedd i n 120 years.

the legendary founder o f the

This Brother Rosencreutz - i n the novel Asaph Pendragon,

according to the inscription on his

tomb, "POST ANNOS C X X PATERO", is expected to rise from his grave The legend, well known from the early seventeenth-century is retold by Szerb and transposed to Pendragon. Rosicrucian manifestos, subplots,

The founder o f the Brotherhood was Asaph, and, according to one o f the i n the eighteenth century another Earl, Bonaventure Pendragon, made great efforts i n the company of Lenglet de Fresnoy and the Count St Germain to contact him and get from him the Secret of the Adepts. The Rosicrucian century Asaph Pendragon the is finally the awakened present in Earl the from early the twentieth murderers. and saves life of

But he also wants to accomplish the Great Work which has As he feels abandoned by the heavens, according to the He performs diabolic In a

come to a halt.

obligatory pattern, he decides t o turn to evil forces.

magic and sacrifices t o Satan the wicked ex-fiancde o f the Earl. appearance of the Devil.

trance, B6tky witnesses the whole action, which concludes i n a devastating A l l this drives the Rosicrucian ghost to final The last words o f the Earl feed back desperation, and he kills himself.

t o t h e opening conversation between him and t h e Hungarian philosopher: "They had been waiting for a c e r t a i n moment," h e said. T h e t i m e c a m e I.. ] just now when t h e r e have been no Rosicrucians for a long t i m e and when their s e c r e t knowledge has been forgotten by a world smiling a t them. T h e moment coincided with my ordeal. T h e midnight rider, t h e deathless dispenser of justice, has again saved t h e lives of his descendants. But t h e G r e a t Work did not proceed. Only black magic, and t h e conjuring u p of t h e Devil could help. And for t h a t a sacrifice was needed. I...] I left t h e woman t o her fate, which finally c a m e t o her. But t h e G r e a t Work did not succeed I...]If everything happened a s you told me, t h e Devil had appeared t o him I...] But w e don't know all that. We only know t h a t h e died in despair. Come, Doctor Bbtky" (p.229). What makes this novel really enjoyable is t h a t t h e reader will never discover whether t h e author is serious o r whether h e is just literary-intellectual joke, a parody of t h e genre. making a Like t h e Chimische

Hochzeit of Johann Valentin Andreae, T h e Pendragon Legend leaves i t s audience in t h e thrill, awe, and e x c i t e m e n t of uncertainty. While t h e novels reviewed up t o this point emphasized t h e incompatibility of science and magic should also mention,

usually a t t h e expense of t h e former, we that t h e r e h a v e been e f f o r t s t o bring Around t h e

however,

together t h e two, and not only in t h e sphere of literature.

turn of t h e 20th century, t h e esoteric philosopher and founder of anthroposophy, Rudolf Steiner, proposed his system of epistemology t h a t assumes a happy coexistence of t h e two. He considered himself a s e e r and claimed t o h a v e gained immense knowledge by intuition and revelation, but a t t h e s a m e t i m e asserted t h a t t h e natural sciences represent a necessary phase in t h e development of mankind and suggested t h a t occult knowledge c a n b e gained by rational practices and scientific excercises, too.8 However, it looks a s if h e did not succeed in bringing together magic and science, his works r a t h e r point out t h e deepening g a p between t h e t w o modes of thinking. types of knowledge: With our concepts w e have moved out t o t h e surface, where we c a m e into c o n t a c t with nature. We have achieved clarity, but along t h e way w e have lost man. (p.11) Although this dualism has been known from mankind's earliest selfWith this h e makes us ponder t h e meaning of t h e d r a m a t i c dualism of t h e experimental-discursive and t h e intuitive-revelative

consciousness, until t h e seventeenth c e n t u r y science did not side irrevo-

cably with either option.

For the people o f the Renaissance i t was still 'magic or science.' Since all science was

not a decision t o deal with that

magic, and vice versa, it was rather the intention o f the magician-scientist constituted the real watershed, by distinguishing white and black operations. Modern fiction seems t o take this distinction as o f secondary is still so attractive for modern

importance, and i t is rather the universalism and bold endeavouring spirit o f those Renaissance enthusiasts that writers. Magi: This is why authors like Yourcenar situate their plots in the i n Oliver Haddo we see Paracelsus reflected, while the Earl o f Let us return now t o the question of white and black magic, because this distinction is partly responsible for the extraordinary effort by which two modern disciplines - cultural history and the history of science

sixteenth century, and why the contemporary heroes resemble the famous Pendragon recalls Robert Fludd.

have

taken the trouble t o t r y to reintegrate magic into the realm of science. The nineteenth-century historians did not bother with this distinction, as we can observe i n Godwin's already quoted work. witchcraft, Aquinas, He mostly speaks about only to muddle hopelessly the Arabian Nights with Thomas Rut was he not right after all? Didhe not find the In the first

Luther with Faustus, and Agrippa with Urban Grandier and the

New England witches.

same medley o f ideas in the works o f every occult tradition? decades o f the century,

some historians o f premodern civilization, who

became disillusioned w i t h Burckhardt's self-assured judgements about the enlightened nature o f the Renaissance, suggested a definite 'no'. People like Huizinga, Max Dvorak, and Aby Warburg pointed out the great importance o f magic and mystical-esoterical systems in an age which previously had been chosen as the ideal opposite o f the 'Superstitious, Dark Ages'. Not much later Lynn Thorndike devoted eight volumes t o demonThese pioneers started of great strate how difficult i t is t o distinguish clearly between magic and the experimental sciences t i l l the eighteenth century. a long evolution o f cultural history: Hermetic writings a neglected canon of texts - the and a generation

has been recovered,

Renaissance scholars such as A. J. ~estugisre, P. 0. Kristeller, E. Garin, F. Secret, D. P. Walker and others have established the framework within which t o study the intriguing crosscurrents of Renaissance philosophical thought. I n this atmosphere, i n the nineteen-sixties, Frances A. Yates boldly proposed a thesis with the following paradigm: ( I ) the Hermetic texts o f

t h e 2nd and 3rd c e n t u r i e s A.D. (which most modern cultural historians had neglected) o f f e r e d such a n ontology and a c r e a t i o n myth which f o r t h e philosophers of t h e Renaissance could a p p e a r a s an a c c e p t a b l e a l t e r n a t i v e to the relevance of t h e Mosaic Adam. primarily This H e r m e t i c man of the "Pimander" Florentine inspired by has a lot in common with Adam of t h e Genesis. Neoplatonists, t h e magical Ficino and passages of the Hermetica

(2) T h e

Pico della Mirandola

set up a

new

philosophy, in which t h e "dignity of man" was strongly connected t o a program of turning man into a powerful, c r e a t i v e magus. that these thinkers "emerge not primarily as primarily a s philosophers, but a s magin.' Y a t e s asserted not even 'humanists',

(3) T h e magical exultation of t h e

first Renaissance Magi soon g a v e way t o social concerns a s t h e y s t a r t e d dreaming about t h e general reformation of t h e world, a g r e a t instauration of sciences, and various forms of c h a r i t a b l e work for mankind. It is easy t o recognize t h e program of t h e Rosicrucians in this description, who, because of t h e stiffening a t m o s p h e r e of t h e new orthodoxies (both Catholic and P r o t e s t a n t ) a t t h e beginning of t h e s e v e n t e e n t h century, had t o remain in seclusion. But their a i m s and ideals a f f e c t e d t h e methods of new investigations of t h e scientific revolution a s well a s t h e formation of t h e e a r l y scientific societies and academies.

(4) This is how w e c a n see t h e

"If

c h a n g e from magic t o s c i e n c e a s a m o r e o r less linear development:

t h e Renaissance magus w a s t h e i m m e d i a t e a n c e s t o r of t h e seventeenthc e n t u r y scientist, then i t i s t r u e t h a t 'Neo-platonism' a s interpreted by Ficino and P i c o w a s g e n c e of science".
10

[.. I

t h e body of thought which, intervening between

t h e Middle Ages and t h e 17th c e n t u r y , prepared t h e way f o r t h e e m e r This concept also filtered through into contemporary fiction. kind of apologetic cultural-anthropological illustrate this with t w o novels, a Looking

a t t h e magus-novels of t h e past f e w d e c a d e s w e c a n easily discover t h e approach t o magic which has Let us in t h e t i m e of been s o c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of t h e r e c e n t l y prevailing history of ideas. historical o n e s e t

spirit of Paracelsus himself. hero

Paracelsus, and a n o t h e r o n e in which t h e contemporary s e t t i n g evokes t h e II Marguerite Yourcenar's T h e Abyss (1968) The (an amalgam of Paracelsus, Giordano Bruno, Michael S e r v e t and

o f f e r s in t h e s t o r y of Z e n o a complex analysis of human existence.

others) represents t h e Renaissance thinker who pursues "magia naturalis," a subject defined by t h e seventeenth-century antiquarian Elias Ashmole a s follows:

It enables Man t o understand t h e Language of the Creatures, a s t h e chirping of birds, lowing of beasts, e t c . T o convey a spirit into an image, which by observing t h e influence of heavenly bodies, shall b e c o m e a t r u e oracle; and yet this is not any wayes Necromanticall, o r Devilish; but easy, wonderous easy, Natural1 and ~ 0 n e s t . l ~ T h e history of Zeno does not c e n t r e around a major t h e m e such a s t h e hunt for gold or t h e passion for omnipotence. T h e hero represents t h e genuine searching spirit who i s thrown into t h e crosscurrents of scientific ideas and superstitions and t r i e s t o find his way in t h e intellectual labyrinth of his age. And this would not b e s o hopelessly difficult if h e were This is how t h e young ambitious scientist A s t h e a u t h o r herself explains: not also caught in t h e dire network of political forces, religious convictions, and social prejudices. on t h e s t a k e of t h e Inquisition. becomes a disillusioned, burnt-out existential philosopher, determined t o end

O n a purely intellectual level, t h e Z e n o of this novel, still marked by scholasticism, though reacting against it, s t a n d s halfway between t h e subversive dynamism of t h e alchemists and t h e mechanistic philosophy which i s t o prevail in t h e i m m e d i a t e future, between h e r m e t i c beliefs which postulate a God immanent in all things and an atheism barely avowed, between t h e somewhat visionary imagination of t h e student of cabalists and t h e materialistic empiricism of t h e physician. (Author's note, p.355) T h e role of Renaissance magic a s presented in Yourcenar's novel corresponds t o t h e verdict of cultural historians. Paracelsus' magical medicine, for example, is seen a s a precursor of modern science, a kind of groping towards t h e progressively b e t t e r lit a r e a s of logical thinking and experimental investigation, albeit still dimmed by false c o n c e p t s which themselves c a n b e useful c a t a l y s t s of scientific progress. poses such an opinion: "Do not a t t r i b u t e more worth than I d o t o those mechanical feats," Zeno said disdainfully. "In themselves t h e y a r e neither good nor bad. They a r e like c e r t a i n discoveries of t h e alchemist who lusts only for gold, findings which d i s t r a c t him from pure science, but which s o m e t i m e s s e r v e t o advance o r t o enrich o u r thinking. Non cogitat qui non experitur". (p.334) Another contemporary novel, Davies's T h e Rebel Angels (1981) 13 Zeno himself pro-

approaches t h e Paracelsian philosophy academe'' into the site of a

from a more mystically oriented combat between Satanic

viewpoint, and his plot, s e t in a modern university, turns "the groves of supernatural

diabolism and pious white magic. The demonic forces a r e evoked by desires and high ambition, a s is paradigmatic in all magus-stories. We also have t h e obligatory pattern of t h e sceptic scientist who in t h e course of events will have t o reevaluate his concepts radically; t h e mild believer ; t h e diabolic Satanist; and here also t h e white magician, this time a biologist-genius who tries on Paracelsian principles t o turn science back from "slicing the ham'' t o t h e questions of the big, mysterious wholeness. The object of desire is a gifted, beautiful student, Maria Theotoky, who is enchanted by Renaissance mysticism and who also enchants everybody. There a r e two men, however, who feel even stronger passions than t h e gusto for an a t t r a c t i v e female: an unpublished Rabelais manuscript, representing a temptation which arouses the beast and warrior in t h e otherwise harmless men of letters. Urquhart McVarish, the Renaissance historian (also a perverted narcissist) and Clement Hollier, the distinguished medieval scholar, a paleo-psychologist (Maria's idol) struggle for this rare document. The fight becomes more and more fierce until McVarish resorts t o theft, while the sober, sceptical medievalist turns t o Maria's Hungarian-Gypsy mother, asking her t o use magic t o destroy t h e illicit possessor of the Rabelais letters. This is no place t o analyse t h e complexities of Davies's many-layered ironies, nor his magic command of language that so evokes t h e thrills of the mysterious in the reader - all t h e faculties which make this novel one of t h e outstanding achievements of contemporary fiction. We must conc e n t r a t e on i t s carefully developed contrast between the dark torments of passion overtaking t h e protagonists who finally abuse science, and t h e representatives of a superior, purified striving for real wisdom. Maria is inclined t o develop in t h e direction of a spiritual science, while Professor Ozias Froats is t h e champion of experimental verification; a s he says, "Doubt, doubt, and still more doubt, until you're deadly sure. That's t h e only way" (p.248) - but their disparate convictions seem t o meet in the synchretic philosophy of Paracelsus. Froats smiles a t t h e definition of the scientist-magus suggested by Paracelsus (p.248). but his work, his scientific achievement confirms Maria's romantic description: "Surely, Ozias Froats works under the protection of the Thrice-Divine Hermes. Anyway I hope so (p.213). The 'Yates thesis' was very influential for a time, but when its tenets were put t o the trial of detailed testing, it was rejected by most

..."

historians of science in the course of a series o f learned debates i n the nineteen-seventies.

I t was acknowledged t o have been important i n calling

attention to a series of neglected phenomena, but i t s underlying assumption that magic and science are reconcilable has failed to gain credit, just as Rudolf Steiner's study of propositions from an occult standpoint have remained magic to science," isolated and rejected from both sides. Francis Bacon, Paolo Rossi, who himself wrote a

calling him a man "from

formulated the essential theoretical criticism against Yates's views which is not only complicated but often confused tion of these ideas by describing their genesis".14 the too. details, 15 Who successively questioned then? many of

"As

years go by I am more and more convinced that t o explain the genesis -

of some modern ideas Others, concerned with concrete arguments, he is the than

is quite different from believing that one can offer a complete explanaher

is the

magician,

Seen from works with

the outside,

representative o f an alternative way of thinking and cultivates a mode o f perception and interpretation which analogies rather arguments based on observations o f causes and effects. For this reason

he seems to be of no value i n the context o f scientific investigations: "The Neoplatonists, like all occultists, were never interested i n matter for i t s own sake or in general terms. symbolic system, Nature had value t o them either as a from the godhead or i n as i n hierarchies o f descent

. degrees o f purity ...".I6 With these words Brian Vickers seems t o finish

with the illusions o f synthesis raised by Frances Yates's interpretation of Renaissance early science. with And the to the question raised by superstition Yates and her followers, namely what t o do with the double intellectual profile of the scientists, curious blend of and scientific the reasoning i n their works, historians of science: Vickers offers the traditional answer of

let us reconcile ourselves t o the fact that those Parallel with the slowly developing and discursive logic, man has

thinkers, just as many of their descendants nowadays, were able t o live in divided and distinguished worlds. penchantfor observation, experimentation,

retained the fossils of an alternative way of thinking which should not become the subject o f the history of science, rather o f cultural anthropology. the I n Vickers' interpretation the alchemist's mind is more akin with tribal magician than the simplest philosopher. Magic primitive

becomes a variant of a religious system in this approach, and has t o be

t r e a t e d in t e r m s of t h e study of beliefs.17

Thus w e have seen t h e e f f o r t s

on both sides of magic and science t o c o m e t o a modern reconciliation, but t h e s e e f f o r t s have proved unfounded just a s similar a t t e m p t s earlier in t h e past. incompatible; Discursive logic and intuitive perception s e e m t o be again but t h e o t h e r t w o areas, religion and art, still may provide

s o m e ground for conjecture.

T h e complicated love-hate relationship of magic and religion, not mentioning their structural and functional parallels, cannot be t r e a t e d here. One quotation might well illustrate though t h e awareness about this aspect. T h e authority t o b e quoted, Arthur Versluis, is a contemporary theoretician of t h e occult, and o n e c a n easily s e e t h a t h e ascribes importance t o t h e esoteric modes of thinking in a radically different way from t h e historians of science o r t h e s t u d e n t s of social anthropology, o r e v e n a modern In his Philosophy of Magic (1986)18 Versluis considers religion theologian.

and magic two descendants of t h e primordial revelation: A distinct historical p a t t e r n of division (di-vision) c a n be t r a c e d in t h e West, a splitting i n t o two c a m p s a s it were; on t h e o n e hand, o n e has t h e orthodox religious form which tended t o ignore t h e necessity of individual spiritual transmutation, and on t h e other, t h e solitary magus o r alchemist, who o f t e n tended t o ignore t h e necessity of traditional religious form. A s a result, both diverged i n t o materialistic o r egoistic paths. (p.3) '9 T h e association of magic with l i t e r a t u r e likewise implies a love-hate relationship. T h e idea goes back t o t h e teachings of Plato, who supposed t h e working of a mystical madness, t h e furor poeticus, in t h e inspired poets which makes them perceptive for t h e higher reality, which is not accessible t o ordinary people who possess only t h e ability of rational thinking, discursive logic. This intuitive-revelatory knowledge b e c a m e a powerful tool for t h e theoreticians of t h e Renaissance a s they spoke about t h e poet a s c r e a t o r who c a n m a k e something out of nothing, a s if in a supernatural act. Picots Oration on t h e Dignity of Man reasserted t h e old gnostic thesis t h a t t h e human intellect was t h e reflection of t h e divine mens, and though now corrupted, through different operations i t c a n e l e v a t e itself again t o this highest level. A r t a n d magic appeared a s t w o expressions of t h e s a m e procedure by both sharing t h e quality of divine creativity.

It is very c h a r a c t e r i s t i c t h a t their c o n t e m p o r a r i e s already called famous a r t i s t s such a s Leonardo o r Michelangelo 'divine', a n d t h a t relying on t h e magical-neoplatonic philosophy of Finico o r Pico, a r t i s t s could claim for a s t a t u s equal t o t h a t of t h e magus. Among others, Sir Philip Sidney straightforwardly claimed t h a t p o e t s a r e like gods and t h a t t h e quality of their c r e a t i o n surpasses t h e perfection of ~ a t u r e : " E. H. Gombrich,2 1 while explaining t h e n a t u r e of Renaissance symbolic images, h a s proved t h a t Botticelli's P r i m a v e r a i s not simply a painting with classical motives but a g r e a t magical allegory, a not t o o d i s t a n t r e l a t i v e of Ficino's talismanic magic. in much of We find t h e s a m e inspiration of Neoplatonism and magic sixteenth-century European literature, in Michelangelo's

mystical sonnets, in Ronsard's n a t u r e hymns, in s o m e m o t i f s of Spenser's T h e F a e r i e Queene. T h e analogy with magic o f f e r e d new a r g u m e n t s in t h e whether it w a s a conscious a c t age-old d e b a t e about t h e ontology of a r t : of "divine madness".

of imitation of already existing n a t u r e o r r a t h e r a n exulted, inspired s t a t e We c a n recognize in this dichotomy t h e Aristotelian and P l a t o n i c principles of a r t i s t i c creation. By t h e second half of t h e c e n t u r y t h e authority of A r i s t o t l e was shaken: P i e r r e d e la ~ a m e ' equestioned his logic, and a number of Italian They claimed t h e primacy of F r a n c e s c o Patrizi's H e hailed t h e unlimited humanists s t a r t e d a t t a c k i n g his aesthetics.

inspiration, returning t o t h e Neoplatonic concepts. poetics i s very c h a r a c t e r i s t i c for t h e period. e s s e n c e of a good work of a r t . t h e age:

fantasy of t h e a r t i s t a n d considered il mirabile, t h e wonderful, a s t h e r e a l Reality w a s of little a c c o u n t t o him, and this c a n b e understood if w e think of t h e general intellectual c l i m a t e of it w a s t h e end of t h e Renaissance, t h e beginning of a g r e a t 'fin d e sikcles', a world of "sad Similarly t o Giordano Bruno, who intellectual crisis, o n e of t h e many people" a s Lucien Fkbvre called them.

proposed a return t o t h e s a c r e d and ancient Egyption religion in o r d e r t o find t h e path of t r u e knowledge, P a t r i z i also turned back and looked for t h e lost wisdom in t h e works of Zoroaster, t h e H e r m e t i c philosophers, a n d t h e magi. F o r him "poesia" becomes t h e a c t of making t h e marvelous, and t h e poet who c r e a t e s t h i s would s h a r e t h e qualities of God, Nature, a n d 22 a n a r t i f i c e r - t o put i t simply, h e should b e c o m e a magus himself. Up t o t h e t i m e of t h e Renaissance t h e idea of m a g i c w a s strongly interlinked with religion a s well a s with art.23 a dualism between the mechanistic universe With t h e proclamation of and t h e still surviving

animistic world picture, this original syncretism b e c a m e m o r e and more suppressed. T h e R o m a n t i c p o e t s had visions of a n animistic cosmos, but they did not consider themselves messengers of a n outer, higher reality; r a t h e r they believed t h a t it was themselves, their ego, which comprised this higher reality. This egotistical approach is condemned by today's T h e crystallization of this theorists of magic, although w e should also notice t h a t this a t t i t u d e was by n o m e a n s t h e invention of t h e Romanticism. archetype, t h e Faustian magus, d a t e s back t o t h e Renaissance, and w e even h a v e examples of i t from t h e classical period, such as t h e Biblical figure o f Simon Magus. 24 It is t r u e t h a t t h e l i t e r a t u r e o f Romanticism proclaimed a new type of magic, a n d t h a t this programme developed well into t h e modern era. T h e r e s e e m s t o b e a n enormous s t e p from Wordsworth's a n i m a t e d N a t u r e t o Nerval's alchemy, Rimbaud's verbal magic, W. B. Yeats's e s o t e r i c a and Wallace Stevens's Hermiticism. Their vision of t h e cosmos and man's We p l a c e within it, however, show a s t r o n g continuity of tradition, too.

find t h e s a m e phenomena in modern painting, from t h e r a t h e r external, motivic fascination of t h e A r t Nouveau t o t h e most a b s t r a c t , conceptual e x p e r i m e n t s of Kandinsky and ~ o n d r i a n . ~ ' This individualised magic, through which t h e magician 'exalts himself' instead of exalting all things, i s not approved by modern traditionalists. A writer like Versluis characterises t h e magical ambitions of a r t i s t s a s follows: T h e R o m a n t i c poets, then, s t a n d a s i t w e r e midway between t w o worlds: behind t h e m is t h e unified traditional realm, represented by t h e H e r m e t i c teachings, while ahead of t h e m i s t h e modern e r a , t h e underlying 'aim' of which c a n also b e personified in t h e form of t h e magus albeit in this case, r a t h e r than uniting t h e realms, e a c h s e e k s t o b e a sole c r e a t o r , sole manipulator, t o usurp t h e place of t h e Divine r a t h e r t h a n t o fulfil it, and s o in t h e e n d must m e e t with inevitable dissolution (note 18, p.5). A mingling of magic and a r t troubles not only t h e modern occultist, b u t also t h e modern philosopher and critic. J a c q u e s Maritain in confronting this question, expressed most c a u t i o u s views about t h e poet who t r i e s t o b e c o m e a magician: t h e thought of t h e poet ( a t least his subconscious thought) resembles somewhat t h e m e n t a l a c t i v i t y of t h e primitive man, and t h e ways of magic in t h e large s e n s e of this word. It is e a s y t o slip from m a g i c in t h e large sense t o magic in t h e s t r i c t sense, and from t h e intentional o r spiritual union t o t h e material

...

or substantial one. I think that poetry escapes the temptation of magic only i f i t renounces any will t o power, even and first o f all in relation t o the evoking of inspiration, and i f there is no fissure in the poet's fidelity to the essential disinterestedness o f poetic creation26 Should we end our look at modern magic and art with the same negative conclusion as in the case of magic and science? human modes of thinking? point. Our emphasis on Would that mean that there is no perspective for synthesis in the fatal dualism of We should make an important caveat at this the dualism intentioned should not induce a In fact, there were a great number

nostalgic idealised image of the past.

o f Renaissance philosophers who ridiculed belief i n astrology, alchemy, and the other mystical sciences, and they, too, continued a tradition which had been present in European thinking since early Antiquity. The writers of the 16th century were even more cautious. no work presenting a real magus fully achieving his goal. Few of Perhaps them questioned the reality of the supernatural, but we find practically because - as Georg Luk6cs formulated

poets are always partisans who

point out the phenomena which nurse tension, conflict, or crisis in an age, the literary treatment of the false magician such as Doctor Faustus is more characteristic even for the Renaissance than the posture o f Prospero. And even this archetype o f the white magus is treated ambiguously by Shakespeare. Although seemingly Prospero is victorious by means o f his high magic, and carries out all what he planned, when he realizes the "baseless fabric" of his vision, and "of the great globe itself", he resignedly gives up his magic, breaks his staff, and drowns his books (see 4.1.151ff and 5.1.50-7). While the literary criticism of the past few decades was enchanted by the idea o f a 'harmonious Renaissance,' and critics traced the literary distillations o f a great, magical-universalist world picture following in the footsteps o f Hardin Craig, E. M. W Tillyard, and C. S. Lewis, most recent . literary historians seem t o be contented with the idea o f the poet as partisan. Deconstructionism has developed the cult of the evasive, and the New Historicists and feminists devote themselves to the recovery of the latent scars o f casualties and the remains o f cataclysms, even i n the most From harmonious-looking works such as Shakespeare's As You Like ~ t . * ~ this approach, the magician and his magic take on a new character: the

features of

his day-dreaming,

his alternative politics,

and his special

system of representation a r e emphasized and treated a s an element in the interplay between power and culture. T h e Magus, no longer t h e custodian of an e t e r n a l wisdom, becomes a key figure a s somebody who reflects on and tries t o manipulate in a different way social and intellectual power games. It s e e m s obvious t h a t magic and in a broader sense, t h e occult, has been, and is going t o be, a n alternative way of looking a t t h e world. t h e arts. systems. And a s a coherent system (no m a t t e r if false o r true), it i s ready t o fertilize In fact, it is t h e a r t s which still have t h e potential of interT h e archetype of t h e magus is still a vital and a c t i v e inspiration works, consequently it c a n justly become t h e subject of T h e further investigation of this theme is likely t o call preting between t h e more and more distinctly separating epistemological for modern

t h e tensions and clashes of

t h e m a t i c studies.

on virtually every discipline, and will promote ever new comparisons. 1. I wrote this essay while, enjoying a Fulbright grant, I worked in Folger Shakespeare Library and the Library of Congress, Washington, in August 1987. Thanks a r e due t o t h e helpful staff of both libraries t o Professors Frank Baron and Jocelyn Godwin, who kindly read manuscript. 2. Butler, The Myth of t h e Magus [I9481 (Cambridge: 1980), p.2. the DC, and the

Cambridge UP,

3. Godwin, Lives of t h e Necromancers: or an account of t h e most eminent persons in successive ages, who have claimed for themselves, or t o whom h a s been imputed by others, t h e exercise of magical power (London: Mason, 18341, pp. 1-2. 4. Atwood, Hermetic Philosophy and Alchemy: A Suggestive Inquiry into t h e Hermetic Mystery [I8501 (New York: Julian Press, 1960, facs. repr. AMS, 1984), pp.v-vii. 5. George-Charles1 ["Joris-Karl"] Huysmans, L'a-bas Down There 119281, repr. New York: Dover, 1972. 6. Maugham, T h e Magician, Harmondsworth: l18911, trans]. as

Penguin, 1967. Corvina,

7. Szerb, T h e Pendragon Legend [1934]. English edn Budapest: 1963.

8. S e e t h e summary in Saul Bellow's Introduction t o Steiner, The Boundaries of Natural Science: Eight Lectures given in Dornach, Switzerland, 1920, Spring Valley, NY: Anthroposophical Press, 1983. 9. Yates, "The Hermetic Tradition in Renaissance Science", in Charles S. Singleton, ed., Art, Science, and History in t h e Renaissance (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1967), p.257. for a full explication of her concepts s e e Giordano 10. Ibid., p.258; Bruno and t h e Hermetic Tradition, London: RKP; Chicago: Chicago UP,

1964, and The Rosicrucian Enlightenment, London: RKP, 1972. 11. Yourcenar, L'Oeuvre au noir [19681, transl. as The Abyss, New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 1976. 12. Ashmole, Introduction to Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum (London: J. Grismonde for Nath. Brooke, 1652, facs. repr. London and New York, 19671, fol.Blv. 13. Davies. The Rebel Angels, New York: Viking. 1981. 14. Rossi, "Hermeticism. Rationality. and the Scientific Revolution", in M. L. ~ i g h i n i - ~ o n e l land William ~ i ' s h e a , eds, Reason, Experiment. .and i Mysticism in the Scientific Revolution (New York: Science History Publications, 19751, p.257. 15. Cf. esp. Robert S. Westman, "Magical Reform and Astronomical Reform: The Yates Thesis Reconsidered1', in Lynn White, ed., Hermeticism and the Scientific Revolution, Los Angeles: W A. Clark Memorial Library , . UCLA, 1977; and Vickers's Introduction to Brian Vickers, ed., Occult and Scientific Mentalities in the Renaissance (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1984). pp. 1-57. 16. Vickers (note IS), p.6. He further elaborates his thesis in "Analogy versus Identity: the Rejection of Occult Symbolism, 1580-16801', op. cit., pp.95- 165. 17. Cf. also Keith Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic: Studies in Popular Beliefs in 16th- and 17th-Century England, London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson. 1972. reDr. Pennuin University Pa~erbacks. 1973. This monograph makes exte.nslve use o f the methods and achi&ements of cultural anthropology (Malinowski, Evans-Pritchard, etc.); cf. furthermore Marcel Mauss, "Esquisse d'une thkorie gbnknerale de la magle" in Sociologie e t anthropologie, 2 vols. Paris, 1960; G. Kippenberg und Brigitte Luchesi, eds, Magie: Die sozialwissenschaftliche Kontroverse iiber das Verstehen fremden Denkens, Frankfurt, 1978; Leander Petzold, ed., Magie und Religion: Beitrage zu einer Theorie der Magie, Darmstadt: WB, 1978. 18. Versluis, The Philosophy of Magic, Boston and London: Arkana, 1986. 19. On the spiritual significance of alchemy see e.g. S. L. McGregor Mathers, Astral Projection, Ritual Magic and Alchemy, London: Spearman, 1971; S. Klossowsky d e Rola, Alchemy: The Secret Art, New York: Avon, 1973; Frank A. Wilson, Alchemy a s a Way of Life, London: Daniel, 1976; Mircea Eliade, The Forge and the Crucible: The Origins and Structure of Alchemy, 2nd edn, Chicago: Chicago UP, 1978. 20. See Sidney, ed. C. Churton Collins (Oxford: Clarendon, 1907, repr. 196 I), p.9. 21. See Gombrich, Symbolic Images: Studies in Renaissance Iconology, 1948-1972.Chicago: Chicago UP, 1985; esp. "lcones Symbolicae 22. Cf. Bernard Weinberg, A History of Literary Criticism in the Italian Renaissance (Chicago: Chicago UP, 1961), Vol.11, pp.772-5. Although not referring to the figure of the magus (implicit in Patrizi's work), he demonstrates the mechanism of Patrizi's logic. For Patrizi cf. also Tibor Klaniczay, A manierizmus, Budapest: Gondolat, 1975, transl. into German as Renaissance und Manierismus: Zum Verhaltnis von Gelsellschaftsstruktur, Poetlk und Stil, Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1977.

A n

...".

23. See Angus Fletcher, Allegory: The Theory of a Symbolic Mode (Ithaca and London: Cornell UP. 1964. reDr. 1986). Ch.1V: "Allenorical causation: Magic and Ritual ~ o r h s " , ip.18i-220. Fletcher's o p i n i i runs counter to traditional definitions of allegory, which describe i t as didactic and definitely non-mystical; his evidence justifies his thesis, however. 24. For the Faustus myth (so vast as to be better skirted here) see, bibliographies, P. M. Palmer and R. P. More, besides the various The Sources of the Faust Tradition, New York, 1936, and esp. E. M. Butler, The Fortunes of Faust [1952], Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1979.

&

1985 -[exhibition essays],

25.

See Maurice Tuchman, The Spiritual i n Art: Abstract Painting 1890Los Angeles: County Museum of Art, 1986.

26. Maritain, Creative Intuition i n Art and Poetry (New York: Pantheon, 19531, p.232. Maritain does not favour magic entering into the realm of poetry; he does not rule out the encounter of the two either, though considering i t as a danger greatly amplified by the prevalence of rationalism in the modern world, cf. also p.233. 27. Cf. e.g. Alvin Kernan, The Playwright as Magician: Shakespeare's Image of the Poet in the English Public Theater, New Haven: Yale UP, 1979: Adrian L. Montrose. "The Pur~ose of Plavinn: Reflections on a ~hakes~earean n t h r o ~ o l o Helios ,7 (1980), 51-74- (with special reference ~ ~~'~ to The Tempest); and generally the rapidly growing New Historicist criticism.

VICTIMS O F THEIR OWN CONTENDING PASSIONS: UNEXPECTED DEATH I N ADOLPHE, NANHOE, A N D WUTHERING HEIGHTS Terence Dawson (University of Singapore) Critics have long argued about the precise definition of a literary theme. If, as many would contend, a theme describes the main subject o f a given work, then the unexpected death of one o f the main characters might not at first appear to be a theme; appropriate.' perhaps the word motif would be more This But i f "lovers' meetings and partings at dawn" may be seen

as a theme, then so too can the manner i n which a character dies2 the romantic period. Each ends with the death of a death: Adolphe

essay examines the deaths o f three characters in very different works of (18161, by Benjamin Constant, ends with the death of 611dnore; Sir Walter Scott's lvanhoe (1819) ends with Bois-Guilbert; and Wuthering Heights (1847), by Emily Bronte. ends with the death of M r Heathcliff. I n each case, the death is crucial t o the novel's resolution, is unexpected, and is the consequence o f a violent inner conflict. M y premises are unusual t o the extent that criticism often assumes that the characters o f a narrative may be seen as individuals, each existing in his or her own right. In contrast, I want to argue that klldnore, Bois-Guilbert, and M r an aspect of the personality of one o f the other Heathcliff represent

characters in the novels in which they respectively feature.

I call the

latter figure the axial character, by which I mean to imply that all the other characters in the novel are directly related t o this character's concerns. The axial character is not necessarily either the hero or heroine By examining these works from such an angle, of the novel in question.

I hope to demonstrate that the deaths with which they end are so interlinked with their main subject that they deserve to be considered as a theme i n the fullest sense, and not just as a motif. Novels invariably novels with only trace an evolution in the axial character. In two or three main actors, the hero and the axial In such

character are usually identical.

But where there are several protagonists,

the hero is not always the character most changed by the events. a dilemma facing the axial character.

cases, I shall argue, the hero's experiences can be shown to correspond to This implies that the novel reveals

t w o fundamentally d i f f e r e n t 'levels'

of fictional representation;

in o t h e r

words, t h a t t h e relation b e t w e e n d i f f e r e n t p a r t s of a n a r r a t i v e i s essen~ tially p ~ y c h o l o ~ i c a l . T h e axial c h a r a c t e r m a y thus b e defined a s t h e c h a r a c t e r whose decisions and a c t i o n s s h a p e t h e narrative, and t h e main plot of a novel, a s a symbolic representation of t h e d i l e m m a facing t h e axial c h a r a c t e r in t h e opening chapters. In Adolphe, t h e axial c h a r a c t e r is n a r r a t o r of t h e events. sufficiently appreciated.

a t least in o n e sense

t h e hero/

But t h e axial c h a r a c t e r s in lvanhoe and Wuthering My intention i s t o reveal t h e connection b e t w e e n

Heights a r e figures whose function in t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e novels h a s not been t h e n a r r a t i v e s t r u c t u r e s of t h e s e novels and t h e psychological d i l e m m a facing their axial c h a r a c t e r . "La Mort d a n s I ' l m e " In t h e v e r y first c h a p t e r of Adolphe, t h e hero-narrator t e l l s us t h a t "I'id6e d e la m o r t

[.. I

m'avait f r a p p e trBs jeune".4

When 6116nore t e l l s him s h e 158). She, too,

would p r e f e r not t o s e e him again, h e pleads with h e r not t o abandon him, for h e imagines s e p a r a t i o n from h e r a s d e a t h (pp.136, r e v e a l s t h a t s h e is a f r a i d t h a t h e will sooner o r l a t e r abandon her, and imagines t h i s a s leading t o h e r own d e a t h "<<De manikre ou d ' a u t r e , m e dit-elle enfin, vous p a r t i r e z b i e n t 6 t

I...]

J e n e s a i s quel pressentiment m e Adolphe's decision

dit, Adolphe, q u e je mourrai d a n s vos bras>>" (p.142). coincides with h e r father's

t o accompany h e r t o Poland s o t h a t h e c a n l e a v e h e r with h e r family d e a t h (p.167) and, although h e likens their relationship a t t h i s juncture t o t h e w i t h e r e d leaves on a n uprooted t r e e (p.168), h e c o n t i n u e s t o delay "l'instant fatal" of a c t u a l l y abandoning her (pp.192, 194). Finally, h e d e t e r m i n e s t o d o so; s h e simultaneously falls sick and dies, whereupon h e loses i n t e r e s t in life and also w a s t e s away. Although t h e 'anecdote' t h e dominant is ostensibly published only a f e w y e a r s a f t e r t h e D e a t h i s perhaps My a i m is t o show how ~ 1 1 6 n o r e ' s of a n a s p e c t of Adolphe's unconscious, e v e n t s i t records, both Adolphe and klle'nore a r e dead. t h e m e of ~ d o l p h e . ' d e a t h corresponds t o t h e 'death' facing him. It is not b e c a u s e Adolphe is a first-person n a r r a t i v e t h a t Adolphe m a y b e defined a s t h e axial c h a r a c t e r , b u t b e c a u s e t h e e v e n t s correspond t o his decisions. 6116nore i s n e v e r a n a g e n t ; she never initiates a

and t h a t t h e novel's s t r u c t u r e i s d e t e r m i n e d by t h e n a t u r e of t h e d i l e m m a

situation.

Even her decision t o return t o Poland a turning point in t h e action - is subject t o Adolphe agreeing t o accompany h e r ("elle n'irait e n Pologne q u e si je I'accompagnais", p.164). T h e e v e n t s a r e a t all t i m e s determined by his decisions. His urgent solicitations win Ellinore; his vacillation causes their equivalent unhappiness ("douleur"), and his decision t o break with her brings about t h e dhnouement. That t h e e v e n t s a r e

shaped by his decisions confirms t h a t h e is t h e novel's axial character. A t t h e outset of t h e c e n t r a l 'anecdote' Adolphe has never been in love before; h e has never known love a s "ce transport d e s sens, c e t t e ivresse involontaire, c e t oubli d e tous les intCrbts, d e tous les devoirs" (p.163). 6116nore is defined by h e r s t a t e m e n t "L'amour e'tait t o u t e m a vie" (p.198). S h e yields completely t o her love for him, abandoning everything s h e has in order t o b e with him. S h e thus personifies J definition & of love. S h e wakens him t o love. Her sole desire i s t h a t h e should continue t o love her. He would like to, but cannot. He c e a s e s t o love her - in t h e sense h e defines love - e v e n before h e has won h e r "toute entikre" (p.137). Adolphe is a love-story whose c e n t r a l c h a r a c t e r is unable t o love t h e woman t o whom h e a t t a c h e s himself. Given t h a t Adolphe's relationship with ~ 1 1 6 n o r e is seen throughout from his point of view, t h e novel c a n b e said t o show a n ambivalent challenge facing him. He must e i t h e r c e m e n t his relationship with her in order t o overcome social opposition t o their union (p.150) o r h e must f r e e himself from her in order t o begin his c a r e e r (p.172). T h e tragedy ensues because h e is unable t o d o either. In real life, such a dilemma would not imply t h e necessary d e a t h of both partners. T h a t i t should d o s o in this novel suggests t h a t their relationship is conditioned by psychological factors. Adolphe's initial infatuation with ~ l l e n o r e s t e m s from t h e sight of his friend's happiness in love. H e wants t o experience a similar happiness For him, however, "bonheur" results not from loving himself (p.117). someone else, but from being loved ("je veux e t r e aim6" p.119). He tells her: "J'ai pris I'habitude d e vous voir; vous avez laiss6 n a h r e e t s e former c e t t e douce habitude: qu'ai-je f a i t pour perdre c e t t e unique consolation I...] dois vous voir s'll faut q u e j e vive" (p. 131). T h e "douce je habitude" which h e s e e k s t o preserve has nothing in common with his own definition of love. Adolphe knows t h a t h e must leave E116nore if h e is t o s t a r t a c a r e e r ("entrer dans une carrikre. I...]commencer une vie active",

p.1621,

a n d y e t n o necessary reason i s given why h e should not s t a r t a T h e r e a d e r i s explicitly told t h a t s h e

c a r e e r with 6ll6nore a s his mistress. h e fell on hard t i m e s (p.119). Adolphe in a similar way.

won widespread r e s p e c t for t h e support s h e g a v e t h e c o m t e d e P*** when We c a n a s s u m e t h a t s h e would h a v e helped T h a t h e f e e l s s h e i s incompatible with his His need

s t a r t i n g a c a r e e r t e l l s us nothing about ~ l l d n o r e ; but it does tell us a g r e a t d e a l about t h e way h e 'sees' her.

("besoinn)t o

see a

woman f o r whom h e i s unable t o maintain love, his passivity, and his equation of leaving h e r and s t a r t i n g his professional life, all reveal t h e n a t u r e o f his i m a g e o f her: t h e a t t r i b u t e s of a mother. s e n s e of this word. Janet (1859-1947), Adolphe unwittingly invests ~ l l d n o r e with This d o e s n o t necessarily imply t h a t h e h a s

a fixation w i t h h i s o w n mother, nor d o e s i t signal regression in Freud's It m e r e l y indicates t h a t h e s u f f e r s from what P i e r r e the French psychologist, called "un sentiment

d'incomp16tude" and t h a t t h e resulting "besoin" which h e f e e l s is compensa6 t e d in h i s imagination by a mother-figure. Angered by his f a t h e r ' s P a r i s (p.1571, 'measures' t o h a v e ~ l l e ' n o r e expelled from This is t h e turning point He Adolphe abandons h i s country.

which l e a d s d i r e c t l y t o t h e tragedy. follows h e r t o Poland m e d i r e q u e I'kpoque

A f t e r s e t t l i n g briefly in Bohemia, h e

- her

country

w h e r e h e lives o n h e r e s t a t e . n'ktait pas e n c o r e passke,

i s n o longer a b l e t o begin a c a r e e r : d e I'activite'

"Si j e voulais reassaisir mon courage, I'image

d ' ~ l l 6 n o r e s'dlevait d e v a n t moi c o m m e un f a n t h e , e t m e repoussait d a n s

le nkant";
(pp.173-4).

h e f e e l s like "un a t h l e t e c h a r g i d e f e r s a u fond d'un cachot" B e t w e e n him a n d h i s o w n vocation s t a n d s k116nore a s a A s such, s h e r e p r e s e n t s t h e d e a t h of his o w n virility.

devouring Mother. t h e tragedy.

In o t h e r words, by following ~ l l k n o r eback t o Poland, Adolphe brings about It i s crucial t o note, however, t h a t kll6nore d o e s not want S h e f o r c e s Adolphe t o a c c e p t h e r 'sacrifice' 151). of t o b e c a s t a s a mother.

abandoning t h e s e c u r i t y s h e enjoys w i t h t h e c o m t e d e P***, and t o a c c e p t responsibility for her willingness t o d o s o (p.146-7, tates, (p.165). s h e insists t h a t h e i s responsible When h e hesif o r h e r increasing b i t t e r n e s s

In t h e l e t t e r which s h e writes, but which s h e l a t e r b e g s him ~ l l d n o r eis not trying t o e v a d e h e r o w n responsibility. she even accepts S h e assumes c o m p l e t e

never t o open, s h e indicates t h a t i t is u p t o him "who d o e s not love her", t o l e a v e h e r (p.205). S h e a c c e p t s t h e a n x i e t y which his vacillation c a u s e s her; t h a t t h e i r relationship will e n d with h e r death.

responsibility for her feelings. S h e wants Adolphe t o d o t h e same, for only by doing s o could h e respond t o her a s a partner. It has long been recognized t h a t ~ l l d n o r eis a n ambivalent character, but t h e distinction between ~ l l d n o r ea s s h e is and ~ l l d n o r ea s Adolphe sees her -has not always been insisted on. She seeks recognition and a c c e p t a n c e by Adolphe a s a lover, a s his mistress, whereas he seeks a relationship wlth someone on whom h e c a n lean (p.136). If o n e c a n describe ~ 1 1 6 n o r e in t h e l a t t e r capacity as a mother-figure, then o n e requires a t e r m t o describe ~ 1 1 6 n o r e"as s h e isn. T h e most striking f e a t u r e about t h e t w o main c h a r a c t e r s is t h e unusual number of a t t r i b u t e s they share. Adolphe describes himself a s wanting only t o enjoy his "natural and impulsive feelings" ("impressions primitives e t fougueuses" p. 110); a s constantly day-dreaming (p. 1 12); a s and yet, perhaps consequently, a s o f t e n morose and taciturn (p.113); inclined t o let his tongue run away with itself (p.114). ~ l l 6 n o r e has identical qualities: souvent elle i t a i t rgveuse e t taciturne; quelquefois elle parlait a v e c impdtuositi. I...]e l l e n e restait jamais parfaitement calme. Mais, par c e l a m&me, il y avait dans s a manikre quelque chose d e fougueux e t (p.121). d'inattendu qui la rendait plus piquante

...

Adolphe's t e r r o r of forming new ties (p. 11 I ) anticipates 6116nore's reiuct a n c e t o become involved with him (p.134) and, from t h e moment they become lovers, t h e dilemma facing them is identical. F o r Adolphe, staying with 6116nore implies a social and professional d e a t h (pp.140, 144, 154, 160-1, 162, 173-4, etc.); leaving her would mean personal and emotional indeed, when she dies, h e quite literally cannot live without her. death In similar fashion, 6116norets liaison with Adolphe implies h e r own social death; being abandoned by him would, and does, entail her physical death. T h e events, however, a r e seen throughout from his point of view, and Adolphe idealizes her: " J e la considdrais c o m m e une c r e a t u r e c6leste. Mon amour tenait du cuite" (p.137). T h a t i ~ ~ d n o r e 'ast t r i b u t e s correspond so closely t o key a s p e c t s of Adolphe's character, and t h a t t h e relationship is described from hls point of view, suggests t h a t s h e represents an aspect o f his personality. In h e r capacity a s a potential partner, s h e corresponds t o t h e anima a s defined by Jung: t h e figure of a woman, in a man's d r e a m s and waking fantasies, which represents his unconscious image of women. 7

It is with ~ l l 6 n o r e in her capacity as anima that Adolphe falls in

love when he meets her quickly evaporates. love. 'project'

for

the

first

time.

And yet,

although she

continues to personify his definition of

love, his infatuation with her

I t is ~lle'noreas a potential partner whom he cannot He cannot accept her as she is.

And the reason would seem to be because he has a tendency to maternal attributes onto her. before they consummate their affair. Adolphe can only

Thus, ~116nore as anima is 'dead' Her premonition that 'death'

she will die in his arms is a reflection of the

she has already undergone in his unconscious.

relate to a woman whom he invests with maternal attributes. I f Adolphe's inability to reciprocate kl~dnore's love and his inability to establish himself in a profession are related, and are directly responsible for the deaths of the two main characters, then the opposite must also be true. Had he been able to love ~lldnore,he would also have been able to begin a career

in which case, they both would have lived.

Thus

Adolphe's inability to maintain his love for Ellenore is crucial, for the narrative traces an ambivalent challenge facing him. with ~ l l 6 n o r eas anina; her (i.e. On the one hand, i f he is to end his emotional isolation, he must cement his relationship on the other, i f he is to start a career

which

he sees as the beginning of "une vie active" (p.172) - then he must leave as mother-figure). This paradox can only be resolved by distinas guishing between the 'two' ~lle'nores: ~lle'noreas she is, and ~ l l ~ n o r e he sees her. I t is Adolphe's inability to relate to ~ l l d n o r e anima which as leads to both her death and his. Death thus serves as a link between the novel's structure and the dilemma facing the axial character. The editor's without 'frame' The novel ends when ~ l l d n o r elearns She dies of grief. that Adolphe intends to return to France without her.

implies that Adolphe dies because he cannot live Adolphe has an intima-

her, but the narrative tells us that he dies simply because he p.1391, but even as he does so, he

as cannot respond to ~116nore a potential partner. tion of love ("Charme de I'amour la maftresse qu'il pr6voit qu'il a vient
...'I,

cannot believe i n his own commitment ("Malheur a qui, dans les bras de d'obtenir, conserve une funeste prescience, et 153). inability ~lldnore's death anima to respond to pourra s'en man's ddtacher ! ", pp. 137, life.8 Adolphe's

corresponds to the death of his anima (= soul, represents psychic

h),the and

k ~ ~ k n o r signals that e

a vital aspect of his inner world cannot operate

because o f his need for the nurturing figure o f a Mother. 'anecdote' first two chapters.

The central

is a dramatisation of the dilemma facing Adolphe i n the novel's

I1

Death o f the Shadow

lvanhoe is a startlingly different kind of fiction from Adolphe, and yet no less characteristic o f the romantic imagination. I t is usually considered In none o f the three and yet he has from the title hero's polnt o f view, but there are a great many reasons for questioning whether he is the central character. great scenes is his function immediately clear. is on his way to be there. Torquilstone. When the novel opens, he

to a tournament at Ashy-de-la-Zouche,

neither horse nor armour, and no explanation is given of why he wishes

He neither instigates, nor is he an actor in, the siege o f

Although he plays an important part in the outcome of the Rois-Guilbert

trial by combat at Templestowe, he does not bring i t about: feature o f the novel, dies unscathed by his lance.g the Templar, latter's death. learns almost

the Knight Templar whose violent passions are perhaps the most striking Although the plot revolves around their rivalry, no reason is given why lvanhoe so dislikes nor is there any indication o f what he achieves by the O f what lvanhoe feels, and what motivates him, the reader nothing. If novels invariably trace a transformative

experience, one notes that the title-hero is unchanged by the events o f Scott's novel. There is perhaps no better clue to the subject o f a novel than a comparison of its opening with i t s ending. A t the outset, lvanhoe has been at the end, And yet, i f one asks what disinherited i n order to keep him away from Rowena (p.196); he regains his father's favour and marries her. for whom he has struggled; It is that

is effected i n the closing pages, i t is not that lvanhoe has won the bride nor that he has finally defeated the Templar. the various offending elements i n Norman rule have been The two races have become one: 'changed' the English (p.515).

defeated, and that the Saxons hostile to the Norman yoke have accepted the existent order. Moreover, the character who is most by the events is not A t the outset, Cedric is A t the end, he accepts

Ivanhoe, but his father, Cedric o f Rotherwood. violently opposed to any links with the Normans. the existing reality. Cedric,

My aim is to reveal that the axial character is

and to demonstrate that the rivalry between Ivanhoe and Rois-

Guilbert represents a conflict between two aspects of Cedric's unconscious personality. The Knight Templar's death, I argue, represents the death of i t paves the way for him t o renounce his unrealistic Cedric's alter-ego;

ambitions o f restoring a Saxon monarchy. The most obvious rivalry in the novel is between lvanhoe and RoisGuilbert, who is determined t o avenge the defeat he suffered at the the tournament at Saint John of Acre (pp.54-5). lvanhoe has assimilated the

best o f Norman practices, and thus represents the desired union - i.e. Bois-Guilbert represents, not the Normans, but the Templars. notion of Englishness and the Knights Templar. the three great scenes confirm this. of for the tournament at Ashby (p.137). A t Torquilstone, are "Desdichado"

emergence o f an English, as opposed t o either Saxon or Norman, nation. The effective opposition, then, is not between Saxons and Normans, but between a The hurrahs at each of and "For the Temple" The battle cries on the second day

the battle cries on the outside are "St George The final major scene of the novel opposes As the "Long L i f e to Richard with the With their

merry England" and, on the inside, for the three leaders, amongst

whom is the Templar (p.312). Templars retreat,

"the royal standard of England" and "the Temple banner" (p.508). the shout is raised: Lion's Heart, and down with the usurping Ten~plars!" (p.511). Saxon and Norman to disappear completely. I f the greatest change effected by the no;el nation, i t is worth looking closely at their relation. is suggested by common. Both men are irascible.

preceptory disbanded, the way is paved for the hostile distinction between concerns Cedric, and The nature o f this they have in Only a

Bois-Guilbert personifies hostility to the union of the two races i n one the startling number of attributes that fierce, jealous,

Prior Aymer, speaking to the Templar, and irritable'' (p.26).

describes Cedric as "proud,

few pages later, on being informed that the two Normans are at his gate requesting hospitality, Cedric muses: "Bois-Guilbert! That name has been spread wide for both good and evil. They say he is valiant as the bravest of his order; but stained with their usual vices - pride, arrogance, cruelty and voluptuousness - a hardhearted man, who knows neither fear of earth nor awe o f heaven." (p.38 ) The parallel is suggestive. One notes, moreover, that Bois-Guilbert's

qualities are an extreme version o f Cedric's.

The Saxon's valour is a kind

of recklessness, as i n his assault on Torquilstone without the protection of

armour (p.333);

t h e Templar's valour stems from an overbearing confi-

dense in his own military skill (pp.261, 336). Cedric's treatment of Gurth and Fangs is t h e result of a hasty temper rather than a native tendency t o cruelty; although not naturally "hard, selfish, and relentless". BoisGuilbert admits t o having become so since being spurned by Adelaide d e Montemare (p.253). Cedric's voluptuousness extends only t o a well-laden table; whereas Bois-Guilbert, in spite of having taken vows of chastity. has a sensual love of women. Cedric's hard-heartedness towards his son is unnatural; Bois-Guilbert's hard-heartedness towards Rebecca is both callous and brutal. But the most significant parallel is that both men dream of unreal future states. Cedric believes in the possibility of a restored Saxon dynasty. Bois-Guilbert dreams of establishing an order of Templars with "wider views" than those of its founders (p.255). Cedric's dominating ambition is t o see his ward, Rowena, married to Athelstane, thus joining the two strongest claimants t o a Saxon monarchy: "The restoration of the independence of his r a c e was the idol of his heart, t o which he had It is for this reason that he impugns Norman rule. account of Rowena's feelings: willingly sacrificed domestic happiness and the interests of his son" (p.195). His ambitions take no

It was in vain that he attempted t o dazzle her with the prospect of a visionary throne. Rowena, who possessed strong sense, neither considered his plan practicable nor a s desirable, s o f a r a s she was concerned, could it have been achieved. (p.197) Bois-Guilbert joined t h e Templars a f t e r being disappointed in love, and

immediately became a leader of those who impugned t h e authority invested in i t s high officers (p.395). He tries t o dazzle Rebecca with a similar prospect, which she also derides: "Thou shalt be a queen, Rebecca: on Mount Carmel shall we pitch t h e throne which my valour will gain for you, and I will exchange my ' long-desired batoon for a sceptre ! "A dream," said Rebecca - "an empty vision of the night, which were it a waking reality, a f f e c t s me not." (p.442) The linguistic parallel between these two passages suggests that t h e manic intensity of Cedric's ambitions for Rowena corresponds t o Bois-Guilbert's daemonic love for Rebecca. Cedric's inner conflict finds i t s counterpart

in t h e Templar. Such parallels a r e t o o close t o b e fortuitous. Given t h a t t h e novel One notes spans a c h a n g e of a t t i t u d e by t h e Saxon leader, they suggest t h a t BoisGuilbert r e p r e s e n t s a n e x t r e m e a s p e c t of Cedric's personality. Templar. T h e relation b e t w e e n them t h a t C e d r i c is u n a w a r e t h a t h e has s o many qualities in c o m m o n with t h e t h u s corresponds t o t h e relation which Jung distinguished b e t w e e n t h e e g o a n d t h e dream-figure which h e called t h e shadow a n d which personifies "the 'negative' s i d e of t h e personality, t h e s u m of all t h o s e unpleasant qualities w e like t o hide".1 shadow i s not necessarily evil, just a s t h e T e m p l a r is not evil. and d o e s not w a n t t o see, in him- o r herself. T h e plot is s e t in motion when lvanhoe and Bois-Guilbert m e e t a t Rotherwood. lvanhoe recognizes his father, but C e d r i c d o e s not recognize If Ivanhoe personifies t h e union his son, who i s disguised a s a palmer. The It personi-

fies a s p e c t s of a n individual's personality which h e o r s h e d o e s not see,

of Saxon and Norman qualities, and it is this which i s brought about a t t h e e n d of t h e novel, t h e n Cedric's inability t o recognize him symbolizes t h e Saxon leader's inability t o a c c e p t t h e union of t h e t w o races. t h u s r e p r e s e n t s a n a s p e c t of his f a t h e r ' s shadow personality) natural both affection wearing which are responsible 'unconscious' lvanhoe One his personality. both

n o t e s t h a t i t is Cedric's pride, irascibility, a n d ambitions (= a s p e c t s of his for his repressing united f o r his son, a n d his d e s i r e for a t h e d r e s s of a religious order. kingdom.

Although both Ivanhoe a n d Bois-Guilbert a r e military men, a t Rotherwood are Such ambivalence suggests t h a t representation. izes a conflict personality. T h e ending of t h e novel s c a r c e l y requires any comment. Ivanhoe a r r i v e s just in t i m e t o d e f e n d R e b e c c a from being burned a s a witch. A f t e r a hard ride, and still suffering f r o m his wound, h e i s in n o f i t s t a t e t o joust. H e i s n e i t h e r responsible f o r t h e d e a t h of Bois-Guilbert, nor T h e T e m p l a r dies, "a victim t o t h e d o e s h e a c h i e v e anything by it. Cedric's ambitions. t h e i r rivalry belongs t o a n essentially symbolic level of This is c o r r o b o r a t e d by their e n c o u n t e r a t a tournament, Vis-a-vis Cedric, t h e i r rivalry symboland 'dark' a s p e c t s of his unconscious between 'light'

a symbolic conflict p a r excellence.

violence of his o w n contending passions" (p.5061, which signals t h e e n d of

Thus, although lvanhoe may be t h e hero, C e d r i c i s t h e novel's axial character. T h e e v e n t s d o not t r a c e a son's difficult relationship with his father; t h e y o f f e r a symbolic representation of a father's difficulty in submitting t o something which his 'son' symbolizes. T h e r e i s n o reason why t h e motif o f dispossession must r e f e r to t h e disinherited party; it c a n also b e seen from t h e o t h e r point of view. C e d r i c h a s disinherited his son. Ivanhoe personifies a repressed quality ('Englishness') which Cedric must acknowledge if h e , i s t o f r e e himself from a n a t t a c h m e n t t o a redundant o r d e r - i.e. a Saxon nation. Bois-Guilbert personifies all those tendencies in Cedric's personality which h e must 'overcome' if h e i s t o d o this. It is neither Ivanhoe nor Providence which kills t h e Templar. Bois-Guilbert's d e a t h is a symbolic anticipation of Cedric's a c c e p t a n c e of a reality which, t h e existent reality of t h e world in which h e lives because i t i s synthetic, i s also m o r e dynamic than e i t h e r a Saxon o r a Norman nation. This interpretation not only provides a link between t h e major change spanned by t h e n a r r a t i v e e v e n t s a n d t h e novel's conflict, but it also suggests t h a t lvanhoe i s a much m o r e important novel than is usually thought. A c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of G o t h i c and R o m a n t i c fiction i s f o r t h e h e r o o r heroine t o b e drawn towards a n unreal world of archetypal characters. In Ivanhoe, t h e opposite occurs. C e d r i c is not t e m p t e d t o t r y t o marry Rowena himself; consequently, Ivanhoe (= his b e t t e r nature) i s not t e m p t e d t o want R e b e c c a f o r himself. Rut Cedric's ambitions f o r Rowena a n unacknowledged a r e nonetheless manic, and t h e r e i s a dark side egocentricity - t o even a n altruistic ambition. Bois-Guilbert's daemonic love f o r R e b e c c a - surely t h e most vivid e l e m e n t in t h e novel - symboli z e s t h e unreal n a t u r e of Cedric's 'romantic' plans for a restored Saxon dynasty. Ivanhoe's rejection of R e b e c c a thus r e f l e c t s t h e b e t t e r s i d e of t h e axial c h a r a c t e r ' s personality: Cedric's refusal t o b e drawn into t h e world of archetypal fantasies, n o m a t t e r how powerful and appealing t h e s e might be. Thus, if t h e tendency t o b e drawn towards t h e symbolic (i.e. t h e archetypal) m a y b e described a s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of t h e romantic imagination, lvanhoe m a y be called a n 'anti-romantic' novel.'' Although lvanhoe i s o n e of t h e m o s t stylized of r o m a n t i c heroes, h e functions a s a promoter of realism. Paradoxical though i t might seem, Ivanhoe i s a romance whlch refuses to believe in romance.

11 1

Death o f the Father

The deaths o f Cathy and M r Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights are at once the most impressive and the most extraordinary in romantic fiction. novel opens w i t h a date, The 1801, when M r Heathcliff is the undisputed throats. The

master o f both Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange, while Hareton and the second-generation Catherine are at each other's antepenultimate chapter also begins with a date: that events coincides with Catherine making her 1802. The reader learns the initial and Hareton

M r Heathcliff's unexpected death a few months after peace with

acknowledging him as her "cousin."12 lie at the heart o f this novel.

I shall argue that the simultaneity

o f these two otherwise separate events is a key to the two deaths which Given that Wuthering Heights ends with Catherine's engagement to Hareton, i t is worth looking closely at the way i n which she is introduced. In November 1801, she is living amongst three hostile men in a house which appears t o be hateful t o her. on Lockwood's consider the cause for this. Critics have frequently commented they all too rarely as the Catherine is described ineptitude i n the opening scenes; Although

"missis," she simply stares at him "in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingl y embarrassing and disagreeable" (p.8). a hostess. t o enter into a normal social interaction. She refuses to play the part of She refuses She is gratuitously offensive to She rejects any connection with her surroundings.

both Lockwood and Hareton, and she snaps at her father-in-law. The most striking feature o f chapters I 1 and 111 is that the attributes of each o f the three male residents o f Wuthering Heights correspond to an aspect o f Catherine's "perfect misanthropist's misanthropist. Catherine. personality. The house itself is defined as a Catherine has become a perfect so is (p.7), is a model of Heaven'' (p.1);

I t s three male residents are grim and taciturn; so too is Catherine.

Joseph, aptly described as "vinegar-faced"

"peevish displeasure" (p.2); strike her; novel begins: to thrash her; (p.298).

Although a gentleman,

M r Heathcliff is a savage bully who w i l l snap at Catherine and even Zillah says o f Catherine, just before the events with which the "She'll snap at the master himself, and as good as dares him and the more hurt she gets, the more venemous she grows" almost haughty'' bearing; The

Hareton is characterized by his "free,

Catherine is ''as chill as an icicle, and as high as a princess" (p.296).

three male residents thus 'mirror' primary aspects of Catherine's character.

M r Heathcliff's and Hareton's misanthropy (pp.1, interest in Lockwood (p.8). 28-29).

6, 9) reflect her lack of

Hareton's absence o f any refinement reflects

her scorn of social conventions such as hospitality and domesticity (pp.9, Joseph's pharisaism reflects her self-righteous contempt for all around her (p.297). Lockwood is captivated by "the pretty girl-widow" whom he sees at Wuthering Heights, and seeks to find out more about her from Nelly. Although hlrs Dean chooses to begin her story from the very beginning, all of i t

including the earliest events -

is

an explanation of how

Catherine came t o be in the horrendous circumstances in which Lockwood discovers her. engagement. The novel begins with a description of a household whose And the second half explains how she came t o be imprisoned Apart three male inmates reflect aspects o f her personality, and ends with her at Wuthering Heights. Catherine grows up in total isolation at Thrushcross Grange. from the Grange servants, her father is the only man whom she knows and, apart from Nelly Dean, her nurse, he is her only teacher and companion. When she is thirteen

i.e.

at puberty

he leaves her for the

first time.

She is immediately drawn towards Wuthering Heights, where She is happy t o have him show her "the mysteries of but as soon as she learns that he is her cousin, She rudely rebuffs him;

she meets Hareton.

the Fairy cave" (p.1971,

she behaves like a spoiled brat (pp.194-5, 222). father.

she cannot bear the thought that she is related to someone so unlike her "'Papa is gone t o fetch my cousin from London she tells him,

my cousin is a

gentleman's son,"' Edgar:

and returns home i n a sulk (p.195).

Linton is "an ailing, peevish creature" (p.182) who looks remarkably like he "might have been taken for [Edgar's] younger brother, so strong He also possesses the qualities of intellecShe is drawn cousin'' (p.199). In other words, she was the resemblance" (p.200).

tual capability which Catherine associates with her father. t o him because he is her "real cousin.

rejects Hareton, her maternal cousin, in favour o f Lindon, her paternal Catherine can only value what she can associate with her father. Edgar is always uppermost in her mind (p.273). her thoughts, some slight (p.242). coaxing" dominate Linton The more he dominates someone like her father the more she seeks a relationship in which she can "with

i.e.

Edgar's responsibility for Catherine's preference is implied by his

words t o Nelly: "hard though i t b e t o crush h e r buoyant spirit, I must persevere in making her s a d while I live" (p.257). H e does not m e a n to; h e i s simply unconscious of t h e d a m a g e h e h a s done h e r by bringing her up in c o m p l e t e isolation. In t h e m a t i c and psychological terms, Catherine's imprisonment s t e m s from her o v e r - a t t a c h m e n t t o her father. Catherine's history t r a c e s t h e consequences of her "fantastic preference" for Linton r a t h e r than Hareton (cf. p.100). Her s e c r e t relationship with him d r a w s h e r increasingly frequently towards Wuthering Heights until s h e i s brutally imprisoned by Mr Heathcliff, in order t o f o r c e her t o m a r r y Linton, his son. Mr Heathcliff tells her: "I shall b e your f a t h e r tomorrow - all t h e f a t h e r you'll h a v e in a f e w daysn (p.271). Immediately a f t e r Edgar Linton's funeral, "that devil Heathcliff" c o m e s t o collect h e r from Thrushcross Grange: "'I'm c o m e t o f e t c h you home'", h e tells her, "'and I hope you'll b e a dutiful daughter'" (pp.286, 287). He i s - a s Nelly Dean phrases i t

"her new father'' (p.291, cf. p.271).

C a t h e r i n e finds She

herself alone in a n alien masculine house, feeling "like death" (p.294). f e m a l e qualities (p.299). This i s h e r situation in 1801.

has lost c o n t a c t with h e r own home, and c a n n o longer manifest ordinary And t h a t t h e t h r e e m a l e residents of Wuthering Heights r e f l e c t a s p e c t s of her own personality suggests t h a t t h e relation b e t w e e n h e r and i t s ''surly indigenae" is essentially psychological. T h e Mr Heathcliff encountered in t h e opening c h a p t e r s is a n archetypal tyrannical father. It i s n o coincidence t h a t Hareton also acknowledges him a s his f a t h e r cf. p.321). T h e novel's

his "devil Daddy" (p.109,

extraordinary s y m m e t r i e s thus pertain t o t h e second-

generation Catherine. S h e i s f a c e d by a "choice" between t w o cousins: Linton, who looks like h e r father, and Hareton, who "is a t t a c h e d [ t o Mr Heathcliff] by t i e s stronger than reason could break" (p.321). Her c h o i c e implies a choice b e t w e e n t w o fathers: Mr Linton, a benign father, and Mr Heathcliff, who is also a father-figure. A t t h e o u t s e t of t h e novel, Catherine's 'benign' f a t h e r i s dead, and both s h e and t h e l e g i t i m a t e owner of Wuthering Heights a r e dominated by a devilish father-figure. Thus, somewhat surprisingly, o n e notes t h a t Catherine's history d o e s not require t h e e v e n t s of t h e first-generation t o explain it. T h e second half of t h e novel o f f e r s a q u i t e sufficient explanation of Catherine's situation in 1801. Such a reading implies t h a t t h e first-generation e v e n t s should b e seen in relation t o those in t h e second-generation, and not - a s

their chronology suggests culminates Catherine. in Cathy's

vice versa. barely

The first part of Nelly's story two hours after giving birth to

death,

Given that Catherine is "a puny, seven months' child" (p.164).

the novel's central scenes (those between M r Heathcliff's return to the vicinity of Gimmerton i n September 1783, and Cathy's death on the night of 19th-20th March, 1784) correspond t o Catherine's gestation. They provide a 'prehistory' of Catherine's condition: of to her predicament. Wuthering One remembers that "1784" which they symbolize Catherine's Catherine is at Wuthering

dilemma throughout the winter o f 1801 - her inability to see her way out Heights while Nelly tells Lockwood her story. Heights in Cathy's yearning to return t o her death,

leads inevitably

symbolizes Catherine's irrational resignation t o remaining there i n "18011802.11~~ This suggestion is corroborated by the simultaneity o f the events which bring the novel to a close. account o f Catherine's ("I can't endure you! Lockwood thereupon Heights for (p.302). As Nelly's story finishes with Zillah's gratuitously offensive behaviour towards Hareton

I'll go upstairs again, i f you come near me" p.296).

decides t o return south. taking the his leave, room, Mr While visiting Wuthering he overhears Catherine Heathcliff enters and

the purpose o f her cousin

tormenting Hareton until the latter can bear i t no longer and slaps her leaves comments on Hareton's resemblance t o Cathy (3.303). tion with Hareton coincided with Mr Thus, Heathcliff In September 1802, seeing Catherine's

while holidaying i n the north, Lockwood learns that Catherine's reconciliaresemblance t o Cathy (pp.320-322). as soon as Catherine stops

whining about her father and begins t o adopt an independence similar t o that which motivated her mother, M r Heathcliff loses his grip on reality and wastes away.
It

His death frees her not only t o repossess her home, but the events in the 'first generation'

also t o marry Hareton. is generally assumed that determine those i n the 'second generation.' by Emily Bronte Rut the structure given us

as opposed t o that reconstructed by critics according

t o i t s chronology - suggests that Catherine is the novel's axial character; that the 'main plot' concerns her unconscious attempt t o free herself of a tyrannical father. She frees herself from the degradation she suffers at M r Heathcliff's hands only when, recognizing that she is "stalled" (i.e. has no other course open t o her), she acknowledges Hareton as her cousin.

Mr Heathcliff thereupon loses his hold on her, and dies. In o t h e r words, a s soon a s Catherine recovers something of her mother's archetypal vitality, she f r e e s herself from a psychological imprisonment by a tyrannical father. T h e coincidence of t h e beginning of Mr Heathcliff's s t r a n g e behaviour and Catherine's change of a t t i t u d e towards Hareton implies t h a t these e v e n t s a r e related. It suggests t h a t t h e t w o men a r e personifications of different a s p e c t s of Catherine's unconscious personality. Hareton corresponds t o Jung's definition of t h e animus, t h e image of a man in a woman's dreams and waking fantasies which personifies her notions about men and masculine 'spirit.'14 O n e r e m e m b e r s t h a t Wuthering Heights is identified with Hareton throughout t h e novel: his n a m e is carved above i t s door. T h e i n m a t e s of Wuthering Heights reflect different a s p e c t s of Catherine's animus. Paradoxically, s h e is 'imprisoned' t h e r e only s o long a s s h e r e j e c t s any relationship with Hareton, whose ignorance symbolizes h e r ignorance of t h e world of men. S h e s e e k s t o e d u c a t e him, because education is t h e highest value s h e has inherited from her father. She does not understand t h a t Hareton's worth & his rough good nature. It is not for h e r t o seek t o change him according t o notions derived from her father, but t o respond t o him a s h e is. For only by doing s o could she respect t h a t p a r t of her own uncultivated n a t u r e which is no less feminine for not being associated with conventional notions of femininity. Only by accepting Hareton a s h e is could s h e a c c e p t herself a s s h e is. Instead, s h e s e e k s t o dominate him, just a s Cathy, her mother, thought t h a t Heathcliff would obey her in everything. When s h e a c c e p t s Hareton a s her cousin, i t is because s h e has c o m e t o accept him a s an extension of her own personality. O n e notes t h a t this is how C a t h y thought of Heathcliff ("I 9 Heathcliff"). T h e r e a r e good reasons, then, for supposing t h a t t h e engagement with which t h e novel e n d s is "contrary''

t h e last words given t o them in t h e novel (p.307) - for i t r e p e a t s

t h e t r a g i c p a t t e r n evident in t h e first-generation events. Thus C a t h e r i n e has not resolved t h e dilemma facing h e r in t h e opening chapters. S h e has merely obtained a respite from t h e "degrading oppression" she suffers a t Mr Heathcliff's hands. T h e novel's ending is considerably more ambivalent than t h a t of Ivanhoe. T h e engagement contains t h e seeds of f u t u r e discord, with a suggestion t h a t t h e o u t c o m e will b e similar t o t h a t in t h e first-generation - i.e. t h e d e a t h of t h e heroine.

My main intention has been to illustrate that the deaths of ~lle'nore, Bois-Guilbert, and Mr Heathcliff require consideration of their psychological implications. to 6lle'nore; The analyses imply that each of the three novels we t o acknowledge Hareton) and In each have discussed begins with a challenge facing its axial character (to relate t o overcome Bois-Guilbert; continues with a symbolic dramatisation of the resulting dilemma. aspect of the axial character's personality.

case, the death with which the novel ends represents the death of an The 'contending passions' from which Cll&ore, ively. Bois-Guilbert, and Mr Heathcliff die are directly

related to a change of attitude by Adolphe, Cedric, and Catherine respectFor this reason, from such a psychological perspective, death has It may signal the axial character's failure to many possible meanings.

integrate a psychic element, as in Adolphe, or the successful overcoming of a negative tendency in the axial character's personality, as in lvanhoe or Wuthering Heights. at a possible The latter achievement can be either lasting, as From these readings, it is evident that the in Ivanhoe, or only tentative, as in Wuthering Heights, whose ending hints

future

tragedy.

unexpected deaths which bring about their different resolutions are an integral part of each novel's main concern, and in this sense, may be regarded as a major theme of each work. 1. For a discussion of this problem, see Holger Klein, "Autumn Poems: Reflections on Theme as 'Tertium Comparationis"', in Proceedings of the Xlth lCLA Congress, Paris 1985 (forthcoming). 2. Arthur Hatto, Eos: An Enquiry into the Theme of Lovers' Meetings and Partings at Dawn in Poetry, The Hague: Mouton, 1965. 3. Thus although the axial character may be defined as the character from whose point of view the narrative events are seen, my definition does not fit with the point of view theories of either Genette, Ra!, or Lanser. Nonetheless, Susan Lanser's recognition that the sex of a narrator is an i m ~ o r t a n tasvect for consideration anticbates the distinction I make: see The ' ~ a r r a t i v eAct: Point of View in prose Fiction (Princeton: Prince' ton UP, 1981), p.47. See also her criticism of Genette, p.37.

4. Adolphe, ed. Paul Delbouille (Paris: soci6t6 "Les Belles Lettres," 1977), p.112. Subsequent references are to this edition.
5. See John Middleton Murry, The Conquest of Death, London: Neville, 1951.

Peter

For a discussion of this notion, see C. G. Jung, The Collected Works, 6. ed. Sir Herbert Read (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1953-761, vo1.3, pars. 171-2. 7. 8. See Jung, op. cit., vo1.9, pt.ii, pars.20-29. Jung, op. cit., vo1.9, pt.i, par.66.

9. Ivanhoe, ed. A. N. Wilson (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1982). p.506. Subsequent references are t o this edition. 10. Jung, OD. cit., vo1.7, par.103, note 5. 11. See Joseph E Duncan, "The Anti-Romantic in Ivanhoe," Nineteenth. Century Fiction 9 (1955): 293-300. 12. Wuthering Heights, ed. Ian Jack (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1981). p.313. Subsequent references are t o this edition. 13. See my article, "An Oppression Past Explaining: The Structures of Wuthering Heights," in Orbis Litterarum, forthcoming. 14. See Jung,
OD.

cit., vo1.13, pars.57-63.

DIALOGUE WlTH T H E DEAD: THE DECEASED BELOVED AS MUSE Elisabeth Bronfen (University o Munich) f
v

Woman is not a poet: She is either Muse or she is nothing (Robert Graves) Death is the actual inspiring Genius or the Muse o f Philosophy (Schopenhauer)

I.

A Fatal Exaggeration 1834, Charlotte Stieglitz (aged

In Berlin, on the night o f December 29, while committing an incredible act.

twenty-two) sent her husband Heinrich to a concert i n order t o be alone A f t e r having washed, dressed i n a clean white nightgown and placed a white cap on her head, she went to bed and there stabbed herself clirectly in the heart with a dagger she had bought as a bride.' In her farewell note, Charlotte suggested that her suicide be understood as an act of self-sacrifice meant t o inflict such pain and sense o f loss on her manic-depressive husband that he would break free from his psychic lethargy. petrified poetic powers. regain what he had lost I n this way she hoped to liberate his His wife's violent death would enable him to

his self and his poetic genius. Triggering

Although Charlotte's death failed to inspire a new phase o f poetic creativity in her husband, i t did make her into a public Muse. her contemporaries. genius,' a 'vicarious' pain, her suicide provoked a plethora of interpretations from Some saw her sacrifice as an act of 'true feminine bridging the gap between flesh and spirit, others as an attempt

t o renew not only her husband's stifled energies but in fact the suppressed or thwarted efiergies o f an entire generation of Germans suffering under the constraints o f Biedermeier society. On the other hand, opponents of Far more striking than the the writings of the Jungdeutsche, who idealized her death, saw her suicide as an emblem o f the dangers of free morals. ideological intentions inherent i n the texts written about her, however, is the fact that Charlotte, who had never had any public role during her lifetime, came by her suicide t o leave such an impressive mark i n the public realm. One has the impression that i n i t s Biedermeier garments, her dead body became the site for the interpretive inscriptions o f her survivors interpreted.

inscriptions that say more about those interpreting than the object being

Susanne Ledanff suggests that what makes Charlotte's story so compelling is that she took the bombastic metaphors of self-obliterating love, heroism, self-sacrifice, and liberation of the soul from the body seriously, rather than treating them as quotations from previous cultural texts; that is, she made the fatal mistake of applying literary conventions to her own personal history. Yet even more disquieting, and for a critic also more fascinating, is the strange mixture of seduction by a false pathos of romantic and pietistic delusions and the calculation of effect inherent in her act, the doubling of deluded victim and consciously responsible actress. For she exposes the conventions of feminine self-sacrifice at exactly the same moment that she fatally enacts them. Far from being innocent or naive, her suicide is pregnant with literary citations; in fact it is a clichk - suggestive of both Werther's and Caroline von Guenderode's 2 suicides after failed romances, of the iconography of sacrificial brides and martyrs dressed in white, for whom death is a mystic marriage and an erotic unity with God, as well as that of women dying in childbirth. At the same time her act perverts the image of the selflessly devoted housewife by introducing violence into the idyllic bedroom, by adding selfassertion to self-submission. Her act of self-sacrifice is so disquieting because it is both an imitation of c~tlturalclichks, hovering between irony and kitsch, and a self-conscious effort to make herself into an object of discourse. Due to the exaggerated manner in which she performed her suicide, however, this act also lays bare several implications of the traditional notion of creative power as an external gift bestowed upon a chosen artist by his Muse. For one, her act suggests that death transforms the body of a woman into the source of poetic inspiration precisely because it creates and gives corporality to a loss or absence. Since her gift to the poet is the removal of her body, what occurs is the exchange of one loss for another, the implication being that her presence has displaced his poetic genius. This equation reveals the central dichotomy of the Museartist relation: the poet must choose between a corporally present woman That is to and the Muse, a choice of the former precluding the ~ a t t e r . ~ say, what must occur is the transformation of a direct erotic investment of the beloved woman into a mitigated one (of the same woman who is now absent, or of another woman who never was present). The distance thus created by loss, the shift from presence to absence, opens up the

space for poetic creation. tion i n general. language

I n this respect the relation between Muse and

artist is, of course, only an augmentation o f the prerequisite of symbolizaAs Jacques Derrida explains "What opens meaning and as the disappearance o f natural presence".4 Yet is writing

although any form o f absence would suffice, the death o f the beloved is i t s perfect embodiment, i t seems, because i t secures the distance and the loss for ever. In an uncanny manner Stieglitz seems t o collapse Graves's by making her self 'nothing' she definition of woman's relation to art:

makes herself into the ultimate incorporation o f the Muse. A t the same time Charlotte's suicide, giving birth and death. and the rhetoric surrounding it, point to the interconnection between artistic renewal as a form o f She and Heinrich both call her act a Caesarean Through her death she which saves the child while destroying the mother. ing him with the faculty of giving birth.

hopes to mother the genius o f her husband while at the same time endowFor his poetry, written "in The dismemory of" the deceased, by invoking and making present her who is absent, w i l l be a rhetorical animation o f the dead beloved.' turbing twist Charlotte's suicide gives to the relationship between artist and Muse is the suggestion that poetic renewal - that is, the birth of the poet - necessarily entails someone else's death. changed conception of the Muse that Extreme as her form o f nineteenth-century self-textualization might be, i t is nevertheless only an exaggeration o f the informs the imagination. In order t o discuss the inversion that occurs here i t is

necessary, however, t o recall the original function ascribed t o the Muse. While i t is not clear whether i n classical Greek culture the Muse had an objective divine reality or was merely a projection, a familiar and convenient metaphor for the creative process, her invocation points t o a conception of the poet's g i f t as being dependent on an appeal t o a higher power other than itself. Divine inspiration was the designation given to that element in poetry which exceeded craftsmanship, and the exchange between poet and Muse implied a moment o f loss of Self and possession by an Other. The Muse was thought t o speak through the poet, making She was mother t o the poet in the sense As Plato i n him the medium of her speech.

that she literally inspired by singing her material t o him - that is, she animated his poetic ability by breathing her song into him. the famous passage i n Phaedrus explains, the Muse was the source o f divine possession or madness, stimulating the lyric poet's untrodden soul

t o r a p t passionate expression:

"glorifying t h e countless might d e e d s of On t h e o t h e r hand, for

ancient t i m e s for t h e instruction of posterity".6

a poet not t o acknowledge t h e holy breath of t h e Muses a s quintessential t o poetic c r e a t i o n and t o depend on his skill alone was t o result in p o e t i c failure and public oblivion. place Homer. T h e self-sufficient poet and his work would, in Plato's words b e "brought t o nought by t h e poetry of madness

I...]

their

I...]nowhere t o b e found".

F o r a mythic version of t h e Muse's

intolerance f o r rivalry o n e could c i t e t h e s t o r y of Thamyris, a s found in Because h e boasted that h e could surpass them in a competition, t h e Muses maimed him, taking a w a y his "voice of wonder'' and thus making 7 him a "singer without memory". Ecstatically devoted t o t h e Muse, t h e poet's u t t e r a n c e s w e r e also meant t o glorify her, t h u s suggesting t h e o c c u r r e n c e of a two-way exchange. F o r t h e Muse's g i f t t o t h e poet allows him t o give birth t o a T h a t is, s h e inspires o r a n i m a t e s his poetic power

t e x t celebrating her.

s o t h a t h e may, by v i r t u e of his invocation, in turn r e a n i m a t e t h e Muse. A s a figure of inspiration, s h e is d i r e c t l y addressed, and t h u s s e r v e s a threefold function in this poetic dialogue. S h e is simultaneously maieutic producer, object of reference, and privileged addressee of t h e poet's speech. In addition s h e is always incompletely accessible, always beyond reach. For t h e rhetoric of invocation, always o n e of apostrophe, requires her absence while a t t h e s a m e t i m e making t h e lack of presence, t h e d i s t a n c e of t h e addressee, i t s privileged t h e m e and causing her, a s t h e object What is important t o reanimated by t h e poet's speech, t o t a k e on t h e s t a t u s of presence-inabsence (life-in-death), a kind of double presence.8 stress, however, is that t h e Muses w e r e Mnemosyne t h e daughters of Zeus and

goddess of memory.

T h u s t h e apostrophe not only served t o T h e Muses not only

render t h e bodily absent addressee present, but also through her t o m a k e present an absent past knowledge o r a l t e r i o r truth. initiated t h e poet into passionate expression, a s Hesiod's archetypal relation of his p o e t i c e x p e r i e n c e a t t h e foot of Mount Helicon suggests, but also 9 s e r v e d a s t h e s o u r c e of knowledge outside t h e poet's realm of experience. P o e t s invoked t h e Muses t o m a k e present what t h e y w e r e not present t o

see, needed t h e m t o remember, including t h a t which was never part of

t h e i r own personal history. P u t a n o t h e r way, by addressing t h e absent Muse, t h e poet a t t e m p t e d t o o v e r c o m e his absence a t previous historical events, his lack of c o m p l e t e knowledge.

In the course o f the centuries, the vitality attributed t o the Muse paled, as Steele Commager puts it, into an abstraction, so that one could characterize her "biography as the history of a fading metaphor".10 What in Classical Greece was a conviction became in Augustan Rome a conceit. By assigning to the Muses a merely decorative status or seeing them reincarnated in specific human beings, as Propertius does when he declares his mistress Cynthia's folly t o serve as source and subject o f his poetry, the poet, as Commager argues "no longer feels himself the creature o f some higher power, but assumes that ficient"." That his own creative potency is sufis to say, in the same rhetorical move that gives a

concrete body t o the Muse, secularizes her so to speak, she is denied that divine power which would be other and more encompassing than the poet's. As such she becomes a figure for the poet's peculiarly own poetic powers, mothering genius that is innate rather than inspired; the apostrophe addressing "his own peculiar a metaphor for the I n the late Middle poet as "possessing a special ability rather than as possessed by it", with Ages Dante takes up again the tradition of invocation, and he too transfers the role o f the Muse t o a real woman, Beatrice, who, by virtue o f his idealization and her early death, is corporally never accessible. The change from the Muse as metaphor for a divine inspirational source t o that of metaphor for the poet's singular g i f t is also visible in Petrarchan love poetry. As Silverman points out, the fixed distance between lover and Muse, which functions as a precondition for poetic production, has the effect o f transforming the lady into a divine signifier, "pointing beyond herself to Godn, l 3 thus asking the reader t o concentrate not on the woman but on that toward which she leads. than herself. The Muse is thus not only reduced t o a rhetorical figure, but to the allegorical pretext for a signifier other

2.

Reanimating a fading metaphor

What is remarkable about the Romantic inversion o f the poet-Muse relation is the fact that the status of Muse is transferred again onto a corporally existent beloved, only now she is dying or already dead. beloved is thus given a new twist: The thematic interplay between poetic creation and loss, distance, o r absence of the the rhetorical invocation refers quite Yet i n the course of this reliterally t o a female body, as though not only the poet's gift, but also the fading metaphor were to be reanimated.

conception several important changes occur. It is no longer the poet, daring to disown the Muse, who is punished for his audacity, but instead the woman chosen to be Muse. her body and her life. What she gives is not her song but rather And though it is her death which inspires the

poet and takes possession of him, whether it provokes the experience of ecstasy or the production of narratives, the concept of possession has also taken on a duplicitous character. For while the original act of taking possession and giving birth to the poet is mimicked, the Romantic inversion is in fact an example of the poet's departed woman. taking ultimate control over the

The questions with which I want t o confront several nineteenthcentury texts involving the inspirational power of a dead beloved are thus aimed both at the function and at the reference or signifier of this image. Roland Barthes suggests that to stage absence in language is to remove the death of the other I...]to manipulate absence is to prolong the moment I..] where the other will move from absence to death. l 4 But when the object of this invocation is already dead, whose death is being deferred? Is the invocation of the dead beloved an attempt to preserve her artificially against death, or an attempt to eternalize the poet's skill? Whose triumph is it, when the poet reanimates and resurrects a dead beloved, and what desire is enacted when the artist defies the irrevocability of death? Above all, what is ultimately being signified by this dialogue? While on the one hand the addressee of this invocation is a beloved woman quite literally dead, she simultaneously serves a figurative function, namely as metonymy for death. Once again the focus slips between her and where she leads. We thus have another duplicitous situation, for although she is being reanimated, she is likewise being effaced again when used as an emblem for something else, to which she is (in the end) incidental. Again one could say that this is involved in every form of translation, a process which, as J. Gerald Kennedy explains, "entails duplication and effacement, a retracing which both mirrors the original and abolishes it in the sense that every translation sacrifices the letter of the original text to reconstitute its spirit in another language."15 In the invocation of the dead beloved, however, the original seems to be effaced more than once, literally by virtue of her death, and rhetorically not only because she is replaced by a text, but also because she serves an allegorical function amid this

replacement. is involved.

For i f the reference t o the figure is the concrete death o f

a woman, i t seems that more than just a rhetorical or textual convention Novalis's first mention of Sophie von Kiihn's death is a stark entry i n his diary on March 19, 1797 - "This morning half past nine she died -

15 years and 2 days

he obtains from

His reactions t o her death, the satisfaction however, minutely recorded in his As

his mourning are,

journal over a period of three months, from April 18 through July 6. the departed Sophie implies, everything appears twofold. zing that her death is both an end and a beginning. emotional reaction,

though to stage textually the intermediary position which a dialogue with He counts by two His ambivalent dates - the calendar day and the days since Sophie's death, thus emphasia cross between sadness, psychic petrification and One has the impression he is

happiness, revivification, is duplicated by a style which is both pragmatically sober and enthusiastically idealizing. trying i n an impartial and distanced voice t o keep minutes of the changes in his emotional state as he records his acts o f remembrance, while at the same time attempting to transmit the ecstatic revelation Sophie's death provokes. Conjuring up her image in his mind or visiting her grave This dialogue, however, is two-way, for becomes a means by which t o keep her alive as addressee o f their dialogue, making her present i n absence. his invocation animates him as well

he is "von ihrem Andenken belebt." l7 t o make her grave his own.

I t is meant t o serve the purpose o f being "ganz bei ihr," in the sense o f sharing the place i n which she is now, i.e. Because above all the dead Sophie, semanticized as his soul, his inner or better life, his angel, serves as a kind o f Doppelganger, signifier not only for a departed beloved but also for the part o f the self lost at birth, from ' which he feels alienated during his conscious, earthly existence. reanimate her i n order t o be with her is the rhetorically A t the displaced same time, she also metonymically stands for death, so that his effort t o expression of his desire for the original state o f identity and unity before the dynamic difference and opacity inherent t o life; a 'lost' self, for the anorganic peace o f death. The name he gives t o Sophie i n a short text written in 1796 Klarisse that is t o say, his desire t o be reunited with her also articulates his longing for reunion with

indicates that she never was a living body alterior t o himself

but rather always a mirror for self-reflection, clear, transparent and cold,

in short an image of deathlike quality. Her death thus only finalizes what she was all along: a figure (not a living woman) serving his narcissistic self-projections, whose signified belongs t o the paradigm of death. Because he makes t h e dead Sophie t h e central axis of his life from which h e can draw power, meaning a s well a s a new chronology ("she is t h e highest t h e only being I...] everything must b e brought in relation t o her idea")18 she inspires both an intensive self-absorption ("incessant thinking about myself and what I feel and don) and t h e idea of suicide a s liberation. This duplicitous desire recalls t h e image of t h e self-engrossed (and selfpossessed) Narcissus wilfully pining away as he tries t o become identical with his image projected on t h e water's surface. Her loss translates into his gain because it opens a wound that is t h e prerequisite for any s t a t e of desiring - "A lover must feel the gap eternally, t h e wound must always b e kept open. Let God preserve for the male decision and ever I...] the wistful memory - this brave nostalgia t h e firm belief. Without my Sophie I am nothing with her As a perennial 'loss' she becomes t h e secure measure on which his interpretation of t h e world and his self-definition can be based, a void he can fill with explanations and poetic texts. At t h e s a m e time her death endows his existence with a new meaning because i t allows him qkite explicitly t o concentrate on where a reunion with her would lead. The wound her death inflicts is not t o b e filled, a s Charlotte Stieglitz's mimicry had intended it t o be, with narratives a s an a c t of self-assertion in and for t h e world, but rather a security that h e will imitate her act. His self-assertion is not defiance against, but rather an embracing of death's triumph. T o Schlegel he writes. "Nevertheless, I experience a secret joy a t being close t o her grave. It draws me ever closer I..] i t a key t o is very clear t o m e what celestial coincidence her death is everything, a wonderfully adequate m o v a n 2 ' That is t o say, by dying Sophie performs an exemplary a c t he can then emulate. As Muse she is not only meant t o show him t h e way t o his poetic voice but also t o lead him in his flight from t h e world. Her death not only opens t h e wound that secures desire, but also marks t h e promise that his longing will be quenched. His descriptions of his sojourns a t her grave suggest that he wishes t o be possessed by her, made into her object, sucked out in order eventually t o become identical with h e r (whereby, slnce she is his double, this

is i n fact a displaced form o f self-absorption). revenant.

In "Hymen an die Nacht,"

her duplicitous nature is explicitly understood as that of a bloodsucking He reanimates her so that she may deanimate him, a form of "tender beloved reversed birthgiving:

I...]you

made me into a human

draw on my body with ghostly ardor so that I aerial may mingle with you more intensely and our wedding night last forever." 22 In all o f his invocations the beloved merges with the image o f the mother, suggesting that a reunion would be the repetition of the symbiotic so that union with the maternal body, and death. and death a second birth, the invoked Sophie mother, seductress,

recalls the semantic triad Graves assigns t o the Muse:

Although his dialogue with the dead Sophie is part o f the cult

o f the distant and unattainable woman, i t s charm for him lies in the fact that it allows him t o imagine a cancellation of the distance between him and the state for which the departed beloved stands: self-obliteration, eternal continuity, resolution of tension, movement, difference, and desire. Turning to Edgar Allan Poe's treatment of the dead beloved as Muse, we find an interesting shift in focus. As Marie Bonaparte suggests, his wife, Virginia Clemm, "served as the unwitting Muse who first called Poe's genius as a writer o f imaginative prose t o life." 23 The pale young woman dying of tuberculosis repeatedly functioned as model for his half-dead, buried, or (through metempsychosis) resurrected heroines inspired A t the same time, Virginia's illprematurely ness, which

Madeline, Morella, Bernice, and Ligeia.

forbade any direct consummation of erotic desire,

those texts in which the fascination for a woman is dependent precisely on her unattainability

that is, her being physically absent while present In contrast t o Novalis, who hold an intermediary

when remembered or artistically recreated. object of death's desire, Poe's

reanimates a dead beloved precisely because he wants t o be made the various speakers position, balanced between an embrace o f death and a successful denial or repression of it. The continued bond with a departed lover marks death not as the sought-for goal but rather allows the speaker t o acknowledge both the mysterious way in which death penetrates the world o f the living, while using his poetic inscriptions t o f i l l the gap created by loss. her predecessors, Virginia, whether as model or as implicit Like addressee,

serves as a signifier for the poet's own psychic states, with the focus again on where she leads. The important difference is, however, that her invocation now has as reference the ambivalent states of psychic petri-

fication c a u s e d by a n obsessional clinging t o t h e d e a d and t h e hopeful d e f i a n c e of o r triumph o v e r d e a t h by v i r t u e of poetic inscription. A comparison of t h e poems "Ulalume" and "Annabel Lee" will help i l l u s t r a t e t h e s e t w o variations. In t h e f i r s t poem,24 t h e s p e a k e r describes While h e h a s his involuntary r e t u r n t o t h e vault of his beloved Ulalume.

repressed all m e m o r y of h e r death, signaled by his not recognizing t h e p a t h h e i s moving along, s h e i s preserved in t h e form of a n incorporation in h i s unconscious, legended tomb." ly possessed by poetically rendered a s a n a m e "on t h e d o o r o f t h i s In what c a n b e understood a s a s e m a n t i c reversal of the dead, his return as an unconscious obsession.

Novalis's visits t o Sophie's grave, t h e s p e a k e r d e p i c t s himself a s unwittingUlalume's vampiristic hold, furthermore, s t a n d s in d i r e c t rivalry t o Psyche, representing t h e soul's s e a r c h for a n e w e r o t i c a t t a c h m e n t , s o t h a t h e r warning "let u s fly" r e m a i n s unheeded. What P o e describes is t h u s a psychic impasse, f o r while t h e d e a d beloved d r a w s t h e s p e a k e r t o h e r t o m b , binding him so t h a t h e i s not f r e e t o find an a l t e r n a t i v e o b j e c t of d e s i r e a m o n g t h e living, s h e d o e s not lead him t o death. unexplained t h e kind of drives entail, h e m a k e s explicit t h a t While P o e l e a v e s libidinal e r o t i c s a t i s f a c t i o n such a n a r r e s t of

t h e s p e a k e r i s in a duplicitous

position, n e i t h e r d i r e c t e d toward t h e living nor willing t o g i v e u p l i f e t h a t is, experiencing d e a t h by proxy, in t h e s e n s e t h a t his incorporation of t h e d e a d beloved t u r n s his e m o t i o n a l s t a t e i n t o a 'death-in-life.' "Annabel Lee", 25 implicitly addressed t o Virginia, c a n b e r e a d a s t h e jubilant counterpart to the obsessive-compulsive form of memory. Although t h e s p e a k e r invokes his lost bride in o r d e r t o idealize t h e i r love, t h i s recollection u l t i m a t e l y s e r v e s t o i l l u s t r a t e his imaginative gnd poetic powers, by v i r t u e of which h e p l a c e s himself beyond t h e n a t u r a l law of death. T h e r a r i t y of t h e i r love - "more t h a n love" - consists for o n e thing "she lived with n o o t h e r thought t h a n t o love a n d b e T h e m e a s u r e of i t s value lies in t h e f a c t t h a t it both F o r while Annabel's "high kinsmen" b e a r h e r a w a y in i t s exclusivity: loved by me."

a t t r a c t e d t h e coveting e n v y of t h e S e r a p h s and surpassed t h e result of t h e i r usurping desire. a n d "shut h e r u p in a sepulchre" ( a m e t a p h o r used t o i n d i c a t e h e r affinity t o angels) his imaginative powers g u a r a n t e e t h a t nothing "can e v e r d i s s e v e r " t h e i r souls. F o r his response t o t h e physical loss of his beloved i s t o While h e i s drawn t o t h e t o m b of endow his surroundings imaginatively with h e r ubiquitous p r e s e n c e and r e s u r r e c t h e r in his p o e t i c u t t e r a n c e .

his beloved ("all

t h e night-tide")

t h i s a t t r a c t i o n t o t h e s i t e of d e a t h surpassing h e r t o m b present-in-

u l t i m a t e l y leads t o i t s p o e t i c rendition, a 'sepulchre' because it not only p r e s e r v e s but m a k e s h e r absence.

' re-presented,'

While o n a literal level t h e invocatory reanimation of Annabel s e r v e s t o prove t h e inseparability of their souls, t h e displaced signified of this figure is t h e power of his p o e t i c triumph o v e r death. In c o n t r a s t t o 'fixed Or, t o Novalis, t h e focus In t h e s e depictions of t h e presence-in-absence o f a d e a d beloved shifts t o t h e question of what it m e a n s t o maintain a compensation and substitution of loss through p o e t i c resurrection. bility o f desire.
3.

distance', regardless of whether t h i s leads t o compulsive repetition o r t o put it a n o t h e r way, t h e emphasis s h i f t s t o a n expression of t h e unfulfilla-

inverting t h e inversion t o expose t h e tradition

What h a s been t a c i t l y implied in t h e s e e x a m p l e s i s a d m i t t e d and explicitly t h e m a t i z e d with astonishing candidness by Henry J a m e s

namely t h a t t h e Like Novalis, h i s New York

poet not only gains his a r t i s t i c powers a t t h e loss of a beloved but t h a t h e p r e f e r s his r e a n i m a t e d version of h e r t o t h e real woman. J a m e s recorded his r e a c t i o n s t o t h e d e a t h of a woman cousin Minny Temple, w h o died of England. tuberculosis

while h e w a s visiting

In several letters, J a m e s explains wherein t h e c h a r m and satisis i t s ambivalence. H e confesses t o "feeling a singular

faction of privileging a supplement lies. 26 T h e most striking f e a t u r e o f his response m i x t u r e of pleasure a n d pain", a s k s both h i s m o t h e r and h i s b r o t h e r for d e t a i l s about h e r last hours, finding "something so appealing in t h e pathos o f h e r final weakness and decline" while expressing g r a t i t u d e 'that h e did not himself see h e r s u f f e r and materially change. While h e repeatedly a s s e r t s t h a t "it i s t o o soon t o talk o f Minny's d e a t h o r p r e t e n d t o feel itn, h e expresses a c e r t a i n s a t i s f a c t i o n a t having w r i t t e n m o r e than t w e l v e p a g e s about h e r t o his brother. the 'hard fact' tendency departed t o prefer beloved a T h i s p r e f e r e n c e for t h e 'soft idea' over t o privilege entirely a t t h e m i t i g a t e d and his i n t e r p r e t a t i v e in r e s p e c t t o Minny' s d e a t h signals t h e m o r e global fixed distance, It s e e m s t h a t t h i s d i s t a n c e allows t h e

vicarious o v e r t h e immediate.

to b e c o m e a n o b j e c t

disposal and t h u s t h e c e n t r a l s t a k e in h i s self-definition as a n artist.

F o r Minny's d e a t h i s not only t h e key t o t h e past, inspiring a host of memories, but also t h e m e a n s by which h e c a n t a k e possession of this past a n d s t r u c t u r e it a s a meaningful whole. He reiterates that her death is a d e f i n i t e 'gain' - " t h e happiest, f a c t , [sic] a l m o s t in h e r whole career." While t h e r e m a y b e a c e r t a i n validity in t h i s appraisal when o n e considers h e r illness, i t s e e m s t h a t t h e gain i s m o r e his t h a n hers. body s h e b e c o m e s a n "unfaltering luminary in t h e mind,'' 'erreconcilable'" meaning. For a s a dead a n image. As

a living body s h e w a s a "divinely restless spirit - essentially o n e of t h e

"flickering" in t h e s e n s e t h a t , like any living being, s h e

w a s ambivalent and fickle enough t o e l u d e a n y a t t e m p t a t fixing h e r A s a d e a d body, however, s h e is t r a n s l a t e d from "This changing A s a n i m a g e preserved She can realm of f a c t t o t h e s t e a d y realm of thought."

in his mind s h e b e c o m e s a figure o f whose s t a b l e meaning h e c a n n o t only b e sure, but which h e c a n a l s o s e m a n t i c a l l y d e s i g n a t e a t his will. t h u s s t a n d for "serenity a n d purity" a s a "sort of m e a s u r e a n d s t a n d a r d of brightness a n d repose" o r s h e c a n t a k e o n t h e function of representing a s p e c t s of energies his life. H e t h u s sees t h e i r relation a s a n e x c h a n g e o f

s h e "sinking o u t of brightness and youth i n t o decline a n d death,''

while h e "crawls from weakness and inaction and suffering i n t o s t r e n g t h a n d h e a l t h and hope." By reducing her purpose in his l i f e t o " t h e bright intensity of her example", t h e emphasis y e t again i s o n w h e r e s h e leads. guiding e x a m p l e toward a n e m b r a c e of episode in his development. H e r inspiration h a s a double goal, f o r s h e not only r e a n i m a t e s him by serving a s t h e life while herself yielding this intensity, t h u s standing a s a n e m b l e m of his youth a n d t h e e n d of a n A s a d e a d beloved s h e also- b e c o m e s a r e f e r e n c e in f u t u r e years.'' privileged o b j e c t f o r m e m o r y - a "pregnant

Embalmed in his mind, like Snow White "locked away, incorruptibly, within t h e c r y s t a l walls of t h e past" and waiting t o b e reanimated, s h e b e c o m e s above all t h e m e a s u r e f o r his skills a t recollecting and creating. h e r l i f e w a s a "question", While disquieting b e c a u s e h e could not o f f e r "the

e l e m e n t s of a n answer", h e r absence, i t seems, could b e m e t with such s a t i s f a c t i o n because i t both fixes h e r i n t o a s t a b l e figure

"incorruptible"-

and opens t h e s p a c e f o r a plethora of p o e t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s within which h e could design, shape, a n d r e c r e a t e h e r (and t h e i r relationship) in infinite variations.

In his work, James repeatedly used the 'memory' of Minny as model for his heroines, notably Isabel Archer and Milly Theale (as well as in his autobiography, Notes o f a Son and Brother). Yet he also wrote narratives which, doubling his own biography, can be read as a critical reflection on his relation to a dead Muse and the aesthetics inherent in this relation, above all from the point o f view o f mourning and erotic desire. Altar of the ~ e a d " , the protagonist ~ ~ Stransom In "The creates a shrine o f

remembrance for his "religion of the Dead", as a means by which t o stay "in regular communion with these alternative associates", o f whom Mary Antrim, who died after their wedding-day was fixed, is the central voice. He understands this dialogue as a "connection more charming" than any possible i n l i f e (AD, p.871, and designates the effort o f keeping the dead alive by force o f his memory t o be the central purpose o f his life. What might on one level be seen as an attempt t o possess the past, animating a departed lover in order t o appropriate the shared experience she metonymically stands for, turns into Stransom's possession of the dead. As the central measure used t o evaluate and interpret his world (AD, p.911, his dead also eclipse other emotional bonds. Because this form o f "communion" allows the absent woman t o prove more powerful than her corporally present rival (signaled by the fact that the latter remains "nameless"), i t becomes for Stransom a way t o shield himself from any diyect erotic investment, thus becoming emotionally deathlike. i.e. That is t o say, the exchange places both i n an intermediary position: is reciprocated by his absence-in-presence, living, immediate world with any form of desire. thus f i l l the existent gap with his own body. There is, however, another component t o this exchange: nameless woman is rejected as a direct object o f desire, f i l l and complete the altar, p.118). dead asking "Isn't while the i t is for her her presence-in-absence Ultimately she inspires

his inability to invest the

the wish t o share her position, t o become the last candle on the altar, and

benefit that he wishes t o translate himself into the one last candle to that what you wanted?" (AD, Their dispute had centered around the fact that she used his altar

to worship the memory o f the one friend he had rejected among his

Acton Hague.

The knowledge he gains i n the church when Mary's

"far-off

face" smiles at him from the "glory of heaven" is an insight not

only into the rapture that his communion with Mary affords him, but also that this is marred by the fact that he refuses bliss t o the other woman.

D e a t h suggests itself a s t h e resolution of his ambivalent position between t h e t w o women and of his jealousy f o r t h e "unnamed" woman's communion with A c t o n because i t allows him t o appropriate Acton's position and c a s t himself a s t h e absent a d d r e s s e e of her worship. In what s e e m s t o b e both paradoxical and repetitious, his conception of his own d e a t h entails both a unity with Mary and t h e opening of a new g a p in respect t o t h e "unnamed" woman, thus leading not, a s in t h e c a s e of Novalis, t o the cancellation of all differences, distances, and barriers, but r a t h e r t o t h e preservation of t h e intermediary position, which i s informed by a tension b e t w e e n t h e living and dead. distance, not i t s e f f a c e m e n t . It t r a n s l a t e s into a glorification of loss and His loss is also s e e n a s his gain, because While Stransom by

t h e d i s t a n c e of d e a t h i s understood as t h e way t o have a communion with t h e nameless woman t h a t would not b e possible in life. recalls C h a r l o t t e Stieglitz's act, h e inverts t h e R o m a n t i c version

imagining f o r himself t h e position of t h e Muse, who will inflict loss on a survivor a s a way t o procure his reanimation. What is striking is both t h e reversal of gender roles, making t h e man Muse t o t h e woman, and t h e f a c t t h a t this conception t a k e s a d absurdum t h e traditional privileging of a 'fixed distance' over 'immediacy,' the 'reanimation' over 'direct presence.' In s o doing, t h e t e x t brings into play an e l e m e n t of ironic

distance between protagonist and implied reader, who, c a s t into t h e role of outside observer, i s led t o question and thus destabilize t h e primacy of mitigation and approximation. T h e n a r r a t i v e s t a n c e of J a m e s i s thus in itself duplicitous, in that, without condemning o r offering a n alternative, i t simply leaves t h e question of gain and loss open. In "Maud-Evelyn", 28 t h e reanimation of a d e p a r t e d lover helps t h e mourner t o appropriate o r r a t h e r c r e a t e a past post f a c t o and thus s e r v e s a s a measure not only f o r his desire f o r vicarious, mitigated experiences but also his imaginative skills. who died when s h e was fifteen. his fiancee Lavinia a t bay. Marmaduke decides t o join t h e Dedricks A s t h e n a r r a t i v e progresses i t becomes in their religion of mourning, c o n s e c r a t e d t o t h e i r daughter Maud-Evelyn, c l e a r t h a t by dedicating himself t o her memory, h e c a n successfully keep T h e Dedricks' ritual, however, consists not only in cherishing preserved relics but also in t h e c o n s t a n t imaginative enlargement of t h e past, t h e growth of a legend, wherein real e v e n t s a r e supplemented by "figments and fictions, ingenious imaginary m e m e n t o e s and tokens {ME, p.344). In t h e c o u r s e of t h e i r mourning, they invent whole

experiences for her, which grow t o include a n e n g a g e m e n t a n d m a r r i a g e t o Marmaduke, leaving him u l t i m a t e l y a s h e r widower. G r a v e s suggests t h a t when a Muse t u r n s i n t o a d o m e s t i c woman s h e f a d e s in h e r ability t o inspire, a n d engenders t h e poet's demise. T h i s leads o n e t o s p e c u l a t e w h e t h e r t h e R o m a n t i c fascination with t h e d e a t h o f a young bride i s not c o n n e c t e d with a desire t o prevent t h e Muse from turning d o m e s t i c and t h u s ceasing t o function a s inspirational source. 2 9 What g i v e s t h i s instance i t s particular poignancy is, however, t h e f a c t t h a t t h e r e a n i m a t e d woman Marrnaduke privileges o v e r Lavinia i s a c o m p l e t e s t r a n g e r t o him a n d t h e past not shared but invented. The satisfaction this vicarious loss o f f e r s s e e m s t o lie in t h e f a c t t h a t t h e g a p c r e a t e d by d e a t h c a n b e inscribed with f a r less c o n s t r a i n t t h a n if t h e r e f e r e n c e of t h e m e m o r y corresponded with s o m e factually verifiable past experiences. Not only does t h e d e a d Maud-Evelyn lend herself t o e m b l e m a t i z a t i o n in a way t h e living Lavinia n e v e r would, but t h e remembering Marmaduke h a s t o t a l freedom in r e s p e c t t o t h e c o n t e n t a n d s e n a n t i z a t i o n of his reanimation. And y e t again t h e e m p h a s i s i s o n w h e r e t h e d e a d beloved leads, f o r what Marmaduke s t r e s s e s i s t h e h e u r i s t i c quality of his c u l t of mourning: "the m o r e w e live in t h e past t h e m o r e things w e find i t it" (ME, p.355). His a c t o f m e m o r y l e t s him g r o w i n t o "a person with a position and a history", a g r o w t h whose c h a r m lies in t h e f a c t th& it is invented, t h e result of a c h a n g e without t h e process o f changing. T h a t i s t o say, not only d o e s h i s reanimation of Maud-Evelyn e n t a i l a n invention of h e r e x p e r i e n c e but, s i n c e s h e i s invoked always in h e r relation t o him, i t also l e t s him invent himself, endow himself w i t h a past h e never lived. A s in t h e previous story, t h e n a r r a t i v e framing stabilizes t h e privileging of t h e supplement, t h e vicarious o v e r t h e i m m e d i a t e and direct, without offering

a n e w hierarchy, l e t t i n g a judgment

of

t h e c a s e slip b e t w e e n "self-

deception" (ME, p.348) a n d "really beautiful" (ME, p.352). Y e t t h i s 'case' i s t h e most e x t r e m e version o f t h e e f f a c e m e n t of t h e signified woman in t h e Muse-poet relations discussed in this paper, a n d could b e r e a d a s a n e x a m p l e of how t h e t h e m e , by turning upon itself, exposes i t s o w n limitation. While in t h e previous e x a m p l e s t h e a b s e n c e of t h e d e a d woman allows h e r t o s e r v e as a figure f o r signifying something else, in t h e s e n s e t h a t t h e l i t e r a l signifier r e f e r r i n g t o a woman's d e a t h is displaced in f a v o u r o f a n o t h e r t h a t r e f e r s t o t h e speaker's e m o t i o n a l a n d

poetical s t a t e , in this s t o r y her a b s e n c e is doubled. Maud-Evelyn i s present-in-absence in a n e n t i r e l y rhetorical manner, a feminine n a m e only, severed completely from a n y literal body and leading t o a chain of supplementary signifiers which e m a n a t e from and r e f l e c t solely t h e s p e a k e r . T h a t is t o say, her invocation s t a g e s t h e a b s e n c e not only of h e r body but of her signified a s well, t h e glorification of a n empty, closed-circuit sign with n o r e f e r e n c e e x c e p t t o i t s own s t a t u s a s signifier. A s such i t s function i s t o a r t i c u l a t e t h e omnipotence of t h e speaker, who, denying t h e reality of a n y i m m e d i a t e world, disappears e v e r m o r e into his museum and t e m p l e (ME, p.3581, which houses a fictional past, until h e eventually w a s t e s a w a y "with an excellent manner" (ME, p.359). This 'case' shows t h e power of imagination and t h e desire for distance t a k e n t o such an e x t r e m e t h a t i t collapses t h e Muse-poet relation i n t o a tautology, reducing t h e tension of a dialogue o n c e again t o a rhetorical convention, t o a fictional figment. What this c o m p a r a t i v e reading of several nineteenth-century t e x t s involving t h e p o e t i c reanimation of a dead beloved reveals, then, is t h a t o n e of t h e c e n t r a l motors of western literary production is t h e f o r c e of effacement. T h e absence of a natural body a s prerequisite f o r i t s symbolic representation, t h e privileging of t h e mitigated and vicarious o v e r t h e direct and immediate, and t h e p r e f e r e n c e f o r t h e presentation of a rhetorical figure o v e r t h e presence of a natural body a r e persistent enough in o u r cultural discourses not t o b e limited t o a discussion of t h e Musepoet relation. My reading could thus lead o n e t o reconsider t h e ~ p r e suppositions underlying more general tendencies in nineteenth-century poetics. A t t h e s a m e time, because t h e s e chosen t e x t s concerned with t h e Muse-poet relation both question and reinforce t h e gradual occultation of t h e signified woman, they expose ( s o m e t i m e s unwittingly) Woman's privileged function a s figure for desires and meanings e x t e r i o r t o herself. T h e e f f e c t i v i t y of t h e s e t e x t s lies in t h e i r e x t r e m i t y , for they depict instances where poetic c r e a t i o n necessarily e n t a i l s a woman's death, where t h e movement from literal body t o figure i s ultimately taken q u i t e literally. A s such they point out t h e e x t e n t t o which i t now s e e m s urgent t o question t h e way nineteenth-century society - and not only this period h a s regarded Woman, in respect both t o o u r culture's g a z e and i t s e s t e e m of her. 30

I. See Susanne Ledanff, Charlotte St~eglitz: Geschichte eines Denkmals, (Frankfurt/M: Ullstein, 1986) for a detailed discussion and documentation of this incident.

2. Ledanff points out that the confusion was shared by her contemporaries as well. Gutzkow calls her Caroline Stieglitz.

3. See Susanne Kappeler, Writing and Reading i n Henry James (New York: Columbia University Press, 1980) chapter 7, "A literary Taboo", pp.75-82.
4. See Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravory Spivak (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1976). p.159 and Barbara Johnson, "Translator's Introduction'' t o Jacques Derrida, Dissemination (Chicago: Chicago UP, 198 1 ), pp.vii-xxxiii. 5. For a discussion o f reanimation and i t s rhetorical function see Barbara Johnson, "Apostrophe, Animation, and Abortion", in A World o f Difference (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1987), pp.184-199. 6. Plato, The collected Dialogues, ed. Cairns (Princeton: Princeton UP), p.492. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Chicago UP.

7. Homer, The Iliad, trans. Richard Lattimore (Chicago: 195 I), pp.91-92 (lines 594-600). 8. 9. ton: 10. See Sarah Kofman, Melancolie de I'art (Paris: Steele Commager, The Odes o f Horace: Indiana UP, 1967), p.9. Ibid., p.3. Ibid., p.8. Ibid., pp.20 and 23. The Subject o f Semiotics (Oxford:

~ a l i l e ' , 1985).

A Critical Study (Blooming-

II.
12.

13. Kaja Silverman, 19831, p.279.

Oxford

UP,

14. Roland Barthes, Fragments d'un discours amoureux (Paris: Seuil, 1977). p.22: "la mise en scene langagi'ere [de I'absence] kloigne la mort de I'autre I...] manipuler I'absence, c'est allonger ce moment I...] o i ~ I'autre pourrait basculer skchement de I'absence dans la mort". Barthes is referring t o Ch.11 o f "Beyond the Pleasure Principle", in which Freud describes a child's game with a spool and the articulation of the two words "fort" (away) and "da" (here) that significantly accompany this game: see "Jenseits des Lustprinzips" (1920), in Studienausgabe, Band 3 (Frankfurt : Fisher, 1975), pp.222-227. What has not sufficiently been appreciated, to my knowledge, by critics discussing this text is the way i n which i t is in part informed by the death o f Freud's favourite daughter Sophie, who died The of influenza1 pneumonia January 25, 1920 at the age o f twenty-six. ~ r o b l e m s involved would reouire further discussion: see also lacoues Derrida, "Coming into One's Own" i n Psychoanalysis and the Question o f the Text, ed. Geoffrey H. Hartman (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1978).

- .

15. J. Gerald Kennedy, Poe, Death, and the L i f e o f Writing (New Haven: Yale LIP, 19871, p.61. 16. Novalis, Werke, Tagebucher und Briefe Friedrich von Hardenbergs, ed. Richard Samuel (Munchen: Hanser, 19781, vol. 1, p.456.

17.

Novalis, p.462.

18. Novalis, p.465. "Sie ist d a s Hochste Reziehung auf ihre ldee zu bringen."

d a s Einzige I...]

Alles in

19. Novalis, p.468: "Unaufhorliches Denken an mich selbst und das, was ich e r f a h r e und thue." 20. Novalis, p.471: "Der Liebende muss die Liicke ewig fiihlen, die Wunde s t e t s offen erhalten. G o t t e r h a l t e mir immer I...] die wehmiithige Erinnerung - diese muthige Sehnsucht - den mannlichen Entschluss und d e n felsenfesten Glauben. Ohne meine Sophie bin ich g a r nichts - Mit Ihr Alles." 21. Novalis, p.633. "Dennoch habe ich eine geheime Freude, s o nah ihrem G r a b e zu seyn. E s zieht mich i m m e r naher I...] e s list] mir ganz klar I...] welcher himmlischer Zufall Ihr Tod gewesen ist - ein Schliissel zu allem, ein wunderbar schicklicher Schritt." 22. Novalis, p.151: " z a r t e Geliebte I...] du hast I...] mich zum Menschen g e m a c h t - zehre mit Geisterglut meinen Leib, dass ich luftig mit dir inniger mich mische und dann ewig die Brautnacht wahrt." 23. Marie Bonaparte, T h e Life and Works of Edgar Allan Poe: A PsychoAnalytic Interpretation (London: Imago, 1949), p.260. 24. Edgar Allan Poe, P o e t r y and T a l e s (New York: Library of America, 19841, pp.89-91. 25. Edgar Allan Poe, P o e t r y and Tales, pp.102-103. 26. S e e Henry J a m e s , Letters, ed. Leon Edel, vol. 1, 1843-1875 (London: Macmillan, 1974) especially t h e l e t t e r s t o hlrs Henry J a m e s Sr., William James, and G r a c e Norton, pp.218-229. 27. Henry James, "Altar o f t h e Dead" in S e l e c t e d Tales (London: Dent, 1982). Further references a r e marked in t h e t e x t with "AD" and t h e page number. 28. Henry James, "Maud-Evelyn," 14 Stories by Henry J a m e s (London: Rupert Hart-Davis, 1947). Further r e f e r e n c e s a r e marked in t h e t e x t with "ME" and t h e page number. 29. Robert Graves, T h e White Goddess (London: Faber Rr Faber, 1948, 3rd edn. 19591, p.449. 30. A slightly expanded version of this a r t i c l e will b e included in Sex and D e a hed. Regina Barreca (London: Macmillan, t 1989).

IMAGES OF LANDSCAPE IN CONTEMPORARY FRENCH POETRY: PONGE, CHAR AND DUPIN Sieghild Bogumil (University of Bochum) Introduction Even a f t e r a c e n t u r y of poetic w a r waged against landscape, i t is still forcefully present in modern poetry. Disintegration in Raudelaire, who was remarked t h a t "tout I'univers visible n'est qu'un magasin dlimages",' pastt2 - also felt by Rilke towards t h e end of his life.3

followed by Mallarmh's indifference - "La N a t u r e a lieu, on n'y ajoutera T h e "auberge verte" closed b e f o r e Rimbaud's eyes, even though h e retained "un pied prgs d e [son] ~ o e u r " , and Kafka's "Description of a Struggle" indicates t h e ~ terminal point of this development: having rehearsed a s t e r e o t y p e d praise of t h e landscape's beauty, t h e "fat man" closes his e y e s and conjures i t t o vanish s o t h a t h e might breathe, t h e landscape dissolves and t h e b e a u t y is revealed a s t h e a t r i c a l machinery.5 Against this background it is interAn answer t h r e e of t h e best known esting t o ask why landscape reappears s o intensively today. may b e gained by observing t h e writings of c o n t e m p o r a r y French poets:

Francis Ponge, R e n e Char, and J a c q u e s n u p i n .

Despite considerable d i f f e r e n c e s a m o n g them, o n e may discern, in t h e techniques t h e y s h a r e (such a s t h e destruction of r e p r e s e n t a t i v e language and m i m e t i c poetry, t h e f r a g m e n t a t i o n of t h e word, and t h e constitution of meaning on t h e level of t h e signifiers) a t t e m p t s t o recover t h e i m a g e of landscape. 'Image' is h e r e taken t o m e a n a s e n s e figuration which is c o n s t r u c t e d by t h e poetic discourse. nevertheless preserving It exists, a s Bachelard puts it, outside o f , and i t s c o m m u n i c a t i v e "transsubjectivity".6 Thus it prior to, all thought, making sense by m e a n s of i t s intrinsic dynamic while functions a s a n originative and initiating e v e n t - t h r o u g h which t h e poetic subject establishes a link b e t w e e n itself a n d t h e world. T h e special i m a g e of t h e landscape is, of course, controlled by this inaugural discourse. T h e notion of 'landscape' has traditionally been defined a s a p a r t of n a t u r e which is externally limited by t h e horizon and internally organised a s a figurative unity of natural elements. Its c o h e r e n c e i s c o n s t i t u t e d by t h e e y e movement of a n observer looking a t it for enjoyment, while t h e distance b e t w e e n t h e person and t h e landscape d e t e r m i n e s i t s distinctive 7 features.

In this aesthetic sense, landscape no longer exists in t h e work of the three poets selected; above all, t h e coherence seems t o be missing. While analysing their poetic procedures one has to ask oneself in what sense it is nevertheless possible t o speak of landscape. Ponge: Landscape a s "The impossible which persists"

In Ponge's work, the image of landscape is rooted in a critique of the traditional aesthetic landscape, up to t h e point of negating landscape altogether. A t first sight, his "Petite suite vivaraise" ( 1 9 3 7 1 ~ which scrupulously describes t h e Vivarais, seems to be an exception. On close reading, however, one can recognise that there is no observer placed in the landscape who enjoys i t and could unify Its separate elements. The description merely results in an automatic enumeration which makes no sense because i t forms no landscape. Yet t h e beauty of the separate elements persists in being a source of enjoyment. The same happens when a sensitive man is, on the contrary overwhelmed by a beautiful sight, such a s a single flower, which even can hurt him (L, p.14), o r a beautiful landscape. It evokes so great a "number of images" (LM, p.405) in his mind that he is lost among them. Describing the sky above La Mounine, "beau pleurer" (LM, p.405). Ponge is unable t o control his feelings (LM, p.405) and cannot complete his text. He is lost in an incoherent abundance of beauty. Yet he still feels joy, s o that Ponge comes t o ask himself why man derives pleasure from this dlspersion of nature which lacks aesthetic unity. His answer is, in the c a s e of landscape, that man preserves a mental image of the whole. He does not even need t o look a t it, for he knows what a landscape is. A glance suffices (AC, pp.230, 235). Thus landscape becomes the prime space in which man can satisfy his "dhsir d'6vasionm (PR, p.198). His feelings do not correspond any more t o the concrete object; t h e name of beauty, which gives sense t o t h e landscape, has no referent and becomes interchangeable: "Beau est un mot qui en remplace un autre" (LM, p.404). This remark may be considered a s the starting point of Ponge's critical approach t o the aesthetic landscape. It focuses on t h e problem of, beauty, intimately linked t o a critique of feelings, which leads t o a new conception of the 'beautiful'. The new approach becomes necessary, for losing the coherence of the world of natural objects, o r landscape, t h e man of feeling, who persists, has lost his natural living spaces outside and inside himself.

T h e u l t i m a t e c a u s e of this deadly lack of sense i s time. longer h a s t i m e t o look. t o him in passing in a twinkle.

Man n o

T h e landscapes of which Ponge speaks appeared

p.3981, and La Mounine.

t h e s e a a t Biot, t h e countryside a t Craponne (LM, Time, too, passes and d o e s i t s d e s t r u c t i v e work T o halt of

A s opposed t o Paudelaire, who welcomed t i m e and m a d e it

a criterion of beauty, Ponge sees it a s o n e of beauty's defects. contemplation landscape. of landscape, against i t s evocation the

destruction, h e s e t s against t h e v a r i e t y and movement t h e naming and t h e 'expression'

T h u s Ponge's i m a g e of landscape i s in keeping with his general p o e t i c discourse. Ponge's p.411, It leads t o t h e abolishment of landscape because t h e basis of writing c o n f l i c t s with landscape's requirements. Landscape is

multiple, but for Ponge t h e poem's way "ne m e n e hors d e s choses" (PP, t h e poem's world is a f a c t o r y not organised by a "gbom8trie d a n s (P, p.131). Landscape c l a m o u r s for description, Ponge's writing in a word, his poetry g o e s against "la b e a u t 6 ou Itint6r&t I'espace"

i s 'expression'; in which

d e la Nature" (M, p.199) s t r a t e g y of t h e text.' very forcibly.

and landscape disappears in a poetic discourse shows t h i s

i t s c o n s t i t u t i v e e l e m e n t s express n o m o r e t h a n t h e c r i t i c a l "Les Berges d e la Loire" (RE, p.257f.l T h e landscape is n o longer a natural scenery but a c r i t i c a l

notion in which c r i t i q u e and landscape b e c o m e interchangeable. T h e c o n c r e t e landscape i s hardly visible in Ponge's poetry, t h e writing has relegated it t o t h e poem's horizon

t o i t s c o n c r e t e margin, b e it t h e T h e following

opening, a s in "La Mounine", b e it t h e end, a s in "Carnet du bois d e pins". And it i s this d i s t a n c e which, in e f f e c t , c o n f e r s s e n s e o n it. poem m a y s e r v e t o d e m o n s t r a t e this negative p o e t i c of landscape: L e Paysage L'Horizon, surlignk d ' a c c e n t s vaporeux, s e m b l e kcrit e n p e t i t s c a r a c t k r e s , d'une e n c r e plus ou moins pdle selon les jeux d e lumi8re. D e ce qui e s t e n c o r e plus proche je n e jouis plus q u e c o m m e d'un tableau, D e ce qui e s t e n c o r e plus p r o c h e q u e c o m m e d e sculptures, o u d'architecture; Puis d e la rkalite m d m e d e s c h o s e s jusqu'8 m e s genoux, c o m m e d'aliments, a v e c une sensation d e vkritable indigestion, J u s q u ' i ce qu'enfin, d a n s mon c o r p s tout s'engouffre e t s'envole par la t&te, c o m m e p a r une c h e m i n 6 e qui d6bouche e n plein ciel. (P, p.54)

Beyond t h e rejection of t h e classical landscape t h e poem implies a c r i t i q u e of t h e various a e s t h e t i c realisations of landscape with which man h a s progressively abolished t h e d i s t a n c e s e p a r a t i n g him from nature, finally making his s t a t e s of soul t h e landscape's vegetation, which provokes a feeling of sickness in Ponge. If o n e r e a d s t h e poem backwards, however, t h e landscape r e c o n s t i t u t e s itself, and t h e pleasure r e t u r n s a s t h e d i s t a n c e increases. On t h e horizon, it b e c o m e s legible - a t t h e limit of illegibility. Recognition of t h e landscape - a s of Ponge's 'objects' - i s gained a t t h e threshold of disappearance (cf. LM, p.401). Distance has affected the distance, landscape by withdrawing it f r o m t h e organising look of man:

conceived in classical a e s t h e t i c s a s a n organised expanse within landscape, h a s b e c o m e externalised and establishes t h e d e g r e e of s e p a r a t i o n b e t w e e n man and landscape. This critical, d e s t r u c t i v e d i s t a n c e of landscape, with 'Describregard t o itself and with regard t o man, i s t h e precondition for Ponge when h e w a n t s t o a c c e p t landscape a s a subject in his poetry. ing' it h a s b e c o m e moving i t into a distance. loss. it and reveals in i t a new sense. If t h e i m a g e of landscape i s not a c e n t r a l c o n c e r n in Ponge's poetry, i t is nevertheless a n i m p o r t a n t t h e m e , f o r m a n himself is a t stake. The poem "La Mounine" is o n e of t h e f e w t e x t s in which Ponge a t t e m p t s t o "bien ddcrire" (LM, p.404) a s t r e t c h of Provencal landscape a s it appeared t o him, not by a rapid g l a n c e but in a profound "vision". speak which s e e m e d for e v e r t o s l u m b e r in silence. i.e. wholly "une volont6 d'expression" (PP, p.921, The attempt assumes t h e dimensions of a v e r i t a b l e fight (cf. LM, p.392) t o m a k e t h a t A t t h e m o m e n t in it pronounces its which t h e landscape h a s b e c o m e what e v e r y p a r t of t h e flora is in itself, "formule", which s e r v e s m a n by making "un pas i I'esprit" (LM, p.404). Its "formule" o r r e a l n a m e i s b e a u t y being about t o vanish. e s t h k t i q u e e t morale"; "La Mounine" develops. T h e first passages of "La Mounine" present t h e landscape's isolation a s a n e v e n t in t h e very interior of fugitive s p a c e and time. r e m o t e place; Viewed a t a d i s t a n c e from t h e b u s passing by, t h e landscape moves t o a still m o r e a t t h e e n d of t h e journey, i t a p p e a r s fixed in t h e memory. T h e s p a t i a l isolation is increased by putting t h e landscape o u t of time: s c a p e it i s necessary t o follow it t o i t s quasi-extinction. It is i t s "loi in o t h e r words, in o r d e r t o know t h e real landThis is t h e way It i s t h e r e m o t e n e s s of i t s

Ponge d o e s not oppose himself t o t h e evolution of time, b u t a c c e p t s

De ce paysage il faut que je fasse conserve, que je le mette dans I'eau de chaux (c'est-&-dire que je I'isole, non de I'air ici, mais du temps). (LM, p.387) Preserving the breeze or the breath of the landscape he makes i t a fragment of nature in the midst o f nature. of the objects characteristic o f Ponge's This fragment becomes manageIt has become one

able because i t is simple (LM, p.400) and contingent. poetry

with one important

difference.

A t the extreme point o f the distance, at that moment when the azure. Yet

landscape has been voided of all meaning, the distance is turned into a constructive signifier which itself becomes a new image: even this is too present, because o f i t s insistence, being reinforced by the memory of Mallarmk, who is metonymically evoked in the larger context by the reference to the "encre":

II s'agit d'une congestion. (Tant d'azur s'est amass6e.) I...] 11 s'agit de I'explosion en vase clos d'un milliard de p6tales de violettes bleues. (LM, p.401)
Ponge puts even the azure at the distance of the critical discourse i n order t o regain awareness and breath, describe it. and thus finally become able t o In i t s intensity In this "pas nouveau" (LM, p.dlO) he manages t o speak o f the

distance at a distance and t o render i t s absence present.

the azure turns dark and, i n the light of dawn (cf. LM, p.3971, brings forth "la nuit intersidkrale, que, les beaux jours, I'on voit par transparence, et qui rend si foncb I'azur des cieux m6ridionaux." "formule" is found some paragraphs later: nuit intersiddrale" (LM, p.412). space and time o f the poem.
'.. I.

(LM, pp.4lOff.)

The

la clairihre donnant sur la

Night appears i n day, the infinite i n the And faced with this sky, man finds himself

finite, eternal time and endless space arise (LM, p.413) - i n the concrete before the "gravity" (LM, p.413) o f the eternal, which is the real place. Yet what kind of place is i t concretely, or, i n other words, what does this concept o f gravity imply? The poem remains unfinished and ends with an "etc.". The poeticological continuation may be found i n "De la nature morte et de Chardin". In this poetic criticism of Chardin's paintings it emerges that the true name o f the habitable space o f man is his destiny, called death. same time it is the name o f beauty. tragic aspect; A t the The beautiful landscape acquires a

i t becomes a landscape o f destiny, and the enjoyment o f

it i s transformed i n t o a kind of Rimbaldian 'hygiene': Voili donc n o t r e 'santd'. Voili n o t r e beaut6. Quand tout se rhordonne, s a n s endimanchement, dans un e c l a i r a g e d e destin. (AC, pp.234f.l D e a t h i s t h e "moral law" which c o n s t i t u t e s t h e landscape. It renders t h e new "paysage mdtaphysique" a "nature morte" (AC, p.235). T h e opposite i s also true: t h e "nature morte" i s living n a t u r e surrounded by death. In t h e d i s t a n c e between himself and landscape removed t o a "nature morte" 10 man, "qui, l e t e m p s d e s a vie, c h e r c h e le lieu d e son repos, enfin: mortn (AC, p.2351, finds assurance o f his place. de sa It i s t h e equation of life and death, life continually threatened with death. As "nature morte", landscape i s thus t h e c o n c r e t e i m a g e of "I'impossible qui dure" and which i s human life (M, p.198). Char: T h e Landscape o f Creation, o r "Dismissing t h e Windn

If in Ponge's poetry landscape acquires i t s sense by dying away, t h e e n t i r e 12 Provencal landscape in all i t s aspects1' "quasi s a n s choix", (NT, p.289) including t h e people living in it, fills t h e poetry of Char. Also t h e way in which landscape i s present d i f f e r s from t h a t of Ponge. In Char, t h e r e is no d i s t a n c e between man and landscape; i t i s both brimful with man's history and impregnated with t h e poet's desire. Indeed, t h e poet himself becomes landscape. H e has "la langue rocheuse" (DNG,p.1151, his hands a r e "rivikres soudainement grossies" (FM, p.129), t h e wind i s his breathing (FM, p.137). Even his writing i s inseparable from t h e landscape, it is "le liseron d u sang puisk i m d m e l e rocher" (ChB, p.541). Thus t h e landscape i s predicated a s t h e exclusive and continuously present s p a c e of poetry. Even prior t o articulation, poetry is landscape, landscape is t h e precondition of speech. What C h a r s a y s of poetry, therefore, applies equally t o landscape. A s t a t e m e n t m a d e in a n interview i s particularly relevant here, all t h e m o r e as it implies a critique of Ponge's stand. Char, employing a Pongian t e r m , s a y s t h a t "la po6sie n'est pas une legon" (CA, p.822); t o a "formule". one m a y add t h a t for Char, landscape i s not reduced It i s not only t h e result of speech, but also i t s foundation. Talking

It i s "sur la pointe e t dans le sillage d e la fl8che" (RBS, p.712). T h e landscape turns o u t t o b e "communication e t

of landscape in a referential way would fall short with regard t o Char.

[...I

libre disposition d e s

choses entre elles & travers nous" (Fb4, p.160), and organising laws.

revealing i t s fundamental

This movement o f the word between the outside and the inner world o f the subject becomes concrete i n the image o f a path through the landscape, the poetic organisation of the natural elements being at the same time the path; this means that the concrete image fulfils at the same Landscape is time the critical function of poetological self-reflexiveness. of work demanding one's entire attention. rough

not only a pleasurable spectacle offered t o an observer, but also a place This path under construction on the one hand, i t is
"

is the only way, and i t has a twofold character:

"Parole, orage, glace et sang finiront par former un givre commun on the other hand, i t exceeds all boundaries, assuming varied

(FM, p.189);

forms of passage

wind, sky, nudity, trickling

light.

"La liberte' n&t

I...] n'importe

oh" (NT, p.490).

The shock of the encounter o f these two

opposite paths, achieved by the movement of the words, leads to their inextricable intertwining, which finally is the real path:

A I'embouchure d'un fleuve oh nu1 ne se jette plus parce qu'il fait du soleil d'excrkments sous les eaux panachkes, le po&te seul illumine; assainissement des antagonismes, Bdification des prodiges, ddclin collectif. (MP, p.71)
I t is impossible t o delineate one particular path. the estuary. The indissoluble

unity of i t s two forms creates a new image o f remote boundaries, that o f I n their crossing the two delimited forms o f impossible paths In it, the poet stands at the most remote point o f the become displaced from the centre t o the threshold, which itself opens up

as a passage.
material world:

A u seuil de la pesanteur, le poete comme Ifaraign6e construit sa route dans le ciel (FM, p.165). Unlike Ponge, Char enters into the distance of the withdrawing landscape, withdrawing himself t o i t s extreme remoteness, where the distance reacts on the bounded forms o f landscape. leads t o There i t opens a new passage which

and at the same time i s

the poet's desire.

The threshold or

passage is i t s new sense figuration. fulfilled desire:

Appearing as a landscape beyond

landscape in the landscape itself, i t is the image o f pure, that is, o f never

L e p o e m e e s t I'amour rkalise du d e s i r e d e m e u r k d6sir (FM, p.162). T h e path, multiplying, displacing, dispersing itself, t u r n s o u t t o b e a n

"odyssee d e s a cendre" (FM, p.134). T h e wandering in and of t h e ashes, t h e dissemination of t h e dissemination, t h e pure instability, is t h e s t a b l e ground of t h e poet's moving forward. T h e r e f l e c t i o n of t h e landscape i s i t s Its instability r e f r a c t i o n into a m u l t i t u d e of p a t h s which t o g e t h e r b e c o m e t h e only way of t h e poem, b e c a u s e t h e y help t h e poet t o f r e e himself. i s i t s s t a b l e ground: En poesie, on n'habite q u e le lieu q u e I'on q u i t t e
(RBS, p.733).

C h a r c a l l s "perception princibre" (CA, p.824) t h e a w a r e n e s s of this r e f r a c t i o n of t h e p a t h s which r e n d e r s visible a third one, n e v e r a t t a i n a b l e but a i m e d a t in e v e r y poem. It i s t h e m o m e n t w h e r e m a n recognises t h e is p o e t r y in i t s " c r e a t i v e method" (Ponge) of poetry, y e t not, a s Ponge p u t s it, in t h e writing process, but i n n a t u r e itself, which, however, natural form. Char, a s opposed t o Ponge, i s not a t t r a c t e d by landscape F o r Char, c r e a t i v e n a t u r e a n d t h e poem in progress

for i t s b e a u t y but for t h e c r e a t i v e n a t u r e in it, which Ponge again assigns exclusively t o poetry. a r e inseparable: N a t u r e non statique, peu apprkciee pour s a b e a u t 6 convenue o u s e s productions, mais associke a u c o u r a n t du pobme o b e l l e intervient a v e c f r e q u e n c e c o m m e matikre, fond lumineu:, f o r c e c r k a t r i c e , support d e D e nouveau, e l l e agit. d e m a r c h e s inspirkes o u pessimistes, grace. (RBS, p.731) T h e passage, describing Rimbaud's c o n c e p t of nature, applies equally t o Char's own poetry; while i t s t r e s s e s t h e e v e n t c h a r a c t e r of t h e p o e t i c It word, showing i t a s t h e productivity of n a t u r e itself, it c o n f e r s a d e e p e r meaning on t h e natural landscape by inextricably linking i t t o poetry. a p p e a r s a s t h e e x t r e m e landscape of c r e a t i o n a t t h e borders of existence, of t h e survival and t h e e x t i n c t i o n of man, of his words, and his world. It is a landscape on t h e horizon, w h e r e t h e horizon dissolves i n t o a landscape. Like Rimbaud's hinterland, C h a r ' s Provensal landscape (cf. RBS, p.732) i s all movement, becoming c l e a r and again withdrawing a t t h e s a m e time, bathed in t h e c r e a t i v e light of t h e purifying m o v e m e n t beyond, o r t h e absence. T h a t which b e f o r e w a s heaviness and ashes (cf. FM, p.134) b e c o m e s freshness and flame.

T h e poem "Congk a u Vent" may s e r v e a s a n e x a m p l e a t t h i s point. Congk a u Vent A flancs d e c o t e a u du village bivouaquent d e s c h a m p s fournis d e mimosas. A I'kpoque d e la cueillette, il a r r i v e que, loin d e leur endroit, on fasse la r e n c o n t r e e x t r & m e ment o d o r a n t e d'une fille dont les b r a s se sont o c c u p e s durant la journke aux fragiles branches. Pareille A u n e lampe dont 11aur601e d e d a r t 6 s e r a i t d e parfum, e l l e s'en va, l e d o s tourn6 ou soleil couchant. I1 s e r a i t sacrilege d e lui adresser la parole. L'espadrille foulant I'herbe, ckdez-lui l e pas du chemin, Peut-&tre aurez-vous la c h a n c e d e distinguer s u r s e s lhvres la c h i m e r e d e 18humidit6 d e la Nuit? (FM,p.130) Right from t h e beginning, t h e poem is transported t o t h e border, "i flancs d e coteau", where t h e poetic e v e n t t a k e s place. neologism followed by the no less It is initiated by t h e This roughness harsh juxtaposition of t h e charming i m a g e of a flowery field and t h e rough s t r o n g "fournis". balances t h e whole poem's tenderness, s e t t i n g in motion t h e t w o impossible paths, s o t h a t t h e border is displaced t o t h e horizon w h e r e finally t h e poem is a c t u a l i z e d in t h e e p h e m e r a l e v e n t of t h e young girl appearingdisappearing in a complex g a m e of r e f r a c t i n g traces. T h e hinterland of t h e landscape is t h e figure of t h e c r e a t i v e subject a s pure d e s i r e which appears, approaches, withdraws, g r o w s larger, lighter, darker; however, i t breaks into t h e landscape and t r a n s f o r m s it into a c r e a t i v e nothing more than a narrow line, t h e t r a c e of t h e girl's "matiere-6motion1' (MP, p.621, which is t h e poem, t h e basis of which is, "espadrilles". Again o n e thinks of Char's c o m m e n t about his poetics of

t h e path, especially w h e r e h e emphasises t h a t t h e path is no m o r e than a "modique e n t a i l l e d e la t e r r e

I...]

t r a c k e g b n e r a l e m e n t par l e pas repCtk Wrapped In t h e

d e s blcherons", t h a t is a "raccourci, u n e entr6toile" (CA, p.824). toile", vanishing t o t h e faint t r a c e of t h e "humidit6 d e la Nuit". i s t h e m o v e m e n t of t h e poem going beyond.

in h e r a u r e o l e of perfume, t h e girl a p p e a r s a s such a t r a c e of t h e "entregirl, t h e horizon projects itself a s c o n c r e t e figure of t h a t a b s e n c e which Liberation of sense, o r leading t o a still m o r e liberty, and night form a pair (cf. NT, p.490) "humidity". altogether. This dissolution,

elusive distance, w h e r e it b e c o m e s unrecognisable, t h a t is leading t o t h e however, remains on t h e periphery of t h e poem, t h e l a s t lap of landscape o r p a t h leads t o t h e limits of t h e poetry

What was initially said about d i s t a n c e c a n now b e formulated more precisely. A s has been shown, man and landscape a r e one. Nevertheless, d i s t a n c e i s not lacking. It has been shifted t o t h e landscape's interior, yet

not t o re-establish t h e r e a nice o r d e r of t h e landscape's elements, but t o establish itself a s a s e n s e figuration within and through t h e p e r f e c t diso r d e r of t h e s e elements. S i t u a t e d right in t h e interior of his natural His longing world, man remains uprooted, for his n a t u r e i s t h e d e s t r u c t i v e and const r u c t i v e d i s t a n c e itself, which i s nothing o t h e r but his desire. his world. T h e without is t h e within; n a t u r e is t h e reason why h e i s always elsewhere, being nevertheless within t h a t which one imagines t o b e t h e Man pursues a vertiginous r a c e Hence t h e i m p o r t a n c e of imaginary i s already t h e real (FD, p.610). immediacy in Char's poetic work; which h e leaves behind, which i s Dupin: a m a t e r i a l landscape

against t i m e t o m a k e s u r e of a lost reality.

it is his way t o m a k e s u r e of t h e place

already t h e real.

A poem by Dupin r e a d s like a n explicit c o m m e n t a r y of t h e spatio-temporal foundations of landscape in Char: Tu ne m16chapperas pas, dit le livre. T u m'ouvres e t m e renfermes, e t t u t e c r o i s dehors, m a i s t u es incapable d e s o r t i r c a r il n'y a pas d e dedans. T u es d'autant moins libre d e t'6chapper q u e l e pikge e s t ouvert. Est I'ouverture m8me. C e piege, ou c e t a u t r e , ou l e suivant. O u c e t t e a b s e n c e d e pikge, qui fonctionne plus insidieusement encore, i ton chevet, pour t'empecher d e fuir. (E, p.70) H e r e w e find t h e s a m e framing of t h e already-there and t h e elsewhere, of t h e elsewhere in t h e present place, e v e n t h e s a m e gliding of t e r r a i n a s in Char:

"le seuil d e l a lisibilit6 [of t h e landscape] se d6placet1 (D, p.30).

Also in Dupin i t is organised around a

So g r e a t a r e t h e similarities t h a t they s e e m t o point t o a n identical i m a g e

of landscape in C h a r and Dupin.

path while being t h a t path which unfolds b e t w e e n t h e s a m e e l e m e n t a r y oppositions "de l a base e t du s o m m e t " (Char) and uses t h e s a m e contradiction of t h e subject exiled in his own territories; movement of air. also in Dupin t h e path e x c e e d s i t s own boundaries in o r d e r t o a r r i v e in t h e night and t h e pure Y e t t h e r e a r e striking d i f f e r e n c e s

especially t h e

amorphous c h a r a c t e r of t h e landscape, t h e aridity and petrification of t h e elements, t h e endless drifting of words of which t h e t e x t quoted above s p e a k s among others; t h e imagery drawing t h e a t t e n t i o n t o t h e process

of writing, the presence o f the body, and the violence o f destruction. Despite similarities with Char's image o f the Provence one is, i n fact, dealing with quite a different landscape i n Dupin. Beyond the new the world topics, the landscape here becomes i n its totality a new sense figuration, as i t is the result of an inextricable mingling of all elements: o f objects, the words, and the body. control the approach t o the landscape. midst of "Night" Obscure and impenetrable, they Thus Dupin's poetry moves i n the

"Tant que ma parole est ohcure, il [the poem

and

its In

subject] respire" (D, p.48); departure:

he delves into the night, looking for light.

Char the night is the end o f all words;

i n Dupin i t is the point of

Le rocher, o'u finit la route et o'u commence le voyage, devint ce dieu abrupt et fendu auquel se mesure le souffle." (C,p.76) Under the rule o f distance, o f the unknown, and the void, landscape no longer has "rien des apparences actuelles" (Rimbaud). "On ne peut kdifier que sure des ruines".
It caves in, and

"...

In this remark Dupin summar-

ises his historical and poetic starting point, which he expresses in terms o f landscape i n a poem chosen from among his many poetological reflections: Rompre et ressaisir, et ainsi renouer. Dans la fordt nous sommes plus prks du bicheron que du promeneur solitaire. Pas de contemplation innocente. Plus de hautes futaies traversees de rayons et de chants d'oiseaux, mais des stkres de bois en puissance. Tout nous est donne', mais pour Bte force, pour dtre entame, en quelque faqon pour dtre dhtruit, - et nous dbtruire. (E, p.76) How violently opposed t o Char's is this destructive gesture; vigour and endlessness o f Rimbaud. the landscape involving the subject.
i t has the

No "modique entaille de la terre,

peine aperque" serving Char as "hamac", but near-complete destruction of Everything caves in, is removed, and the poet instals himself i n a complete drifting, such as i t is inscribed in another poem bearing the programmatic t i t l e "Le soleil substitub": Une pierre roule, puis une autre, parmi les tstes, dans I'Bboulement du rempart. Ce n'est pas par la distorsion d'une pratique ancienne que le glissement, la dhrive, la migration se poursuivent et s'amplifient I...] Dans le livre et hors du livre. Oir le soleil s'obstine a demeurer la mhtaphore enjouie du soleil, le spectre ablouissant de sa substitution 11 s'avance au-devant du texte comlne sa pierre d'achoppement, de rupture, et la brkche oh se rafraTchit le rayon d'une t h e absente. (D, p.33)

Everything slides, t r a c e s t h e t r a c e of o t h e r traces. is metaphor. An oblique mode of writing

The metaphor as the

s p e c t r e of i t s substituGon is t h e metaphor of a metaphor which in i t s turn transcends t h e e l e m e n t a r y opposition of t h e e a r t h and t h e sky by including i t in t h e "book" which a t t h e s a m e t i m e i s t o b e filled up with t h e blood of t h e body. T h e landscape is, of course, a f f e c t e d by this. ence is destroyed. From t h e Ardkche, Dupin's furnishes him with t h e basic image-material, fragments. opens o n t o a complex s y s t e m of poetic space. I t s r e f e r e n t i a l cohernative region which

nothing more remains than T h e f r a g m e n t s a r e placed

However, t h e apparent c h a o s is, s o t o speak, organised and

o n d i f f e r e n t levels, where they insert themselves into different forms of landscape, for s p a c e i s n o longer uniform. It is r e f r a c t e d a c r o s s t h e t e x t which, in calling itself trace, multiplies t h e distances, which a r e a s many perspectivisations of t h e horizon. T h e e l e m e n t s of living nature, like t h e grass, t h e flowers, t h e sun, t h e air, t h e d e w bring into relief a second n a t u r e produced by t h e poetic a c t i v i t y which is projected into t h e primary one, and on t h e textual s u r f a c e t h e most a p p a r e n t i m a g e of a rough and hostile landscape already a r t i c u l a t e s itself a s a n o t h e r trace. by t h e horizon o r distance. T h e poem projects t h e s e simultaneous reflections into a s e n s e figuration progressing of a landscape in progress from hardness, opacity, and a lack of a i r t o a weightless, well-aired, his identity. "Ce tison la distance", o n e of Dupin's earliest poetics of landscape, i s a c e n t r a l e x a m p l e of this s y s t e m a t i c operation. quoted here; idea of what h a s been developed: Et l e paysage s'ordonne a u t o u r d'un m o t lance i l a legere e t qui reviendra c h a r g e d'ombre. Au rebours d e s laves, n o t r e e n c r e stahre, s'irise, prend conscience, devient translucide e t brirlante, i m e s u r e qu'elle gravit la p e n t e du volcan. It is t o o long t o b e however, t h e t w o first verses and t h e last o n e may give an and illuminated landscape. This transformation is produced by a p o e t i c operation in which t h e subject risks There is a complex g a m e of Mallarmkan "reflets rdciproques" of landscapes governed

I...]

I1 n'y a qu'une f e m m e qui m e suive, e t elle ne m e suit pas. Pendant q u e ses habits b r i l e n t , immense e s t la roske. (G,p.87) T h e s t a r t i n g point of t h e i m a g e of t h e landscape i s i t s obscure notion

("mot

[.. I

chargk d'ombre")

denouncing the opacity of a language which which connotes a prior reality of the This dark sense

i s i t s own double trace.

The twofold remoteness o f the poetic word is

indicated by the conjunction "Et",

poem, and by the shadow which partially obscures it. ted trace o f an inaugural landscape.

figuration consumes itself as the poem progresses and becomes an illuminaThe reciprocal reflections of the two forms of landscape are well illustrated, too, by Dupin's comments on paintings by Max Ernst, another 'poet': et "En allant vers cette nature rude, aux vastes 6tendues desolees le poete a peut-Stre retrouvk la terre nue des b r i l i e s de soleil,

premiers Lges telle que I'imagination se la reprksente, le paysage original, celui qui convenait a un art qui tenait de ressaisir l e monde dans I'dclat de sa conscience." (Ead, p.51) The landscape in which the poetic process inverts itself is itself the image o f creation. none but those of a negative character being admitted: an inhuman heat, and, above all, stones, rocks, elements of stark materiality. that which Ponge gave the term. As opposed to the bleak stretches,

landscape o f creation in Char, the elements are strictly selected i n Dupin, and frozen water

That which for Char is living nature is

I t is the function of poetry to animate

dead nature for Dupin, a nature morte, but in the original sense, not i n i t by giving i t air, which is t o say the breach o f the poet's voice. sidering the hard and impenetrable materiality of objects, creating the world. Con-

poetry needs

more than ever t o seek support from art in order t o assume i t s role of Art, by being artifice, ends i n being nature. No longer the laws of The opaque word contains the landscape. expressed i n the materiality of the words. draws his within. 'mental factory'

external geography organise it, but the very materiality of the objects Only now, the objects find that independence which Ponge sought for them, because the poet withi n order t o allow the things t o speak from Once more Dupin's own procedure is illustrated by his comments

on works of art, as when he remarks that Mir6 respects the personality of the objects, approaching them with an attentive love for their material, and that the objects respond by making a present of their inner l i f e (Ead, p.142). In the opaque word, landscape is congealed; the word is the To reimage o f the dead landscape, word and object being the same.

place the word i n the poetic discourse means t o stir i t up and make a landscape flash forth across the text, just like the meteor evoked i n a

poem from t h e c y c l e De singes e t d e mouches. into a Constellation j e t 6 e hors e t distraitement encrde.

It shoots down and bursts

T h e end of representation i s definitive, t h e word i s i t s own mirror which, in pronouncing t h e dispersed objects, d o e s not reproduce them but produces a new reality o r sense figuration. A dark mirror which d o e s not know i t s own image but discovers i t by projecting i t on t h e page, where it appears a s an 'approximate abyss', a s in t h e following verses: Tu dois t16vader, Mais d a n s l e nomhre e t la r e s e m b l a n c e , Blanche 6 c r i t u r e tendue Au-dessus d'un ab7me approximatif. (G,p.10) Within t h e poetic discourse t h e word liberates itself through t h e writing, where it r e f l e c t s itself in a number which i t d o e s not know, t h a t is, in a plurality organised in t h e image of landscape, which only approximates t h e inner nature of t h e word, i s only i t s resemhlance, because t h e writing is but i t s multiple trace. T h e e l e m e n t s of living o r dead n a t u r e b e c o m e components of a new s e n s e figuration which is t h e landscape transcending i t s boundaries, where t h e poetic subject, t h e world of t h e objects, and language form a new coherent reality. A s in Char, all t h e s e e l e m e n t s , considered in their connection t o t h e poetic discourse, a r e ultimately revealed in their quality of living n a t u r e while a t t h e s a m e t i m e showing t h e naturalness of t h e poetic word as e v e n t and speech. materiality of t h e wor(l)d. T h e revaluation of t h e m a t e r i a l a s t h e s o u r c e of t h e c r e a t i v e poetic movement lends, a t t h e very c e n t r e of t h e spontaneous flashing forth of t h e word, a particular p a t i e n c e t o t h e subject. Char's vertiginous r a c e across fields and t i m e s i s a t a n end in Dupin, t h e slow p a c e of a regular, c a l c u l a t e d work, progressing and a t t h e s a m e t i m e standing still, imposes itself. It is a p a c e of r e p e a t e d spontaneity. T h e path e n d s a t e a c h repeated s t e p and obliges t h e poet t o g o on. O n c e t h e word i s pronounced, nothing Everything, however, i s rooted in t h e

all has been said and nothing h a s happened, because everything had already been said long before, because everything i s mirror and trace;

yet a change has occurred within these very similarities. The poem "Le coeur par dkfaut" from the cycle L'Epervier expresses this in terms of landscape and by constructing the figure of a new landscape: Entre ce roc bond6 d'6toiles et son sosie le gouffre, L'6difice du souffle est une seconde prison. A la place du coer Tu ne heurteras, mon amour, que le luisant d'un soc Et la nuit grandissante (G, p.54)

...

The "roc bond6 d'6toilesn and the "gouffre" opacity of the rock

are but one, because the that, in its turn, Nothing has Rut

signalling by its impenetrable material a clear mirrors itself in the abyss;

landscape constellation

takes light from the stars and opens itself to a still darker night, for the intrinsic nature of light is, as we have seen already, night. changed except that the night has deepened. We have progressed into the

object, into its opacity, and that signifies a step towards lucidity. ends, in the night silex". But

everything has to be done again because the path begins where the path

because, as Dupin expresses it, "NaTtre" is "N'Btre que to be is to be born, To be born

beinR

silex is saying it, and that is already the "Scintillement

du tranchant de la lettre" and the "Eclat de I'gtre";

but to be born "A la surface humide des labours" (Ads, p.85). to be born. In terms of landscape one could say:

in the poem is to be i n the work of poetic practice, or to work in order to be or to be born is to find oneself as nature in action or landscape about to be constructed i t is to be en route. Conclusion A brief comparison of the images of landscape in the work of the three poets will permit approaching an answer to the question asked at the beginning. I t is no longer possible innocently to speak of landscape;
it

has become a task to be performed. work and assign i t a privileged place. workshop of poetry. world.

These poets integrate i t into their Landscape becomes the concrete

Its image no longer reflects a preconceived organisa-

tion of nature, but shows the nature of the organisation of the poetic As this world presents itself under the sign of an initiating word, Hence the landscape is the very image of a new world or new reality.

its function is to establish the link between man and nature, and to pro-

nounce the nature o f man.

Landscape functions as man's natural language, But the ways of

as the voice o f what' he considers to be his nature. the three poets; is constituted.

reaching the new reality, and with i t the images o f landscape, differ in the apparent constants cease t o be invariables when conI n these different images, the historical situation o f each sidered i n the functioning of the poetic discourse by which the landscape poet becomes obvious. This applies already t o the notion of the simple and common object which is constitutive for the landscape. I n all three poets, this notion Ponge sustains the underscores the materiality and u t i l i t y o f the poetic material, but in each case with a specific nuance and i n a different role. he holds - i n this respect following Mallarme' is the "nature morte". turns Dupin, simplicity o f a natural operation; finally, while also simplicity o f the landscape by strengthening i t s vanishing character, which

i n the "formule", and that

In Char, as i n Rimbaud, the landscape has the but unlike that o f his predecessor, i t the poet's in the emotional vibration. line established by

into the configurated nature o f

placing himself

Rimbaud, concentrates on the materiality of the landscape i n order t o break i t open and reveal a new world within i t which includes the poet's body and the language. Another constant feature o f the three poets is the fact that they remove the landscape. Absence is i t s organising principle. Yet distance varies i n the different images, becomes itself an operative figure which multiplies itself, with consequences that affect the entire image of the landscape. the In Ponge, distance shows itself one-dimensional and static. the image, which
It

surrounds the landscape and all i t s elements, but i t does not operate i n interior o f thus retains traces o f the classical the text, where a concept o f landscape.
I t is the landscape signified i n i t s entirety which

becomes a signifying element distance o f i t s own is created.

in the production of

In Char, the distance is operative within the interior o f the landscape. The latter unfolds as the image o f the horizon, where man has relegated both himself and the landscape. Thus distance retains contact with material reality while going beyond it. stake the reality of expression, objects themselves. One might say that Ponge puts at

whereas Char risks the reality o f the

Landscape in Dupin presents itself a s an image which incorporates these two figures, while substantially differing from both. Not only does Dupin enlarge t h e image of t h e landscape by integrating into it t h e reality of t h e subject's body, but changes i t entirely through t h e multiplication of horizons whose foundation is, on t h e one hand, t h e irreducible plurality of man, of words, and objects, and on t h e o t h e r hand t h e hard and impenetrable materiality of these constituent elements themselves. By treating each part of that multidimensional unity a s a discrete body with i t s own landscape and diverse levels of horizon, Dupin ends, in his figure of t h e landscape, with a new image of reality. An image which loses itself in i t s own traces, leaves behind t i m e and material while installing 18 itself in t h e materiality, and standing still a t t h e dead point of time. 1. Charles Baudelaire, "Le gouvernement d e I'imagination", complbtes, ed. Claude Pichois (Paris, 19761, 11, p.627. in Oeuvres

Stephane Mallarme, "Le musique e t les lettres", in Oeuvres complktes 2. ed. Henri Mondor e t G. Jean-Aubry (Paris, 19561, p.647. 3. See Rainer Maria Rilke, l e t t e r d a t e d 13 Jan. 1923, addressed t o Lou Andreas-Salom6, in Briefe in zwei Banden, ed. Rilke-Archiv Weimar in Verbindung mit Ruth Sieber-Rilke und Karl Altheim (Wiesbaden, 19501, pp.4791. 4. Arthur Rimbaud, "Ma bohkme (Fantaisie)", in Oeuvres completes, ed. Antoine Adam (Paris, 19721, p.35. 5. Franz Kafka, "Beschreihung eines Kampfes", in Gesammelte Werke, ed. Max Rrod (Frankfurt, 1976), V, pp.24ff. 6. Gaston Bachelard, La poktique d e I'espace (Paris, 19671, Introduction. His method, however, which leaves aside "le probleme d e la composition d'un poeme", c a n obviously not b e adopted here. 7. For previous a t t e m p t s a t conceptualising and analysing t h e function o f landscape s e e esp. Joachim Ritter, "Landschaft: Zur Funktion des Sechs Aesthetischen in d e r modernen Gesellschaft", in Subjektivitat. A u f s l t z e (Frankfurt, 1974), pp.141-90; Michel Collot "L'horizon du paysage", in Lire le paysage, Lire les paysages: A c t e s du colloque 24-25 novembre 1983, CIEREC, Universite d e S t Etienne (19841, pp.121-29.

8. Editions f a t a mornana. T h e followinn abbreviations will be used: P P - L e parti pris dgs c h o s e s P r - P r o ~ m e s ; R E - La rage d e I'expression; LM - L a Mounine '(all in Vol.1, Paris, 1965); L - Lyres: M - Mhthodes; P - Pieces (all from Le grand recueil, Paris, 1961); A C - L'Atelier contemporain (Paris, 19771. 9. S e e for a nearly similar view J.-M. Gleize and R. Veck, Objet: Francis Ponge, 'Actes ou Textes' (Lille, 19841, pp.56f. 10. Cf. Pratiques d e 1'8criture (Paris, 19841, pp.l8f., calls t h e landscape a nature morte. where Ponge also

11. Cf. Georges Mounin, "Vers I'arbre-frkre aux jours compt6sV, Cahiers du Sud 342 (Sept. 19571, 307.

12. For Char, the following abbreviations will be used: MP - & M premier; DNG - D e o s F M - Fureur et mystere; h r PA - L a parole en archipel; ACh - Aromates chasseurs; N T - La nuit talismanique qui brillait dans son cercle; ChB FO - Fenstres dormantes e t portes sur le toit; RBS - Recherche de la base e t du sommet' CA - Sous ma casquette amarante: Entretiens avec France Huser, all in) the Pleiade edn Oeuvres compl&tes, ed. Jean Roudaut, Paris, 1983. 13. Cf. la raison ne soupsonne pas que ce qu'elle nomme, 18g&re, absence, occup6 le fourneau dans I'unite'." (FM, p.140).

"...

la

14. The following abbreviations will be used for Dupin: G - Gravir (Paris, 1963); E - LIErnbrasure (Paris, 1969); D - Dehors (Paris, 1975); Ead - L'Espace autrement dit (Paris, 1992); Ads - Une apparence de soupirail (Paris, 1982). 15. 16. Rimbaud, "Jeunesse", i n Oeuvres compl&tes (note 4 above), p.148. Dupin, "Comment dire?", Empkdocle 2 (19491, p.93.

17. For the metapoetical character of Dupin's art criticism see also Georges Raillart, Jacques Dupin (Paris, 1974) and Dominique Viart, LIEcriture seconde: L a pratique po6tique de Jacques Dupin, Paris, 1982. 18. 1 should like t o thank Holger Klein, whose abridgment and translation of my French typescript provided the basis of the present version.

NATURE AND PERCEPTION: VERSIONS OF A DIALECTIC I N EUROPEAN CITY POETRY Walter Bachern (University of Bochum) The development of European city poetry can roughly be divided into three phases, starting around 1800 in England, Germany. in city course, leave their mark on the poems; poetry in particular that germane locus for deployment. 1850 in France, and 1900 in The different socio-economic and cultural conditions did, of one could even argue that i t was 'external' influences found a those

In the absence of urban sociology or

psychology, city poems played a crucial role in raising and shaping consciousness of a kind of reality that many poets deemed below their poetic stature and standard. Satirical disgust was poured on the new subjectmatter, or pastoral idylls conjured up to foil or recuperate the ugly and threatening side of the emergent metropolis. However, often the same writer adopted a different stand on the city, depending on whether he wrote in prose or poetry. is a case in point. Juvenal's third his melancholic In his "London" poem of Samuel Johnson 1738, an imitation of

Satire,

he draws an analogy between London's physical and proffer some

moral decay; in his essays in the Rambler and the Adventurer, however, vein and keen social observation jointly penetrating insights into the urban psyche. august idea of man could not fathom. I t was not until the Romantics entered the literary scene, and the city, that the situation began to change. "naturel'l represents. Their epistemological interest in the status of the self, i n (modes of) perception, and in the world of programmed a head-on collision with the city and with what i t A t the same time, it can be demonstrated that their concrete

A blind spot that Pope's

experience of the city helped them significantly in crystallizing their more general beliefs and ideas. In what follows i t will be shown to what extent an increased awareness of aspects of external and internal nature were instrumental in the poet's way of seeing the city of perception.

and

i n formulating his views on the nature the two This also means that many

In the experience of the city, i t is claimed,

strands converge in the sense of a 'dialectic'.

city poems came into being because of such a dialectical tension, so that the production of city poems and the problematic they project can be seen

a s having a common source.'

P o e m s from t h r e e histprical junctures have been s e l e c t e d in order' t o illustrate d i f f e r e n t versions of this d i a l e c t i c that informed t h e formal, semantic, and t h e m a t i c s t r u c t u r e of many c i t y poems for a b o u t a hundred years. Blake's poem on "London" from Songs of Experience (1794) was T h e r e t h e c o n t r a s t between country and w r i t t e n by a staunch c i t y dweller who l e f t London only o n c e t o enjoy life in t h e c o u n t r y f o r t h r e e years. c i t y is a c u t e l y felt, although his perception of Felpham is a s much built upon his imagination a s o n a c t u a l experience.3 Similarly, t h e c i t i e s he was t h e n beginning t o 'build' (The Four Zoas; Jerusalem) a r e imaginative c o n s t r u c t s r a t h e r than c o n c r e t e l y realized urban environments. on his e a r l y poem called "London", by i t s stark, relentless realism and simplicity. of city. Focusing however, w e a r e immediately struck Unredeemed by "celestial

voices", i t nevertheless projects a strangely disembodied, phantasmal kind Voices s e e m s e v e r e d from human a g e n t s and c o n s t i t u t e an aural For but in s o doing h e applies t h e s p a c e whose s e m i o t i c t h e wandering speaker is about t o decipher. what looks disconnected, h e re-connects,

s a m e method and language which t h e dominant discourse, a s projected in t h e poem, is predicated upon, namely t h e principle of identity and sameNo differential play is allowed t o unfold, which would allow us t o see a d i f f e r e n c e b e t w e e n n a t u r e and culture, river and s t r e e t . T h e r e p e a t e d a t t r i b u t e "charter'd" f o r c e s a false, artificial and commercialized kind of reality on us, a f a c t m a d e much more explicit in a line d r a f t e d In t h e final in a notebook: "The c h e a t i n g waves of c h a r t e r ' d version, c o m m e n t has thus been turned into a f a c t of perception, a daily reality. Free-flowing movement and action, denoted by words like "wander", "flow" o r "meet", i s contained and t a i n t e d by rhyme (flow-woe; s t r e e t l m e e t ) a s well a s s e m a n t i c and s y n t a c t i c repetition. T h e s a m e formal p a t t e r n s t h a t in Songs of Innocence radiated an a u r a of lightness and purity (of diction and s t a n c e ) h e r e - in t h e c o n t e x t of c i t y and 'experience' - s e r v e t o foreground t h e speaker's e n t r e n c h e d m o d e of perception and his s e n s e of enclosure. Blake reinforces this e f f e c t by subtly fusing subject and object, a s t h e s y n t a c t i c variation of "markn suggests; it i s used a s a v e r b and a noun (object). O r by m e a n s of g r a m m a t i c a l ambiguity, which allows us t o read "mind-forg'd manacles" in t h e s e n s e of manacles f e t t e r i n g t h e mind o r f e t t e r s forged by t h e mind. In such a reading t h e mind would b e s e e n a s both agent and patient, a s nes4

stream^".^

instrumental in producing its own (inherent) constraints and as suffering external constraints. The discrete pun in "forg'd" that suggests both The physical manufacture and the (fraudulent) mental construction of discourse discreetly subverts the principle of identity that structures the poem. sees and hears. "charter'd"). Blake's indebtedness to Biblical sources (e.g. Ezekiel 9:4; Revelation 13:16-17; what we see Lamentations 4:13-14) only supports our point: represented speaker, however, is absorbed, i f not constituted by what he

J For the semiotic of the city is real p

fabricated as

much as nature is presented as being concrete and constructed (i.e.

as being real is already figured, no matter what source or selection of codes is operative in the act of perception. nature and human rights or not. However, Blake leaves no ambiguity as to whether the selected codes suggest a violation of human Naturally, discourse elements such as the can be perceived differently, There is, for instance, Tom Paine's I t operates by a political and commercial term "charter'd" depending on one's political leanings. sion of terms to say,

reversal of the term's Whig definition, which suggests that i t "is a perverthat a charter gives rights. contrary effect, that of taking rights away.lt6 The critical reception of the poem provides plenty of evidence for the assumptions made concerning concepts like human nature or freedom. What needs stressing here is that perception is an effect of discourse and that the kind of discourse operative at a particular point in time also depends on how i t defines i t s relationship with nature. a model for deconstructing any reading of it. perceptual limitations and their contexts, of the text. being. The poem supplies Whereas Blake's speakers

in Songs of lnnocence and Songs of Experience seem unaware of their the reader is called upon to detect discourse elements that inform the surface and the deep structure Otherwise a play of identity and difference cannot come into lnnocence may, in fact, be in dire Conversely, experience may How we see Blake's city (poem), then, ultimately depends on what

we understand by nature or natural.

need of experience, as some of the 'songs of innocence' suggest, because it, too, limits our construction of the real. profitably feed on innocence, because otherwise its constructions may sound false and its forms look grotesque or paradoxical (e.g. "Marriage hearse"). I t is this kind of a dialectic which the last lines of the poem seem to adumbrate: 'infancy' of life and of (marital) relationship is doomed, i f

it

is predicated

o n an

opposition,

rather

than a

d i f f e r e n c e between of being o r modes of

innocence and experience 7 perception.

a s t w o d i s c r e t e 'states'

Not unlike Blake, f o r whom perception h a s t o b e redeemed by a ~ vision t h a t transcends t h e purely p h y s i c a ~ , Wordsworth "Looks/ln steadi9 ness" (Prelude, VII, 710f.) a t a particular object t o release i t s hidden meaning, which is o t h e r than purely self-generated. his perceptions t o give his figurings s o m e weight. physical and mental realities. ground, then, H e has t o 'ground' He is also highly con-

scious of t h e basic ambiguity of images in t h a t t h e y a r e twinned t o This insight explains his known dread of What b e t t e r testing than the solipsism and his suspicion of d e c e p t i v e appearances. addictive g l i t t e r of t h e metropolis! of London has several layers; "power

could t h e r e b e f o r studying such appearances

His account of t h e "growth of a Rut his experience

poet's mind" t h e r e f o r e includes t h e whole of Book VII.

h e imaged it o n c e while craving for t h e vast Metropolis,/The Fountain of my

...

in all things",

a s ''that

Country's destiny/And of t h e destiny of E a r t h itself" (VIII, 755f., 746-8). T h e qualification just m a d e i s important, s i n c e mentioning t h e c o n t e x t of perception is crucial t o an understanding of VJordsworthls poetry, a s h e urges u s t o encounter London "wholly f r e e from dangerous passions" (VII, 71f.). His r e t r o s p e c t i v e description of London, of course, is not exclusively covered by Book VII; r e f e r e n c e s also c r o p up in o t h e r parts. Early childhood images of t h e capital naturally undergo a series of permutations, a s d o o t h e r key experiences recounted in t h e poem, such a s t h e pond o r t h e gibbet episodes. T h e r e i s of course a tendency in everyone t o w a n t t o a r r e s t moments and o b j e c t s in s p a c e and t i m e , especially when one considers oneself, a s Wordsworth o n c e did, "lord and master", thinking t h a t t h e "outward sensells but t h e obedient s e r v a n t of her will." (XI, 271-73) Wordsworth r e f e r s here t o those "spots o f time" whose n a t u r e it is t o resist narcissistic possession, since t h e y a r e with u s and of us, but not because of us. and - difference, They inject into m o m e n t a r y e x p e r i e n c e a sense of identity and a s such form a vital e l e m e n t in a potentially endless

process of self-definition. Wordsworth's e x p e r i e n c e of London and i t s bewildering sign system, i t s constantly moving crowds and fluctuating images, has t o be s e e n in this context. For, d e s p i t e i t s apparent differentiation of s u r f a c e pheno-

mena, Wordsworth c a n find in it l i t t l e t h a t i s of growth-inducing quality. Unlike Baudelaire, who discovered in his beloved and hated P a r i s a huge terrain and potential for self-definition, Wordsworth felt pressured t o l e a v e t h e c i t y in o r d e r t o salvage a few images and episodes in t h e quiet of a natural retreat. Only there, a w a y from t h e "hell1For e y e s and ears!" (VII. 6591.3, c a n h e find a natural ground for rehearsing and processing his previously m a d e perceptions. They a r e then replayed a s a kind of "seconds i g h t procession, such a s glides1Over still mountains, o r appears in dreams" Even d r e a m s - for which t h e r e i s otherwise l i t t l e room in s e e m preferable t o t h e 'mirror' world (VII, 250) of t h e city. T h e shadowy C a v e of Yordas, therefore, looks p e r f e c t a s an anti-setting (VII, 602f.l. Wordsworth

t o London, where t h e now internalized images of London a r e conjured up again in quiet and resonant darkness, a s if t o give London in retrospect s o m e spectral dignity1' while allowing t h e mind t o p e n e t r a t e and imaginatively transform t h e images perceived. Only t h e n c a n t h e "unmanageable sight" (VII, 732) of London gain contour again, e v e n if a t t h e price of producing a still-life: "The s c e n e before him lies in p e r f e c t view,/Exposed and lifeless, a s a w r i t t e n book." (VIII, 726f.) Rut a s s o o f t e n in Wordsworth, t h e s c e n e will soon b e reanimated, London gains meaning through t h e work of memory and t h e imagination. Its images appear intermingled with "forests and lakes,/Ships, rivers, towers, t h e Warrior c l a d in Mail, I...] A S p e c t a c l e t o which t h e r e i s no end.'' (V111, 737-41) First impressions have t o b e re-appraised, sifted through, abandoned, maybe picked u p later; deferring u l t i m a t e signification is g e r m a n e t o Wordsworth's poetics. His sonnet "Composed upon Westminster Bridge, S e p t e m b e r 3, 1802" projects just o n e particular picture; in o t h e r s h e t r i e s t o adopt t h e perceptual f r a m e o f o t h e r people. T h e poem "Written A f t e r t h e Death of Charles Lamb", for instance, also suggests t h e inspiring influence of t h e c i t y on Lamb's c r e a t i v e work; and "The F a r m e r of Tilsbury Vale", who turned his back o n t h e country, s e e m s rejuvenated by t h e city's vitality a f t e r his bankruptcy a t h o m e ("He s e e m s t e n birthdays younger, i s green and i s stout;/ T w i c e a s f a s t a s b e f o r e does his blood run about"), and Smithfield with i t s "breath of t h e cows" reconnects his h e a r t with t h e distant Tilsbury vale." Humorous in tone, t h e poem nevertheless allows for a l t e r n a t i v e London experiences.

Wordsworth seems to shy away from straight Popean satire, though some of the London passages in the Prelude are reminiscent o f it; he therefore often intersects them with bits o f Romance, or Miltonic lines, i f only t o keep urban pressures at bay or carve out some meaning i n a retrospect. The city's systemic absence o f meaning and order is emblemthe moderate rustic fair on Mount atized for him i n the phantasmal spectacle o f Bartholomew Fair, which he later contrasts and balances with Helvellyn that opens Book VIII. long description: Several messages emerge from this rather second, the poet's

first, i t s spectacle is so overwhelming that i t lays "The

whole creative powers" o f the poet t o rest (VII, 655);

imaginative numbness is reflected i n a virtual absence o f any controlling metaphor or redeeming lyricism, as found in other parts of the same Book; third, fairs and festivals reflect the people's imaginative need, i f only and fourth, differences seem levelled down "to one expressed i n superstition or a belief in "the marvellous craft/Of modern Merlins" (V11, 6861.); (VII, 704f.) identity", whilst those that do exist "have no law, no meaning, and no end". Bartholomew Fair becomes the c i t y for Wordsworth

at that

point in time, but there are other moments and images that differ from 12 the previous ones and thus facilitate human 'experience'. Wordsworth's catalogue o f sights simply reflects the contingency of sense impressions. Nothing i s repeated, everything is new, and thus no By contrast, the memory-trace can be perceived or inscribed i n the place.

country-fair is seasonal, familiar characters re-emerge from the past, and the whole atmosphere is governed by a spirit o f play, and o f interplay with surrounding nature. Differences can be organically located and signified; human nature can therefore be perceived i n finite terms, which makes the city's non-ending stream of l i f e look like blasphemy, since severed from ''early converse with the works o f God'' (VII, 719). As a man-made artifact, the c i t y presents itself as a "work that's finish'd t o our hand" (VII, 6531, leaving nothing or l i t t l e t o do for the imagination. Its profusion o f signs represents an over-signified reality Significawith i t s "string of dazzling Wares,/Shop after shop, with Symbols, blazon'd Names,/And all the Tradesman's honours overhead" (V11, 173-5). imitation of (sense) data. tion is prestructured, and the self is reduced t o a parrot-like reception and Reduced t o the role o f a passive spectator rather than (partial) creator, the c i t y dweller, as the hack artist, may feel an urge to assume the role of a god-like signifier, positioned on "some

lofty Pinnacle" in order to produce the definitive version of reality, taking in a "whole horizon on all sides" such as in "microscopic vision, Rome itself" (VII, 273). preferably including the surrounding landscape ("every tree1Through all the landscape", in short, "All that the Traveller sees when he is there." (VII, 277-2001 Wordsworth here parodies the search for semiotic plenitude and an all-inclusive vision of the worid,13 suggesting that it simply reflects an absence of meaning, alienation from nature, and a compensatory demonstration of power as if to exorcise the specular demons that seemed to have possessed the city mind. This exorcism will inform structure and Imagery of some expressionist poems. While at Cambridge, Wordsworth was already able to study a microscopic picture of urban life. Unlike the penetrating mode of perception demonstrated in the boat episode of Book IV, where objects are captured in an experiential sequence that follows the organic relatedness (of similar items as here), the Cambridge gaze goes through the motions of glancing at an arbitrary arrangement of contiguous items. "fancy moren (IV, 253) No room is left to The "rare" item must compensate for contextual

meaning; its underlying desire for singularity and novelty Wordsworth was to observe later on in London. Also the social aspect of contiguity was present in Cambridge, not only in the 'poetic diction' that had become social practice there, but also in the socially divisive power of the clothing system

Such divisiveness he also meets in London, whose street theatre he rejects in favour of the stage, especially the performance of Jack the Giant-killer, who connects him with boyhood reading, whereas the London Street cuts him off from his past while pressuring him into a stunned presence. Unlike the "Invisible" Giant, he is not safe "from the eye/Of living mortaln. (VII, 305f.) In a related scene Wordsworth describes the encounter with a Blind Beggar, a scene which has the makings of a "spot of time". The man is standing propped against a wall, with an explanatory "label" on his chest (VII, 614f.). Standing apart from the crowds, his blindness seems to reflect their own sightless anonymity. Although London could not offer Wordsworth a prime place or selfdefinition, he nevertheless kept his steady eye quite open and gazed in horror at his arch-enemy, the senselessly specular. Blindness is its ultimate negation, and the natural or supernatural its companion forms - "As if admonish'd from another worldn. (VII, 623) The Blind ~ e g g a r ' s epi-

phanic appearance amidst the city crowds therefore embodies "the utmost that we know". (V11, '619)

The story of nineteenth-century Paris is reflected and fractured in the story of Baudelaire's life and work. Individual poems can be and have is built upon a series of been related to personal and social events, structures, and imagesJ4 Thus an image of a poetic identity emerges that ruptures

familial, social, political.

The traumatic break with his family

meant that he had to start a new life, seek new (personal and class) alliances, and face an urban reality that posed a permanent threat of engulfment. His initial poetic response, therefore, was to put on 'pastoral' lenses and ennoble the Parisian scene. In order to put this programme into practice, he avails himself of "Le Soleil", both as symbol and a physical energy, and aims to dissolve "les soucis vers le cieI1', l5turn the lame into maypole dancers, and I t is, i n fact a social programme, both sound as forced as (FM, p.266). The sun's generally reanimate the human heart. the whole vision looks unnatural. ainsi qu'un pohte,

whose urgency is reflected in tone and diction;

il descend dans les villes"

The sun's appearance is willed "Quand,

presence seems both unnatural and necessary in a city, since light is shed freely on everything, poor or rich; uncaring environment. urban man: by the sun's energy and "equality", like the poet himself, i t cares i n an and the caring voices its effect on However, poet and sun are slums NeverHis perception thus is informed and transformed

"le soleil cruel frappe a traits redoublb/sur la ville et les

champs, sur les toits et les b16s" (FM, p.265). are not stubble fields.

joined in a central ambiguity, which reveals as much as it hides: natural, an effect partly achieved by the sing-song of the rhythm.

The reader is lured into perceiving the social as

theless, i t is the naturalizing cliche that works most effectively in a context of social ugliness, since i t reflects perception as impaired and impoverished. The poverty of the clich6 always refers to potential but not Raudelaire creates an image of generThe urban actualized plenitude in meaning. mind feeds on such visions, absence of nature's riches.

osity that spills into the life of brains and bees (FM, p.266).

since its endemic meanness reflects the

Pastoral promise is thus basically introduced

as a structure of desire, as an energy rather than a full-fledged picture.

Baudelaire's bucolic discourse is always self-conscious, a s t h e opening lines of "Paysage" suggest: "Je veux, pour composer chastement mes bglogues,/Coucher auprks du ciel, comme les astrologues" (FM, p.265). Like "Les Aveugles" who keep their eyes fixed on the far skies they cannot see, he seeks inspiration from a visualized transcendence that is not t o obscure o r transfigure his perception of urban squalor. Unlike t h e entrenched mode of perception that Blake projects in "London", Baudelaire continually refers t h e eye t o the "other" (and i t s manifold manifestations) while remaining grounded in the physical and social presence of t h e city. Like \Vordsworth's beggar, his blind men serve a s figures against the ground of urban hubbubb and i t s specular analogues. In a sense, even those blind beggars o r blind 'seers' look like idylls because of their difference rather than opposition to the urban scene, of which they a r e firmly a part. In their "spectacle' Baudelaire images what has been done t o them, whose names were once the order of the day: "Vous qui fCtes la g r s c e ou qui fiites la gloire,/Nul ne vous reconnatt! " (FM, p.274). As virtually disembodied eyes and voices, they accost like ghosts t h e passer-by, t h e flaneur who affords himself time t o reflect on them, and write their history in verse. Unlike so much urban poetry that interpolates idyll t o redeem the city, Baudelaire's eye concentrates on i t s child-like innocence: "tout c e que I'ldylle a d e plus enfantin" (FM, p.256; my italics). l6 For he senses in the child's mode of perception a "cruel" fairness ("le soleil cruel", FM, p.265), which clarifies t h e mind in order t o pierce the veil of hard and shiny appearances without loss of sensibility. In short, Baudelaire's vision of Paris is that of a child and an adult a t the same time, analytical and naive. The two perceptions of the world (of the city) intersect, a s in some of Blake's poems. Memory traces and 'cobblestones' have t o collide in order t o get his "fantasque escrime" - literally - off the ground. That childhood memory was crucial for him is evidenced, for instance, in 17 his version of d e Quincey's idea of t h e 'Palimpsest of Memory'. Baudelaire's pastoral transformation of Paris has method: "Et quand viendra I'hiver aux neiges monotones,/Je fermerai partout portieres e t volets/Pour batir dans I nuit mes fCeriques palais." (FM, p.265) Sobbing s fountains and singing birds a r e drummed up to shut out s t r e e t riots that may taint his vision of natural beauty, and of 'social' beauty. For t h e Parisian workshop (we would now call it a factory), which h e "sees" (FM,

p.265) from his garret as being turned into a place ,of spontaneous selfexpression ("l'atelier qui chante e t qui bavarde") receive a retroactive disclaimer: the joint presence of social unrest and social peace forces its paradoxical nature on the reader, makes him think about the social constructlon of nature and t h e a c t of naturalizing the city as a prominent locus of politics and history. To improve the natural (emotional) and social climate of Paris, the poet avails himself of paradox, a s in the final lines, of the conceit of "tirer un soleil d e mon coeur" (FM, p.265). Thus the sun, whose human analogue is the heart, is invoked for the sole purpose of combating social and individual indifference, since both fields Child-llke insistence and modern and the heart a r e m a t o grow self-consciousness a r e joined t o energize perception, and open it again t o see t h e 'other', all that has been suppressed o r oversignified which ultimately amounts t o the same thing. The speaker's ostentatious disinterestedness in 'things political', a s projected in "Paysage", is simply childish rather than anti-political; i t s abrupt gesture of shutting out the voice of the people looks immature. Yet it is also indicative of a highly matured consciousness that playfully handles familiar discourse. Thus social and natural c l i c h b a r e employed t o secure interest or connivance in the reader. Poets a r e 'naturally' placed in their garrets, and nature is evoked through common-place imagery ("neiges monotones", "fiieriques palais", "jets d'eau pleurant", 'oiseaux chantant", etc.). Baudelaire's seemingly simple urban pastoral draws attention t o its own constructedness a s much as t o the heterogeneous materials he works with. Framed by a "wintry" mood, his picture o f , Paris is composed of the playthings of childhood and the stumbling-blocks of an adult. "Rbve Parisien" could be regarded as a companion piece, although placed towards the end of the Tableaux Parisiens. A t first it seems t o have little in common with the other one, since nature, and any "v6gCtal irr6guliern (FM, p.284) have been banned from the dream. "Colonnades" stand in for trees, "glass" becomes synonymous with water, and "objective" light (i.e. light produced and contained by t h e object) eschews natural light. In short, nature has been replaced by a glittering artifact, composed of metal, marble, stone, and glass. Its building materials seem t o have been selected solely for their mirror function, namely t o reflect the image of i t s architect who, like the "huge naiads", can marvel a t himself.

a .

H e r e "the e y e s alone" i s in imperial command. It i s a c o n c e p t of a r t t h a t l a t e r will f a s c i n a t e Jean-Paul S a r t r e in L a Nausie, f o r not dissimilar reasons. F o r this "terrible" kind of construction s e e m s t o afford t h e only e s c a p e from t h e urban mess, i t s contingencies, i t s vulgar "nature"; clinical sterility usurps t h e domain of organic g r o w t h and filth. So, i s t h e t i t l e o f t h e poem a misnomer? And i s t h e r e only a slim link b e t w e e n t h e t w o poems, as Leakey s t a t e s ? l9 T h e opening of t h e poem c o n f r o n t s t h e r e a d e r with t h e perceptual shock t o which t h e s p e a k e r awakens, and whose origin is unclear. P a r a doxically, t h e "terrible terrain'' d o e s not haunt b u t ravish t h e speaker, i t s s e d u c t i v e i m a g e spilling i n t o his waking consciousness - of t h e d r e a m and t h e city, a s if t o elicit a comparison b e t w e e n t h e 'miraculous' ("Sleep is full of miracles!") and t h e profane. But what a m i r a c l e w e a r e allowed t o witness! It i s a world e m p t i e d of life, in which "the s i l e n c e of t h e Void" reigns, f r o m which irregular meanderings, hidden corners, rough edges, growth and history h a v e been removed, and where t o t a l inspection and surveillance g o unpunished. How much closer c a n w e g e t t o Baron Haussmann's

a d m i t t e d l y well-meaning

g e o m e t r i c a l ideal of relentless

'regularisation' and self-representational 'boulevards' ? 20 T h e c i t y i s m e a n t t o h a v e i t s o w n discourse, manifested in a n a u t o t e l i c system, just like Baudelaire's 'terribly' intriguing "Parisian Dream". Haussmann's slumclearing p r o g r a m m e s e e m s t o h a v e been inscribed in it; ironically, i t is his "l'horreur d e mon taudis" h e r e t u r n s to, and with i t r e t u r n s "La pointe d e s soucis maudits", and of relentless clock time. (FM, p.286) T h e t w o f a c e s o f Paris, blended i n t o t h e c o m p o s i t e picture of a d r e a m , r e f r a c t e a c h other, something t h e s p e a k e r i s anxious t o prevent by s e p a r a t i n g t h e m o u t a t t h e level of s u r f a c e discourse. T h e s e m a n t i c building blocks of t h e poem, however, b e t r a y t h e i r urban blueprint. It is a c i t y mind t h a t builds i t s "fgeriques palais" ("Paysagen, FM, p.2651, and t h e flowers of i t s lands c a p e s a r e of m e t a l and glass. T h e harmony of a pastoral idyll has not been disturbed here, a s in t h e o t h e r poems, but negated, a n d turned i n t o a n anti-pastoral. Childhood play s e e m s t o h a v e m a t u r e d i n t o a n adult still-life, but i t s horrific b e a u t y r e f e r s us back t o i t s n a t u r a l s o u r c e s of inspiration. Since Baudelaire's 'Parisian' d r e a m i s not only of P a r i s but a l s o in Paris, a n e s c a p e i n t o n a t u r e a m o u n t s t o a n e s c a p e into t h e past, whose r e a l i t y h a s t o b e c a r v e d o u t of t h e present, a s is suggested in "Le Soleil"

(Fh4, p.265f.l. Such 'eerie' collisions with the past tend to turn the present, and presence of Paris into a spectral scene, whose images cling t o its dwellers. Instead of being only an intermediary stage between a specular and an imaginative encounter with the real, a s it was for Wordsworth, the spectral is for Baudelaire one of the mainsprings of his poetry. It forms part of present-day perceptions rather than being neatly separated out like a bad dream. It is inscribed and comes alive on the cobblestones of Paris, as in the guise of a "Squelette Laboureurn (FM, p.276f.1, the "Danse Macabre" (FM, p.279ff.) or the spectral procession (not as a willed Wordsworthian "second-time procession") of "Les Sept Vieillardsn (FM, p.270ff.l or "Les Petites Vieilles" (FM, pp.272-275). In the latter poem, old women appear as remains and reminders (of an "other" Paris) that can be picked up and inherited by the "flaneur". They are walking paradoxes, like those "Aveugles" who look like "mannequins" (FM, p.275). They are ghosts that do not fit into the world of the imaginary, since there history has become anathema. Dwarfed in size to match the coffin of a child, and their life story emptied into a hiatus between birth and death "nouveau berceau", they nevertheless possess one identifying and functioning organ: their eyes " p e r ~ a n t scomme However, it is not the eyes of the imaginary gaze that une vrille". freezes the "other"; instead it contains it in the sense of child-like wonder. Their eyes are "les yeux divins de la petite fille", still able to marvel "A tout c e qui reluit" (FM, p.272). a faculty and passion they share with the speaker in "Rgve Parisien" (FM, p.284ff.l. The ambiguous nature of perception is thrown into relief in the way the speaker can both share their wonder and analyze their appearance. For behind the physical presence of a "swarming" Paris, the speaker discovers a problem of geometry ("mbditant sur la g60m6trie8', FM p.2731, since the women's bodies show up "membres discords" (FM, p.2731, that he finds disturbing, like that "v6g6tal irr6guliern in the other poem: "Combien de fois il faut que I'ouvrier varie/La forme de la boqte oh I'on met tous ces corps"? In the poet's "dreamn of Paris, of course, the any natural resistance such formal structuring of matter is an easier task;

as an ocean represents can be 'tamed' and contained by the poet's will and imagination (FM, p.285). Unlike concrete 'materials' such as the human body, mental pictures are more on a par with aesthetic perception, but even here nature's irregularities can cause life-long problems for the

urban artist, as Baudelaire confesses in the prose poem "Le Confitgor de IfArtisten: "Nature, enchantresse sans piti6, rivale toujours victorieuse, laisse-moi !" 2 1 To hold nature in check, Raudelaire interpolates in many of his poems cultural referents as models of perception, mainly from the Fine Arts. Rut the picturesque effect of his painterly or sculptural images are Moreover, since the speaker's discourse in the often framed by signifiers of nature, usually of basic human expression (grief, joy, pain, etc.). Tableaux parisiens is often dynamized by speech acts of hope, wish, exclamation, command, questioning, etc., he demonstrates human involvement rather than aesthetic detachment, as often claimed. He wants others to share primarily his experiential rather than his cultural knowledge. Raudelaire does not have to prove in his poetry that he is an outstanding art critic. But he certainly would not mind if readers attracted by learned allusions would also learn to reflect upon the natural roots of such poetry and such a voice. Thus "Les Petites Vieilles" foregrounds cultural stereotypes such as "Madonne transperc6en

(FM, p.273) or "De Frascati d6funt Vestale

enamour6e" that refer the reader to the voice of nature, and speech acts denote dialogic involvement: "Monstres brisds, bossus/Ou tordus, aimonsles -!" (Fh4, the lines: p.272, my italics). The social responsibility is stressed, as in The "soul" is "Avez-vous observ6 que maints cercueils de vieilles/Sont presque

aussi petits que celui d'un enfant?" (FM, p.273, my italics). other poems. sitional speaker.

here clearly invoked as the organ of perception, as the "heart" is in many Unlike his poetry up to the mid-1850s, where the propoof his poems overruled pragmatic concerns and dimension

strategies, his explicitly urban poems situate a pained and more isolated He anxiously seeks contact, since mutually shared knowledge and The early rhetoric experience seem no longer guaranteed, if it ever was. to be switched accordingly.

of persuasion now has to fight on a different ground, and speech acts have The addressee, too, is less stereotyped, more typical of real men and women of the street. One poem is addressed "A une Mendiante pousse", another to a woman passing by ("A une Passante"). In Baudelaire's Parisian Pictures frames of perception and images of nature (and its metonyms such as the human body, dreams, or desire) intersect in ways unseen so far in the history of urban poetry. Related motifs and oppositions such as chiIdhood/adulthood, life/death, present/past

o r c u l t u r e l n a t u r e a r e closely woven into t h e poem's texture. tions;

T h e resulting

pictures a r e t h e r e f o r e no longer decipherable o n t h e level of neat opposionly d i f f e r e n c e s e m e r g e from t h e s e pictures, because t h e desire o r "sensationn, then, a r e mediators between inner and o u t e r It is this, I think, what Baudelaire m a primitive passion". yet be f u r t h e r investigated, t h a t produced them i s inextricably wedded t o i t s source of frustration. "VoIupt6" nature, but t h e images t h e y t h r i v e o n a r e essentially urban, and thus tend t o n e g a t e what t h e y stimulate." m e a n t when h e called "les images, m a grande, the pain and confusion t h e y c a n c a u s e will

Baudelaire's passion f o r images remains unparalleled in c i t y poetry;

especially by t h e G e r m a n Expressionists, who work with similar s e t s of motifs, but work them into much m o r e radical f o r m s of involvement, and even engulfment.

G e r m a n c i t y poetry e m e r g e d in t h e 1880s in t h e c o n t e x t of l a t e industrialization and a strong pastoral tradition, and developed through distinct stylistic s t a g e s from Naturalism, neo-Romanticism and Symbolism until i t reached i t s climax in Expressionism (especially between 1910 and 1920). Arno Holz played a crucial role in this development both in t e r m s of s t y l e and subject-matter; h e and s o m e of t h e o t h e r naturalists, especially Julius Hart, Bruno Wille, and Karl Henckell, introduced us t o a c i t y t h a t works, and w h e r e work spills over into leisure, and alcohol a c c e l e r a t e s deterioration. Industrial iconography r e c u r s in m o d e r a t e variation; chimneys overshadow Berlin's "Mietskasernen" (such as sooty factory those on the

Ackerstrasse), narrow s t r e e t s and t r e e l e s s c o u r t y a r d s add t o a general a t m o s p h e r e of claustrophobia. H e r e t h e naturalist poet shows his c o m m i t m e n t in redirecting t h e victims' perception a w a y from their confinement t o w a r d s t h e large expanses of freedom such a s Bruno Wille's seraphic ~ skies in " ~ o l k e n s t a d t " . ~ P a l e housewives and sweating workers a r e urged t o look upward and marvel a t t h e poet's Alpine idyll while angelic children look down on t h e urban squalor in horror. b e t w e e n t w o s t a t i c a l l y opposed pictures. However, t h e pastoral counterwhich remains caught What s e e m t o b e dialogic speech It i s a i m a g e t o t h e c i t y fails t o e n e r g i z e perception,

a c t s (i.e. requests, commands) s e r v e t o reinforce t h e speaker's paternalistic s t a n c e and self-engrossed r a p t u r e a t his own vision of escape.

rhetoric and diction Wille shares with t h e o t h e r Naturalists. "Grosstadtmorgen",

In Holz's "Da, Hirn

f o r instance, t h e poem also divides i n t o t w o contrast-

ing worlds, but t h e y converge in a momentarily divided consciousness: plotzlich, wie? ich wusst es selber nicht,/fuhr mir durchs phantastisch ein Gesicht,/in T r a u m
? i

..." (R,

p.44).

T h e remembered idyll

la Eichendorff, who half a c e n t u r y e a r l i e r employed t h e s a m e technique

t o k e e p t h e reality of Berlin a t bay, c a n now unfold, y e t is clearly intended t o let i t s Utopian flow spill into t h e final s e t of clipped and chilly propositions: Bettler "Die Friedrichstrasse. Krumm an seiner Krucke/ein in t h e first few his

...".

(R, p.45)

T h e speaker's self-presentation

lines ("da schritt ich miide durch d i e FriedrichstadtJbespritzt von ihrem Schmutz bis in die Seelev', R, p.44) t e l l s u s what Paudelaire shows; T h e homely, self-absorbed mood and diction give him away: (R, p.44). 'Biedermeier' "soul" may well b e soiled by t h e c i t y , but t h e poem shows n o t r a c e of it. "An was ich dachte, weiss d e r Kuckuck nur./Vielleicht a n meinen Affenpintscher Fips" a t i t s best, and no real urban collision t o disrupt it.

Violent exchanges, if t h e y d o occur, a r e quickly contained by t h e powers t h a t be, a s t h e fight between a c o a c h driver and a policeman in Henckell's "Von d e r Strasse" shows. But h e r e t h e speaker becomes ironic, l e t s t h e law-abiding citizens a d m i r e t h e brave policeman (R, p.50) and then goes o n t o question t h e seemingly trivial incident by making us look a t a violent potential amongst t h e urbanites: "Doch a u s winzigen Schnee...Iq

ballchenlwachst (R, p.50).

lautlos d i e Lawine, d i e verheertlund jah verschlingt

O n t h e whole, however, t h e s e poems d o not y e t project a t h e d e s t r u c t i v e side of human n a t u r e is not yet If a t all, i t is embedded in an energized

reservoir of violence;

allowed t o express itself freely.

diction, rapidly switching points of view (supported by quickly sequenced d e i c t i c signals) and a generally m o r e aggressive imagery. Although naturalist poems are still a far cry away from the expressionist epitomes, t h e kinetic quality of s o m e passages c o m e s close t o t h e expressionist mode. schwerer Heideduft/umfloss An interesting e x a m p l e in this r e s p e c t is one mich noch (R, p.59) suggesting a rural of Julius Hart's poems, which opens with t h e line "Vom Westen kam ich,
...Iq

mode o f perception t h a t i s allowed, for o n e s t a n z a a t least, t o feed on t h e picturesque countryside through which t h e self is travelling in a train o n i t s way t o Berlin. In t h e third stanza, however, t h e pastoral c h a r m i s

brusquely brushed aside ("Vorbei die Spiele!",

R, p.60) t o let a voice of

experience and i t s re'spective mode of perception take over; this is why and when t h e countryside 'changes', it becomes more aggressive as the train races through the September mists a s if penetrating some resistent veil o r wall. While following the rapid sequence of images picked up by the perceiving eye, t h e s a m e images seem t o reflect t h e traveller's entranced frame of mind, his fascination for t h e engine's ubiquitous power; he inhabits i t s field of energy ("vom dumpfen Schall/stohnt, drohnt und saust's im engen Eisenwagen"). Nevertheless, we can still feel a distance between the observer and his object, although much less so than in impressionistic poems where images simply dance on t h e nerves of t h e beholder without engaging him in any deeper sense. It is a distance that is given up (within a few lines) in Stadler's "Fahrt uber die Kolner Rheinbriicke bei Nacht", where outer and inner images stimulate each other towards an e r o t i c climax, followed by an ebbing out of intensity ("Stille. Nacht. Besinnung. ~ i n k e h r " ) ' ~and renewed ecstacy. In Hart's poem t h e descriptive mode is still dominant, also a t arrival in Berlin, whose sight a t first is leaden, then volcanic (R, p.60). Here perception absorbs clearly visionary elements, although in the next line we a r e thrown back t o the tangible reality of the train in preparation for a more physically detailed city. Such oscillation between perception and vision, outer and inner motion informs t h e structure of the rest of the poem. The 'surge' of t h e crowd seems t o control, indeed, t o become individual desire, i.e. internal - like a dream; outer and inner lines of energy can no longer be clearly distinguished. By contrast, t h e form of t h e poem - i t s alternate rhyme scheme and iambic pentameter, which even holds t h e self's repeated questioning in check ("Wohin? wohin?") - frames t h e contingency of i t s content. What seems a contradiction, however, may find a possible solution in a new concept of form, which Stadler's programmatic poem "Form ist Wollust" explicates: Form ist klare Harte ohn' Erbarmen, doch mich treibt es zu den Dumpfen, zu den Armen, Und grenzenlosem Michverschenken Will mich Leben mit Erfiillung tranken. 25 Form marks t h e boundary that enables transgression t o take place, and as such It becomes an enabling devlce for t h e poet t o remain within poetic convention deploy a structure of transgression. Similarly,

individual d e s i r e i s 'formed'

only by being objectified.

In Hart's poem,

t r e i b ich dahin") reinforce t h e u s e of deixis and v e r b phrase ("zwischen t h i s conjecture, b e c a u s e t h e y foreground d e s i r e a s a n object (like "deathn) which o n e c a n m o v e t o w a r d s and a w a y from. A similar distance, incidentally, i s maintained in Liliencron's "In e i n e r grossen Stadtn, although s e p a r a t i n g o u t life and t i m e from a m o r e privileged vantage-point. (R, p.92) In Hart, t h e self, by implication, renounces any responsibility for such (potential) engulfment, s i n c e a new agent, namely t h e city, i s about t o t a k e c a r e of individual life and t h e future. And t h e pointed coupling of folksie "Lebenslust" and "drunken" intoxication s e r v e s t o clinch t h e p a c t b e t w e e n a past c o u n t r y m a n and a present city-dweller. T h e p a t t e r n and sequence of initiation t o t h e c i t y is always t h e same: Innocent fascination with t h e c i t y a s a s p e c t a c l e i s followed by a n increased intoxication with it, and ending up in (dreaded) self-engulfment ("jahlings hinabgerissen"). A s in Hart's poem, it o f t e n r e p r e s e n t s a journey from innocence t o e x p e r i e n c e (and sexual self-awareness), and t h e propelling f o r c e invariably is t h e specular, of whose subversive quality Baudelaire w a s t h e first t o b e c o m e fully conscious and find a c o n c e p t for: "voluptk" o r "sensationn, which signify t h e f r e e flow of energy b e t w e e n inner and o u t e r nature. T h e G e r m a n n a t u r a l i s t s intuited a basic link between t h e way w e p e r c e i v e t h e world a n d (human) nature, but it w a s Expressionists who t r a n s l a t e d this intuition i n t o t h e i r p r a c t i c e of writing. However, before t h e y e n t e r e d t h e scene, neo-Romantic and Symbolist p o e t s filled t h e gap, in m o r e t h a n o n e sense. F o r t h e y f e l t somewhat frightened, a s s o m e of t h e n a t u r a l i s t s did, by t h e c r a c k s t h a t surfaced in t h e prevailing (poetic) discourse, and w e r e d e t e r m i n e d t o silence t h e city's 'body' and i t s d e m a n d s z 6 S t r a n g e l y enough, e a r l y Expressionists like S t a d l e r a t t e m p t e d t o c o m b a t a similar anxiety, a s in his "Dammerung in d e r Stadt": Abend spricht m i t lindem/Schmeichelwort d i e C a s s e n l in S c h l u m m e r "Der

...

..."."

Irrespective of d i f f e r e n t s t a g e s and c i t y images which Heym's work embodies, w e n o t i c e a m o r e aggressive quality in his images and a m o r e methodical handling of t h e m t h a n in e a r l i e r poems. T h e moon, for example, in Bruno Wille's "Strasse" plays t h e role of a n observer of c i t y life; i t s refrain-like silent c o m m e n t s a t t h e end of e a c h s t a n z a a r e a s harmless a s t h e urban happenings t h e moon's f a c e i s t o r e f l e c t (R, pp.50f.). By c o n t r a s t , in Heym's nDle D l m o n e n d e r StBdten t h e moon is s t r a t e g i -

cally obscured by o n e of t h e demons (R, p.112) so t h a t their nightly t e r r o r c a n run i t s deadly course, unimpeded by a n observant witness. Otherwise t h e moon is presented a s a n a g e n t o r patient of aggression (e.g. "schwarz zerrissen/Von Mondenstrahl", R, p.114), o r light appears in red, which i s with black his favourite colour. T h e spheres of d e a t h and desire a r e t h u s given their visual correlates, a s t h e monstrous birth in "Die Damonen d e r Stadt" dramatizes: Ihr Schoss klafft rot und lang Und blutend reisst e r von d e r Frucht entzwei.

I...]

Erdbebsn donnert durch d e r S t a d t e Schoss Um ihren Huf, den Feuer iiberloht. (R, p.112) T h e demons' aggression i s directed a t t h e city's womb and c a n thus be interpreted a s a d e t e r m i n a t e negation (Hegel) r a t h e r than a s a n anarchic a c t of destruction. Their cat-like scream, which is hurled i n t o t h e dark skies, is joined by a pregnant woman's s c r e a m t h a t shakes t h e room and rends t h e aural fabric of t h e c i t y (R, p.112). Animal-like, t h e woman's s c r e a m t h u s echoes man's primeval scream, a s if t o shortcircuit his evolutionary history in which t h e building of c i t i e s (and culture) and t h e subjection of nature have formed a vital dialectic. If we, furthermore, t a k e t h e allegorical figurations t h a t dominate t h e city, for example in Heym's "Der G o t t d e r Stadt", a s emanations of i t s governing spirit, t h e a c t of i t s destruction a f f o r d s us a glimpse into i t s uncannily ambiguous nature. A s a s o u r c e and product of culturally invested energy, t h e pride of progress and civilization, t h e 'City' begins t o turn upon i t s own fruits by swallowing them up like "monstrous" children. C i t y symbols such a s towering churches and factory chimneys anxiously g a t h e r round ancient Baal's throne, a symbol of modern man's 'second nature', sacrificing themselves like t h e i r ancestors in a Corybant ritual d a n c e (R, p.113). What Heym's poems s e e m t o project, in short, is a 'dialectic of

enlightenment', a s diagnosed and described by Horkheimer and Adorno s o m e thirty y e a r s later. 2R They point t o a mythical side of modern reason, which recurs in f o r m s of uncontrollable n a t u r e because of their s y s t e m a t i c subjection. 29 Heym's t w o poems c a n t h e r e f o r e b e seen a s a 'determinate' negation3' of such a system in o r d e r t o m a k e us 'see' what t h e c i t y tends T h i s is perhaps why Heym places his "god of t h e t o hide and suppress.

A W M N POEMS AND LITERARY IMPRESSIONISM CONCEPTUALIZATION. THEMATIZATION AND CLASSIFICATION Zlva Ren-Pomt (Tel Aviv University)

This paper studies a number of autumn poems, all of which can b e - or described a s impressionist. The aim of this thematic study have been is t o throw some light on the relationship between literary thematizations and representations. The basic notions are:

- The assignment of a theme t o a poem in the process of its interpretation is actually an identification and a modiflcation of a cultural concept; 1
This dual process is based on the poem's use of a representational system whose components correspond - a t least in part - t o the commonest attributes of the cultural concept (1.e. t h e 'mental picture', 'model', 'subschema', o r 'representational system' - according t o various cognitive schools);
. - Periods, schools and individual authors differ in their claimed and achieved degree of distance between a presented theme and its conceptualized representations;

Impressionism, t h e French school of painting of the 1860-1870s, includes, a s one of its major tenets, t h e most radical form of the demand to dissociate a theme from its conceptualized representational systems.

- The technical solutions of the impressionist painters can b e and have been translated Into a poetics. Poems (and other texts) written in accordance with this particular poetics a r e often labelled nimpressionist."

The usage of impressionist poetics does not entail the break between theme and concept (referred t o above). 'Impressionism' (as a theory or ideology) 1 not the same a s 'impress~onism.' s

- When such a break occurs, the reader experiences difficulties in thematizations either a conflict between a declared theme (e.g. in a title) and its representation, o r an inability t o integrate the components of the representation into one thematic whole. - Under certain circumstances poetic conceptualizations of reality.
thematizations yleld novel

- A comparative study of 'impressionist' and 'Impressionist' poems on an established theme, whose reality base (and therefore conceptual attributes) is well known, could provlde us with insights t o the relations between theme, concept and representation.

The paper begins, then, with a short discussion of the relationship between the impressionist school of painting and literary 'Impressionism' h e . acknowledged schools or ideological affinities) or 'impressionism' poetics), and with a presentation o f systems o f the chosen theme (i.e. the concepts and representational This general introductory section

autumn.

ends with a hypothesized 'true' lmpressionist poem. An analysis of two poems by Detlev von Liliencron shows that school affiliation does not entail an adherence t o the basic Impressionist impulses (the generators of the particular painting technique and i t s literary equivalents). The two poems are shown to he conventional conceptualizations An analysis o f an autumn of autumn written in the impressionist style. (i.e.

poem by the nineteenth-century poet John Clare shows how lmpressionism the ideal of an exact rendition of the world as perceived i n a partilmpressionist poem creates a cular moment and presented free o f pre-categorization) is a poetic possibility, and how the execution o f a 'true' problem of thematization. While in painting French Impressionism of the nineteenth century fulfils scholars all the requirements that for categorization as a s c h o o ~ , ~ literary There are a myth; lmpressionism however, is altogether lmpressionism poses a much harder problem of classification. who claim literary

others believe that i t is a rather loose aggregation o f stylistic features. Most historians o f literature agree, that there is a German That is t o say that I t is lmpressionist school in poetry, and that Symbolism in France and Imagism in England and the United States are i t s parallels. these three national schools occupy in their respective literary systems the same position which Impressionism holds i n the plastic arts system. true that Symbolism, for example, i n i t s reaction t o literary realism and naturalism parallels the revolt of lmpressionist painting against Academic Realism and even pictorial Naturalism. Like pictorial Impressionism literary Symbolism is characterized by the impulse to arrest and present the moment in which sense impressions become an experience (or create one), using the associative and arbitrary (vs. the logical) concatenation of those impressions, the overlapping of bounds, the hlurring o f forms and the synesthesia), and focusing integration o f different sense impressions (i.e.
i t represents.

on the effect which an object creates rather than on the concept which Furthermore, the Symbolist poets actually socialized closely they exchanged ideas, showed their works with the Impressionist painters:

t o e a c h other, and commented on t h e works - a s well a s on t h e theoretic a l issues - in private and in public. part o f t h e Impressionist school. concept of a Symbol c r e a t e d with Impressionism.
A

In this sense t h e Symbolist poets a r e

Nevertheless i t is evident t h a t t h e very

t h e meaning implied by the image which has been

these techniques symbol

is alien t o the most basic tenet of conceptualization as well as the

involves

communication of an idea, whereas lmpressionism aims a t de-conceptualizaand under particular conditions. tion in order t o present t h e world a s it is revealed in a particular moment 3 Such a crucial difference between t h e acknowledged corresponding schools calls into question t h e validity of their identification a s varieties of a literary Impressionism. But t h e problem does not end there. Even if w e give up t h e notion of a school and limit t h e concept of literary impressionism t o a bundle of features

t h e basic problem of lmpressionism

a s well a s t h e difficulty of switching media s t a y s with us. As mentioned before, t h e primary impulse of Impressionism, out of which grow almost all i t s distinctive features commonly connected with Impressionism pre-existing categories. fold: it. Oskar Walzel questionable
4

or, rather, those qualities

is t h e wish t o s e e t h e world a s

i t is and t o present it a s a complex of sense impressions without using T h e difficulty of realizing such an ideal is twot h e problem of seeing without conceptualizations, and t h e problem

of representing t h e world through highly subjective lenses without distorting formulated t h e first problem when he pointed out t h e t h e assumption that seeing without ready-made What is problematic already with

nature of

patterns (Vorstellungen) is possible. t h e artistic medium is poetry. The difficulty. idea of a

regard t o our visual experiences s e e m s t o be altogether impossible when Any representation of t h e world in words
5

could not possibly evade t h e use of concepts. representation

leads us

to

the

second inherent

If t h e work of a r t is a presentation of an impression (i.e. a

processed piece of information) what does it represent object o r t h e perceiving mind?

t h e perceived

T h e confusion between t h e two polarized

views finds expression in t h e words of Ford Madox Ford (Hueffer), whom t h e Imagists labelled "an impressionist",6 or in Zola's laudatory review of Manet, whom h e praises in t h e s a m e breath for presenting his personality and for "seizing nature broadly in his hand and planting upright before us

that which he sees there.lf7 However, possible or impossible, subjective or ohjective, pictorial Impressionism is a historical fact; and art in general and literature in

particular - i f we are to believe Sklovski and other Russian Formalists aim at, and often achieve a defamiliarization of the familiar world, which is similar t o a reconstruction o f our ready-made patterns. this knowledge we can ask another question. which has not been precategorized? Or, Armed with How can a verbal art (in

this case poetry) present - or create the illusion o f presenting to put

a world what

i t differently,

happens when a text presents uncategorized or only partially categorized impressions? As I said before, one o f the best ways t o answer this question is to study one theme in a number o f texts belonging to different cultures, periods and schools. enter the picture. Autumn is a theme which cuts across temporal and spatial boundaries8 A study o f over two hundred autumn poems and songs, whose Like any other concept, results I have made known in various places,9 shows that as a rule poetry contains conceptualized presentations of autumn. context. that o f autumn is determined by the function assigned t o i t i n a particular The components of any particular autumnal representation are For determined by the established meaning o f that particular concept. And this is the point where autumn poems

instance, autumn conceptualized as a symbol o f decay or old age will be represented by falling leaves, bare branches, howling winds and darkening skies. Such a representation may contain an image o f a harvested field The fact that or ripe fruit, but i t w i l l never contain references to full granaries, cider making or blooming squills (a mediterranian autumn flower). as well as specific to the season) is irrelevant. I f autumn had only one signifying function we could have expected one basic model of autumnal representation. tory of representational elements, which Since autumn fulfils several Each one has a reperchange culturally or may such functions we find a number o f such models. these flowers, activities and objects exist i n reality (and are characteristic

periodically (elements may be added or deleted) but whose principle of selection is rather fixed. another; widow" Effoliation, for example, may be represented by the yellowing ash-tree i n one place and by the redness o f the maple i n migrating cranes and ducks may be replaced by the "giant redi n Zulu autumn songs; but each presentation has i t s basic

repertories with their fixed semantic functions on, all levels: realemes (i.e. objects from realia), vocabulary and organizing patterns. As I have described in detail elsewhere it is possible t o reduce t h e multifarious actualizations into three basic models (i.e. three systems of representation related t o three concepts of autumn): - Autumn a s a symbol of fertility and plenitude; - Autumn a s a symbol of decay and death;

- Autumn a s a symbol of a particular mood: nostalgic resignation t o t h e human predicament. T h e majority of t h e t e x t s which c a n b e thematically grouped a s
autumn poems does indeed fit into this classification. In most c a s e s one model is actualized and t h e autumnal presentation represents one of t h e t h r e e concepts. However, superimposition, aggregation o r parodic treatment of models a r e possible, a s a r e attitudinal inversions (e.g. sad autumn makes m e happy). But a t t h e c o r e of t h e varied poetic representations of autumn there always s e e m s t o 5e one of t h e t h r e e permanent cultural models. T h e model functions, apparently, a s a mental pattern, necessary for t h e reception and interpretation of t h e presentation. 10 Theoretically, a 'true' Impressionist autumn poem would be one whose presentation of autumn is not an actualization of any of t h e three models. T o be Impressionist, t h e presentation should be based on a recording of particular autumnal impressions, specific t o their t i m e and place; the cultural function of t h e resulting presentation should not b e predetermined, t h e representational system should not b e identical with t h e given repertory of any model; and t h e poetics of t h e presentation should accord with impressionist poetics (part of which has been mentioned above; a fuller description follows in t h e course of t h e analysis of c o n c r e t e examples).

T h e first test c a s e is, naturally, a poem from t h e corpus of 'official' II Impressionist poetry. In t h e selected works of Detlev von Liliencron there a r e two relevant examples: a short lyric entitled "Herbst" (Autumn) and a three stanza unit from a poem which describes a particular landscape in the different seasons, "Haidebilder" (Moorland Pictures).

Herbst. Astern bliihen schon im Garten, Schwacher t r i f f t der Sonnenpfeil. Rlumen, die den Tod erwarten Durch des Frostes Henkzrbeil. Brauner dunkelt langst die Haide, Blatter zittern durch die Luft. IJnd es liegen Wald und Weide Unbewegt im blauen Duft. Pfirsich an der Gartenmauer, Kranich auf der Winterflucht. Herbstes Freuden, Herbstes Trauer, Welke Rosen, reife Frucht. Haidebilder. In Herbstestagen bricht mit starkem Fliigel Der Reiher durch den Ne belduft. Wie still es ist! kaum hor ich um den Hiigel Noch einen Laut in weiter Luft. A u f eines Birkenstammchens schwanker Krone Ruht sich ein Wanderfalke aus. Doch schlaft er nicht, von seinem leichten Throne Augt er durchdrungend scharf hinaus. Der alte Pauer m i t verhaltnem Schritte Schleicht neben seinem Wagen Torf. Und holpernd, stolpernd schleppt m i t lahmem T r i t t e Der alte Schimmel ihn ins Dorf.
It

is not difficult t o see what these poems; primarily

would be considered impressionist the typical characteristics of

about

because

literary Impressionism in general - and the German school in particular have frequently been abstracted by critics from these and similar poems, and have been formulated by their authors. Both poems present an aggregation of impressions whose order o f presentation seems to be unmotivated. autumnal moorland picture: ground with heavy steps. I t is, indeed, possible to reconstruct a coherent movement o f the eye from the sky t o the ground in the i n the first stanza the heron is flying, in the Rut there is no causative or other logical The watching eye second the falcon rests on a tree, and in the third the farmer treads the justification for this spatial arrangement of the images. i n "Autumn".

could have moved i n the opposite direction or back and forth as i t does I n that poem the first description is that o f asters blooming

in the garden, the second, of the surrounding forest. and meadow, and the third presents fruit-trees in the garden. Sky and earth are intermingled in all three descriptions: the flowers are related to the sun, the grassy meadow to the trembling air, and the peach trees to the escaping crane. Horizontal and vertical movement alike are completely arbitrary. There is an intensive appeal t o the senses: many references to colours, sounds and smells as well a s their blending in synesthesic configurations. The most striking examples are the "Nebelduft" (the smell of fog) and the "blauen Duft" (the blue smell). Typical are the direct references to colour with the emphasis on change: "Brauner dunkelt langst die Haide" (long since the moor has darkened its brown). Equally typical are the indirect evocations of colours through references to colourful objects, be they specific flowers, trees or animals. In the "Moor Pictures, " for example, grey and white become the dominant colours without ever being mentioned. They are first evoked with the heron and the fog, then they accompany the peregrine-falcon on the birch, and finally they characterize the old horse ("Schimmel"). The pictorial qualities of the presentation result not only from the appeal to the eye but also from the additive principle of composition and the suppression of narrative potentials. Even elements which can be presented as connected are simply placed alongside each other. Thus the blooming asters are separated from the impending death-by-frost by the description of the weakened sun rays. The result All potential links are repressed.

and from the reader's viewpoint the cause

of this repression

is the suppression of the actions and of the verbs which express them. Complete elimination of verbs appears with the frequent use of nominal phrases (as in the last stanza of "Autumn", where there is no verb). Weakening of their potential for action is achieved in a number of ways: use of the passive voice, choice of verbs which express inaction, modification by the use of adjectives which arrest the action, or simple negation, and a consistent use of the present tense. In both texts no other tense is used. The presence of a perceiving consciousness finds expression either in the dramatization of the speaker or in interpretative generalizations. In "Moor Pictures" both forms can be found. In the first stanza an "I" is introduced in order to illustrate the prevailing silence. The appeal t o the sense of hearing combines direct references t o silence ("Wie still e s ist 1")
12

with a n indirect actualization of produce however,

t h e sound which s t r o n g wing s t r o k e s Very clearly,

"Noch einem Laut" ( a n o t h e r sound) f o r c e s t h e r e a d e r t o a c t u a l i z e the function of the dramatized speaker is t o enhance the

t h e sound which is implied in t h e description of t h e heron.

impression of a n i m m e d i a t e experience, without conveying any information concerning t h e s p e a k e r himself. A n i n t e r p r e t a t i v e c o m m e n t , such a s t h e suggestion of t h e royal n a t u r e of t h e falcon ("seinem leichten Throne" [ h i s light throne]) i s m o r e revealing of t h e workings of t h e perceiving mind. But, like i t s c o u n t e r p a r t s in "Autumn" ("Blumen, d i e d e n Tod erwarten"; "Winterflucht" [flowers which a r e awaiting death; not tell us much about t h e individual speaker. Freuden, Herbstes generalizations ("Herbstes w i n t e r flight]) i t d o e s Even t h e concluding [Autumn's joys,

Trauer"

Autumn's pains]), while moving us from t h e natural t o t h e human realm, a r e cultural clichks r a t h e r than indications of a n individual emotional o r intellectual situation. In this w a y t h e precarious balance b e t w e e n a n o b j e c t i v e description and subjective perception i s maintained. T h e majority of t h e c h a r a c t e r i s t i c f e a t u r e s of t h e t w o poems can, indeed, b e c o r r e l a t e d with t h e a i m s and p r e c e p t s of pictorial Impressionism. Each poem catches the moment when sense impressions become an experience. In e a c h t h e a r r e s t e d m o m e n t h a s a dynamic quality in s p i t e T h e impressions a r e processed by an Is e a c h poem a presentation A comparison of the

of t h e suppression of all action. emotions. of a

individual who, however, d o e s not use it t o convey his ideas, beliefs o r Only o n e question r e m a i n s open: non-categorized ( o r p r e p a t t e r n e d ) reality?

a b s t r a c t e d c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s o f t h e t w o poems with t h e modelic f e a t u r e s of o n e of t h e t h r e e basic autumnal representations will help us r e a c h a n answer. In m y article, "Represented R e a l i t y and L i t e r a r y models"13 I listed t e n modelic c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of t h e presentation of t h e c o n c e p t of 'autumn a s a mood' (because of this emotional conceptualization I labeled t h i s Six o u t of t e n modelic f e a t u r e s a r e Three model 'pathetic' o r 'sentimental').

a c t u a l i z e d in t h e t w o t e x t s with varying d e g r e e s of qualifications. a r e completely absent. when necessary.

T o m a k e t h e concord o r discord c l e a r e r I shall

q u o t e m y original description o f e a c h c h a r a c t e r i s t i c and t h e n qualify i t

1. The geographical location is t h e border between wild and cultivated nature, while from t h e point of view of time the poem takes place mostly in the evening, t h e border between day and night (op. cit.,p.44).

The temporal aspect is only implied in t h e twilight atmosphere of the two poems (created by t h e combined e f f e c t of t h e "Schwacher Sonnenpfeil" [weak sunshaft] and "dunkelt" [grows dark] in "Autumn", and t h e implication of t h e old farmer and t h e tired horse being on their way home in "Moor Pictures"; but implied actualizations a r e a s effective a s explicit references t o a particular feature. The geographical aspect is more explicit. Wood and moor join the garden in "Autumn" and t h e farmer relates agriculture t o wild nature in "Moor Pictures."
2. The repertory of representational elements consists of the European reality-base phenomena in a catholic variety (effoliation and ripe fruit, foggy skies and pure light, etc.). Their usage is regulated by their compatibility with the speaker's nostalgic o r resigned mood (Ibid.).

One should note t h e absence of 'falling leaves' from "Moor Pictures"; and yet, effoliation might b e implied in the "Birkenstlmmchens" [the birch's 'small' trunk], and i t s absence is compensated by t h e old age and weariness of farmer and horse. After ail, old age is t h e conventional analogue of autumn (in our categorized representational systems). 3. The core of the presentation is pictorial. Individual events a r e rendered s t a t i c by various devices (mostly parallel structures implying simultaneity). 4. Representational elements of particular analogous human situations become part of t h e autumnal representational system (Ibid.). For reasons which will be explained shortly the actualization of this modelic feature is minimal. In "Moor Pictures" t h e analogous potential of fatigue and old age is toned down by the juxtaposition of the old farmer with t h e kinetic energy of t h e resting falcon o r t h e powerful flight of the heron. It would have been enhanced if t h e s a m e picture had been paralleled with withering flowers, falling leaves o r a picture of t h e setting sun. Even farther removed from i t s most typical actualization is t h e suggestion of human loneliness in t h e first stanza of "Moor Picturesn. The speaker's declaration concerning t h e complete silence around him indicates solitude. But this is a f a r c r y from a statement of farewell o r a In "Autumn" t h e human analogy declaration of longing for missing friends

finds expression only i n the figurative language and i n the waiting o f flowers for their death.

i n 'frost' as a hangman

5. The visual and auditory qualifiers are selected in accordance with the overall sentimental effect. Colours are soft with a marked preference for pastels and minimal concretizations. Paleness and dusk play a central role. Sounds are muted. Natural sounds are personified. Human sounds are emotionalized. Music plays a central role (Ibid., No.7) . This cluster o f modelic features is hardly realized. is actualized is i n line with the specified principles. is silence; concepts are mentioned Rut that which colour a

The dominant sound

the dominant colours are implied white and grey; than the quality

i n deconcretizing contexts (a blue smell;

darkening brown = a process rather without adjectives of colour.

o f an object). a

Objects which evoke colours (such as asters, roses, peaches) are mentioned Since no individual actualization o f general model manifests all i t s features, partial or even zero actualizations do not interfere with the identification of a model.

6. The speaker's presence is manifested emotionally, whether i t is a narrator's voice o r a dramatized persona. But there is no individual characterization beyond the autumnal mood (Ibid. p.44-5, No.9).
In both poems the emotional colouring o f the scene - the projection o f the perceiving subject as someone who feels or thinks - is minimal. Typical actualizations of this model contain much more explicit This impressionist Rosen, reife Frucht" and conspicuous emotional expressions. Freuden, Autumn's gefihl": Und euch betauen, ach! Aus diesen Augen Der ewig belebenden Liebe Vollschwellende Tranen. [and you are bedewed, alas, by great welling tears of ever-vivifying love 14 from my eyes.] Four modelic features are either non-existent or drastically suppressed i n Liliencron. Actually, it could be argued that the annihilation of one The crucial missing feature is the 'pathetic entails all the other changes. Herbstes Trauer/Welke restraint becomes [Autumn's joys,

evident when one compares the emotional closure o f autumn ("Herbstes pains/wilted roses, ripe fruit]), with that o f Goethe's "Herbst-

fallacy', and with it disappear t h e personification of .autumn, t h e abundant use of emotional qualifiers, and t h e thematization of t h e poem a s an anthropocentric presentation of autumn (i.e. a poem ahout t h e sadness of parting/dying/aging in autumn). T w o things need t o be said about t h e s e missing modelic features. T h e logic behind their elimination is an expression of t h e lmpressionist object-orientation. And i t is t h e s a m e logic which explains all t h e modifications and partial actualizations of those modelic f e a t u r e s which a r e actualized. On t h e o t h e r hand, t h e non-actualized f e a t u r e s leave s o m e traces: h e r e a personification of a natural object ('death-awaiting flowers') which c a n be r e a d a s a metonomy for t h e season of dying; there a generalization in t e r m s of human emotions (Autumn's joys and pains), and a n overall atmosphere of s w e e t sadness, of weakness and resignation, which is realized e v e n without t h e explicit r e f e r e n c e t o such emotions. In part those 'traces' may be 'external' additions t o t h e t e x t

part of a n inter-

pretation process which is shaped by t h e reader's familiarity with both t h e concept and t h e literary model. Rut such a n interpretation is quite inevitable when t h e t e x t uses t h e conventional representational system.
A poet may let t h e speaker express t h e established cultural function of

this particular

repertory

in i t s specific combinations, o r refrain,

like

Liliencron, from s o doing.

But t h e reader always associates t h e well-

known representational o b j e c t s with t h e particular conceptualization which makes them a representational system. Ultimately t h e acknowledged lmpressionist poem might have introduced a new literary model of autumnal representation, whose c h a r a c t e r istic f e a t u r e s justify t h e label 'impressionist'; but it has not liberated t h e natural object from i t s existing conceptualization. Liliencron's specific, impersonal and a c c u r a t e renditions of sight and sound impressions d o not yield uncategorized presentations similar t o t h e purple w a t e r and pink fields o r t h e 'dissolved reality' of t h e most consistent lmpressionist 15 painting. T h e opening question, concerning t h e possibility of such a dissociation of concept and representation in poetry remains open.

It is in t h e poetry of a n e a r l i e r nineteenth-century poet, from Northampton" John C l a r e (1793-1864),

t h e "farmer-poet

t h a t I found t h e c l e a r e s t

example of what I called a "true" colours and "naturalistic

Impressionist poem.16 there is only one

Although his text whose

poetry is generally characterized by "accurate observation" of forms and knowledge",17 autumnal presentation breaks away completely from the three basic models o f representation. Autumn The thistledown's flying, though the winds are all still, On the green grass now lying, now mounting the hill, The spring from the fountain now boils like a pot; Through stones past the counting i t bubbles red-hot. The The The And ground parched and cracked is like overbaked bread, greensward all wracked is, bents dried up and dead. fallow fields glitter like water indeed, gossamers twitter, flung from weed unto weed.

Hill-tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun, And rivers we're eyeing burn to gold as they run; Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air; Whoever looks rounc! sees Eternity there. I f we compose a hierarchical list o f the characteristic features o f the theoretical 'true' lmpressionist poem, basing it on the primary lmpressionist impulse (defined above) and on the application of characteractualized i n Clare's poem. istics from lmpressionist painting to poetry, we can see most of them 18

I.

Observation o f nature as i t is with disregard for the conceptual This, as I said, is the primary and most problematic tenet of

categories related t o it. Impressionism. Clare's presentation is composed of natural objects which The downy

do not belong to any of the three established repertories.

seeds of the thistle, the bubbling of the spring water, the spider's webs on the weeds, the glittering o f fields, rivers, hills and air i n the sunlight

none o f these has even a small part o f the potential for symbolizing autumn o f "leaves trembling i n the air" or "ripe fruit" coupled with "wilted roses". Because the building blocks o f the presentation are not components o f an established repertory of an autumnal representation, they do not have a given cultural function i n this context; they have no given emotional qualities, and their effect on the receiver is not pre-determined.

T h e a f f e c t i v e and s e m a n t i c openness of a 'system-free' object (as f a r a s autumn i s concerned) c a n b e d e m o n s t r a t e d with almost any object referred t o by Clare. Thistledown, f o r example, c a n b e related t o old In this way i t forms a p a t t e r n with t h e But t h e images of dryness and d e a t h by t h e w a t e r imagery, t h e age, because of i t s w h i t e head.

dried-up b e n t s and t h e parched land.

a r e counterbalanced in a number of ways:

positive connotations of baked (even overbaked) bread, and t h e light flight of t h e thistledown, associated with t h e g r e e n grass (traditionally youthful and hopeful) and d i r e c t e d upwards. A s a consequence of this openness (i.e. lack of established t h e m a t i z a tion) t h e presentation cannot stand for something e l s e s e n t s only t h a t which i t presents.

b e i t a mood, a n It repre-

atmosphere, a fixed phenomenon o r a typical human situation.

It i s still t r u e t h a t I have used many

conventional conceptualizations in m y interpretation, just a s I conceptualized t h e i m a g e by giving it a direction and a focus impossible without both! Even tion. tion the concluding related t o common conceptualizations of autumn. generalization ("whoever looks round

interpretation is

But t h e c a t e g o r i e s which I have used a r e not

sees

Eternity there") does not change t h e un-symbolic n a t u r e of t h e presentaT h e lack of a conventional (here synonymous with 'modelic') correlabetween "Eternity" and t h e representational objects - each one The fact that

separately and a s a s y s t e m

m a k e s t h e s t a t e m e n t a summing up of a n

impression, without turning t h e presentation i n t o a symbol. t h e poem is irrelevant, o r symptomatic.

r e a d e r s m a y still find this ethical conclusion unmotivated and injurious t o Such a reaction t o t h e closure A similar uneasimight reveal t h e inevitable uneasiness a r e a d e r feels when faced with modelic inconsistency (not t o mention changing tastes). might h a v e originated it. 11. Capturing t h e moment in which sensory d a t a b e c o m e a n impression. This feature, c o n t r a r y t o t h e first, manifests t h e subjective impulse of Impressionism ness, felt by a Victorian confronted with such a revolutionary presentation,

t h e expression of t h e perceiving consciousness.

It is

actualized in t h e poem not only in t h e concluding remark discussed above, but also in t h e figurative language. It i s t h e mind which finds resemIn all t h e s e blances and likens t h e bubbling of spring w a t e r t o a boiling pot, parched land t o overbaked bread and sun infused hill-tops t o hot iron.

instances the transition from visual data to conceptualization is evident. The eye sees the cracked dark brown material; the mind identifies i t as The parched ground and finds an object possessing matching features. that particular moment o f 'translation.' entity created by the speaker. Symptomatically, fallacy' even though

preference for similes (over metaphors) contributes t o the realization o f A metaphor would suggest a new all these similes relate natural The simile reveals an impressed observer.

phenomena t o human civilized life, they do not even approach the 'pathetic

a central

feature o f the sentimental model.

There are no

personifications.

'Dead bents' is not similar t o "flowers awaiting death" And rivers which ''burn t o gold" But within a frame o f reference These golden fields

i n i t s metaphoric and symbolic potential. are metaphoric only out o f context.

which focuses on the effect o f sunlight on the ground, the water and the air i t is an accurate observation of objective reality. and rivers are as literal as a purple ocean and pink grass. Cultural consciousness may be very active i n the interpretation of this poem. I t can identify the semantic field from which all similes and
I t may even relate i t t o the role o f fire

metaphors are drawn - burning.

i n human history and to the ancient philosophy which sees fire as one of the four elements endowed with purifying power. gold." Thus the reader might add a philosophical motivation for the metaphor o f "rivers the text.

...

burn to

But such motivations and associations are very clearly external t o In the poem the supremacy o f the things themselves over the and i t

emotions or thoughts which they evoke is maintained consistently; "whoever looks round sees"). More important still, consciousness cannot do:

is enhanced by the emphasis on the situation o f observation ("we're eyeing"; there is one crucial thing that the cultural
i t cannot relate the presentation to any o f the

established autumnal presentations, dictated by the poem's title.

even i f the thematic classification is

111.

The arrested moment is a dynamic entity. The rebellion against conventional models of presentation (i.e. those Com-

o f Academic Realism and Naturalism) led the Impressionist painters to develop a technique i n which there is no room for contour lines. bined with the interest i n science and research in optics, colour theory and photography, i t led t o the elimination o f the use o f pure colours i n well-

defined planes.

In t h e i r s t e a d c a m e t h e o b s e r v a b l e . brush layings and t h e This technique enables Impression-

multiplicity of i n t e r a c t i n g colour spots.

ist painting t o underline t h e constantly changing n a t u r e of things seen. T h e l i t e r a r y equivalent of t h i s blurring of boundaries and f o r m s is t h e p a r t i c u l a r lmpressionist vocabulary and t h e m o d e of organization. In t e r m s of unmotivated The organization objects Clare's which poem resembles Clare's Liliencron's "Autumn." various comprise

autumnal landscape p i c t u r e a r e not p r e s e n t e d according t o a n y spatial principle whatsoever. It i s impossible t o explain it by a m o v e m e n t from t h e n e a r t o t h e f a r (Gossamers and w e e d s c o m e a f t e r a general view of t h e turf and t h e fallow fields), nor d o e s i t m o v e in t h e opposite direction ( t h e thistledown a p p e a r s b e f o r e t h e g e n e r a l view); e y e m o v e m e n t s a r e a l s o ruled out: high and big o n e s and v i c e versa. a n d o t h e r hill-tops in t h e third. horizontal o r v e r t i c a l s h o r t and small o b j e c t s a p p e a r among
A hill is presented in t h e first s t a n z a ,

T h e burning light, which paints t h e whole

p i c t u r e in gold, m o v e s from t h e spring t o t h e ground, t o t h e hills, t o t h e w a t e r , t o t h e ground and u p t o t h e a i r again. T h e poem d o e s h a v e a s t r o n g closure, y e t t h e unmotivated n a t u r e of t h e c a t a l o g u e of with t h e incessant plants, a i r m o v e m e n t s and light e f f e c t s l e a v e s t h e T h i s a r b i t r a r y framing, coupled air, flying o f thistledown and (flow of impression of a n a r b i t r a r y c u t t i n g off. movement

t w i t t e r i n g of gossamers), t h e t r a n s f o r m a t i o n

e v e n transfiguration

of

o b j e c t s (fields i n t o w a t e r and a i r t o liquid) which c u l m i n a t e s in t h e tdcing o v e r of t h e world by light, m a k e s t h e poem a t r u l y Impressionist picture.

Clare's

poem,

which

does not

belong

to

an

acknowledged

group of

lmpressionist poems, exhibits t h e n a t u r e of 'true' This h a s been proved both in positive t e r m s negative terms

p o e t i c Impressionism. painting, a n d in autumnal

a description of i t s c h a r a c -

t e r i s t i c f e a t u r e s and t h e i r affinity w i t h lmpressionist

t h e a b s e n c e of

t h e culturally established

representational systems. T h e twofold definition corresponds t o a basic division of lmpressionist features. 1) 2) T h e s e c a n b e divided i n t o t w o groups: c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s derived from t h e a i m s of Impressionism, which h a v e c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s which r e l a t e t o t h e m e a n s developed in lmpressionist

t o d o with conceptualizations and representations;

painting to achieve those goals.

Features belonging to the second group That is why the

can be dissociated from the aims which originated them.

adjective 'impressionist' can be ascribed t o different works, including those which remain conventional with regard t o the relationship between world, concept and representation.

A 'true'

lmpressionist

work,

as we have This absence

seen, is one which sustains an obligation to the ideal of non-conceptualized presentation, and gives up existing representational systems. has i t s price

though i t is nothing like a rejection from the Salon or the Separated from its t i t l e the poem would not be Thematization, the assigning

contempt of the viewers.

recognized as a presentation of autunn.19

of a theme t o a verbal construct such as a poem, is

from the speaker's

point of view - inseparable from conceptualization and representation. The presence o f the basic systems of autumnal representation it whole or partial, explicit or implicit, straightforward or immediate or mediated
i t is.

be

parodic,

is not simply the result o f inertia, dominance o f

canonized models or lack o f interest and a failure t o observe nature as Their presence is a prerequisite for the successful function of the Readers who share a certain presentation in an act o f communication. order t o relate t o the text.

cultural consciousness require elements from the established repertory i n Only a reader who identifies the particular
A complete de-categor-

autumnal conceptualization can relate t o i t as an autumn poem, respond emotionally and evaluate innovations or changes. ization yields at first different thematizations, based on the use o f But

elements which are categorized as representative of other concepts. thematization can be forced on the reader construed from the text. concept.

given a t i t l e rather than

I n that case the reader is led t o modify his

I f the initially unconnected repertory of representational objects

and modes o f organization is repeatedly used and thematized cept o f autumn might develop. Clare's,

a new con-

A 'true'

lmpressionist poem, such as as Impressionist

may then become another

autumn poem just

paintings today seem realistic and conventional. The conclusions of this comparative study of lmpressionist autumn poems are not limited t o this particular theme nor to that particular school. The relationships which have been demonstrated above between a concept, a representational system, a particular poetic presentation and the active thematizations performed by a reader apply i n all literary presentations and their interpretations. The exact rendering of an

impression is possible even if our perception and cognition are modeldependent. Poetry can reshape our c ~ n c e ~ t u a l i z a t i oof s the world around ~ us in various ways: slight changes in an established repertory can modify the inventory of signs which evoke the same response; a dissociation of representational elements from their established cultural functions can affect the emotional or social content of the represented concept; and, most radically, the imposition of a concept - through the announcement of a theme - on a presentation based on representational systems not associated with it can result in a completely new conceptualization. I. On the subject of theme, concept and thematization consult ~ o e t i q u e 16 (1985). In particular: Claude Bremond, "Concept e t thhme", Gerald Prince, "Thbmatiser", Menachem Brinker, "Thkme e t interpretation", and Georges Leroux, "Du topos au th8me1'. In this present issue the most closely related article is Angelika Corbineau-Hoffmann's "Venice At First Sight". In particular, her conclusion is very pertinent to mine and t o the research programme for thematics which is implied in my conclusions. 2. See, for example, the definition in the OED: "The body of persons that are or have been taught by a particular master I...] who are united by a general similarity of principles and methods." 3. The strongest proof is probably the way in which lllonet described his technique or work process, emphasizing the need t o forget the object being painted and t o focus on the colourful spots and lines before the eye (Lila Cabot-Perry, "An interview with C. Monet", American Magazine of Art - 19, No.5, March 1927). From another angle this (sometimes latent) tendency to dissociate presentation from concept, which points towards abstract art, can be illustrated by criticisms of impressionism produced by the painters who have outgrown their lmpressionist stage: Gauguin who condemns the fact that the Impressionists "heed only the eye and neglect the mysterious centers of thought'' (Intimate Journals, tr. Van Wyck Brooks, New York, 1936, p.134). or Ckzanne, who is convinced that "the analytical methods of the impressionists had led to a certain dissolution of reality" (Herbert Read, The Philosophy of Modern Art, New York: Meridian Books, 1955, p. 18). 4. Oskar Walzel, Deutsche Dichtung von Gottsched bis zur Gegenwart, Vol.12,lI (Wildpark-Potsdam: Athenaion, 1927-19301, pp.218-9. Quoted in Shimon Sandbank, Two Pools In The Wood (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 19761, pp.49-50. 5. While some people will deny the possibility altogether, others will accept it in part. Ezra Pound, for example, claims that "the conception of poetry is a process more intense than the reception of an impressiorist and conseauentlv "lmoressionism belongs to oaint. it is of the eve." The two quota'tions-are 'taken from sta;ey K ~ d f f m a n Jr., lmanism: A : A Chapter for the History of Modern Poetry (New York: Octagon Books, 19721, p.140. His source is Pound, Ezra, "The Book of the Month," The Poetry Review I, No.3 (March, 19121, pp.133-4. 6. Coffman (op. cit.) quotes from Hueffer's essay "On Impressionism" (Poetry and Drama 11, No.2, June, 1914, p.175): "The Impressionist gives you himself, how he reacts to a fact; not the fact itself; or, rather, not

so much the fact itself. [.. I lmpressionism is a frank expression of a personality." But then he quotes another passage, from "Techniques," , (The Southern Review I No.i, July 1935, p.31): "You must render: never report" "an impression of a moment." 7. Quoted by Lionello Venturi i n History o f A r t Criticism (New York: Dutton, 1964). p.259. 8. For references consult Holger Klein, "Autumn Poems: Potential and Limitations of Theme as tertium comparationis." Paper presented to the 11th Congres of I.A.C.L. (Paris, 1985). 9. The major publication in English is Ziva Ren-Porat, "Represented Reality and Literary Models", Poetics Today 7, No.1 (1986). pp.29-58. 10. In her article "Images of Landscape in contemporary poetry" Sieghild Bogumil deals with similar problems. It is possible to relate my notion o f the cultural model (concept and representational system) to Bachelardls concept o f the "image" as Bogumil uses it. The two articles seem t o me complementary in other ways as well. My analysis of (autumnal) landscape descriptions which are quite conventional provides a foil for the innovative descriptions - or lack thereof - of the contemporary poems which she describes. Her analysis o f the modern practice o f laying bare devices as a mode o f coping with petrified models supplies an aspect which I could not deal with i n this paper (I discuss i t i n my "Represented Reality see above, n.9). 11. Detlev von Liliencron Ausgewahlte Schuster & Loeffler, 1909), pp.8, 77. Gedichte (Berlin und Leipzig: Walzel (op. cit.), and Munich: Hueber,

...",

12. On the style o f German Impressionism consult: ) Louise Thon, D 1928. 13. See n.9.

14. Leonard Forster, ed., The Penguin Book o f German Verse (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1957), p.207. 15. I t should be noted that this is strictly a descriptive comment, carrying no evaluation. Some o f the best-known poems in the history o f poetry exhibit the same characteristics. For example, Hofmannsthal's "Vorfriihling" and George's "komm in den totgesagten park." 16. John Clare, Selected Poems, (London: Dent, 19731, pp.304-5. ed.

J.

W.

Tibble and Anna Tibble

17. The phrases i n quotation marks are from the back cover o f Clare's Selected Poems - an indication of a common view. 18. Although my list has been worked out from studies of Impressionist painting, i t owes a great deal to various studies of literary impressionism. In particular i t may have been influenced by the work o f Sandbank (see above, n.4). 19. 1 did try the poem in Hebrew translation on Israeli students. Not one out o f twenty interpreted i t as an autumn poem (obviously the students did not have the title). The same students had no problem i n identifying the theme o f another o f Clare's autumn poems: "I love the f i t f u l gust that shakes ...'I.

F R O M IDYLL T O ARSENAL: . T H E CHANGING IMAGE O F GERMANY IN F R A N C E A S SEEN THROUGH T H E WORK O F XAVIER MARMIER (1808-1892) Wendy M e r c e r (University C o l l e g e London)

I.

'IL'ALLEMAGNE, LA R ~ V E U S E , LA P O ~ I Q U E , LA M ~ L A N C O L I Q U E ALLEMAGNE" (1808-1892), c r i t i c , translator, and influential languages, and in traveller, journalist and

Xavier Marmier novelist, France. fluent in

w a s a well-known at least eight

figure in nineteenth-century l a t e r y e a r s a n outspoken

A c c r e d i t e d with s o m e ninety volumes and numerous articles,

m e m b e r of t h e French Academy, h e w a s a n e a r l y c o m p a r a t i s t who owed his reputation initially t o his innovatory work o n Germany, i t s l i t e r a t u r e and culture. D e s p i t e being largely f o r g o t t e n today, his f o r m e r widespread recognition and influence m a k e him both a s o u r c e and a r e f l e c t i o n of Prussian war. French a t t i t u d e s t o w a r d s G e r m a n y from t h e e a r l y 1830s until t h e Franco1 Until t h e publication in 1813 of M m e d e Stael's D e I'Allemagne t h e French w e r e largely ignorant and disdainful of their G e r m a n neighbours. However, this work and t h e few available translations of G e r m a n l i t e r a t u r e , most ature. notably of Goethe's D i e Leiden d e s jungen Werthers, began to s t i m u l a t e a desire for f u r t h e r information about t h e c o u n t r y and i t s literIn response many journals began t o include a r t i c l e s on G e r m a n themes, and in 1826 t h e R e v u e germanique w a s founded with t h e exclusive a i m of bringing a g r e a t e r understanding of G e r m a n life and c u l t u r e t o t h e ~ r e n c h . ~ s few journalists w e r e equipped t o w r i t e o n t h e s e subjects, in A Germany, learn t h e language a n d send back regular articles. filled t h i s task beyond all expectations. dominate the 1835. 1831 t h e R e v u e germanique s e n t t h e young Xavier Marmier t o live in 3 Although h e had no prior knowledge of t h e language, M a r m i e r fulA f t e r about nine months h e began t o supply a r t i c l e s regularly t o several reviews, a n d his work soon c a m e t o of which h e b e c a m e general e d i t o r in which His contributions include a s e r i e s of ' e t u d e s biographiques',

h e initiated in January 1833 w i t h a n a r t i c l e o n E. T. A. Hoffmann, and in which a d i f f e r e n t m a n of l e t t e r s w a s p r e s e n t e d e v e r y month until 1835. H e also s e n t numerous translations and a r t i c l e s both on his t r a v e l s and on G e r m a n life and letters. H e w r o t e a p e r c e p t i v e study of Kleist in 1833,

when the latter was virtually unknown in France and l i t t l e appreciated in Germany. His other writings include a study o f Goethe, offering the first commentary on Faust, Part 1 t o appear i n France; 1 work i n France; the first translation

o f Hermann und Dorothea for thirty years, which effectively launched the translations of Goethe's dramas, o f Schiller's plays and translations and studies of works by Tieck, poems, of Hoffmann's tales;

whom he knew personally, and of such contemporaries as Uhland, Schwab 4 and Chamisso. This article deals with the changing view of Germany that emerges from his publications. In the first part we see the idyllic picture given la rfveuse, by the early articles, summarised by Marmier as "I'Allemagne,

la poGtique, la mklancolique ~ l l e m a ~ n e " ;in the second, we witness a ~ growing awareness o f the tensions that were ultimately t o lead to the Franco-Prussian war. From his earliest visits t o Germany Marmier was impressed by the widespread nature o f comments i n the intellectual activity in the country. ~ermanique that, et qui connaissaient "J'ai vu In 1835 he Revue des ouvriers qui

menaient une rude vie, pittoresque en Allemagne,

par coeur les plus belles

tragkdies de ~ o e t h e . " ~The same phenomenon is recorded i n the Voyage where a direct comparison is made with the intellectual activity in France: Je me souviens qu'un Hausknecht, un portier livre qu'il lisait avec Schiller. A Paris, nos soir, en rentrant dans ma demeure, je trouvais le de troisieme ordre, tenant sur ses genoux un gros une profonde attention. C'dtaient les oeuvres de portiers ne lisent que les plus mauvais romans.

He attributes this difference partly t o the high standard of public education in the German-speaking countries. au moins lire et kcrire; I n 1834, for example, he remarks that in Austria, "le plus pauvre apprenti, le plus obscur berger, sait tout si I'instruction de peuple ne s'k16ve guhres plus I n the same year articles i n the haut, c'est qu'il ne l e veut pas."8 S e i p z i g et la librairie allemande: in visited.

des Deux Mondes entitled Y e s universitks allemandes.

Revue Goettingue " and

both stressing the important o f learning

This emphasis is even more striking i n Marmier's Voyage, Throughout he emphasizes the high standards i n every part o f

much of which is devoted to the educational institutions in the areas Germany, writing about Swabia for example:

C'est I'un d e s pays d e I'Allemagne o h I'instruction d l d m e n t a i r e e t I'instruction classique o n t Btd p o r t k e s 31 l e u r plus haut point d e ddveloppement. P a s u n e ville qui n'ait son g y m n a s e e t u n e o u deux d e ces e x c e l l e n t e s 6coles pratiques qu'on appelle d e s Realschule; pas un village qui n'ait d e s institutions primaires dignement r e t r i b u C s e t p a r f a i t e m e n t organisdes. Ici, c o m m e d a n s l e s d t a t s d u nord d e I'Allemagne, e t c o m m e e n Danemark, il s e r a i t difficile d e t r o u v e r d a n s u n e paroisse quelques jeunes h o m m e s e t quelques jeunes filles qui n'eussent pas a u moins appris 'a lire, B gcrire, H compter. (Voyage, I, p.34) In t h e c o u r s e of Voyage pittoresque h e a l s o surveys t h e history and scope of t h e G e r m a n universities, giving a chronological list of t h e d a t e s when t h e y w e r e founded. This survey underlines t h e deep-rooted traditions of scholarship in t h e country, offering d e t a i l e d discussions o f t h e universities of Tiibingen, Prague, Leipzig, Rreslau, Berlin, Konigsberg, Gottingen, J e n a and wiirzburg.10 A f u r t h e r r e m a r k in t h e Souvenirs d'un voyageur about a t t e n d a n c e a t t h e universities also r e i n f o r c e s t h e e a r l i e r c o m m e n t s about t h e widespread n a t u r e o f education and intellectual activity: Erlangen, Tubingue, Heidelberg, Bonn, G o e t t i n g u e sont q u e d e s p e t i t e s villes oh I'on n e c o m p t e q u e quelques milliers d'lmes. Mais il y a I i d e s universiths frdquentees a s s i d b e n t p a r d e s l6gions d16tudiants, d e s bibliothbques conside'rables, d e s mus6es e t d e ma7tres d'un grand renom.11 Marmier a l s o c o m m e n t s on t h e exceptional r a t e of a c t i v e literary production in Germany. He refers t o t h e country a s a n "immense Schriftstellerein, and c o m m e n t s t h a t "L'Allemagne e s t d e t o u s l e s p a y s d e I'Europe celui oh I'on c o m p t e proportionellement l e plus grand nombre d'dcrivains."l2 Again, t h e universal n a t u r e of t h e phenomenon is noted: The "J'ai vu parfois d e s rgunions o'u I'on n e buvait q u e d e bien mauvais vin, mai o'u I'on n'arrivait p a s s a n s a p p o r t e r son sonnet ou s a cantate."13 Hamburg, who a p p e a r t o h a v e l i t t l e l i t e r a r y inclination: Quand on a vecu quelques jours parmi l e s Hambourgeois, o n s e n t qu'il n e f a u t leur parler ni d ' a r t ni d e po6sie. L e u r livre d e l p & i e , c ' e s t l e r e g i s t r e d e r e c e t t e s e t d e depense o u v e r t s u r l e pupitre. This i n t e r e s t in l i t e r a t u r e perception of t h a t society: and t h e a r t s amongst all ranks of s o c i e t y only significant exception t o this rule, it would s e e m , a r e t h e c i t i z e n s of

occasionally gives rise, f o r a foreigner, t o a n apparent contradiction in his

Les m6mes Allemands que vous voyez si absorb& dans 11appr6ciation d'un beefsteak et dont I'avide app6tit vous choque peut-6tre comme une grosse sensualite', vous pouvez les voir un instant aprhs s'extasier devant un beau point de vue, &outer avec un profond recueillement une po6sie de Schiller ou d'uhland, et entonner en choeur avec une harmonie parfaite un ancien choral ou une mklodie de Schubart [sic?]. (Voyage, 11, p. 1) Generally, one of however, an appreciation "Des of literature is presented as an In

integral part o f the domestic tranquillity which he notes in Germany. his earliest articles, soirges d'Allemagnen, memory o f settling down with the family to read: Paraboles de lyriques Krummacher, Hermann et recaptures Dorothee his

he records a Nous lisions les les pohies in a poem

"Quelquefois nous nous

mettions tous en rond autour de la table et nous lisions. d'LJhland."15 Marmier

I...] ou

impressions

entitled ~ o i r 6 eallemande, which appeared ten years later:

Oh ! oui, c'est bien cela. C'est la chambre tranquille, Pleine de poCsie, humble toit, doux asyle, Oh l'on aime B s'asseoir sur le canape' bleu Pour causer et chanter le soir au coin de feu.
Another reminiscence, this time much later, i n 1860, also links the domest i c scene with poetic and literary images; returns to Saxony and rememhers: Que des fois, au milieu de ces paisibles intrhieurs, j'ai song6 aux idylles de Voss et de Goethe! Que des fois j'ai cru reconnaTtre l a vivante 1 image de la bonne Louise ou la belle Dorothee. (Voyage, 1 , p.51) The picture o f domestic tranquility suggested by such phrases as "chambre tranquille", "doux asyle" and "paisibles int6rieurs1', is an important feature o f Marmier's presentation o f things German. In his second article published i n the Nouvelle Revue germanique i n 1832, he speaks of "les vertus domestiques, la simplicitk et la candeur dans les relations, la paix et I'union dans 11int6rieur des famillies".17 The fact that the Germans choose t o spend their free time reunited i n the family obviously impresses Marmler: Souvenirs d'un Further, "Le soir, quand ils ont fini leur teches de la journde, In the he also reminds the reader that the average ils aiment 'a s'asseoir 'a l a table de famille" (Voyage, 1 , p.144). 1 voyageur i n the Voyage pittoresque, he

German "a I'amour du travail et I'amour de la famille" (Souvenirs, p.90). he connects this love of the home with the open, hospitable

nature of t h e people, who do not hesitate t o share their home with a stranger. He says that:

C e t t e hospitalitd est une d e s qualites d e I'Allemagne. Dans c e pays, Ititranger e s t r e p a v e c une bonne grace. I.. ] Un mot au crayon, sur une c a r t e d e visite, suffit pour l e recommander i une lointaine distance.

(M. )

T h e origins of this a t t a c h m e n t t o home, and thus of t h e Germans' hospitality, seem t o Marmier t o lie in religious observance. of Saxony, w e a r e told, remain t r u e t o their vertus primitives, aux sentiments religieux, aux habitudes cordiales e t hospitalibres I...] J e m e rappelle des excursions que j'ai souvent faites autour d e Leipzig. Que d e fois je suis e n t r 6 dans les maisons des paysans! J'y entrais pour demander un verre d'eau ou une tasse d e lait, e t j'y restais, s6duit par l e tableau qui s'offrait & mes regards. (Voyage, 11, p.50) Marmier attributes this particular e f f e c t of religious observance t o t h e f a c t that t h e Germans, unlike t h e French, t r e a t religion a s a pleasure r a t h e r than a s a duty, hence i t is more influential. celebrating religious occasions. He explains this in part by t h e different philosophy behind Protestant and Catholic ways of T h e Catholics, h e feels, tend towards "le "Wer nicht liebt Wein, Weib jeine, la tristesse, e t la maceration d e la chair", whereas h e summarises t h e Protestant ethic in Luther's declaration: und Gesang,/Der bleibt ein Narr sein Leben tang," and concludes that: Ainsi les protestans s e font toujours un jour d e joie d'un jour d e solenniti religieuse, e t c e t t e coutijme ne r t e - t - e l l e pas avec elle quelque chose d e profond e t d e bien moral? As examples of these different philosophies h e considers t h e way t h e two nations spend Sunday, suggesting that t h e domestic bliss he admires in t h e Germans derives from religious observances; d e repos presque toujours ma1 passe; fgte, un saint jour in France Sunday is a "jour ici dans I'ennui, 121 dans la d6bauche. T h e people

Le sentiment religieux ne brille pas", whereas in Germany it is a "jour d e

[.. I

l e jour d e s reunions e t des fgtes d e famille, des

dfners d'apparat e t d6s r6jouissances d ~ m e s t i ~ u e s . " ' ~ Religion, then, leads t o domestic happiness for t h e Germans: its ont le bonheur l e plus vrai e t le plus durable, celui qui naft d e la simplicite' des habitudes, d e la paix d'une honnste conscience e t d e

I'expression d'une franche et ouverte nature.

I t should perhaps be stressed, however,

(Voyage, 11, p.116)

that the Catholic Marmier, despite Elsewhere he

his open-minded emphasis on the positive facets o f the Protestant religion, does not always attribute this happiness and virtue t o it. pittoresque (I, p.1481, icism. ascribes the same virtues t o Catholicism, as, for example, in the Voyage where he explains the exceptionally low rates o f crime and illegitimacy of the people o f the Tyrol by their devout CatholAs we shall see, he was not impressed by all aspects of Protestantism and does not hesitate to criticise "la fanatisme des partisans de

, Luther" (Voyage, I p.91).

In a poem first published in 1834, entitled simply Panthgisme, Marmier presents a different type o f religious thought that was t o reach France from Germany. traditions of the country: L'Allemagne, la rgveuse Allemagne a [...I peuple' les eaux, les bois, les cimes des montagnes, les entrailles du sol, d'une le'gion d'8tres surnaturels, et je me complaisais dans ce naif pantheisme. (Voyage, I, p.2) In another context he describes mythology as "ce culte myste'rieux de la nature", "cette espbce de pantheisme secret dont le moyen t g e a toujours admis le principe sans jamais le f o r m u ~ e r " . * ~ But i t s literary significance extends far beyond the source o f pantheism. rude aussi est son allure. Elle ne sait Marmier argues that folklore point porter sur ses e'paules nevertheless folklore merits Sa voix a des is a form o f literature neglected i n France, "car son langage est rude, et 1'8charpe des coins, ni se draper dans l e manteau i franges d'or, ni faire r e h i r e sur son front .le diadkme itincelant"; a consideration equal t o that afforded t o classical literature, because "son front respire la candeur, et son regard indique la force. vibrations &ranges, rn61anco1ie."~' Marmier tries t o rectify this deficit by introducing German mythology to France. I n 1836 and 1837 he published two articles i n the Revue de "Traditions d ' ~ l l e m a ~ n e " ; in ~ 1841 he published Souvenirs ~ they et son sourire laisse dans 1'7me une indkfinissable For Marmier the concept of pantheism is profoundly German in character, and has i t s roots in the ancient mythological

Paris entitled

de voyages e t traditions populaires, which reproduces these articles;

appear again, slightly modified, i n Voyage pittoresque en Allemagne (1859)

under t h e t i t l e "Les Lkgendes d e ~ ' ~ l l e m a ~ n H e. ~ ~ g a v e a s e r i e s d also of l e c t u r e s o n foreign l i t e r a t u r e a t t h e university of Rennes. T h e s e proved s o overwhelmingly popular t h a t h e acquired t h e s t a t u s of a c u l t figure. Although only t h e inaugural l e c t u r e w a s published, t h e s e s e e m t o have c o v e r e d G e r m a n folklore in s o m e detail. G e r m a n example: romances, Having s t a t e d t h e c a s e for considering "la l i t t 6 r a t u r e populaire" alongside classical literature, h e c i t e s t h e "Peu d e pays poss6dent u n e collection d e Ikgendes, d e d e ballades aussi nombreuse e t v a r i b e q u e I'Allemagnen, and

concludes with a promise t o c o v e r t h e subject in g r e a t e r d e p t h in subsequent lectures. M a r m i e r s t a t e s t h e s o u r c e s of his m a t e r i a l openly. We learn from t h e p r e f a c e t o t h e Souvenirs d e voyage e t traditions populaires t h a t h e p r e f e r s t o t a k e information from local people w h e r e v e r possible, "et quand les r i c i t s d u peuple m e manquaient j'avais r e c o u r s aux livres." He applauds t h e recognition afforded by G e r m a n m e n of l e t t e r s t o t h e i r folklore and their e f f o r t s t o record and s t u d y what h e considers t o b e t h e i r national heritage: En Allemagne, 1'6tude d e s pobsies populaires a b t 6 e n t r e p r i s e d e bonne h e u r e e t poursuivie a v e c ardeur. Ici, les h o m m e s qui se livraient B c e t t e e t u d e Btaient soutenus non s e u l e m e n t p a r I'amour d e la science, mais p a r un s e n t i m e n t d e nationalitb. (Discours, p.315) H e r e g r e t s only t h e lack of a n y s t u d y undertaken by t h e Austrians t o record t h e legends c o n n e c t e d with t h e Danube, a n d w e t h e r e f o r e infer t h a t h e h a s personally g a t h e r e d all t h e information presented o n this subject: "11 f a u t q u e l e voyageur l e s c h e r c h e l e long d e son chemin" (Voyage, I, p.312). T h e detailed bibliographies, still unusual in a n a r t i c l e in this period, mention Rrentano, Biisching, Gerle, Mailath, Massmann, Schreiber, G e i b and Grimm. Marmier's This last r e f e r e n c e i s significant, for it may b e t h a t the brothers Grimm 24 i s partly responsible for c o n t a c t with

stimulating his i n t e r e s t in G e r m a n folklore.

Although h e uses t h e s a m e m a t e r i a l in d i f f e r e n t publications, Marmier p r e s e n t s G e r m a n folklore comprehensively and persuasively. t h e land of mythology: Ici, t o u t e s les plaines o n t leur g i n i e s , t o u t e s l e s montagnes leurs g r o t t e s myst6rieuses, t o u s l e s l a c s l e u r s palais d e cristal; ici, t o u t e s l e s fe'es n e s o n t p a s mortes, e t t o u s l e s sylphes n'ont p a s dkpouillb leurs ailes H e begins with t h e p r e m i s e t h a t , e v e n in t h e nineteenth c e n t u r y , G e r m a n y is supremely

d'or; ici, quand la nuit silencieuse s'abaisse sur la terre, les flots de I'Elbe et du Rhin ont encore des soupirs d'amour, les arbres frissonnent au souffle des esprits, et les chgteaux racontent du haut de la colline leurs histoires de guerre. (Voyage, I p.57) , He distinguishes clearly between the concepts of myth and legend, using the term "lggende historique" to denote 'legend' and "lkgende merveilleuse" to convey 'myth':
A mesure que le peuple etait &mu par un Bvenement, ou surpris par un ph6nom&ne, il composait une I6gende, il inventait un mythe I...] Ses Iggendes historiques reposent sur une base certaine, sur des faits ave'r6s, mais elles ont 6t6 tellement embellies par la caprice des conteurs qu'on ne peut y saisir parfois qu'un trait de moeurs et un nom. Ses Ikgendes merveilleuses proviennent de ce culte mystCrieux de la nature, de cette esphce de pantheisme secret dont le moyen Bge a toujours admis le principe sans jamais le formuler. (Voyage, I, p.58)

The mythological figures are presented according t o the element or natural phenomenon with which they are normally associated, and there are sections on the stars and the planets, on metals, plants, birds, mountains, earth and water. frequently: He describes briefly the spirits that are found most "Les Elfes, les Nains, les Koboldes, les Nixes, composent le

cycle habitue1 des Ikgendes" (Voyage pittoresque, I p.691, and attempts to , explain their symbolism, as for example, "Dans la symbolique du Nord, les geants representent la force brutale, la matiere, et les nains, la faculte' d'esprit, I'intelligence" (Voyage, I p.61). , There are legends connected with the devil, and a humorous generalisation about the Satanic legends: Quand on lit toutes ces histoires des d6ceptions du diable, repandues travers les plus beaux monuments de I'Europe, depuis la merveilleuse cath6drale de Cologne jusqu'; celle de Lund, en SuBde, on est vraiment tent6 de plaindre l e malheureux artisan de tant d'oeuvres si difficiles dont il a tire si peu de bCn&fice, et il me semble tout nature1 de croire que de I& vient la denomination de pauvre diable appliquQ B I'homme qui se trompe dans ses sp6culations et Bchoue dans ses tentatives. , (Voyage, I p.313) There are linked with religious legends and legends associated with particular places: Kiffhauser and the and Frederick Barbarossa, the story of the The Rolandeck, the Loreley, and the Rhineland tales; including Maximilian Zips, legends o f the Tyrol, Charlemagne,

the Wunderberg,

legends of Silesia, including Beer and the Wends and their folksongs.

legends o f Mecklenburg are described i n some detail, and include the sagas

of Doberan, Ludwigslust and Henri d e Lion.

H e also mentions Tristan and

Isolde, Arthur, Parzival, Kynast, Kunegunde, and o t h e r figures t a k e n from t h e l i t e r a t u r e of t h e Middle Ages. Finally, Marmier also stresses t h e ubiquitous presence of music in Germany, linking it, again, with t h e national 'melancholy'. In t h e Voyage p i t t o r e s a u e h e recalls, "Une d e s rilles d e m a d a m e T [.. I i I'attitude mklancolique d e la f e m m e du Nord, nous c h a n t a i t d'une voix harmonieuse les plus suaves c h a n t s d e I'Allemagne" 11, p.86). But melancholy

(m

has i t s counterbalance; Marmier n o t e s t h a t , in general, t h e G e r m a n s s e e m t o e x p e r i e n c e both "une vague mklancolie, ce p o i t i q u e penchant d e s r a c e s du Nord, et parfois une impetueuse animation qui, dans l e s villes ktranghres, leur donne I'air d'kcoliers e n vacances" (Voyage, 11, p.27). Music expresses both t h e s e e x t r e m e s and an infinite range of moods b e t w e e n them: "musique allemande joyeuse, grave, B l e v b , infinie, in6puisablen (Souvenirs d'un voyageur, p.91). H e also emphasises t h e vast r e p e r t o i r e of t h e many talented composers from Germany:

...

valses d e Schubert, mklodies d e Mozart, pastorales d e Beethoven, dernihre pens6e d e Weher, c h a n t s dramatiques d e Meyerbeer, hymnes religieuses d e Haydn.

(w)

Like literature, music is not t h e preserve of a n elite, but is present in all social situations and ranks, particularly since "les Allemands ont I'oreille e t la voix justes" (Ibid.). H e c o m m e n t s o n t h e "musique d e s postillons assis s u r leur siege d'Eilwagen ou d'Extrapostn (@&I, o n t h e "troupe d'ktudians, c o m m e vous l e s a s i bien de'peintes Mme d e Stael, qui s'en vont l e soir, e n chantant, t r a v e r s l e s rues",25 t h e "musique d e la f l i t e e t du piano dans l e salon d e famillen, and t h e "musique d e s o r c h e s t r e s b t o u t e s l e s tables d'h8ten (Souvenirs, p.91). Marmier's picture of a domesticated, musical and poetic Germany s t e e p e d in mythology and melancholy is interesting not only in itself, but also in t h e light of subsequent literary t r e n d s in France. Although i t is difficult t o t r a c e t h e specific influence of his work in this a r e a , his emphasis o n t h e d o m e s t i c idyll, in G e r m a n life and m o r e specifically in a work such a s Herman und Dorothea, may have a bearing on t h e French rustic novel. L e c o n t e d Lisle's P&mes barbares o r Hugo's L e Rhin may perhaps answer t h e call f o r a new i n t e r e s t in folklore and mythology. T h e Parnassians may also have been influenced by t h e religious discussions,

particularly on the subject o f Pantheism.

As such developments suggest, i t is difficult t o find but despite his

the most striking aspect o f Marmier's picture o f Germany in the early years o f his work there is i t s positive emphasis: adverse comment enthusiasm, in his earliest works on Germany;

he was astute enough to discern more negative elements as

time went by, in particular the expansionist power of Prussia, which he came t o see as a growing international threat.

11.

"A CHANGE CAME O'ER THE SPIRIT OF M Y DREAM"

Thus Marmier expressed his realisation that not all aspects o f nineteenthcentury Germany were so idyllic as his early visits could have led him t o

, believe (Voyage, I p.3).

The first really outspoken remarks occur in 1839,

some seven years after he began his work there, i n a review o f Quinet's Allemagne et ~ t a l i e . ~ ~ is important to notice that Marmier was by no It means the first to awaken to the Prussian threat: change o f heart by some eight years. stoicisme", and the "miseres Quinet had forecast i t as early as 1831 i n L'Allemagne e t la Rkvolution, foreshadowing Marmier's In this review, Marmier speaks for the first time o f "les haines traditionelles cach6es sous le manteau du politiques voil6es par le voile d'or de la po6sien (p.52). He recognises that 1813 has not been forgotten, and that Even from this early date i n his career, he

there is still a strong feeling towards unification, and the need t o present a united front i n Germany. expresses some misgivings about the ways i n which i t could be achieved:

II est bien kvident, comme le dit M. Quinet, que ce mouvement de nationalit6 allemande, si 6nergique dans son principe, si large et si restreint par les froides deliberations de la dihte germanique, n'a pu 6tre C t o u f f i dans son germe, ni paralysk dans son d6veloppement. II est 6vident que cette id6e d'6mancipation politique, de liberte' nationale, qui enthousiasma I'Allemagne en 1813, subsiste encore I...]Mais quand et comment cette condition sera-t-elle accomplie? (p.52).
The following year, with the country. Deux n'est Mondes, 1840, saw the beginning o f a dkbscle between

Marmier and the German press which accelerated his growing disillusion
It began w i t h an article published i n the Revue des

entitled "Revue

~ i t t d r a i r e de I'Allemagne",

i n which he "Le temps et les

claimed that the golden era i n German literature was passed: majestk de leurs oeuvres

plus ob les grands hommes de Weimar ktonnaient le monde par la

I...] Les

genies kminens sont

morts,

hommes secondaires qui leur ont s u r v k u s'arrgtent dans la lice."27

This article prompted an angry response from the German press, and Marmier responded first with an article In which he attributes this reaction largely to the tense situation between the two countries concerning the Rhine provinces, but also complains bitterly about the unreliable and extreme reactions of the Germans: Elle [I'Allemagne] passe en un instant du raisonnement h I'apostrophe, Hler, elle louait encore I'esprit, le de I'admiration & I'outrage. caractire du pays qui I'avoisine; demain, elle le condamne sans piti6. Hier, elle rendait justice 'a vos travaux, elle vous proclamait un de ses disciples, elle vous adressait, avec des paroles flatteuses, des dipl6mes honoriflques, demain, elle efface d'un trait de plume tout le passe' et vous appelle un ignorant.28 1841, however, saw Marmier with far clearer and more significant polltlcal targets for his discontent with Germany. N longer is o "1'Allemagne" in general attacked, but more precisely, "la ~ r u s s e " . ~ ~ In this article in the Revue des Deux Mondes, Marmier reviews anti-French pamphlets, which he claims to have been far more numerous in recent weeks than any other type of llterary output. This subject gives him the opportunity to raise the question of the Prussian danger, since "Les krivains prussiens se distinguent entre tous par leur ton tranchant et leurs paroles h a u t a i n e ~ " . ~ ~ He writes of their ominously aggressive patriotism:
11 faut les voir, quand ils se dunissent dans quelque solennit6 militaire ou scientifique, avec quelle ardeur ils entonnent leur chant national, avec quel accent emphatique chacun d'eux s'6crie: Ich bin Prussen [sic] (je suls Pr~ssie*~ On dirait que tous les autres titres ne sont rien a cat6 de celui-18.

The rest of the article contains strong warnings about .the strengths and intentions of Prussia. He Insists on the danger of her geographical position in relation to other countries:

h la France, resserrBe entre deux lignes de royaumes et de prlncipalite's,

hendue comme un long cordon militaire du nord au sud, de la Pologne

il faut nbessairement qu'elle s'Blargisse sous p i n e d'etre BcrasCe, et certes elle a bien montre qu'elle comprenait sa situation.32 The possible threat to France becomes even clearer as he underlines the Insidious way in which Prussia has annexed the neighbouring states: "Elle se les assimlle peu 'a peu par des tentative3 dont elle seule peut-8tre

comprend d'abord toute la portke, aujourd'hui par son systeme mongtaire, demain par son r6seau d e douanes". 33 The phrase "dont elle seule peut-dtre comprend d'abord toute la port6en shows Marmier's obvious conviction of ulterior motives in the political machinations which he does not wish t o pass unnoticed. The total implication of his statement is of course t h e great potential danger for t h e French. If other s t a t e s were t o join forces with Prussia in a war, they would form a mighty alliance: Nous parlons encore du d6faut d'unit6 d e I'Allemagne. C e dkfaut est hien plus apparent que r6el. Vienne une guerre, IIAllemagne cesse d'6tre un compos6 d e petites principalites dont chacune a son histoire, ses intkrgts, sa vie a part; I...] e t qui sait quels fruits porterait alors c e t t e longue e t patiente infiltration des iddes prussiennes repandues d e c6tk e t d'autre I...]. 34 After this, it is difficult t o find precise references t o the political situation until 1859 in his Voyage pittoresque en Allemagne, (I, pp.1-4). In the intervening period, there a r e only vague hints of his feelings that there is something wrong. In t h e introduction to his translation of Hoffmann's tales, in 1843, he speaks of the " tableaux un peu trop poktiques e t trop enthousiastes d e Madame d e Staiil "(p.l), and in the introduction t o Un BtB au bord d e la Baltique e t de la mer du Nord (18561, he speaks wistfully of the Germany he first knew: Ceux qui parcouraient I'Allemagne, il y a une vingtaine d'anndes, avec une studieuse pen&e, e t qui y retournent aujourd'hui, y retrouveront difflcilement les kmotions qu'ils ont dG 6prouver I'a e n leur premier voyage I.. ]. (Un 6 t i au bord d e la Baltique, etc. p.1) Although he attributes this lack of enthusiasm t o t h e new industrialisation of Europe, Germany in particular, which reminds him of America. t h e reader familiar with his other comments on Germany will wonder whether the dream is not also broken by political developments in the country. A partial answer comes just three years later in the Voyage p i t t o r e s ~ u e e n A l l e m a ~ n e . In t h e first volume, h e describes in detail a modern-day journey around Berlin, "cette capitale d'un peuple essentiellement guerriern (I, p.175). The military presence is very evident, and t h e sight of t h e soldiers prompts him t o remark: J e m e rappelais, e n les observant, I'impression d e terreur qu'a laiss6e dans ma ville natale d e Pontarlier l e passage des regiments Kaiserliche,

qu'on appelle les K..., Dieu nous g a r d e pourtant d e les voir jamais franchir nos fronti6res c o m m e e n 1814, m a i s qu'ils viennent e n amis. (ibld.) Chronologically, it Is a l s o interesting t h a t a t this juncture a c o m m e n t about M a r m i e r by Holtei a p p e a r s in 1864, in t h e form of a n o t e on a l e t t e r t o Tieck. M a r m i e r s a y s in t h e l e t t e r (which is undated) t h a t his friends in P a r i s find him "bien germanisi". Holtei, who w a s v e r y c l o s e t o Marmier, i s prompted t o wonder w h e t h e r in present circumstances, M a r m l e r would still find this a compliment: " J e t z t lebt e r in P a r i s [ ...I Ob m a n ihn d o r t i m m e r noch "bien g e r m a n i s i " finden, o b e r sich noch d a r a n e r f r e u e n mag?"35 Holtei i s obvlously a w a r e t h a t Marmier h a s reservations about t h e c o u n t r y now. Holtei m a y h a v e b e e n particularly sensitive o n t h e point, s i n c e t h e y s p e n t t h e i r t i m e t o g e t h e r in Prussia. T h e s t r o n g e s t warning of all against t h e Prussian t h r e a t c o m e s in 1867, in Souvenirs d'un voyageur. O n c e again, h e r e c o r d s a visit t o Berlin, and this t i m e his impressions a r e similar t o those noted in Voyage p l t t o r e s q u e , but now r e l a t e d m o r e forcefully and a t g r e a t e r length. It begins, q u i t e simply, w i t h how everything in G e r m a n y h a s changed for t h e worse s i n c e his first visits there: J e s u i s assez r e t r o g r a d e pour r e g r e t t e r l a p o b i e d e ses anciennes institutions, d e ses c e n t a i n e s d e principautbs, d e ses souverainete's 6piscopales I...] mais pas une d e ces c a p i t a l e s qui se dkveloppent dans d e s proportions d&mesur6es, e t a t t i r e n t e t absorbent la richesse, l e pouvoir, I'action d e s provinces. (Souvenirs, p.8 1) H e realises t h a t h e i s seeing t h e realisation of his prophecy in 1841 of Prussia annexing a n d swallowing u p all t h e r e s t of Germany. H e reminds his r e a d e r o n c e m o r e in forceful t e r m s of Prussia's expansionist and militaristic tendencies, placing t h e s e in t h e i r historical c o n t e x t , and showing t h e logical o u t c o m e of such developments: C'est p a r la g u e r r e q u e l a P r u s s e s'est g r a d u e l l e m e n t c o n s t i t u e e e t aggrandie. C'est p a r l a g u e r r e qu'elle a Bt6 d c r a s 6 e aprhs l a b a t a i l l e dt1&na. C'est p a r la g u e r r e qu'elle s'est 61evbe a v e c u n e nouvelle a u d a c e e t u n e ambition qui n e peut plus se contenir. (Souvenirs, p.104) T h e emphasis on t h e "ambition qui n e p e u t plus se contenir" i s of c o u r s e highly significant, and i s a t h e m e which is developed in t h e r e s t o f t h e book, although i t i s a l r e a d y obvious t o what h e alludes. H e indicates c l e a r l y t h a t Prussia h a s t h e military m e a n s t o fulfil t h i s ambition. In t h e

Voyage pittoresque h e had already mentioned t h e "arsenal qui s'eleve e n f a c e du mus6e" (I, p.1751, this t i m e h e describes t h e s c e n e in m o r e detail:

[...I c e t arsenal e n f a c e d u m u s i e , ces c a n o n s align& p r e s d e I ' a c a d k m i e , c e s o f f i c i e r s qu'on r e n c o n t r e a c h a q u e pas e n grand uniforme, faisant si f i e r e m e n t r6sonner s u r l e p a v e leur s a b r e e t leurs Bperons, ces p a r a d e s perpe'tuelles e t ces troupes a pied e t h cheval I...] qui, pour f a i r e leurs exercices, envahissent jusqu'aux all6es d u parc; o n s e n t qu'il y a la un esprit m a r t i a l plus puissant q u e I'esprit scientifique. L e plan m d m e d e la ville, e t les principales o e u v r e s d'art qui l a dkcorent, p o r t e n t c o m m e une e m p r e i n t e d e r&ve belliqueux. pp.104-5)

(m

In addition t o this arsenal, h e underlines t h e o n e necessary f a c t o r not mentioned before: a leader. From e a r l y on in t h e t e x t , i t is c l e a r t h a t "En ce M a r m i e r sees Bismarck a s a n undesirable innovation in Germany, classing him along with o t h e r c h a n g e s which m a k e him r e g r e t t h e past: ni c h e m i n s d e f e r I...]. (Souvenirs, p.8 1). It b e c o m e s c l e a r t h a t Bismarck is i n t e r e s t e d only in political gain: L e d e r n i e r roi d e Prusse, dtAlexandre d e Humboldt, professeurs d e Berlin I...] faire une M. d e Rismark Frkderic Guillaume IV, vivait d a n s I'intimit6 d e Varnhagen, d e Schelling, e t d e s principaux e t I...] n'aspirait pas, c o m m e son successeur, nouvelle r6volution. (Souvenirs, p.84) is viewed a s a danger: whereas f o r m e r Prussian l e a d e r s had occupied themselves with learning, Bismarck temps-18, il n'y a v a i t e n c o r e e n Allemagne ni t 6 1 6 ~ r a ~ h i ~ Blectroniques, ues Elle ignorait aussi q u e Bismark lui Btait nC"

Although t h e d i r e c t d a n g e r t o F r a n c e from his revolutionary ideas is not expressed d i r e c t l y here, t h e position is clarified l a t e r in t h e work, when M a r m i e r r e l a t e s a discussion b e t w e e n himself and a G e r m a n friend, Carl. (Souvenirs, pp.121-163). T h e discussion c o v e r s t h e history of Prussia and T h e c h a r a c t e r of C a r l is H e is presented he is e n d s w i t h s p e c i f i c a u g u r s of w a r with France.

carefully chosen t o i n c r e a s e t h e i m p a c t o f t h e warning.

a s a friend of Marmier, a n a v e r a g e man, c e r t a i n l y not a fanatic;

e v e n a Catholic, a minority in Prussia, a n d t h e r e f o r e m o r e likely t o view t h e French c a u s e m o r e s y m p a t h e t i c a l l y t h a n t h e m o r e d o g m a t i c P r o t e s t a n t e l e m e n t (" extremely friend.

...

les infle'xibles prdtentions du protestantisme", p.125). remarks even t o a Frenchman

Yet

d e s p i t e being presented a s a thoroughly m o d e r a t e c h a r a c t e r , h e u t t e r s s o m e anti-French h e considers his T h e implication i s clear: t h a t F r a n c e h a s much t o f e a r f r o m a

people whose m o s t m o d e r a t e m e m b e r s speak o f "notre devoir

L.4 d e c h l t i e r

I'ambition d e l a France" (p.161). M a r m i e r e n d s w i t h his own warning: "I1 y a d e s Prussiens convaincus q u e l e r o y a u m e providential du vieux F r i t z e s t destink sqaccroTtre d e t e l l e s o r t e qu'un jour P a r i s s e r a son point c e n t r a l e t s a capitale." (p.163). T h u s in t h e y e a r s leading u p t o t h e Franco-Prussian war, M a r m i e r had not h e s i t a t e d t o m a k e public his misgivings and f e a r s of t h e d a n g e r from Prussia. His warnings, however, w e r e destined generally t o fall on d e a f ears, a n d M a r m i e r w a s privately horrified of t h e government's intention t o g o t o w a r w i t h Prussia. In his Journall o n 12th J u n e 1870, h e n o t e s t h a t "I'empereur v a f a i r e l a g u e r r e & l a Prusse. En vain quelques h o m m e s sensks, e n vain l e plus s e n s 6 d e tous, M. Thiers, essayent-ils d l a r r & t e r l e gouvernement d a n s c e t t e formidable d6termination." (Journal 11, p.160). M a r m i e r w a s a c l o s e friend of Thiers, dining regularly a t his house, and could well h a v e encouraged him t o oppose plans f o r war. 36 When t h e w a r b r o k e out, M a r m i e r s t a y e d in P a r i s throughout t h e siege, and recorded all his impressions in his diary. It would b e irrelevant t o e x a m i n e his c o m m e n t s a t t h i s juncture, b u t t h e y a r e e x t r e m e l y informat i v e about t h e s i e g e conditions. It i s significant t h a t a f t e r this d a t e , h e

would a p p e a r t o h a v e m a d e no f u r t h e r visits t o Germany: c e r t a i n l y no such r e f e r e n c e s a r e t o b e found in e i t h e r published o r manuscript material. Y e t h e did not t o t a l l y s e v e r his links w i t h t h e country. A f e w collections of s h o r t s t o r i e s published in his old a g e c o n t a i n G e r m a n tales: a collection e n t i t l e d Nouvelles d u Nord (Paris, H a c h e t t e ) which appeared in 1882 includes a (poor and t h e r e f o r e atypical) translation of S t o r m ' s Immensee; l a ville e t 'a l a c a m p a g n e (Paris, H a c h e t t e , 1885) c o n t a i n s o n e folk-tale of G e r m a n origin, e n t i t l e d "L'heureuse journ6e d u l o u p ; and Au Sud e t a u Nord (Paris, H a c h e t t e ) published in 1890, just t w o y e a r s b e f o r e Marmier's d e a t h , c o m p r i s e s a l a r g e s e l e c t i o n of short personal, historical, and mythological anecdotes, mostly o f G e r m a n origin. A t approximately t h e s a m e t i m e , M a r m i e r m a d e his last e n t r y in his diary (now held a t t h e A c a d d m i e d e Besanson): a fill1 t r i b u t e t o his long-deceased and much r e g r e t t e d parents, w r i t t e n predominantly in German. T h u s his a t t a c h m e n t t o t h e c o u n t r y w a s deep-rooted enough t o withstand e v e n t h e war, t o a c e r t a i n e x t e n t . Neither w a s h e f o r g o t t e n by t h e Germans. In 1889, t h e University of Leipzig addressed a t r i b u t e t o t h e "Bminent acadkmicien qui, a u mois d e f6vrier ~ n i v e r s i t k "37 . 1839, fut rep d o c t e u r e n philosophie

cette

1. An account of Marmier's work on Germany is given in my Ph.D. thesis: Xavier Marmier (1808-1892): a study in Franco-German literary relations (London, 1986). The modern-day neglect of his work is largely due to the influence of inaccurate comments by L. Reynaud in Francais e t Allemands. Histoire de leurs relations intellectuelles e t sentimentales (Paris: Fayard, 1930) and L'lnfluence allemande en France au XVllle e t au XIXe siecle (Paris: Hachette, 19221, and is analysed in my latest article: "Xavier Marmier (1808-1892): setting the record straight" (forthcoming). 2. The name of this publication was frequently changed. In 1826 it was known as the B b i t b u but it changed its name in 1827 to i lo h g e the Revue germanique. Between 1829 and 1834 it was called the Nouvelle Revue germanique, and in 1835 it reverted to its former title of Revue germanique until 1837, after which it was taken over and given the new title of Revue du Nord. Other journals featuring articles on German subject matter included Le Globe (founded in 1824) the Revue de Paris (founded in 1829). and the influential Revue des Deux Mondes, (also founded in 1829). In subsequent references, the abbreviation & will be used for Revue germanique, for Nouvelle Revue germanique, r~ for Revue de Paris, and RDM for Revue des Deux Mondes. Marmier contributed to all these on a regular basis. 3. This information and date are found in a letter to Paul Lacroix dated 14th January 1832, conserved in the Bibiiothbque de I'Arsenal, Fonds Paul Lacroix. Additional information is found in Marmier's Journal, ed. Kaye, 2 vols (Geneve: Droz. 1968), 1. p.312. 4. X, Marmier, Etudes biographiques. "Henri de Kleist", XIV, 1833, No.54, pp.99-119; Etudes sur Goethe (Paris: Levrault, 1835); Hermann e t Dorothde par Goethe, traduit par X. Marmier, (Paris: Heideloff); Th6ltre de Goethe traduction nouvelle, revue, corrigge, et augmentge d e e prkface par M X. Marmier, (Paris: . Charpentier, 1839); Th6itre de Schiller, traduction nouvelle, pr6ced6e d'une notice sur sa vie et ses ouvrages, par X. hlarmier, (Paris: Charpentier. 1841); Pogsies de Schiller, traduction nouvelle par M. X. Marmier., ~rkcedked'une introduction Dar le traducteur. (Paris: Charoentier 1844); Contes fantastiques dl~offmann traduction .nbuvelle de ' M x.. . hamr ?r ie. traducteur, (Paris: Charpentier, - . 1843). Translations and studies of his contemooraries are too numerous to detail here, but a full bibliography is asseinbled in my Ph.D. thesis Xavier Marmier (1808-1892): a study in Franco-German literary relations. 5. X. Marmier, Un 6th au bord de la Baltique et de la mer du Nord (Paris: Hachette, 18561, p.1. (This work is referred to henceforth as & bt6 au bord de la Baltique, etc.) 6. X Marmier, [Introduction], &, 3e skrie, I, No.1 (18351, pp.3-21 (p.11). X. Marmier, V o y a R e 2 vols (Paris: Morizot, 7. 1859-60), 1 , p.85. This work will be referred to henceforth as Voyage. 1 X Marmier. "Journal de voyage. Viennew, NRg, 2e sgrie, I, No.4, . 8. ( 1834). pp.359-377 (p.364). 9. X. Marmier, " Les ~niversiths allemandes - Goettingud', E M , 3e skrie, 1, 1834, pp.434-448. "Leipzig et la librairie allemandg, m M , 3e d r i e , 1 (1834). pp.93-105.

a,

10. VoyaRe, op. cit. Details of Tibingen and Prague universities are to be found in Vol.1, pp.43 and 497 respectively, and details of Leipzig, Breslau, Jena and WUrzberg are found in Vol.11, pp.90, 152, 195, 384 and 454 respectively. 11. X. Marmier, Souvenirs d'un voyageur (Paris: Didier, 18671, p.82. Henceforth: Souvenirs. 12. VoyaRe, op. cit., I, p.95. 13. X. Marmier, [Introduction], Q, 3e s6rie, I, No.1 (18351, pp.3-21 (P.10). 14. X. Marmier, "Souvenirs d e voyages. Berlin, le Mecklembourg, Ludwigslust, Hambourgn. RP (1837), pp.60-69 (p.65). 15. X, Marmier, 'Qes soir6es d'Allemagne': NRg. XV, Nos.57 and 58 (joint issue), pp. 161-173 (p. 163). 16. X. Marmier, Podsies d'un voyageur (Paris: Felix Locquin, 18441, p.55. 17. X. Marmier, 'Moeurs d e I'Allemagne. Premier article: le Dimanche", NRI, XII, No.47 (18321, pp.266-277 (p.266). 18. Moeurs d e I'Ailemagne. Premier article: ie Dirnanchg, art. cit., p.271. 19. Woeurs d e I'Allemagne. Premier article: le Dimanchd', art. cit., pp.268-9. 20. X. Marmier, Souvenirs de voyanes e t traditions populaires (Paris: Masgana, 18411, p.204. 21. X. Marmier, "Discours prononce I'ouverture du cours d e litterature Btrangkre la Facult6 des lettres d e Rennes: Nouvelle Revue de Bretagne, 1 (1839). pp.305-321 (p.309). (This lecture is referred t o subsequently as 'Discours'.) 22. X. Marmler, Traditions d'Allemagnd', RP, XXXVI (1836). pp.246-264, and XXXVIII, 1837, pp. 177-191. 23. Voyage, op. cit., I, pp.57-87. 24. An interesting inscription in Marmier's copy of Deutsche Mytholoxie states that "Achet6 le 6 juillet 1886 sur le quai des Augustins, heureux de retrouver une des oeuvres d e ces deux savants si justement renommes qui en 1834 a Gattingen furent si bons pour moi. " 25. X. Marmier, [Introduction], Q, 3e skrie, I, No.1 (18351, pp.3-21 (P. 13). 26. X. Marmier, C r i t i q u e litt6raire. Allemagne e t italie, de M. Edgar Quinetl: RP, 3e skrie, IV (18391, pp.49-55. 27. X. Marmier, "Revue ~ i t t d r a i r e de ~ ' ~ l l e m a g n e " , M , XXI (18401, m pp.712-725 (p.715). 28. X. Marmier, "Revue littgraire d e I'Allemagne: a M , XXV (1841). pp.705-729 (p.705). 29. X. Marmier, "Revue litt6raire d e I'Ailemagne: m M , XXVI (1841). pp.627-655. 30. Revue iitt6raire d e I'Allemagne'l, a r t cit., RDM, XXVI, p.630.

31. 32. 33.

"Revue littiraire d e I'Allemagne", art. cit., E M , XXVI, p.631. "Revue littdraire de I'Allemagnef', art. cit., RDM, XXVI, p.630. "Revue littdraire d e I'Ailemagne", art. cit., RDM, XXVI, p.630.

34. "Revue littdraire d e I'Allemagne", art. cit., RDM, XXVI, pp.630-1. 35. A. Wagner, Briefe an Ludwig Tieck, ausgewahlt und herausgegeben von Karl von Holtei (Breslau: Trewendt, 18641, IV. p.331. 36. Marmier's reputation has suffered unjustly from claims by critics such as L. Reynaud, in Francais e t Allemands. Histoire de leurs relations intellectuelles e t sentimentales (Parls: Fayard, 1930, p.278) that Marmier not only failed t o warn France about the danger from Germany, but also endangered the security of the country by his 'lmb6cillite' d'esprit". More recently, A. ~ o n c h o u x ~ c o n c l u d e s &ay "Un romantique franiais ami de his 1'Allemagne: Xavier Marmier " (Connaissance de I'Etranger: MBlanges offerts 'a la m6molre de Jean-Marie CarrB, Paris: Didier, 1964, p.96) with the question: " Quel rapport entre c e t t e image e t I'Allemagne pangermaniste, conque'rante e t brutale qui allait, si peu de temps aprks, decevoir les Fransais? Marmier fut-il dupe? Complice?" The second part of this article puts these accusations in a new light. 37. This information is found in a newspaper cutting which it has unfortunately not been possible to trace, pasted into the largely unpublished manuscript of Night Side of Society 6, held at the Acade'mie de Besanson: Le doyen de I'Unlversit6 d e Leipzig vient d'adresser M. Xavier Marmier un trks curieux diplSme, inprim6 en souvenir du cinquantenaire de I'6minent acad6micien qul, au mois de f6vrier 1839, fut re$u docteur en philosophie ?e t t e UniversitB. ci Les philosophes d e Leipzig souhaitent au vdnCrable membre de I'Institut, d6ji ag6 de plus de quatre-vingt ans [sic], une longue e t heureuse vieillesse, e t ils le remercient d'avoir fair conna'ltre 21 la France, par ses traductions, les oeuvres littkraires e t podtiques du pays

THE ART OF THE IMPROVISERS: JAZZ AND FICTION IN POST-BEBOP AMERICA Jullan Cowley (King's College London) "A saxophonist who continues to 'play like' Charlie Parker cannot understand that Charlie Parker wasn't certain that what had happened had to sound like that." LeRoi Jones (Imamu Amiri Baraka), in 1964, emphatically denied that a series of practised and polished musical mannerisms emulating the technical virtuosity of a great jazz musician constitutes extension of that player's creative spirit. "Hunting", Jones pointed out, "is not those heads on the wall"' art does not proceed merely from the mastery of formulas, no matter how stimulating, challenging, or revelatory the models from which they were drawn may have been. Parker's genius, Jones argues, resided in his restless inquiry, tireless investigation of the forms an improvisation might take. The music, familiarly termed bebop, of which he was a leading exponent, emerged in the 1940s as "at a certain level of consideration, a reaction by young musicians against the sterility and formality of Swing as it moved to become a formal part of the mainstream American culture".' It was an exploratory mode of jazz, whose cutting edge was forged and honed by remarkable soloists, who released again, in celebration if also in anger or anguish, energies that had been neutralized when channelled into the well-made, easily assimilated, arranger-dominated musical patterning of Swing, music characterized by as Jones recognized and A. R. Spellman "rhythmic regularity and melodic predictability". 3 But by the late-1950s, corroborates, "The discovery had gone out of bebop - it had become as formalistic as any movement does once it has solved its original problem". Spellman's analysis also concludes that "it was that indefiniteness of not knowing how the music was going to sound before it is played that enhanced its emotional expression" and, identifying Ornette Coleman as pioneer of music that revitalized the 1960s, he remarks that "the new musician has been primarily involved in the cultivation of the Marvelous. And he judges his work more by the frequency with which the Marvelous A comparable orientation is occurs than by comdositional

value^".^

evident in the writer Donald Barthelme's claim that he would "rather have a wreck than a ship that sails. Things attach themselves to wrecks. Strange fish find your wreck[ ..I to be a good feeding ground; after a

while you've

got

situation

with

possibilities".5

Rarthelrne's

first

collection of stories, Come Back, Dr Caligari, appeared in 1964. In the predominantly sterile atmosphere of cultural conservatism in America in the 1950s, allegiance to bebop was a declaration of cultural radicalism. While many such declarations were undoubtedly faddist, there were writers of enduring significance who readily acknowledged affinity. The correspondence of poets Robert Creeley and Charles Olson is peppered with admiring references to Parker; Jack Kerouac's fiction made clear his devotion. Ronald Sukenick has cited Olson's essay "Projective Verse",

so concerned with possibilities of the breath, and Kerouac's "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose: expressing his desire to write as a jazz musician blows, as key documents releasing energies for creative work since the fifties. Numerous writers who, like Sukenick, began to publish their fiction in the mid- or late-sixties, have spoken of personal indebtedness to the paradigm of bebop. In 1963, in the magazine Kulchur, which first published several of LeRoi Jones's essays on jazz, Gilbert Sorrentino, for example, published "Remembrances of Bop in New York, 1945-1950? Ishmael Reed takes Parker as a model for his Neo HOODOO aesthetic; Raymond Federman, once a jazz musician himself, has a section entitled 'Remembering Charlie Parkern in his novel Take It Or Leave It (1976); Steve Katz has said: "Jazz was my childhood. Whenever I could I snuck out to Birdland, sat on the wooden chairs In the No Minimum gallery, getting closer and closer with every set to Bud Powell, Charlie Parker, Zoot Sims, Miles Davis, Max Roach, Clifford Brown, Lennie Tristano. Lee 6 Konitz, Thelonius Monk, all my heroes - John Coltrane, Eric Dolphy". During the fifties, jazz submitted once again to the demands of tidy orchestration, carefully crafted arrangements executed with dutiful precision. Some fine music was produced - the Modern Jazz Quartet, the Gerry Mulligan group, Miles Davis's collaborations with Gil Evans - but In the hands of the copyists the 'cool' was merely tepid. At the end of the decade, Ornette Coleman arrived in New York and proceeded t o transgress recognized limits for individual and collective improvisation, courting surprise, constantly testing, reassessing, revlsing "a musical syntax which, 7 though necessarily derived from Charlie Parker, was a copy of no one". Sukenick recalls hearing Coleman for the first time, at a bar called the Five Spot, frequented by self-consciously American painters, film-makers, and writers, drawn to jazz as a distinctly American art form. He was

struck by t h e intensity of t h e musicians, and t h e audacity of their music, and compares his response t o t h a t of those Parisians who were stunned by t h e premi6re of Stravinsky's R i t e of Spring. 8 John Litweiler, in T h e Freedom Principle, analyses early recordings of Coleman solos and remarks t h a t "as t h e faint, lingering shadow of chorus structures disappears, classic narrative form [...I becomes irrelevant. That's because music with a beginning, middle, and end imposes t h e s t r u c t u r e of fiction on t h e passage of life, says Coleman implicitly". Similarly, writers such a s Sukenick, Federman, Sorrentino, Reed, and Katz made t h e decision t o disgard Aristotelian narrative form, taking a critically reflexive s t a n c e toward t h e mechanics of narration, so their writing becomes a thrust toward reality existing beyond t h e structures of fiction upon which w e habitually rely t o organize experience. Their work is predicated upon acceptance of contingency and uncertainty, recognition of which is, according t o Litweiler, embodied in Coleman's playing: T h e organization of these Coleman solos makes clear t h a t uncertainty is t h e content of life, and even things t h a t w e t a k e for certainties (such a s his cell motives) a r e e v e r altering shape and character. By turns h e fears or embraces this ambiguity; but h e constantly f a c e s it, and by his example, h e condemns those who seek resolution or finallty a s timid. 9 One cannot neglect t h e racially specific socio-economic factors t h a t have contributed t o t h e ethos of radical jazz throughout i t s history. Composer Robert Ashley has s t a t e d t h a t h e learnt music from listening t o jazz, but h e appreciated t h a t i t s practitioners spoke, in e f f e c t , a different language t o his own: "In other words, t h e stories t h a t were told by jazz music were stories t h a t I didn't grow up with; they weren't my stories". Nonetheless, he applied himself t o understanding "how those stories could be applied t o stories t h a t I understood - my stories. I was trying t o 10 figure out how t o make procedures t h a t would invoke spontaneity". There appears t o b e a suggestion h e r e t h a t t h e improvisatory skills of jazz musicians reflect t h e need for flexibility and immediacy of response in strategies for survival necessarily adopted by black Americans, given t h e large part played by 'accident and t h e unknown in their lives, personally and communally. Ishmael Reed's novels certainly endorse this correspondence. T h e stories told by jazz a r e not deterministic structures, but models for dealing with constant change. Saxophonist Archie Shepp

s t r e s s e d t h a t t h e a v a n t garde, t o which h e belonged in t h e sixties, w a s not a narrowly defined m o v e m e n t , but a s t a t e of mind. a new epistemology. Ornette Coleman Buckminster Fuller, has expressed profound admiration f o r Richard and h a s d e d i c a t e d music t o him. It m a y a p p e a r Sukenick, Federman, a n d K a t z m a k e i t c l e a r t h a t with t h e i r writing t h e y seek nothing less t h a n

curious t h a t a jazz iconoclast should r e v e r e t h e theoretician of comprehens i v e a n t i c i p a t o r y design science, b u t Fuller's vision of global ordering of services and utilities served t h e e n d of realizing a technoanarchistic In his society, promoting maximum f r e e d o m of a c t i o n for individuals.

essay, " T h e Music o f t h e New Lifd', Fuller c o n t e n d s t h a t "in t h e world of music and in t h e world of a r t , human beings h a v e a t t a i n e d much spontaneo u s and r e a l i s t i c coordination",ll his point being that t h e liberatory potential of available technology m a y b e realized only a f t e r t h e c o l l e c t i v e adoption of new m o d e s of understanding and behaviour, t o which c e r t a i n artists, a n d especially musicians, a r e most closely attuned. In Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down, not allow him (even in California in C o l e m a n may be s e e n a s exemplifying "spontaneous a n d realistic coordination". Ishmael R e e d also considers t h e His s a t i r i c a l t e m p e r would 1969) t o e n g a g e in unqualitied prospect of "an anarchotechnological paradise".

optimism, but t h e Fuller vision s e r v e d a s a touchstone t o c o u n t e r t h e "stupid historians", w h o support vested i n t e r e s t s through legitimation only o f drastically r e s t r i c t i v e p r o g r a m m e s for c o l l e c t i v e composition of f u t u r e societies. Reed, self-proclaimed s a b o t e u r of historical orthodoxy, who c o n t i n u e s t o d e c o n s t r u c t t h e mythologies and icons of WASP America, a s s u m e s t h e jazz a t t i t u d e t h a t anything c a n happen; mumblings of wild m e n saddled by demons".12 supported this s e n t i m e n t ; t o art".13 you t h e r e ' s a boundary line t o music. a novel "can be news, t h e "They t e a c h anything i t w a n t s t o be, a vaudeville show, t h e six o'clock R o b e r t Reisner r e c o r d s him saying:

C h a r l i e P a r k e r would h a v e

Rut, man, there's n o boundary line

In p r a c t i c e , h e refused t o b e confined t o evolving his m a t e r i a l s

f r o m jazz tradition alone, a n d w a s highly responsive t o developments in European classical music, t o t h e e x t e n t of consulting Edgar Varsse, whose explorations in sound h e found exciting. This openness and e c l e c t i c i s m is considerably m o r e pronounced in t h e work of a l a t e r g e n e r a t i o n of musicians Chicago, o r o t h e r Association

those of t h e A r t Ensemble of

for A d v a n c e m e n t of C r e a t i v e Musicians'

virtuosi, such a s Muhal Richard Abrams, Leroy Jenkins, o r Anthony Braxton. Jacques A t t a l i has claimed t h a t "free jazz, a meeting of black popular music a n d t h e more abstract theoretical explorations of European music, eliminated t h e distinction between popular music and learned music". 14 In literature a comparable elimination has occurred, with thriller, science fiction, o r Western modes being employed by writers of t h e calibre of Burroughs and Mailer. S t e v e Katz freely acknowledges t h e influence of both Kafka and t h e Marx Brothers; Kurt Vonnegut expresses gratitude t o Joyce, but discloses t h a t his deepest cultural d e b t s a r e t o American comedians, who "are o f t e n a s brilliant and magical a s our best jazz musicians". 15 Humour is characteristic of r e c e n t American fiction which offers alternatives t o t h a t construction of reality found in works of conventional 'realism'. It may be playful even when handling grim materials, a s in Slaughterhouse-5 (1969), Vonnegut's t r e a t m e n t of t h e fire-bombing of Dresden, o r in Federman's writings around t h e extermination of his family in a Nazi death-camp. T h e absurd and t h e gratuitous a r e employed t o c r e a t e comic effects, but they have simultaneously a profoundly serious function in works that constitute a critique of t h e role of language in mass-consumer society, in t h e service of t h e war being waged in t h e F a r East, in historical registration of such atrocities a s t h e Holocaust and dropping of t h e atom-bomb. A parallel may be drawn t o Dada activity, which responded t o t h e official rhetoric of World War I by dismantling received cultural codes, engaging in f r e e play with existing signs, creating new ones without anterior meaning, revealing 'common sense'. t h e ideological basis of

T h e interest shown by contemporary writers in t h e Dada approach t o language and i t s relation t o t h e world provides another point of c o n t a c t with jazz. Litweiler c o m m e n t s upon t h e Dada atmosphere of a performance by Roscoe Mitchell's 1967 quartet. T h e trumpeter with t h a t forerunner of t h e Art Ensemble of Chicago, Lester Rowie, played in a carnival , a s well a s playing bebop, before joining t h e group; his t a s t e for playful combination of t h e seemingly incongruous is manifested in a piece on his 1983 album, The One and Only (ECM 12471, tellingly and quite appropriately entitled "Miles Davis M e e t s Donald Duckn. An AEC performance will shift from t h e austerely avant g a r d e t o pure circus, in a manner t h a t recalls t h e freedom claimed for t h e novel in Yellow Back Radio Broke-

Down,

a book whose h e r o i s branded "crazy d a d a nigger" by a social LeRoi Jones, a u t h o r of t h e poem "Black Dada

realist c r i t i c (p.35).

Nihilismusn, has w r i t t e n a s t o r y of t h e bebop e r a , called "The S c r e a m e r b , in which Big J a y McNeeley i s designated "the first Dada coon of t h e age", and i s compared, a s h e lies o n his back screaming through his saxophone, with Duchamp's notorious 'L.H.O.O.Q.', "the Mona Lisa with the mustache".l6 Ronald Sukenick, in Down and In, mentions a p a r t y given "it was dedicated t o SurrealT h e poet and t h e musician shared

by T e d Joans, a t t e n d e d by Charlie Parker; ism, Dada, and t h e Mau Mau" (p.50). a fascination with Dali's work.

Joans's collection of poems, Afrodisia

(19701, contains s o m e of his visual collages, which emphasize a Surrealist alliance of eroticism and revolution, inseparable from jazz in his work. T h e new jazz musician's quest for t h e marvellous finds sanction in Andrd Breton's dictum t h a t nothing but t h e marvellous i s beautiful, but t h e Freudian basis of Surrealism does not find favour among practitioners of t h e new fiction. system. Their work i s r e m a r k a b l e for t h e lack of reliance o n any Litweiler r e m a r k s t h a t for Albert Ayler music began "with sound Similarly, a w r i t e r like K a t z avoids manifestoes, Soprano saxophonist S t e v e Lacy recalls t h a t He

itself, and from t h e r e you c a n c r e a t e what relationships you wish without t h e baggage of theory".17 s t a r t s with words themselves. destroyed t h e theories. in it1.

"when O r n e t t e hit t h e scene, t h a t was t h e end of t h e theories.

I r e m e m b e r a t t h a t t i m e h e said, very carefully, In T h e Exaggerations of P e t e r T h e tech-

'Well, you just h a v e a c e r t a i n amount of s p a c e and you put what you want And t h a t w a s a revelation".18 P r i n c e (sic) (19681, K a t z r e f l e c t s upon t h e p r a c t i c e of writing a s "just trying t h e s e e m p t y s p a c e s with luminous motion, and things".lg from Cubism, i s c l e a r l y appropriate to this project of nique of collage favoured by Dada a r t i s t s and Surrealists, who adopted it accumulation. Collage f r e e s t h e w r i t e r from received hierarchies and p a t t e r n s of c a u s e and e f f e c t . N a r r a t i v e proceeding from this basis c a n a c c o m m o d a t e discontinuities, and m o v e with bold improvisatory logic. Charlie P a r k e r may again be c i t e d a s exemplary, for, a s jazz w r i t e r Max Harrison has noted, disjunction was "a positive feature" of s o m e of his solos. H e specifies 'Klactoveedsedstene' ( t h e t i t l e of which resembles not o n l y Slim Gaillard's verbal playfulness, but also t h e Dada invention of nonsense words) a s demonstrating t h e altoist's "ability t o impart shape and coherence to improvisations made up of short, apparently unrelated

snippets".20

T h e process of improvising is not just

expediency in t h e it is a

absence of a definitive archaeological o r teleological programme; strategy for release t h a t is revelatory. Sukenick has written that:

Improvisation releases you from old forms, s t a l e thoughts, it releases things that a r e released only with difficulty on a psychological basis. It allows in surprising things t h a t a r e creeping around on t h e edges of consciousness. It prevents you from writin cliched formulas. It's a release finally, a release of t h e imagination.ffi Among contemporary writers, he regards a s t h e most accomplished improviser S t e v e Katz, who speaks of his early exposure t o jazz a s crucial because i t was "the first a r t in which I began t o perceive what and that thrilling tension between the freedom of imperatives of order. intellect.

form

was, the

blowing and

And I began t o realize t h a t a r t has a formal

influence on t h e emotions, and is permitted through form t o enrich t h e It's instantaneous a t t h e moment t h a t t h e form is perceived". Katz recognized how shape and coherence could be granted t o apparently unrelated snippets through t h e virtuosity of a musician such a s Parker, and that t h e emergence of form in a solo is not t h e consequence of mechanical imposition, but is an emotionally and intellectually charged process. LeRoi Jones claimed t h a t jazz

& American reality, and Katz clearly

His refusal t o make J a z z was

concurs with this in t h e sense t h a t it provides a model for his writing t o register t h e energies and rhythms of American life. consonant t h e various and divergent voices of his fiction is indicative of commitment t o a verisimilitude beyond t h e merely descriptive. instructive here too; t h e way it is "voiced by different individuals within

one framework surely freed m e t o write my individual works in a manner 22 I'd call multidirectional". During t h e early 1960s, multiple voicing in jazz assumed unprecedented freedom with O r n e t t e Coleman's double quartet performance of F r e e J a z z , t h e John Coltrane Orchestra's Ascension, playing Sun Ra's The Heliocentric Worlds. t o dismiss such ventures a s 'anti-jazz', just and t h e Arkestra Conservative critics were quick a s those hostile t o t h e and gloomily Such a response was an a t t e m p t

procedures of innovative fiction spoke of t h e 'anti-novel', prophesied t h e imminent demise of t h e novel proper. t h e a r t of t h e past, and far from being a negation of it

shows a failure t o perceive t h a t t h e avant-garde had invariably assimilated t o discover t h e contemporary relevance of i t s lessons and achievements.

While Albert Ayler began with the sounds his saxophone could produce, rather than any musical theory, he was deeply conscious of the contexts in which such sounds had previously occurred, and of the associations they might evoke. Valerie Wilmer has pointed out that while "his Down Beat obituary claimed that his playing 'bore little resemblance to any other jazz, past or present"', i n fact "his music encompassed every thread woven into the fabric of so-called jazz. He took as his source material the spirituals, funeral dirges, bugle calls and marches of the past, and, though 23 he seldom did so, he could really play the blues". In like manner, writers who have been bracketed as deviants from the Great Tradition may claim, with Shklovsky, that Sterne's Tristram Raymond Shandy is the archetypal novel, and may argue, as Sukenick does, that i t is truer to our apprehension of reality than is Robinson Crusoe. major jazz fictioneer. something new, on Samuel Federman has nominated that great fabulator, Franqois Rabelais, the first The claim is not, then, that prose improvisation is Federman has published critical work finds that also comparable, in its but that contemporary cultural conditions heighten the fiction, and

appropriateness of its procedures. Reckett's

unpredictability and the kind of coherence i t achieves largely by virtue of that unpredictability, to jazz performance. wall; His own novels are striking attempts to preclude identification of hunting with those heads on the to prevent the crystallization of fixed meaning, and to enhance the continuous production of meanings, he adopts strategies of In the unpaginated novel Take I t Or Leave process of It -

cancellation and contradiction. saxophone solo".

(1976) he refers to his own writing as "a long uninterrupted tenor Elsewhere he has remarked:

The language of my novels just goes on and on, improvising as i t goes along, hitting wrong notes all the time - but, after all, jazz also builds itself on a system of wrong chords that the player stumbles upon and then builds from. 24 The point here, as in Jones's remark about Parker, is that the writer is not certain that what has happened had to be written like that. In Double Or Nothing (19711, Federman works with 'paginal syntax', the materials on each page being arranged in a unique pattern, without referene to any a priori scheme. This constitutes a destructuring through The familiar trajectory of dissemination of received syntactical unity.

reading - left to right, top to bottom - is superseded by an invitation to

engage with t h e possibilities of a multidirectional visual field.

A more

familiar method of introducing multidirectionality into narrative, exemplified by "The Elevator" in R o b e r t Coover's Pricksongs and D e s c a n t s (19691, involves indication o r e v e n realization of a l t e r n a t i v e p a t h s a s t o r y might take. Literary antecedents for this s t r a t e g y include not only Flann They O'Brien's At-Swim-Two-Birds, but also Denis Diderot's J a c q u e s l e Fataliste.

T h e r e i s a venerable tradition, then, f o r works of this kind. t h e m e s and forms.

tend t o rely extensively o n parody, playing variations upon well-known Donald Barthelme's Snow White (1967) exploits t h e immense popularity of Disney's version of t h a t s t o r y t o c o m i c e f f e c t , and with t h e intensely serious aim of recuperating t h e value of t h e particular, amid t h e banalities of facile classification and prefabricated aspirations. Katz's T h e Exaggerations of P e t e r Prince evokes a n obvious precursor

Smollett's a l l i t e r a t i v e t i t l e s for his variations on a picaresque t h e m e only t o violate in p r a c t i c e all t h e conventions and, indeed, t h e presiding logic of that form. Ishmael Reed subversively re-writes constitutive m y t h s of t h e American s t a t u s quo in works such a s Mumbo J u m b o (1972) and Flight t o C a n a d a (1976). Gilbert Sorrentino, in Aberration of Starlight (1980), supplements a naturalistic dialogue with meaningless footnotes t h a t a c t like noise disrupting a melody in o r d e r t o highlight t h e a r t i f i c e of composition. they are; Parody d e m o n s t r a t e s t h a t things d o not h a v e t o b e t h e way a s i t identifies limits, it also transgresses t h e m - defining conJ a z z h a s always had a t e n d e n c y t o parody. o n e h a s only t o version of can be tunes o r Ayler's

t o u r s a r e blurred, e v e n obliterated by excess, while internally, conventional continuities a r e fractured. Since bebop, t h e tendency has been increasingly marked; listen t o John Coltrane's "My Favourite Things: "Summertime1' t o h e a r how standards, subjected t o radical reassessment. a distrust of new languages, familiar popular

T h e a r t i s t thus refuses t h e c o n s t r a i n t s a refusal of t h e

imposed by "a c o n c e r n f o r maintaining tonalism, t h e primacy of melody, codes, o r instruments, abnormal" - c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s c i t e d by A t t a l i a s common t o totalitarian a v a n t g a r d e music, but banned jazz. regimes, such a s t h a t of Nazi Germany, which w a s not only hostile t o 25 Reading a work such a s T h e Exaggerations of P e t e r P r i n c e requires neither recollection nor anticipation of t h e kind needed t o m a k e sense of conventionally s t r u c t u r e d narrative. T h e eponymous h e r o of t h a t book is, in f a c t , just a name, which d o e s not r e f e r consistently t o a s t a b l e identity,

but like other terms within the novel shifts and changes, partaking o f the vibrancy o f the improvisatory moment. never know where t o catch up with him. disappearing wake" (p.162). Rudolph Wurlitzer, i n by which Katz Sukenick, in Katz as narrator remarks: "1 and in His past erases itself like a (1973) and

Out

9 . (1975), 86
not

Flats (1970).

adopt the tactic o f altering the names being interested above all finish

characters are identified, asks: "How can I ever

registration of the known, but exploration o f the unknown. this book when it's always beginning?" (p.162). LeRoi Jones, considering the artistry o f Don Cherry,

that remarkable trumpeter who contributed so much to the groups of both Ornette Coleman and Albert Ayler, remarks that i t rests upon the understanding that "the completion o f one statement simply reintroduces the possibility of more".26 would be still more free: In 1958, Coleman envisaged a time when music "Then the pattern for a tune, for instance, will This might be taken as prophetic of and o f the

be forgotten and the tune itself will be the pattern, and won't have to be forced into conventional patterns".27 the aims o f contemporary epistemology i t proposes. entitled Yardbird Lives: Lives', Parker's as for that death. musicians, innovative fiction in America,

Ishmael Reed co-edited an anthology o f writing (1978). I t took i t s name from the slogan 'Bird New York following Charlie affirmative freedom and Sukenick mentions this

appeared on walls throughout In Down "the and In, of

graffiti as encapsulating the spirit o f Parker's music, its legacy for writers flight the imagination toward incandescent life" (p.86). 1. LeRoi Jones (Imamu Amiri Baraka)," Hunting Is Not Those Heads On The Wall': i n The Poetics o f the New American Poetry, eds. Donald Allen Rr Warren Tallman (New York: Grove Press, 1973), pp.378-382 (p.380). 2 . 3.

m. p.79.

LeRoi Jones, Black Music (London:

MacGibbon R Kee, 19691, p.16.

A. B. Spellman, Four Lives i n the Bebop Rusiness (London: MacCibbon 4. & Kee, 19671, p.83.

5. Anything Can Novelists eds. Tom 19831, p.34.

Happen: Interviews with Contemporary American LeClair Rr Larry McCaffery (Urbana: Illinois IJP,

7.

Spellman, p.79.

8. See Ronald Sukenick, Down and In: L i f e i n the Underground (New York: Beech Tree Books/William Morrow, 1987), pp.58 and 142. Further references are t o this edition.

9. John Litweiler, The Freedom Principle: J a z z A f t e r 1958 (Poole, Dorset: Blandford Press, 19851, p.39. 10. John Rockwell, AIl American Music: Composition in t h e L a t e Twentieth Century (London: Kahn & Averill, 1985), p.100. 11. R. Buckminster Fuller, Utopia o r Oblivion: The Prospects for Humanity (Harmondsworth: Pelican, 19721, p.95. 12. Ishmael Reed, Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down (London: Allison L ? Busby, 19711, pp.24 and 36. Further references a r e t o this edition. 13. Robert Reisner, Bird: The Legend of Charlie Parker (London: Quartet Rooks, 19741, p.27. 14. Jacques Attali, Noise: The Political Economy of Music, trans. Brian Massumi (Manchester: Manchester UP, 1985; original title: Rruits, 19771, p. 140. 15. Kurt Vonnegut, "Preface", in Between Time and Timbuktu, o r Prometheus-5: A Space Fantasy (St Albans: PantherIGranada, 19751, p.xvii. 16. LeRoi Jones, Tales (London: MacGibbon & Kee, 19691, pp.76 and 77. Litweiler, p. 170. Quoted in Derek Bailey, Improvisation: i t s nature and practice in & (Ashbourne: Moorland Publishing, 19801, p.73. 19. S t e v e Katz, T h e Exaggerations of P e t e r Prince (New York: Holt, Rinehart Rr Winston, 19681, p.165. Further references a r e t o this edition. 20. Max Harrison, "Charlie Parker'; in Jazz, eds. Nat Hentoff Pr Albert McCarthy (London: Quartet, 19771, pp.275-286 (p.278). 21. AnythinR p.291. 22. fi.p.223. 17. 18.

Jazz
24. 25. 26. 27.

23.

Valerie Wilmer, As Serious As Your Life: (London: q u a r t e t , 19771, p.94. Anything C a n Happen, p.131. Attali, p.7. Jones, Black Music, p.170. Quoted in Litweiler, p.34.

T h e Story of t h e New

TIN D R U M AND SNAKE-CHARMER'S FLUTE: SALMAN RUSHDIE'S DEBT TO GUNTER GRASS

E. W. Herd (University o Otago, New Zealand) f

Salman Rushdie's novel Midnight's Children, Picador paperback in 1982. The Tin Drum,' Reviews - in first published by Jonathan i n the Sunday Times

Cape i n 1981, was awarded the 1981 Booker Prize, and re-published as a

T.L.S. and

were quick to point out affinities between this novel and Giinter Grass's but perhaps because Midnight's Children was also comFinnegan's Wake and Heart o f Darkness, the Drum was not usually pursued any but further. made no pared t o Tristram Shandy, comparison with The Tin example, was entitled " E i n

Ulrich Enzensberger's review o f the German translation in Der Spiegel, for Rlechtrommler aus Bombay", detailed comparison. The similarities between the two novels are immediately and superficially noticeable, and further reflection reveals correspondences even in details. Both novels are rich i n their use o f colour; the pervasive white Saleem's grandand red o f Oskar's drum and the Polish flag parallelled by the saffron and green of the Indian colours (MC, pp.114, 181, 377, 423). father Aadam had eyes o f "a clear blue, the astonishing blue o f the

mountain sky, which has a habit o f dripping into the pupils of Kashmiri men'' (p.13) and Saleem inherits these "ice-blue eyes" (p.161), and discovers them i n his presumptive son: Ice-blue, (p.425). (pp.141, Sky-blue

"I observed their colour, which was blue,

the fateful blue o f Kashmiri sky

the blue o f recurrence,

..."

is the colour o f Saleem's crib i n a sky-blue

room

282), the clocktower near Methwold's Estate is pale blue (pp.146,

172), as though the observer's world takes on the colour o f his eyes. Already i n this detail, then, Saleem Sinai is Oskar's brother, for Oskar is "a blue-eyed type" ( J T, packed (p.42), to pp.11, 212, 359, 421), as was Jan Bronski (pp.37, t o an 72, 133, 2231, and this blue is transferred t o the bags i n which sugar is the wool o f knitted children's harness (p.691, enamel cook-pot (p.931, watery Jesus, t o the canopy over Agnes Mat zerath's bed (p. 152), Even Leo Schugger has and i n the Church o f the Sacred Heart in those eyes which misunderstood me like a

and t o that over the cradle of Oskar's son (p.296). blue eyes (p.161), "those Bronski eyes,

Danzig Oskar discovers the dreamy blue Bronski eyes i n the figure of father, which had been painted into Jesus's face" (p.1341, and the smaller

J e s u s figure, propped u p on t h e Virgin Mary's right thigh, likewise had "cobalt blue Bronski eyes" (p.136). T h e blue e y e s d o not only c o n n e c t Saleem with Oskar, but through t h e blue-eyed J e s u s establish a f u r t h e r correspondence b e t w e e n t h e t w o novels, for blue i s not only t h e colour of t h e Kashmiri sky, but in India t h e colour of Krishna.
A snake charmer

with bright-blue skin is "Krishna c o m e t o c h a s t i s e his people", and "the sky-hued J e s u s of t h e missionaries" (MA, p.136 a n d c f . 103), and Resham Bibi a l s o t u r n s "bright blue, Krishna-blue, blue a s Jesus, t h e blue of T h e Jesus-blue of Kashmiri sky, which s o m e t i m e s leaks i n t o eyes" (p.44).

t h e Indian novel could just a s well h a v e leaked i n t o i t from T h e Tin Drum Oskar a s J e s u s b e c o m e s p a r t of t h e Holy Family ( J p.1421, T, M a t z e r a t h ' s second wife "wasn't just c a l l e d Maria; she and

was

one" (p.255).

When Oskar and Ulla a r e working a s a r t i s t ' s models in Diisseldorf, s h e b e c o m e s t h e Madonna, while h e s i t s for J e s u s (p.464). It would s e e m a t first sight t h a t a Holy Family would h a v e n o p a r t t o play in Saleem's India, b u t Saleem's m o t h e r hires a Christian ayah, Mary Pereira, and "like e v e r y Mary s h e had h e r Joseph. c e i v e d and Joseph D'Costa, a n orderly a t a P e d d e r This Christian Holy Family is Road Clinic" (MC, p.1041, a n d Mary loves t h e child "like h e r o w n unconinconceivable son" (p.205). parallelled by a Hindu one, s i n c e Saleem's son is in r e a l i t y t h e son of Shiva and Parvati-the-Witch, "fated t o m e e t by t h e divine destiny o f their names" (p.389). Oskar's i m i t a t i o n of C h r i s t r e m a i n s a powerful f o r c e t o t h e end of his story. On his t h i r t i e t h birthday h e finds it urgently necessary t o consider t h e f u t u r e direction of his life, and s i n c e Christ w a s about t h i r t y when h e w e n t f o r t h t o g a t h e r disciples, s o O s k a r t o o must consider t h e possibility: "Just b e c a u s e I happen t o b e thirty, I g o o u t and play t h e Messiah t h e y see in me"

(m, p.577).

O s k a r knows t h e i m p o r t a n c e of t h e h e r o r e c u r s throughout European

t h i r t i e t h birthday, and t h e thirty-year-old traditions,

~ i t e r a t u r e . ~It is not however so significant in Hindu o r Mohammedan y e t S a l e e m Sinai t o o i s t h i r t y when h e w r i t e s his history, completing i t on his thirty-first birthday (MA, p.462). T h e i m p o r t a n c e of t h e ' i m i t a t i o Christi' t h e m e in t h e Tin Drum i s f u r t h e r parallelled in Midnight's Children by r e f e r e n c e t o d e i t i e s f r o m t h e Hindu pantheon. T h e narrator, S a l e e m Sinae, is born with a "rampant This o u t s i z e monstrous nose c u c u m b e r of [a] nose" (MA, p.124, cf. p.154).

of t h e Mohammedan child c o n n e c t s him t o t h e Hindu elephant-headed god,

Much later Saleem's son although "he was the child of a father who was not his father" - putative parentage playing as important a role in this novel as in The Tin Drum - "was the true great-grandson of his great-grandfather, but elephantiasis attacked him in the ears instead of the nose - because he was also the true son of Shiva-and-Parvati; he was elephant-headed Ganesh; (p.420). Now Ganesh is the patron of literature, partaking a s he does of the two most intelligent beings, man and the elephant; it is therefore propitious that the narrator should have

Ganesh (p.155).

..."

an elephantine nose and his son elephantine ears. But Ganesh is also the child of Parvati, wife of Shiva, and In the novel Saleem's son is the child of Parvati-the-Witch and Shiva, the true son of Saleem's parents. Both Parvati and forces. In between his is, however, Shiva are connected in Hindu mythology with destructive the novel Shiva is able to destroy men by crushing them knees and is the destroyer of Saleem. The goddess Parvati also Kali, the black goddess, and in the fusion of the black

goddess and the name of Saleem's first wife, Parvati-the-Witch, we are inevitably reminded of Grass's 'schwarze K6chin' who appears in the p.579). Rushdie's Black Angel English translation as the Rlack Witch Parvati-Kali is also the Widow, lndira Gandhi, and at this stage of the novel (towards the end) Rushdie further emphasises the many-faceted

(m,

aspects of Kali by likening Indira Gandhi t o Devi (p.438) and by introducing a figure called Durga (p.445), whose name is also that of another of the many terrifying forms assumed by the wife of Shiva. To return to the narrator, Saleem Sinai, who hears "the soft footfalls of the Black Angel of Death" (p.447): he has now revealed himself a s Oskar Matzerath's kin: a t the Shadipur bus depot[ ..I was an angled mirror above the entrance t o the bus garage; I, wandering aimlessly in the forecourt of the depot, found my attention caught by its winking reflections of the sun[ ...I Looking upwards into the mirror, I saw myself transformed into a bigheaded, top-heavy dwarf. (MA, pp.446-7) Oskar Matzerath of course chooses to be a dwarf. He "felt obliged to

...

p.57) and arranges provide a plausible ground for my failure t o grow" a plausible injury by throwing himself down the cellar steps: "from the ninth step, I flung myself down, carrying a shelf laden with bottles of raspberry syrup along with me, and landed head first on the cement floor of our cellar'' (p.58). Saleem Sinai, at the end of his narrative, "raises

(m,

questions which a r e not fully answered, such as: Why did Saleem need an accident t o acquire his powers?" (MA, p.460). The accident was "a cleansing accident" (p.356), it induced amnesia: "everything ended, everything began again, when a spittoon hit m e on the back of the head" and "Saleem, buddha

[.. I L . 1

had gone;

I...]for t h e moment, anyway, there is was only t h e

for whom mid-

who remembers neither fathers nor mothers;

night holds no importance; I..] who lives both in-the-world and not-in-theworldn (p.356). "In-the-world and not-in-the-worldn is of course also t h e situation of Oskar in his bed in the mental hospital o r of Oskar t h e adult in t h e body of a child. Saleem now, "with his nose like a cucumber and his head which rejected memories families histories, which contained nothing except smells" (p.351), who "can track man o r beast through s t r e e t s o r down rivers" (p.356). i s employed a s a man-dog tracker in the fighting in East Pakistan in 1971; h e i s assigned t o a CUTlA unit (Canine Unit for Tracking and Intelligence Activities) of the Pakistani army. The acronym nCUTIA" is also Hindi for a bitch, one of Saleem's linguistic jokes, which also remlnd one of Grass. Saleem's accident i s not arranged like Oskar's; Oskar takes a decision, makes a choice; Saleem is an air-raid victim (MC, p.343). This difference between their 'accidents' is typical of their roles in t h e respective novels. Oskar i s active throughout; h e i s t h e drummer, t h e glassshatterer, t h e leader of the Duster gang; his actions lead t o the deaths of Jan Bronski and of Matzerath; h e decides t o be Tom Thumb and announces himself a s Jesus. Saleem Sinai, on t h e other hand, suffers things done t o him: h e i s a changeling just a f t e r his birth; h e i s a "clownish figure [...I somehow conspired againstn (MC, p.2541, t h e "sort of person t o whom things have been done; [.. I perennial victim" (p.237). In spite of this, Saleem's very passivity enables Rushdie t o use him a s the agent of t h e main structural device h e has borrowed from Grass: t h e reflection of public events through and against a private story. Rushdie's maln structural device is indeed t h e linking of t h e narrator's story with contemporary lndian history. T h e narrator, Saleem Sinai, was born a t t h e very moment of Indian Independence, and witnesses, participates in, occasionally causes political events of the next 30 years, from t h e massacres which accompanied P a r t it ion, through t h e language riots in Bombay, t h e Ayub Khan coup in Pakistan, t h e Indo-Chinese war, t h e Indo-Pakistan war, t o lndira Gandhi's proclamation of the S t a t e of

Emergency. reminiscent

The technique o f inter-weaving private and public spheres is of The Tin Drum in general, but also i n detail. Oskar

Matzerath concludes his narrative as follows: What more shall I say: born under light bulbs, deliberately stopped growing at age o f three, given drum, sang glass to pieces, smelled vanilla, coughed in churches, observed ants, decided t o grow, buried drum, emigrated t o the West, lost the East, learned stonecutter's trade, worked as model, started drumming again, visited concrete, made money, kept finger, gave finger away, fled laughing, rode up escalator, arrested, convicted, sent to mental hospital, soon to be acquitted, celebrating this day my thirtieth birthday and still afraid o f the Black Witch. p.578) Here the public sphere is present mainly by allusion;

(m,

the novel has drumming and a France, almost

previously established the connection between Oskar's Nazi parade, between concrete and the fortifications of

between the ants and the Russian occupation o f Danzig, German-occupied In Midnight's Children the

between making money and the Black Market. connection between public programmatic:

and private is made more explicit,

I was born i n the c i t y of Bombay once upon a time. No, that won't I was born in Doctor do, there's no getting away from the date: Narlikar's Nursing Home on August 15th, 1947. And the time? The time matters, too. Well then: at night.1 1 On the stroke o f midnight, as a matter o f fact. [...I at the precise instant o f India's arrival at independence, I tumbled forth into the world. There were gasps. And, outside the window, fire-works and crowds[ 1 For the next three decades, there was to be no escape. Soothsayers had prophesied me, newspapers I was left celebrated my arrival, politics ratified my authenticity. , entirely without a say i n the matter. I Saleem Sinai, later variously called Snotnose, Stainface, Raldy, Sniffer, Buddha and even Piece-of-theMoon, had become heavily embroiled i n Fate - at the best o f times a dangerous sort o f involvement. And I couldn't even wipe my own nose at the time. Now, however, time (having no further use for me) is running out. I w i l l be thirty-one years old. (MC,p.9)

...

...

...

If, as David Roberts has said, "it is not so easy t o see any connexion between [Oskar's] private fantasies and the great world of politics and war i n which he is inescapably caught up, the more so as German and European history is treated as the mere backdrop for Oskar's personal recollecRushdie is at pains both to keep historical events i n the foretions~',~ ground, destinies. and t o insist on the close involvement o f private and public The historical and political aspect o f Midnight's Children is

emphasised continually by references t o specific dates, people, e v e n t s and places, and t h e s e references a r e assiduously intertwined with t h e narrator's personal story, e v e n when no direct parallel o r connection c a n be established (e.g. involved Children's or MA, pp.292-3). actively Conference But Saleem is not only frequently directly in public affairs. The Midnight's participating

t h e telepathic communication between t h e 581

children born a t midnight on Independence Day - is Saleem's work, and it is Saleem who t r i e s t o exploit their g i f t s by urging them t o adopt a programme o f action, ''our own Five Y e a r Plan" (MA, p.255). hysterectomy, testectomy and (Saleem's neologism) And when the This the t h e children a r e subjected during lndira Gandhi's Emergency t o vasectomy, "sperectomy: draining-out of hope'' (p.4371, t h e r e is still hope t h a t a new generation of their descendants will be a n a c t i v e f o r c e in t h e affairs of India. interweaving of t h e novel: of private and public is not only demonstrated by

incidents of t h e narrative, it is offered a s a programme for t h e s t r u c t u r e

I was linked t o history both literally and metaphorically, both actively and passively, in what o u r (admirably modern) scientists might t e r m 'modes of connection' composed of dualistically-combined configurations of t h e t w o pairs of opposed adverbs given above. This is why hyphens activelya r e necessary: actively-literally, passively-metaphorically, metaphorically and passively-literally, I was inextricably entwined with my world. (p.238)
T h e n a r r a t o r goes on t o explain t h e t e r m s t o his bewildered listener and ends with: And finally t h e r e is t h e 'mode' of t h e 'active-metaphorical', which groups together those occasions on which things done by o r t o m e w e r e mirrored in t h e macrocosm of public affairs, and my private existence was shown t o b e symbolically a t one with history (p.238). T h e bewildered listener t o Saleem's narrative is his second wife (or very nearly), Padma: s h e is introduced a t t h e beginning of t h e second Padma "with her down-toc h a p t e r of t h e book, and whether listening t o o r reading t h e narrative over Saleem's shoulder, s h e interrupts and questions; earthery, and h e r paradoxical superstition, h e r contradictory love of t h e fabulous," is always a t t h e narrator's elbow, "bullying m e back into t h e world of linear narrative, t h e universe of what-happened-next" (MA, p.381, "getting irritated whenever m y narration becomes self-conscious" (p.65).

"This

is what Start.

keeps me going: Start now"'

I hold on to Padma,

Padma is what

matters 'Enough.

I...] Padma

my own pure lotus (p.294).

I...]who,

embarrassed, commands:

Padma is not only a more fully She is an integral part of

drawn character than Oskar's warden, Bruno.

the novel's structure, and as such has not been borrowed from Giinter Grass, but is Rushdie's own successful addition to the form of The Tin Drum. Saleem and Oskar are brothers not only because o f their blue eyes, their deformities, their unusual gifts, their claims t o leadership, and their roles as private reflections of public events. much in common. Also as narrators they have Oskar repeatedly Both adopt the stance of the unreliable narrator, who with a proviso that his memory may not be

rejects omniscience and openly admits his weaknesses. qualifies his statements entirely reliable (TD, pp.27,

98, 164) and makes a point of casting doubt

upon the accuracy of his narration:

"I have just read the last paragraph.

for writing

I am not too well satisfied,

do,

but Oskar's pen ought t o be, i f not t o lie" (p.240).

tersely and succinctly, i t has managed, as terse, succinct accounts so often to exaggerate and mislead, The distinction drawn here between the "I" and "Oskar's which the narrative proceeds. please, how I know'' (p.287). pen" reveals the two levels on "Don't ask me,

The narrator is constantly playing with the Examples of narrative uncertainty are so

idea o f the traditional acceptance o f authorial report:

numerous as t o show that they constitute a deliberate stylistic device. (Cf. also pp.246, 282, 301, 315, 323, 460, 513.) Rushdie's narrator adopts a similar pose; he too reviews what he has written and directs the reader's attention to his unreliability as a narrator: "Re-reading my work, I have discovered an error i n chronology[ error invalidate the whole fabric? need for meaning, that I'm prepared t o distort everything role? novel: Today, in my confusion,

...1 Does

one

Am I so far gone, in my desperate

to re-write the Rushdie is his misPadma,

whole history of my times purely in order t o place myself i n a central

I can't judge"

(MC, p.166).

indeed on record as admitting that

this is a narrative principle in his

"I made my narrator, Saleem, suspect i n his narration:

takes are the mistakes of a fallible memory compounded by quirks of character and of circumstance, says to her: and his vision is fragmentary".4 the narrator's interlocutor, clearly stands for the reader when the narrator "Padma, i f you're a l i t t l e uncertain of my reliability, well,

a little uncertainty is no bad thing. Cocksure men do terrible deeds" (MC, p.212). It is Padma who keeps the narrator on the rails, but being kept on the rails does not vouchsafe freedom from error (cf. p.270). Keith Wilson speaks of the "participatory but implicit contract that Rushdie has with his reader, a contract premised on his reader's knowledge of the Rushdie may have conventions and deceptions of the narrative act." learned not only from Grass, but possibly from Max Frisch and Christa Wolf when he discounts the primacy of 'real' events: "What actually happened is less important than what the author can persuade his audience to believe" (pp.270-I). Oskar's admissions of defective memory are also part of Saleem's techniques (MA, pp.386, 406-7, 4131, but Midnight's Children is much more consistently than The Tin Drum "a novei centrally concerned with the imperfections of any narrative act I...] a novel that deliberately invites a questioning of the credentials of the nove~ist."~ Grass may have given the original impetus, but Rushdie develops the technique into a narrative programme. Both narrators constantly intrude into the narrative, by comments placed In parenthesis or by addressing the reader directly (E, pp.300, 355, 461, 466, 502. 514. 519, 531; MA, pp.12-13. 179, 293. 335). Both therefore involve the reader directly in the process of narration, and both comment on the possibilities open to the narrator with the connivance of the reader. Grass, for instance, has Oskar reflect on how to begin his story: "You can begin a story in the middle and create confusion by striking out boldly, backward and forward. You can be modern C.1 Or you can declare a t the very start that it's impossible to write a novel nowadays, but then, behind your own back so to speak, give birth to a whopper , a novei to end all novels" p.13). Saieem asks the reader's permission

(m,

''to tell the story the right way" p.335) and makes the reader's participation in the narrative a principle of narration: "I have not, I think, been good a t describing emotions - believing any audience to be capable of joining in; of imagining for themselves what I have been (p.293). unable to re-imagine, so that my story becomes yours as well I...]" As a consequence o f , this postulated collaboration between narrator and reader, both Oskar and Saleem make frequent use of the rhetorical question (or question addressed t o the reader?) t o move the story forward (e.g. Z , p.119; MC, pp.144-5).

(s,

This device is the most pervasive one common t o the two novels.
It implies i n both cases a rejection o f the straightforward story line o f the

narrator who claims t o be in full control. illustrated in the way the two narrators

This resort

rejection is further to recapitulation at

frequent intervals and t o hints of what is still t o come, thus constantly pointing backwards and forwards: in a moment T J , ( p.951, Oskar promises to speak o f something introduces a theme and defers it, saying "that is

another subject" (p.1141, promises to speak o f something later on (p.229) or warns the reader that "we haven't seen the last of Corporal Lankes, the master of 'concrete' art;" (pp.336-7). i f I never saw him again; which isn't true. into the queue like everything else [...I Saleem admits: "I'm talking as But that, o f course, must get "I'm not finished yet!

(MA, p.299) and promises his intera pyramid o f heads on a

locutor the excitement o f events yet to come: There is to be electrocution and a rain-forest; field impregnated by leaky marrowbones; a minaret that screamed! (p.346). Both Grass of the terrifying and Rushdie are rumbustious, (TJ, pp.404-5)

narrow escapes are coming, and

Padna, there is still plenty worth telling

..."

breathless story-tellers. and compare

it

Take the passage from The Tin Drum in which Oskar recalls his dream merry-go-round with Saleem's account o f his feverish dream haste o f

(& F,

pp.207-8).

The breathless
I t is a

the narration is achieved by a fugal concatenation of simple Both novelists have a predilection Rombay is evoked with Oskar to Neuschottland,

clauses with repetition of phrases, and accumulation of verbs. technique which prevades both novels. for place-names, street-names, names o f buildings: drums "from Labesweg to Max-Halbe-Platz,

the same loving attention to convincing local colour as Danzig. thence

Marienstrasse, Kleinhammer Park, the Aktien Brewery, Aktien Pond, FrBbel Green, Pestalozzi School, ( a , p.59). Paradise; Home past the Neue Markt, and back again to Labesweg" and Chinalker toys, past One Yard of Saleem's parents drive "past Band Box Laundry and Reader's Fatboy jewels p.114).

Chocolate and Reach Candy gates, driving towards D r Narlikar's Nursing

..." (MA,

Saleem could be speaking for Oskar too when he Both narrators Oskar

says that there is "no escape from recurrence" (p.285). most remarkably i n the chapter "Faith,

play with traditional narrative devices, such as "once upon a time"; variations on the "once there was" theme i n eight pages.

Hope, Love" with the eighteen Saleem borrows

this technique for t h e c h a p t e r e n t i t l e d "At t h e Pioneer Caf@': "Once upon a t i m e t h e r e was a mother, who was a n underground husband, who

..." (p.213),
..." (p.216).

and "Once upon a t i m e t h e r e

Another stylistic device used by both novelists is t h e insistence on t h e simultaneity of public and private events, using t h e conjunction 'while' p.362; @, pp.379-80, 461). But t o suggest a n interrelationship (e.g.

E,

t h e r e i s still another important structural device in Rushdie's novel which is not t o b e found t o t h e s a m e e x t e n t in T h e Tin Drum. T h e TLS ... reviewer described Midnight's Children a s a "cinema-obsessed narrative", and certainly t h e narrator frequently a d m i t s t o t h e use of film-techniques: "Reality is a question of perspective [ ..J Suppose yourself in a large cinema, sitting a t first in t h e back row, and gradually moving up, row by row, until your nose is almost pressed against t h e screen. Gradually t h e stars' f a c e s dissolve into dancing grain; tiny details assume grotesque pp.165-6). "I permit myself t o insert a Bombayproportions

..." (s,

talkie-style close-up ...'I (p.346). India produces more films than any o t h e r country in t h e world, except Japan. lndian cinemas a r e packed full from mid-morning t o l a t e a t night: t h e a p p e t i t e for films s e e m s insatiable and t h e a p p e t i t e is for t h e Bombay-talkie, by Western European standards a naive, elementary use of t h e c i n e m a t o produce unsophisticated and garishly coloured stories of love and violence. Thus, when t h e narrator has t o recount a series of d r a m a t i c incidents, h e c o m m e n t s ironically: "Melodrama piling upon melodrama; life acquiring t h e colouring of a Bombay-talkien (p.148). T h e cinema, being such an all-pervading part of t h e lndian cultural scene, must reach into t h e novel itself. Saleem's uncle Hanif had not only succeeded in becoming t h e youngest man e v e r t o be given a film t o d i r e c t in t h e history of t h e lndian cinema; h e had also wooed and married o n e of t h e brightest s t a r s of t h a t celluloid heaven, t h e divine Pia [...I s h e s t a r r e d in his first feature, which was partly financed by Homi C a t r a c k and partly by D. W. R a m a Studios (Pvt.) Ltd - i t was called T h e Lovers of Kashmir (p.142). Saleem's film-actress aunt, t h e divine Pia, incidentally, although s o much of t h e world of t h e Bombay talkie, nevertheless has something in common with t h e world of T h e Tin Drum. J u s t a s Oskar's grandmother "had on not just o n e skirt, but four, o n e o v e r t h e o t h e r [...]distinguished by a lavish expanse of materialn which "puffed and billowed when t h e wind

came''

(E. p.14).

so Saleem's aunt Pia "was a divine swirl o f petticoats just as Koljaiczek hides from the police under

and dupatta" (MA, p.248);

the grandmother's skirts, so does Saleem hide from a nightmare, "nestled against my extraordinary aunt's petticoats" (MC, p.248). "Hanif Aziz, the only realistic writer working in the Bombay film industry, was writing the story of a pickle factory" (p.244). which presages Saleem's last refuge and introduces the theme o f narrating as pickling and vice-versa, (p.244). hut "in the indirect kisses of the Lovers o f Kashmir he foremeetings at the Pioneer CafC" told my mother and her Nadir-Quasim's between his mother and Jan Bronski

Whereas Oskar observes the physical rumblings of the love-play

( J pp. 65, 153), Saleem watches his T,

mother and her lover play out their love-scene "through the dirty, square, glassy cinema-screen o f the Pioneer Cafk's window" (MC, p.216), but their love-play But says: "is, after all, film an Indian movie, i n which physical contact cf. p.241). is forbidden" and "so i t was that l i f e imitated bad art" (p.217; even the

theme has its antecedents in The Tin Drum.

Describing Koljaiczek's encounter with Duckerhoff on the 'Radaune', Oskar "We know the scene from the movies''

(m,p.28).

and like Saleem, Jan Rronski had and the

Oskar was himself an avid picture-goer (p.146, also p.50).

"a collection o f movie stars out o f cigarette packages'' (p.51).

dramatized account o f the breakfast on the pill-box o f the Atlantic wall, with the discreet reference t o movie-houses and newsreels, could well he a film-script (pp.326-36). also pp.478, 569, 571). art. Pathos is offered "as in the movies" (p.418; cf. For both narrators film-techniques are an inferior "Everything "There is no

form o f shaping and forming events, and are used t o parody banality in Form and shape are for both narrators explicit concerns. i f you look for
it",

has shape,

Saleem Sinai proclaims,

(C -, escape from form" M

p.226).

He appears t o believe that this is an "Form - once again, recurrence and The longing for form is something

Indian characteristic (p.300). shape!

Even towards the end, when he fears dis-

integration, he cannot abandon form:

no escape from it" (p.440).

imposed from without; destiny" (p.444),

he has "always been in the grip of a form-crazy "The

and i n his sustained analogy between the pickling process and above all (in

and the art o f the story-teller, he comes t o the same conclusion: art is to change the flavour i n degree, but not in kind; meaning'' (p.461).

my thirty jars and a jar) t o give i t shape and form - that is to say, Oskar's analogy is not with pickling, but with drumming,

and when his drumming a t t r a c t s admirers, "they led Oskar t o discipline his art, t o strive for greater formal purityn (TD, p.100). He has a passion for order (p.203) and rejects "uninspired interpretations" which "can be read into any text you please" ( J p.396). T, He sees significant form in the tapering shapes of coffins, finds happiness in shaping stone, and in t h e form of his letter Os, which always had "a fine regularity and endlessness" about them, "though they tended t o he too large," a comment perhaps on his own narrative design (p.436). Here again Rushdie is more explicitly programmatic than his mentor, but the parallel suggests that Grass may have provided t h e initial impetus. The "willingness t o confront, shape and communicate t h e inevitable compromises of illusory fictional realismvw6is integral t o The Tin Drum, and is carried over into Midnight's Children. Rushdie has certainly borrowed from other sources, as well a s The Tin Drum, most obviously from A Thousand and One Nights. The connection with Germany is established through Dr Aziz's bag, which he brought back from Heidelberg, where he actually had a friend named Oskar. Saleem seems t o have inherited some of his grandfather's German connections; he can speak of Valkyries and'GrtlndIsseg, and there a r e several moments in his narrative when h e seems close t o other authors than Grass. His unique gift of smell is reminiscent of Biill's Clown; his search for totality in art, parodied in t h e account of Lifafa Das, and of the painter Nadir Khan, "whose paintings had grown larger and larger a s he tried t o get t h e whole of life into his art" (MA, p.481, suggest an acquaintance with t h e work of Hermann Broch; Ahmed Sinai, who had t h e "peculiarity of always being in a good mood until a f t e r he had shaved a f t e r which, each morning, his manner became stern, gruff, business-like and distant" (p.68) recalls t h e daily changes of mood of Brecht's Herr Puntila; and his insistence that memory has i t s own special kind of truth is a motif t o be found both in Max Frisch's Wilderness of Mirrors and in Christa Wolf's Quest for Christa T. Grass, however, is t h e mainspring of German influence on Midnight's Children. In spite of Padma, the narrator's interlocutor, and in spite of t h e Bombay-talkie background, t h e similarities between t h e two novels in structure and style, in overall intention and in significant detail, constantly arrest t h e reader's attention. The immense culture-gap between Danzig and Rombay is bridged by a brilliant adaptation by Rushdle of t h e techniques employed by Grass. Rushdie could not have borrowed s o much

and so successfully from Crass unless he had had some affinity with him. He shares with Crass a zest for story-telling, and for telling tall stories; a warm sense o f humanity, sympathy for the under-dog, l i t t l e man; and a contemptuous hatred o f the oppressors. the victim, the Because o f this

affinity he can borrow from Crass a novel-structure, motifs and stylistic devices, and successfully adapt them t o a totally different culture. And hecause o f this he can use his narrator's life-story as a mirror o f his country's history in his lifetime. David Roberts says of Oskar: "His l i f e is the symbol of the journey o f a nation into callective schizophrenia, guilt and denied guilt, the story o f the fatal pact with the devil and the triumph of the powers of the uncons~ious."~ Saleem as one o f Midnight's Children, who is born at the exact moment o f Indian independence and whose l i f e is officially proclaimed hy Jawaharlal Nehru himself as a mirror of Indian history (cf. MC, p.122). is finally castrated on lndira Gandhi's orders. The new lndia which is born with Saleem is mutilated Like the by Indira Gandhi's emergency decrees of 1976, and what Saleem's Canesh nose finally smells is "the sharp aroma of despotism" (p.424). catastrophe. Rlack Witch of The T i n Drum, i t is finally the Widow who presides over "the Widow, who was not only Prime Minister o f lndia but also aspired t o be Devi, the Mother-Goddess i n her most terrible aspect, possessor of the shakti of the gods, a multi-limbed divinity with a centreparting and schizophrenic hair is Saleem-India

..." (p.438).

Just as Oskar-Germany sucDevi,

cumbs in the conflict between Tom Thumb and the Imitation of Christ, so destroyed by the Rlack Goddess who is Parvati, Durga and the Widow, Indira Gandhi. And this is probably the weakness o f Rushdie's novel when compared with The Tin Drum. The menace o f the 'schwarze Kochin' is all-pervading She represents and all the greater because she is not clearly identified.

the unnamed, undefined powers o f evil, and as a figure o f truly mythological proportions (in spite o f or perhaps because o f her origins in a children's rhyme), her menace is all the more powerful. Rushdie similarly invokes the mythological power o f Kali, the Black Goddess, who is also Parvati (and by extension the character i n the novel Parvati-the-Witch) and is Durga and Devi, but makes specific the identification of the goddess with the Widow, Indira Gandhi. The concentration of the evil in a country's history on t o the specific events o f the 1976 emergency, reduces the scale o f the menace t o the incidental. The Black Witch o f The T i n

Drum

s t a n d s for a t h r e a t of evil which t r a n s c e n d s t h e incidental evil of Rushdie's Black Goddess, when identified with t h e

National Socialism; build up.

Widow, loses t h e mythological dimension which t h e n a r r a t i v e h a s t r i e d t o And yet, in s p i t e of this weakness, Midnight's Children r e m a i n s a magnificent tour-de-force in adapting t h e techniques of a novel from o n e c u l t u r e t o p o r t r a y a view of public and p r i v a t e history from a n e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t c u l t u r e , a n d i t i s o n e of t h e finest novels y e t t o a p p e a r by a n Indian novelist writing about India. 1. T h e editions used h e r e a r e t h e P i c a d o r edition of Midnight's Children (1982; in references: M C ) and t h e Penguin translation of T h e Tin Drum (1969; in references: T ) a translation by Ralph Manheim f i r s t published J, in 1961, t w o y e a r s a f t e r t h e publication of D i e Blechtrommel. Cf. R. S t Leon, "Religious Motives i n Kafka's D e r Prozess", AUMLA 2. 1 9 (1963), p.25. 3. D. Roberts, T o m T h u m b and t h e Imitation of Christ!', Proceedings a n d P a p e r s (Dunedin, 19721, p. 160. AULLA XIV

4. Quoted by K e i t h Wilson, 'Midnight's Children and R e a d e r Responsibility", C r i t i c a l Quarterly, 26, No.3 (1984), p.26. 5. 6. 7. Wilson, Ioc. cit., p.30. Wilson, loc. cit., p.36. Roberts, loc. cit., p.172.

REVIEWS
Horst S and Ingrid Daemmrich. . A Handbook. Tubingen: Themes and Motifs i n Western Literature : pp.xii, 255. ISBN 3-7720-1776-2.

Francke, 1987.

Handbooks on literary terms or materials necessarily overlap, but never so thoroughly that a useful new one, as cleverly conceived as this is, will fail t o make i t s mark. territory by favouring The Daemmrichs stake out a distinct cultural the literary periods from Romanticism to the

present and emphasising the Anglo-American, French and German traditions. They are interested i n creative transformation in i t s historical particularity. The user should pass at once from their terse preface t o the discursive entries on 'figure', 'motif' and 'theme' for their view on how recurrent Not just the lack o f pictorial elements and patterns are articulated.

reproductions separates their more strictly literary effort from such works as J. C. Cooper's global Illustrated Encyclopedia o f Traditional Symbols or George Ferguson's specialised Signs and Symbols in Christian Art. a brief glimpse at the 'emblem'. 'hieroglyph' does not appear The Daemmrichs make virtually no mention of iconological matters aside from Even a select iconological term such as the Romantic fascination for
it.

despite

Although the relevant vocabulary occurs i n the course o f other discussion, they offer no separate entries on terms such as 'myth', 'symbol' with which their subject area contemporary theory. Hence they clearly are not vying t o displace J. E. Cirlot's extensively iconological, as well as literary, A Dictionary o f Symbols (translated from Spanish into English by Jack Sage) which opens with some 50 pages on these topics influenced by Jung, Eliade, and other myth-analysts. The Daemmrichs resemble Cirlot, though, i n avoiding prolix technical arguments about the literary encoding of cultural systems and i n employing commonsensical distinctions between paradigmatic and syntagmatic features. things, images, concepts, systems, basic plots, or mythological figures. 'zodiac', 'unicorn', 'sefirot', etc., With But a text almost double as long, Cirlot naturally covers more items, whether while managing t o include also some mildly exotic terms like 'yang-yin', Cirlot in contrast is missing some obvious latter-day ones like 'ennui' and 'picaro' and carries l i t t l e information on 'archetype' and

relevant, they think, to "other

disciplines concerned with human behaviour" (p.xi) - is of ten associated in

the

'double'

and

'incest'.

The

Daemmrichs

share

the

post-Romantic reference - in They supplesystems as

German fascination for doubles, rogues, inimical brothers, and incest that has attained voluminous proportions ment Frenzel with treatment of

such

and richness of important

Elisabeth Frenzel's well-established Motive der Weltliteratur. motivic 'alchemy', 'city', 'garden' and 'labyrinth',

and their predilection for the

kind of complex thematology these headings embrace reveals their ultimately greater proximity to Cirlot. the 'absurd', etc. Frenzel's other well-known handbook Stoffe der Weltliteratur bears the same subtitle as her Motive der Weltliteratur: "Ein Lexikon want to 'abyss', 'androgyne', The modern slant in their handbook 'alienation', 'apocalypse', 'automaton', strikes the eye right at the start of the alphabet in substantial entries on

dichtungsgeschichtlicher Langsschnitte".

The Daemmrichs, too,

further our appreciation of the relevance of such longitudinal, that is, diachronic, dimensions i n the literary repertory, but they stress less the comprehensiveness of a register of materials than the possible insights we may gain into "often unsuspected relationships between literary works", "themes and motifs" as powerful shaping forces i n texts, their imprint as "structural literary patterns" (pp.x-xi). Items that Frenzel lists separately as

Stoffe -

real historical persons treated in literature, characters

from story and legend, Biblical and mythological lore, famous stories as basic plots

appear scattered across the volume Themes and Motifs (e.g.

Abelard and ~dloise, the Grail, David, etc.). Arguing that 'a chain or complex of motifs yields a asserts the 'German concept Stoff' (roughly: word 'theme' (Foreword to 4th printing, their earlier German version, 1970).

Stof?,Frenzel

'story material') is encomHowever, as the title of Themen und Whereas

passed 'far less precisely' i n French and Anglo-American research by the Wiederholte Spiegelungen:

Motive i n der Literatur (19781, shows, the Daemmrichs do not employ the combination 'theme and motif' under any linguistic constraint. (entstofflichten)' themes like 'friendship' American authors deliberately 'hand', in her foreword Frenzel assigns both 'more abstract, as i t were unembodied and even 'smaller story or plot the roof the smallest (stofflichen)' units like the 'double' to her separate motif collection, assemble under one 'mirror'), symbolic elements (e.g.

qualities, states and motivating

principles ('power', 'disease', 'fear', 'honour'), human types ('artist', 'clown'

'dandy', 'hero'), fundamental plot-lines ('journey', 'revenge'), and embodied roles, historical c a s e s and mythological figures ('Don Juan', 'Mary Stuart'. 'Prometheus'). Their point is t o encourage m o r e rapid cross-reference vertically among compositional levels of literary t e x t s and t o p r o m o t e o r suggest fundamental approaches in interpretation. In this r e g a r d t h e Daemmrichs both continue t h e structuralist h e r i t a g e s i n c e Russian formalism and t e m p e r it with a keen r e s p e c t for "the historical position of a writer" (p.x). T h e y d o not t a k e any expressed position vis-'a-vis m o r e r e c e n t narratological theories regarding s t o r y contents. It g o e s without saying t h a t c e r t a i n difficulties spring from t h e very n a t u r e of their enterprise. In o r d e r t o maintain a c o m p a c t n e s s appropriate t o a dictionary, i t i s necessary t o u s e examples drawn mainly from wellknown works, t h u s allowing considerable foreshortening, but in p r a c t i c e this m e a n s constricting t h e fuller European range t o a c c o m m o d a t e t h e favourite a c a d e m i c readings of English-speaking, Franco- and Germanophile America. And t h e n e v e n t h e most expert foreshortening will s o m e t i m e s produce unintended distortions; of course, the proffered wealth of e x a m p l e s i s not m e a n t t o furnish pat definitions but t o spur more c a r e f u l exegesis. T h e internal e v i d e n c e indicates t h a t t h e authors a r e q u i t e c a p a b l e of g r e a t l y expanding t h e 'horizontal' (quantitative) repertory of pertinent i t e m s and m a y perhaps h a v e sacrificed suitable e n t r i e s under s p a c e restraints. Obviously t h e i r primary decision h a s been for qualitatively d e e p e r exploration of a m o r e tightly delimited corpus. They o f t e n recommend f u r t h e r r e p r e s e n t a t i v e l i t e r a t u r e for a n e n t r y and always append a critical bibliography, c i t i n g e f f o r t s principally of t h e past five decades, s o t h a t s t u d e n t s c a n quickly expand upon particular topics and find their way t o t h e c u r r e n t s t a t e of knowledge. C o m p a r a t i s t s devoted t o l i t e r a t u r e from t h e l a t e eighteenth c e n t u r y t o t h e present a r e bound t o b e most pleased, because - a s mentioned above - in determining t h e selection of entries, t h e Daemmrichs privilege topics of broad r e l e v a n c e a f t e r 1750 (e.g. ' t h e noble savage', 'decadence', etc.). Stanford University Gisbert Kranz: d e r Poesie. 3-8024-9091-4. Meisterwerke in Bilduedichten: Frankfurt am Main: Gerald Gillespie Rezevtion von Kunst in 1986. pp.421. ISBN

P e t e r Lang,

D a s Bildgedicht: Theorle, Lexlkon, Blbliographi, vo1.3. Kiiln:

Biihlau Verlag, 1987. Koln:

pp.34 1. ISBN 3-4 120-2087-7. pp. 176.

Das Architekturgedicht.

Bohlau Verlag, 1988.

ISBN 3-41 20-6387-8.

It is no exaggeration to say that Gisbert Kranz single-handedly 'discovered' and mapped out t h e territory of t h e Bildgedicht ('Gedichte auf Werke d e r bildenden Kunst'), and proceeded t o an exhaustive cataloguing of i t s flora and fauna. potentialities He was quick to grasp t h e interdisciplinary and pedagogical of his subject when he embarked on his anthology of

European examples of the genre, Gedichte auf Bilder: Anthologie und Galerie (1975): "Nicht nur fur die Kunstwissenschaft und die Literaturwissenschaft wiire eine repriisentative Sammlung von Rildgedichten aufschlussreich; auch Soziologie, Linguistik, Psychologie, Komparistik und Xsthetik konnten dieses Material verschiedenen Untersuchungen zugrundelegen". This anthology remains one of the too few genuinely comparative anthologies. But it represented only a small fraction of the six thousand examples of the Bildgedicht that Kranz's preliminary researches had unearthed, and he published others with a more specific focus: Deutsche Bildwerke im deutschen Gedicht (1975), and, on exclusively Christian material. Rildmeditation der Dichter (1976). These anthologies had already been preceded by a collection of interpretations - 27 Gedichte interpretiert (1972) - and a thoroughgoing exploration of the history and theoretical background of the genre - Das Bildgedicht in Europa: Zur Theorie und Geschichte einer literarischen Gattung (1973). It was in this latter work that Kranz outlined his taxonomy of t h e Bildgedicht, which has served him, with appropriate modifications, in all his subsequent publications. His classifications a r e a model of their kind, sensitive t o every generical and expressive nuance. Meisterwerke in Bildgedichten resumes t h e interpretational thread in Kranz's venture, surveying 657 poems in 19 languages on 13 artworks ranging from t h e Nike of Samothrace t o Van Gogh's Cornfield with Crows, works chosen precisely because they a r e so productive for 'Rezeptionsgeschichte', because they have preoccupied so many generations, s o many different cultures. What is strange is that the majority of these examples did not provoke a literary response immediately, but lay dormant for years, a s if gathering their power of rayonnement before i t s release, embedding themselves in consciousness; Leonardo's Mona Lisa, for example, had t o wait 350 years for i t s first poet, and Direr's Melancolia (1514) was

celebrated in a poem for t h e first time only in 1834.

Kranz is careful

t o adapt his critical method t o the peculiar demands of each artwork, t o those modes whereby it has exerted i t s appeal. Unfortunately the critical intentions a r e often frustrated by anthological obligations, and arguments a r e frequently no more than glimpsed. Brueghel's Landscape with t h e Fall of Icarus, for example, "fordert auf Partei zu ergreifen, und die Autoren der Gedichte auf dieses Gemalde tun das auch; ihre Texte vor allem unter diesem Gesichtspunkt zu diskutieren, drangt sich geradezu auf" (p.8); but the sheer weight of t h e material and t h e necessarily touristic treatment produce embryonic observations such a s "Arendt ergreift Partei gegen lkarus ftlr den Bauer" (p.363) o r "Rosemary Dobson steht nicht auf der was aber nicht bedeutet, dass s i e zu lkarus hiilt" Seite des Hirten [.. I, (p.364). Similarly, t h e chapter on Watteau's L'Embarquement pour Cyth6re examines first those poems whose reading of the picture seems t o coincide with t h e overt pictorial evidence, and then those which explore t h e unseen

suggesting that t h e l a t t e r understand their Watteau better than t h e former. But this suggestion is made only in the final sentence, and t h e remainder of the chapter is an enumerative sequence of poems, with the author providing little more than captions. But it would be churlish t o insist. This book is full of illuminations, leads one along untrodden poetic paths, and organizes i t s large corpuses with admirable critical dexterity. The chapters on t h e Venus d e Milo, Laokoon and t h e Mona Lisa a r e particularly rewarding f e a t s of ordered investigation. The third volume of Das Bildgedicht: Theorie. Lexikon, Bibliographie is a 'Nachtragsband' for t h e first two, which appeared in 1981. Kranz must bear t h e cross shared by all researchers enterprising comprehensiveness: t h e delighted discovery of omissions by reviewers. The process of supplementation is without end. And what chaff is t o be winnowed out from what grain? Kranz also adds texts which, had they come t o his notice o r been published in time, would have formed part of his commentaries in Meisterwerke in Bildgedichten. New departures in this volume a r e provided by t h e "Register der Bildwerke" (pp.127-62) and t h e "Register der Bildgedicht-Autoren nach Sprachen und Zeitfolge" (pp.325-35). Listings like these make every one o f Kranz's volumes an indispensable work-aid. The latest addition t o Kranz's seemingly inexhaustible undertaking is a survey of Das Architekturgedicht, with an anthological appendix of 16 t e x t s accompanled by photographs of the sites celebrated. As in Kranz's

previous works, this study contains cross-referring checklists (selective), of t h e buildings t o be found in poems and of t h e poets who have discovered a source of u t t e r a n c e in buildings, from Apollonios Rhodios t o Apollinaire, from Angilbert von Centula t o Michael Ziillner; a bibliography of secondary l i t e r a t u r e is also included. T h e book opens with s o m e reflections on t h e n a t u r e of a r c h i t e c t u r e in relation t o t h e o t h e r arts: a building is non-mimetic, o r only metamimetic, non-thematic and profoundly functional. These assertions may s e e m t o many t o o categorical: o n e might call t o mind Baudelaire's "Grand bois, vous m'effrayez c o m m e d e s cath6dralesn ("Obsession"), being thematized. o r wonder about t h e role of decoration in buildings, o r ask whether anything which c a n be genericized c a n avoid Kranz occasionally falls victim t o his own taxonomic drive, which is displayed t o much more persuasive e f f e c t in his subsequent typologies of t r e a t m e n t ('Transposition', 'Suppletion', 'Memoria', 'Symbolik' and 'Metaphorik'

t h e last-named a t t r a c t i n g disproportionate attention),

intention ('Deskriptiv', 'Panegyrisch', 'Pejorativ', 'Politisch', 'Scherzhaft'), s t r u c t u r e ('Rhetorisch', 'Episch', 'Zyklisch') and Realitatsbezuq ('Kumulativ', 'Fiktiv', 'Ideal', 'Generell', 'Ruinenpoesie'). But despite and beneath these a p t and necessary discriminations, t h e architecture-poem reveals a broad unanimity of purpose: t o resurrect t h e organic in t h e mineral and t r a c e t h e animated and animating flow of t i m e through t h e motionless monument:

"Es leistet poetische Verwandlung d e s Statischen ins Dynamische, d e s reglos Steinernen ins Wachst3mliche, d e s Raumlichen ins Zeitliche, kurz
imaginative Beseelung d e s Unbeseelten" (p.82). Kranz's work, too, is a magnificent monument, energized by t h e tirelessness of i t s builder. University of East Anglia, Norwich Schenk, Christiane. d e Sikcle. Venedig im Spiegel d e r Decadence Clive S c o t t

L i t e r a t u r des Fin P e t e r Lang, 1987.

(European University Studies S e r i e s XVIII:

Comparative Liter-

Frankfurt on Main, Berne, New York: a t u r e Vo1.45.) pp.562. ISBN 3-8204-9720-X.

Schenk has read a lot of books a n d has paraphrased many of them in this work, which observes fin-de-siicle depictions of Venice in French, German, English and, t o a degree, Italian literature. T h e subject is worthwhile, a t least for a lengthy article. S h e quotes a large number of c r i t i c s very extensively, and s e e m s t o have few views of her own. What w e end up

with is a tedious, ineptly written, less than scholarly, sometimes coffeemorningesque catalogue with l i t t l e analysis or speculation. Furthermore, her paraphrases help neither our memory nor our understanding o f the works she considers. In many cases, however, she does widen the usual scope by including works which flow only just in the meinstream o f Decadent literature, like Barrss's L a Mort de Venise, and some which are certainly not widely known, like 'Ginko' and 'Biloba's'

&

volupheux voyage ou les PBlerines de Venise or lsolde Kurz's " ~ e k r o ~ o l i s * . The only mainstream Venice work piece on Venice in missing is probably Arthur Symons's I t is, no doubt, facetious of me to

Cities

(1903).

observe that Schenk does not mention any o f the dozen or so important Czech Decadent novels or poems which deal with Venice. The reader becomes more and inore tetchy about Schenk's frequent comments o f the following sort: Regnier is hardly known The
ir!

"The work o f the French poet Henri de No one cares whether followers are She is often the period will know Regnier. (p.170).

Germany today" (p.208). "The in

i t is or not, and certainly all students of

following advice i s worse: or impossible t o obtain

works of RarrBs's Germany"

difficult

repetetive;

for instance, we learn on both pp.482 and 485 that The Savoy She shows a lack o f general knowledge For example, she tells us that Adrien

had only a one-year run in 1896. about the literature o f the period.

Mithoucard makes frequent use o f synaesthesia and that that reminds her o f Barrks (p.1931, appearing unaware that synaesthesia and oxymoron were very much part o f the Decadent code. "Epigones, appears, Three pages later she leads us to also in their style." The doubt whether she has any sense o f literature whatever, when she writes:
it

are often second-rank most important

Bibliography Merveilleux

lacks three et

books on Decadence, Translation The

Barbara Decadent

Charlesworth, Dark Passages (Madison and Milwaukee, 19651, Jean Pierrot. fantastique (1974, English

Imagination, Chicago and London,

Decadent Dilemma (London, 1983). Nevertheless, Venice in

1981) and R.

K.

R.

Thornton,

The
the

Schenk comes close t o understanding the function o f literature. She writes that artists before

Decadent

Decadents and after them had paid their tribute t o this c i t y which was "between land and water, between being and appearance, between history and reality" (p.41, "a wonderland made o f reality and imagination" (p.1 l I), 274-75). However, i n those descriptions and as a dream c i t y (pp.218-19,

she is essentially only repeating what t h e writers themselves say. Decadent writers' main concern was intermediate states. (The Bulgarian c r i t i c Sonia Kanikova uses t h e t e r m 'interstatuality'.) Decadent l i t e r a t u r e describes intermediate s t a t e s , grows o u t of writers' perception of themselves a s existing in intermediate s t a t e s and, indeed, o f t e n uses intermediate forms (e.g. t h e prose poem o r highly lyricised prose in literary criticism). Schenk has failed t o comprehend t h a t Venice itself provided a p e r f e c t intermediate s t a t e for t h e Decadent imagination. T h e beauty of decay, t h e orgasm of dying, t h e non-real reality of dreaming, semistagnant w a t e r all combine t o c r e a t e a n a p t background to, o r picture of, t h e senses, t h e sensitive a e s t h e t i c mind a t work. This c i t y comprised a n architectural embodiment of t h e panerethism t h e Decadents cultivated in t h e i r studies and cafds. Venice forms p a r t of t h e Decadents' conception of their age, a n a g e of decay, but a n a g e which they felt was bringing t h e new glorious w h i t e barbarians who would destroy c u l t u r e and rejuvenate t h e world. Schenk's book would probably have benefited from more intensive supervision by t h e t e a c h e r s s h e thanks in her Foreword. Yet for all I have said, i t might well be useful t o s o m e students of things Decadent a s a work of reference. School of Slavonic and East European Studies University of London P e t e r Edgerly Firchow, T h e Death of t h e G e r m a n Cousin: a Literary Stereotype, 1890-1920. Toronto: Lewisburg: Bucknell UP; Associated University Presses, 1987. R. B. Pynsent

Variations on London and

pp.242. ISBN 0-8387-5095 -8

Firchow's appendix, T h e N a t u r e and Uses of Imagology", succinctly outlines t h e theoretical basis of this study "of English literary representation of G e r m a n s d u r i n g t h e d e c a d e s immediately preceding and following t h e turn of t h e century" (p.184). T h a t representation, i t is claimed, is necessarily a "study of English self-representation", since "even t h e most serious kinds of literature function t o reinforce stereotypes of our own group identity, usually by c o n t r a s t with o t h e r group identities" (p.185). T h e "Introduction" briefly examines theories of r a c e current in academic and popular c i r c l e s during t h e period, showing how a British sense of racial superiority initially accepted Germany a s a 'cousin'. T h a t special

relationship gradually

deteriorated under

the pressures of economic and Firchow indicates

military expansion during the Second Reich, so that eventually the 'Huns' came to be viewed as an inferior and barbaric race. that such quasi-racialist theories, now usually associated with National

Socialism, were current in Britain for much of this century. The beginning of the hostile stereotyping of Germans Firchow locates in the unification of Germany. German Cousin", together (including previous coherent whole, research on The first 'literary' chapter, new, "The Death of but to i t usefully Germany from into the ties a contains nothing essentially

attitudes

which covers the complete range of literary production pre-war

newspapers and boys' comics) and of attitudes,

invasion hysteria t o neutralism.

A l l of this culminated in the killing o f f

o f the old cousinhood-myth in Cecil Chesterton and others. More interesting are the following chapters, which examine in some depth well-known authors' attitudes to, and portrayal of, Germany and the German. Germans", The second chapter, includes Wilhelm "Joseph some Conrad's reference Diabolic and to Polish Angelic on necessarily on views

Germans, which helps to account for a certain virulence of presentation, and concentrates Schomberg ("Falk" and Victory), Captain Hermann ("Falk") and Stein (Lord Jim). The first two, argues Firchow, are

"two-pfennig villains" and grotesque, whilst the German Captain and Stein in Lord Jim are partly actors in Conrad's re-working of Goethe's with J i m as an unintellectual Faust, "determined to strive eternally against everything that stands in the way of what he conceives t o be his destiny" (p.57). Traces o f Goethe's Torquato Tasso further suggest that Jim is also

w,

an unpoetical Tasso. forgivable but

The conclusion to this chapter breaks o f f with a K u r t z (Heart o f Darkness), who

tantalizing mention of

intensifies Conrad's stereotype o f the bad German

Firchow continues the

argument only briefly and in general terms in his "Conclusion" (pp.185-6). Chapter Three, "E. M. Forster's Rainbow Bridge", first establishes Forster's liberal attitudes to, and knowledge of, German culture, before suggesting that the deeper mythological substratum o f Howard's End is Wagnerian in i t s use o f Germanic mythology. The author carefully guards against too 'pat' a transposition of such German elements into the plot o f that novel, however, whilst also offering some illuminating views of it. The sexual implications of the national stereotype are taken up in the fourth chapter, "The Loves o f English Women and German Men",

which, except for Ford Madox Hueffer (Ford), is devoted t o women w r i t e r s , including Katharine Mansfield and Dorothy M. Richardson. Interesting here is t h e pervasiveness of t h e idea that German men a r e unable t o make suitable husbands for English women, however sympathetic these women may be t o Germans initially. Apparently, British culture tended t o be viewed a s feminine, German a s masculine. Chapter Five, "The Mental Slum", is largely devoted t o a very thorough examination of Kipling's Mary Postgate, which arrives a t an even-handed conclusion about Kipling's ignorance a s t o how people's prejudices a r e often confounded by t h e reality of suffering. "Wellington House and t h e Strange Death of a Liberal Professor" (ch.6) concentrates, a f t e r a brief summary of John Buchan's and Thomas Hardy's propaganda efforts, on t h e work and post-war attitudes of Gilbert Murray, t h e 'liberal professor' whose later disillusionment arose from awareness of his own complicity in t h e spiritual and Firchow is a little unfair t o intellectual corruption of propaganda. Murray, viewing Murray's resigned irony about war a s "equanimity" (p.125). One of t h e most interesting parts of this book is t h e seventh c h a p t e r , "'Into Cleanness Leaping': Brooke. Eliot, Shaw and Lawrence". Here, Firchow links these four writers by their view of death of the old self a s a necessary s t e p towards re-birth of a 'Life Force', war a s t h e only means by which decadence can be overcome. It is a daring but often convincing comparison between four writers usually considered so disparate. In concluding that t h e notion of t h e German cousin was altogether dead by 1915, Firchow claims that t h e stereotype of t h e efficiently barbaric Hun is unlikely t o b e eradicated from British minds until a t least the end of this century. Firchow's thesis on Anglo-German relations between 1890-1920 is that t h e induced image of German cruelty and militarism, along with many literary productions about a Prussian invasion of this country, predisposed t h e British t o mass hysteria and hallucinations about atrocities once t h e war began, and made resistance t o t h e war-effort all but impossible. Whllst this may sound like a statement of t h e obvious, Firchow's merit lies in demonstrating convincingly both t h e general development and t h e finer distinctions of t h e British mentality 1890-1920. Wittily erudite, and with a frequently wry elegance, Firchow dispels many cherished British myths about Germans and about British superiority. University of Hull

E A. McCobb .

C o n c e p t s ed.
Boerner. Raden-Baden: Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft, 1986. 3-7890- 1304-8.

by Peter ISBN

pp.262.

This volume consists of a collection of twelve papers read at a conference of American and European academics at Indiana University in 1985, the aim being an exploration of the meaning and the dimensions of the complex notion of national identity. to participate included In order to ascertain whether an interliterature, history and disciplinary dialogue on this topic might be profitable, the scholars invited researchers in language, political science, although scholars from the disciplines of sociology and psychology were surprisingly absent. In an attempt to avoid what Roerner terms "the limitations and partisanship that so easily cling to discussions of a particular nation" (p.16). the participants follow a path of comparative investigation, dealing with certain nations of Western Europe (Germany, France and Austria), Eastern Europe (Yugoslavia, Romania and Bulgaria) and the nation-states of Africa. The first two papers provide a general background to the topic. suggests that national identity is a concept Raymond Grew (pp.31-43)

consciously constructed from specific moments in history (for example, the French Revolution), and used to enhance the image of the nation-state through the creation of symbols and myths. 45-61) distingulshes the term 'national inherited notion, from the wider ~ihely Szegedy-MaszBk (pp. as a Romantic or identity1, and suggests character',

term 'national

that to view national character as an organic entity is a dangerous concept, since i t can lead to mistrust among nations. The division of study shows a marked concentration on Germany, three of the remaining ten papers discussing German national identity from the pre-Romantic era to modern times. a Kulturnation (national culture), Lacking political unity, since The historically they have not lived within fixed borders, the Germans created rather than a national identity. papers conclude that, since no uniform image of Germany exists to create a national identity, German national identity lies not in a concrete realisation of identity, but in a desire for it. The broad theme of national identity suggested what may be termed 'counter-topics'. regional identity, These are expressed in papers on counter-identity, (that is, how and internationalism. Counter-identity

members of nation-states view their homologues across the border) must be studied in order t o achieve balanced investigation and t o avoid stereotype, while a growing emphasis on regional identity (for example, in Scotland and Brittany) is seen a s indicative of the extent t o which national identities a r e loslng their significance. In dealing with France, Konrad Bieber (pp.79-87) delineates points of view which go beyond the limitations of nationalism towards positive internationalism, o r what is termed 'supra-nationality'. However, with regard t o Austria, William Johnston (pp.177-86) suggests that supra-nationality can be a negative concept, becoming an expression of statelessness, thereby classifying Austria a s a "natlon without qualitiesn (p.177). Arguably the most interesting points raised in this volume detail the national tendencies of s t a t e s run along the lines of Internationally oriented ideologies, such a s Socialism and Communism, which have long viewed national leanings a s suspect. In a paper on East European nations in the 1980% Robin Remington (pp.10522) suggests that in the Balkan s t a t e s international Communism is expressed in conjunction with a resurgence of national identity, leading t o an attitude the author describes as "socialist in form, national in contentn (p. 122). The conclusion of the conference Is that there exists no definition of the term 'national identity' which could satisfy all the demands placed upon it. To attempt such a definition the conference should perhaps have limited itself t o a study of a specific area or period, thereby retaining the comparative approach and facilitating an approach a t a definition. Furthermore, within its chosen framework there a r e obvious omissions, such a s Amerlca and Great Britain. The voiume ends with the first bibliography on national identity t o encompass more than one or two countries, and provide an excellent review of the llterature available on this wide topic. University of Dundee Kay Chadwick

Gerhart Hoffmelster, Deutsche und europaische Barockliteratur. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1987 (Sammlung Metzler. Bd.234). pp.208. ISBN 3-476-10234-3. This is a welcome addition to the admirable Metzler series, which already contains a number of useful works on German baroque literature, including one by Gerhart Hoffmeister on petrarchistic lyric poetry (M 119). That is a wlde-ranging comparative survey, and so is this, a s indeed its title

indicates.

I t is badly needed, for baroque studies are flourishing in various

fields amid a welter o f confused terminology. in America) and not well thought o f in Holland.

Baroque means something And so on. Hoffmeister

different in Germany and in France, is not used i n England (though i t is therefore begins with a history of the term and i t s applications, and closes with the sensible though not exactly new conclusion that i t is a "Hilfsbegriff der Forschung zur Bezeichnung der Epoche", in other words a convenient piece o f shorthand. neatly sidestepped. In this I n this way the danger of hypostatisation is whole discussion one looks in vain for a

mention o f James Mark or Odette de Mourgues. Hoffmeister then has a series o f useful and illuminating sections on the different national brands of baroque i n Italy, Spain (but not Portugal), France, England, Holland, Scandinavia, Eastern Europe, and finally Germany. This is followed by a set of parallel treatments of cultural exchanges ("Barocke Wechselbeziehungen") between Germany and each of these areas, which open up many fresh perspectives. factors i n European baroque literature question of whether Einheitlichkeit social Jesuit poetry; der Phanomene" (but p. 1 13). Then he goes on to deal with as a whole, starting with the

there is any such thing (he discerns "ein gewisse These factors are well chosen: rhetoric and emblem; petrarchism, on which not Latin tradition; surprisingly

bases (absolutism etc.); Marinism

Hoffmeister is an authority, or stoicism); not, final e.g. the absence o f biography, on the reception and

and finally genres and themes.

He gives a good account o f what is there but does not deal with what is autobiography, diary and letter in
,

Germany in contrast chapter

t o England and France is not touched upon. exploitation of baroque welcome, as i t brings together

The

in later much

German literature is particularly

hitherto unrelated work, especially on the Romantics (on whom Hoffmeister is also an authority, as is plain from his Metzler volume M 170), though
it

is odd that he does not refer t o the echo of Bidermann's Cenodoxus in he brings the tradition down to our own day

Chamisso's Peter Schlemihl;

with Giinter Grass's Das Treffen i n Telgte (not

van

Telgte).

A l l in all an

invaluable and well-informed survey, which sums up what is already known, draws interesting parallels and points out some white spots on the map. Seizidmistes and dix-septiemistes o f all colours will constantly need t o refer t o it.

REPORT O N 'WORK IN PROGRESS' "LITERARY TRANSLATION I N KOREA DURING THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD (1895-1940)" Since the 1970s theorists have focused on the role that translated literature may play in a literary system depending on the degree o f familiarity o f the texts to be translated and the state o f development o f the target system (see Lambert, D'Hulst and van Rragt 1985: 149-163). Starting with the supposition that during the early twentieth century in Korea western literature was translated with an innovative aim, an attempt will be made to discover system. studies Statistical techniques. the on variations on the data translation are the functioning of this research of western translation in a literary in Asian of countries. texts and The results o f can he integrated into broader literature the selection

examined concerning

Documents o f the period are studied for information about the readers. Based on this statistical and documentary

stated aims o f translators, critical opinions, the policies of publishers and reactions o f evidence the supposition concerning the innovatory role o f translation in establishing a new literary system, o r i n filling a literary vacuum, will be modified. (For the Polysystem approach to the study of translated liter1978: 117-127.) The dates 1895-1940 mark the ature see Even-Zohar

first appearance o f western literature in Korea, during the enlightenment period when the 'new literature' movement was developing, to the outbreak o f World War I 1 when literary activity in Korea ceased or went underground. The first section surveys the selection o f texts to be translated and considers the motives for selecting them. genre. The statistics are analysed concerning the selection or rejection o f texts by country, language, author, Documentary evidence concerning motives for choosing texts to be translations and other primary sources o f the translated is gathered through literary journals, articles by the translators, prefaces to volumes o f period. The texts from the early period (1895-1909) were mostly re-transrather than full translations. owed a debt Foreign literary to these early works were

lations from Japanese and many were adaptations, condensations or plot summaries chosen for their effectiveness i n encouraging patriotism, and the socially committed 'new literature' translations.

Magazines aiming t o e d u c a t e patriotic, liberal youths a c t e d a s an impetus t o translation of literary works which w e r e thought t o have an edifying effect. appear. lations. Literature During t h e following d e c a d e t h e importation of western l i t e r a t u r e In t h e 1920s t h e r e was a marked increase in t h e number of transT h e dual a i m s s t a t e d in an editorial of typify t h e period: t o c o n s t r u c t national t h e review Foreign l i t e r a t u r e and to began in earnest, and journals specializing in literary translation s t a r t e d t o

widen t h e boundaries of world l i t e r a t u r e through translation. Section T w o will consider t h e e x t e n t t o which translation s t r a t e g i e s r e f l e c t t h e s e a r c h f o r a new model of r e a l i t y through w e s t e r n literature. During t h e e a r l y t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y Korean w r i t e r l t r a n s l a t o r s a t t e m p t e d t o transmit western literary t r e n d s such a s Romanticism and Naturalism which had b e c o m e popular in Japan. level of An e x a m p l e of t h e selection process a t t h e technique is t h e adaptation of w e s t e r n s t a n z a i c and m e t r i c a l

p a t t e r n s t o replace t h e traditions of Chinese formalism, which w e r e felt t o b e inadequate t o express modern emotions. T h e next section, o n t h e publication and distribution of translated literature, will e x a m i n e in more d e t a i l t h e journals specializing in translation, a n d t h e s e p a r a t e volumes of translated literature, c o n c e n t r a t i n g on t h e manner in which t h e s e publications aimed t o introduce foreign literature. A survey of t h e c o n t e n t s will reveal t h e range of choice of literature. F o r t h e most part t h e translation journals which During t h e 1930s, although t h e r e translated

appeared in t h e 1920s w e r e unable t o continue publication beyond a few issues f o r financial o r political reasons. w e r e n o new reviews d e v o t e d exclusively t o translating literary works, translations appeared with increasing frequency in a v a r i e t y of journals. T h e number of s e p a r a t e volumes of translated l i t e r a t u r e was e x t r e m e l y small until 1940. T h e overall c i r c u m s t a n c e s of publication, t h e f a c t o r s limiting publication and distribution, t h e composition of t h e readership, t h e c o n t e n t s of t h e journals, and policy s t a t e m e n t s by e d i t o r s and publishers will b e included. T h e following s e c t i o n will consider t h e reception of translated litera t u r e a s r e f l e c t e d in r e a d e r response, d e b a t e b e t w e e n t r a n s l a t o r s and criticism of t h e s t a t e of literary translation. d u e t o lack of training and financial resources. In addition t o a r g u m e n t s T h e debates, criticism and o v e r method and technique, t h e r e was much criticism of t h e c o n s t r a i n t s response of r e a d e r s a r e t o b e found mostly in literary reviews o r journals

of translated literature. The final phase involves a consideration of the changes which took place as modern Korean literature rapidly evolved from the late 1890s to approximately 1940. texts, chosen for literature. Correlations will be made between translated western their innovative role, and the new approaches to

The final chapters will contain case studies for the reception

and assimilation of certain foreign authors or genres through translation. Professor Theresa M. Hyun Department of French Kyung Hee University I Hoeki-dong, Dongdaemoon-gu Seoul 130-701, Korea LAMBERT, ~os6, Lieven D'HULST and Katrin van BRAGT, "Translated Literature in France, 1800-1850", in Theo Hermans (ed.), The Manipulation of Literature: Studies in Literary Translation (London: Croom Helm, 19851, pp. 149- 163. LEFEVERE, Andrk, "Translation: The Focus of the Growth of Literary Knowledge", in James S Holmes et al. (eds.), Literature and Translation . (Leuven: Acco, 19781, pp.7-28. TOURY, Gideon, In Search of a Theory of Translation. Institute for Poetics and Semiotics, 1980. Tel Aviv: Porter

EVEN-ZOHAR, Itamar, "The Position of Translated Literature Within the . Literary Polysystem", i n J. S Holmes et al. (eds.), Literature and Translation (Leuven: Acco, 1978), pp. 117- 127.

NEWS

RESEARCH DIRECTORY O F T H E INTERNATIONAL COMPARATIVE LITERATURE ASSOCIATION This useful booklet was assembled for t h e ICLA's Research Development C o m m i t t e e by Mario Valdks and his colleagues a t Toronto. It lists a d d r e s s , professional affiliations, fields of specialization and principal publications. (A second edition is being planned - consolation for those who missed t h e deadline for sending information this t i m e round.) Copies may be obtained (on sending two international postage coupons) from: David Jordan, C e n t r e for Comparative Literature, 14045 Robarts Library, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario M5S IA I, Canada. DICTIONNAIRE INTERNATIONAL DES TERMES LITTERAIRES T h e SFLGC has taken s t e p s t o revive this project, now directed by JeanMarie Grassin (Limoges). Fascicules t o E will h e printed now, while for t h e l a t e r ones preparation for printing and revision will occur simultaneous]y. An international c o m m i t t e e is being formed t o organise critical reading of existing contributions, t h e finding of (near-)equivalent t e r m s in 15 languages for t h e l e m m a t a (which will b e French), and t h e assignment of new e n t r i e s t h a t remain t o be written. Anyone interested in t h e Dictionnaire, e i t h e r wanting information o r volunteering cooperation, is requested t o g e t in touch with: Professeur Jean-Marie Grassin, Universit6 d e Limoges (Lettres), 36 r u e Camille Gu6rin, F-87036 F r a n c e Cedex (Telephone: 01033/55/012619). JOURNAL O F RUSSIAN STUDIES O n e of our members, Margaret Tejerizo, is now Reviews Editor of this publication. S h e c a n be c o n t a c t e d a t t h e following address: hl. H. Tejerizo, Dept. of Slavonic Languages, University of Glasgow, Glasgow G I 2 84Q. A NEW JOURNAL: KRIEG UND LITERATUR/WAR AND LITERATURE

A very successful international Remarque Symposium (13-15 October, 1988) a t Osnabrilck will provide t h e material for t h e first number of this new publication, which a c c e p t s contributions in English and German (and will add a synopsis o f e a c h a r t i c l e in t h e o t h e r language). T h e journal will b e edited and published by a t e a m assemhled by Tilman Westphalen, and will b e linked t o f u r t h e r scholarly e v e n t s organised by t h e Remarque Society. Anyone interested in this a r e a should contact: Professor D r Tilman Westphalen, Erich Maria Remarque Dokumentationsstelle, Fachbereich Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft, Universitat Osnabriick, Postfach D-4500 Osnabriick, West Germany.

FUTURE ICLA EVENTS T h e ICLA general m e e t i n g a t Munich, during which Earl Miner (Princeton) w a s e l e c t e d President, d e t e r m i n e d t h a t t h e Xlllth CONGRESS will b e held in l a t e August 1991 a t A o y a m a Gakuin University, Tokyo. T h e general t h e m e is: "THE F O R C E O F VISION", divided into I: D r a m a s of Desire, 11: Visions of Beauty, Ill: Visions of History, IV: P o w e r s of Narration, V: Re-Vision of L i t e r a r y Theory, VI: Orientalism and Occidentalism, VII: Inter-Asian C o m p a r a t i v e Literature. T h e Meeting a t Munich h e a r d a n invitation from t h e President of t h e University of Edmonton (Alberta) f o r t h e 1994 Congress, and a c c e p t e d it in principle. T h e r e w a s also a n invitation from New Delhi University for e i t h e r 1994 o r 1997, and t h e m e e t i n g tended t o favour going t o India in 1997. T h e lCLA L i t e r a r y Theory C o m m i t t e e (which, incidentally, o n e of our members, Elinor Shaffer, helped t o found) announces a COLLOOUIUM on t h e subject "ARE T H E R E LAWS IN LITERARY HISTORY?". T h e colloquium is t o b e held on 16 March 1989 a t Lisbon University, in conjunction with t h e Congress of t h e P o r t u g u e s e C o m p a r a t i v e L i t e r a t u r e Association. F o r f u r t h e r d e t a i l s please w r i t e to: Professor Elrud Ibsch, Vrije Universiteit A m s t e r d a m , F a c u l t e i t d e r L e t t e r e n , Postbus 7161, NL-1007 MC A m s t e r d a m , T h e Netherlands. FUTURE BCLA EVENTS BCLA Vth TRIENNIAL CONGRESS, STAMFORD HALL, LEICESTER, 3-6 JULY, 1989. "LITERARY REPRESENTATIONS O F T H E SELF" F u r t h e r d e t a i l s and t h e second (and last) c a l l for papers w e n t o u t with New Comparison No.5 ( S u m m e r 1988). By e a r l y O c t o b e r , around 180 p a p e r s had been a g r e e d (ca. 100 from British academics, t h e r e s t from overseas). T h e deadline f o r o f f e r s is 30 November, t h e provisional prog r a m m e will g o o u t e a r l y in t h e new year. It is of c o u r s e possible t o a t t e n d without giving a paper. Members a r e requested t o w r i t e t o t h e S e c r e t a r y by e a r l y January if they wish t o p a r t i c i p a t e in this way. It will help overall planning. During t h e Congress t h e topic of t h e next triennial e v e n t (1992) will b e discussed and, it is hoped, decided upon. T h e r e will a l s o b e e l e c t i o n s of t h e Association's o f f i c e r s and e x e c u t i v e c o m m i t t e e members. T h e WORKSHOP C O N F E R E N C E S "THE PICARESOUE" (19901, and "METAMORPHOSES" (19911, will both b e held in e a r l y July (not December, t h e f o r m e r t i m e for BCLA conferences). D e t a i l s will b e announced in New Comparison 7 (Summer 1989). Inquiries a r e a l r e a d y welcome. Please write to the Secretary, D r H. M. Klein, EUR, University of E a s t Anglia, Norwich NR4 7TJ. T H E SECOND BITE: A C O N F E R E N C E O N TRANSLATIONS O F TRANSLATIONS A N D O N RE-TRANSLATIONS. University of E a s t Anglia, Norwich, S a t u r d a y 6 May 1989. This one-day e v e n t , organised by Christopher Smith and Holger Klein,

follows similar conferences (Enemy Images, Hamlet Reception, Poetics of Protest) held a t UEA. It deals with the intriguing questions raised by works like North's Plutarch through Amyot and Kilmartin's revision of Moncrieff. 7-8 short papers (around 20 minutes) will be delivered and discussed. Costs are kept t o a minimum. Papers and general participation a r e invited. Please write to: Dr Christopher Smith, EUR, University of East Anglia, Norwich, NR4 7TJ. The Centre for Low Countries Studies. UCL, announces "THE LOW COUNTRIES AND THE WORLD: AN INTERNATIONAL AND INTERDISCIPLINARY CONFERENCE", 12-15 April, 1989, a t University College London. Plenary Speakers include: Christopher Brown (The National Gallery, London) and Simon Scharma (Harvard University). For information and registration please write to: The Centre for Low Countries Studies. University College London, Gower Street, London WClE 6BT.

The translation Studies Centre a t Gottingen University announces an INTERNATIONAL SYMPOSIUM: "'HISTORY' AND 'SYSTEM' IN THE STUDY O F LITERARY TRANSLATION", 10-13 April. 1989. There will be about 15 papers, followed by intensive discussions. For details please write to: Der Sprecher des Sonderforschugsbereichs 309, "Die literarische Uebersetzung", Georg-August-Universitat, Humboldtallee 17, D-3400 Gottingen, West Germany.

In Richard N. Coe t h e study of French, Comparative and General Literature has lost a leading exponent, and many a colleague a good friend. He co-founded Comparison and gave support t o i t s successor, serving on its Editorial Board. We shall hold him in grateful memory. The Literary Institute of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences and the Hungarian Comparative Literature Association sorrowfully announce the death of lstv6n Stiter, a former Director of the lnstitute and fourth President of the International Comparative Literature Association. His loss will be keenly felt by the profession in his home country and worldwide.

NEW COMPARISON

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scriptions should be sent t o the journal's administrative address: D r Susan Bassnett, New Comparison, Graduate School of Comparative L i t e r a r y Theory and L i t e r a r y Translation, University o f Warwick, COVENTRY CV4 7AL.

NEW COMPARISON I (Summer 1986): "Literary Translation and Literary Systemn: M. Tymoczko (Massachusetts), Translation in Twelfth-Century t h e Birth of a France; T. Hermans (London), Literary Translation: Concept; L. Korpel (Utrecht), Translation Discourse in t h e Netherlands 1750-1800; E. M. Gruber (Edmonton), Translation and Spanish Romanticism ; S Paker (London/Istanbul), Translation in 19th-Century O t t o m a n Literature; E. Blodgett (Edmonton), A. Lefevere (Austin), Heine in Translation; Translation in Canadian Literature; R. van den Broeck (Amsterdam), Generic Shifts in Translation; G. ~ i l m e n(Budapest), Borderline Cases of Translation. NEW COMPARISON 2 (Autumn 1986): "Hamlet a t Home and Abroad": t Anglia), Receiving Hamlet Reception; E. Maslen (London), Scenes Unseen in Hamlet' E. Joyce (Trent), Hamlet from Prince t o Punk; G. Hall (~arwick),;h Hamlets; R. Lethbridge (Cambridge), Bourget, Maupassant and Hamlet; H. Golomb (Tel-Aviv), Hamlet in Checkov's Plays; S. Paker (LondonIIstanbul), Hamlet in Turkey; M. Pfister (Passau), German Political Interpretations of Hamlet; T. Dawson (East Anglia), Hamlet and English Romantic Poetry; I. Clarke (Loughborough), Shakespeareana Victoriana; C. Smith (East Anglia), Italian Players and Hamlet; J. Hilton (East Anglia). Dissecting Hamlet. NEW COMPARISON 3 (Summer 1987): "Comedy": M. Slawinski (Lancaster), A Renaissance commedia and i t s models; A. Calder (London), Renaiss,ance Theories of Comedy; J. Coombes (Essex), Absolutist Drama in England, France and Japan; A. Stillmark (London), Kleist and ,Gogol; S. Walton (London), Ludvig Holberg and lvar Aassen; K. F. Hilliard (Durham), Molikre and Hofmannsthal; W. D. Howarth (Bristol), Anouilh and Ayckbourn; M. Tymoczko (Massachusetts). Translating Humour in Irish Hero Tales; B. Garvin (London), Comic Features of Belli; A. Easthope (Manchester), Aristophanes and Wilde; T. Dawson (East Anglia), T h e Dandy in Dorian Gray; D. Delabastita (Leuven), Translating Puns; K. S. Whitton (Bradford), Humour in t h e German Lied. NEW COMPARISON 4 (Autumn 1987): "Scandinavia": J. Jesch (Nottingham), Women P o e t s in t h e Viking Age; L. Burman (CambridgeIUppsala), T h e Swedish Sonnet; M. Wells (Cambridge), T h e Master Builder, John Gabriel Borkman and When We Dead Awaken; S. J. Walton (London), Illusion in Ibsen's Main Characters; E. Page (Cambridge), Magdalene Thoresen; L. HelmIJ. Roed (OdenseILondon), Thomasine Gyllembourg; M. Robertson (Loughborough), Strindberg: Life, Plots and Letters; E. Vannebo (Oslo), Biblical Motives in Olav Duun; T. Selboe (Oslo), Women's Poetry in Norway; A. Maset (Budapest). Conception and Praxis of the Writer in Contemporary Norwegian Prose; L. Forster (Cambridge), Ernst Robert Curtius Commemorated. NEW COMPARISON 5, with Special Section "Literature and Philosophy": M. J. Robertson (Augsburg), Conference Report, Durham 1987; D. Reynolds (Lancaster), Kant o n t h e Sublime and MallarmC's "Un c o u p d e D6s"; R. H. Roberts (Durham), Reception of Hegel's "Lord and Bondsman"; H. M. Robinson (Liverpool), Nietzsche, Lawrence and Romanticism; P. V. Zima (Klagenfurt), Towards a Sociology of Fictional Texts; D. S c o t t (Dublin), Academicism and Modernity in Nineteenth-Century French Poetry; S. E. G r a c e (Vancouver), Neige noir, Caligari, and t h e Postmodern Film FrameUp; P. Mosley (Glasgow), The Reassociation of Literature and Medicine; G. M. Hyde (Norwich), Hamlet t h e Pole; A. Menhennet (Newcastle), Tensions in Reuter's and Moliire's Comedy; R. Chapple (Florida). Turgenev, Anderson, Hemingway, T h e Torrents of Spring; G. Kums (Antwerp), The Waste Land and Under t h e Volcano.