ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE

ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE

BY NAOMI RITTER

I CIRCUS imagery recurs strikingly in some of the great German literature of the early twentieth century. Yet little attention has been paid to the morphology of the circus motif itself. Recent studies of Wedekind, such as the thorough monograph by Sol Gittleman, show the formative influence of the circus experience, and the article ‘Frank Wedekind: Circus Fan’ by Robert A. Jones focuses on just this aspect of Wedekind’s debt to popular culture.1 I am less interested in the particular attitude of one writer than in a comparison of several major works that draw on the circus to illuminate the condition of art and society in the modern world. Moreover, there are philosophical implications in modern views of the circus performer that go beyond his role as artist or member of society; in Rilke’s fifth Duineser Elegie, for instance, the aerialist is an intensified image of all men.

I have studied seven texts where circus performers, either human or animal, are treated focally. That is, the writers use these figures as vehicles, as a means to express the main idea of the work. Thus by looking closely at these texts and then comparing their import, we may grasp some general meanings that have been found in the circus. The seven works are, in chronological order, Wedekind’s essay Zirkttsgedunken, the prologue to his play Erdgeist, the first chapter of Book I11 of Thomas Mann’s Die Bekenttt- nisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull, Hofmannsthal’s comedy Der Schwierige, the two sketches Aufder Galerie and Erstes Leid by Kafka, and Rilke’s fifth Duineser Elegie. What all these texts share as significant circus examples is their central importance in the writer’s work. I hope to show that each text provides keys to interpreting its author’s oeuvre. Thus circus material may lead us to the essential in these writers and their period.

Zirkusgedunken, one of Wedekind’s first publications, appeared in the Neue Ziircher Zeitung in 1887. The excitement of a young circus fan is evident in a rhapsodic flow of prose: one sentence of some 25 lines comprises a whole paragraph. Such excitement, we read, is the essence, the ‘geistig bildendes Element’ of the circus? In contrast to the drama, which shows life as either grave or comic, the circus is flexible in evoking a range of emotions. ‘. . . Das massgebende Prinzip der Manege ist die Elastizidt, die plastisch- allegorische Darstellung einer Lebensweisheit, . . .’ It is just such flexibility that present society needs, says Wedekind. The circus offers relief for those who see the weighty morality of contemporary drama as ‘die alte gemiit- liche Pilgerfahrt’. This thought is found also in the prologue to Erdgeist (1905), where the stage is ridiculed for its well-mannered ‘Haustiere’. The kind of drama that Wedekind pillories is the naturalists’: Ibsen is linked with

274 ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE

‘Possen’, Hauptmann’s Loth in Vor Sonrienuntergung is mentioncd, as is Johannes Vockerath in Einsurne Menschen. Furthermore, mores in general are the target, not only those of the drama, for the weaklings on the stage are likened to those in the audience. The elasticity lauded in Zirkusgedunken is thus a needed antidote to current p r ~ d e r y . ~

Wedekind’s attack on prudery in the Erdgeist prologue juxtaposes, even likens man to beast. The relation of the two circus-performers is a constant struggle between brawn and brain, for here, far from the complacent role- playing of the theatre, the law of the jungle prevails. LUIU herself, in contrast to the docile ‘Haustiere’ of the stage, is a true beast, Wedekind, the ringmaster, having summoned her to prove that his show has ‘das Gewiirm aus allen Zonen’, calls her ‘unsre Schlange’ and ‘mein susses Tier’. Later she is to fight the tiger, over which she seems to have no superiority, for the outcome is uncertain. Furthermore, like her peers in this especially perilous circus-dragons, crocodiles-Lulu is destructive. Here lies part of her and the circus’s attraction: danger, like lust, is exhilarating. This show is viewed, claims Wedekind, ‘mit heisser Wollust und mit kalten Grauen’. Man’s animalism is further shown metaphorically. ‘Pflanzenkost’ is the food of ‘Haustiere’, a roaring beast is ‘der Mensch auf allen Vieren’. Again, in the essay Zirkusgedunken, the evolution of life that demands elasticity for sur- vival is called ‘die wilde Jagd’.

Wedekind’s stress on the beast in man is nothing novel. Nietzsche, for one, had often insisted that man acknowledge his bestiality. What is original with Wedekind is his assertion that only the circus reveals man’s true nature. Only the wild beast is both beautiful and, above all, true to life. ‘Das wuhre Tier, das wilde, schone Tier,/Das-meine Damen-sehen Sie nur bei mir.’

I1 For Wedekind the truthfulness of the circus is its main attraction. In

Zirkusgedunken and Erdgeist, as in all his works, there is the sharp sting of a moralist, a reformer, whose work is to educate a corrupt society by example. Wedekind’s circus is thus primarily didactic; his ring is meant to be just as moral an institution as the stage was for Schiller. For Thomas Mann, however, who may have seen the same circuses that Wedekind did, this show is anything but truthful. D i e Bekenritnisse des Hochstuplers Felix Krull , which was begun in 1910, describes the same era that Erdgeist does. Mann did not write the first chapter of Book 111, where Krull goes to the Stoudebeker circus in Paris, until 1951. But since the quality of Mann’s circus recalls much of Wedekind’s, it may be seen as a further development of the themes Wedekind announces.

Krdl admires circus-performers even more than the spectator of Zirkus- gedunken does, indeed he identifies with them! They, like Krull, are skilled

ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF I N MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE 275

illusionists. Both they and Krull manipulate their ‘victims7-‘das selbstver- gessen geniessende Opfer des Reizes’-by inducing a state of passive recep- tivity.5 An example of masterly trickery is the aerialists’ calculated failure, a piece of showmanship received with wild acclaim. ‘Tricks, Kunste, Wirkungen’ are thc accomplishments of the circus, the profcssion of ‘Men- schenbegluckung und -bezauberung’. Such manipulation of the audience recalls other works of Mann that show performers and artists as disreputable, even dangerous: Mario tlnd der Zauberer, Das Wtrnderkind, Tonio Kroger, Buddenbrooks. These connotations apply especially to the circus in the first Charon-figure to greet Aschenbach, the ticket-seller in Der Tod iw Venedig. ‘. . . es sass hinter einem Tische, den Hut schief in der Stirn und einen Zigarettenstummel im Mundwinkel, ein ziegenbartigcr Mann von der Physi- ognomie eines altmodischen Zirkusdirektors, . . ., (Mann, VIII, 458).

Krull’s obsession with illusion shows his concern for effect. So does his interest in the circus’s audience, which he defines repeatedly in the course of his account. At first he notes the diversity of the crowd, composed of both a ‘Pferde-Lebewelt von roher Eleganz’ and ‘gierigeni Schaupobel’. What these viewers feel immediately is an attack on the senses: brilliant colour, the smell of animals, naked human limbs. Later Krull notes the circus fans’ blood-thirstiness, as well as the thrill they get from a safe gallery view of the lion-tamer’s daring. When watching the feats of the aerialists Andromache, their lust turns to awe. This show evokes a wide range of sensations, similar to what Wedekind calls an ‘allgemeiner Wirbel’. The bizarre, even para- doxical mixtures of this show are also like Wedekind’s circus, which links ‘heisse Wollust mit kaltem Grauen’. The king of beasts, for instance, must stoop to indignity in leaping through a hoop. Another incongruity this act creates is the blend of fear and cruelty felt by the audience. Such unorthodox combinations are basic to the circus, implies Krull, for he calls the salto mortale, which demands grace at the moment of utmost danger, its ‘Grund- modell’. Krull admires the circus’s characteristic assault on convention.

Krull, like Wedekind’s ringmaster, enjoys the bestial sidc of human bodies. But far more marvellous for him is the performer’s power to defy, even to transcend his physicality. Andromache, for instance, his adored aerialist, seems superhuman as she soars above the ring. The circus thus presents Krull with a provocative scale of existence. Implied here are both the animal stage ‘below’ man and the divine one ‘above’ him. Circus people may be seen as merely entertaining brutes, like their animal colleagues, but their skill also imparts an exalted aura. Such people are so extraordinary to Krull that he claims they are not human. He finds it sentimental to include the clowns in ordinary life, for they are ‘. . . ausgefallene, das Zwerchfell zum Schuttern bringende Unholde der Lacherlichkeit, . . . Monche der Ungereimtheit, kobolzende Zwitter aus Mensch und narrischer Kunst.’


Andromache’s non-human side consists in the renunciation of normal female functions-love and motherhood-that her profession demands. Her sacri- fice of normality to a higher calling recalls Aschenbach’s: ‘. . . zu wohl erkannte man, dass dieser strenge Korper das, was andere der Liebe geben, an seine abenteuerliche Kunstleistung verausgabte.’ Krull’s non-human artistes might also be compared to Wedekind’s social outsiders. But while the latter are only outcasts of society, Andromache’s ‘art‘ excludes her from ‘life’ itself.

I11 If Wedekind’s keyword for the circus is truth, then Mann’s is illusion.

One of their contemporaries, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, focuses on another feature of the circus: style. In Der Schwierige (1918), the clown Furlani has the same grace, the same effortless and fascinating manner that characterizes the hero, Kari Buhl. Kari identifies with his ideal circus figure, just as Krull does, but for reasons that recall the social criticism of Erdgeist more than Krull’s amoral theatricality. Kari criticizes the blind calculation that rules aristocratic society in such social climbers as Neuhoff; Furlani, the ideal counter-image, has no apparent aim. Quite the opposite of Krull’s adored Andromache, Furlani pays no heed to his audience. He performs ‘aus purer Begeisterung und Seligkeit’, he is admirable ‘vor lauter Nonchalance’. Furthermore, Furlani is simply more entertaining than anyone imaginable.6 In fact, claims Kari, all circus performances demand more ‘Geist’ than do the social graces.

Furlani’s aimlessness is charming; the confusion he carelessly creates, despite his good will, is hilarious. But Kari’s aimlessness, with its resulting confusion, has grave consequences. Being reluctant to commit himself at all, Kari’s silence is widely misunderstood, his character misconstrued. Were it not for luck and the sanguine Helene, the play could hardly be a comedy.

For Kari, one of Furlani’s most admirable traits is the respect he shows, not only for himself, but for everything else on earth. This thought can be clarified in the light of Hofmannsthal’s Briefdes Lord Chandos of 1901. Here the author’s reverence for life itself, for ‘alles, alles, was es gibt, alles, dessen ich mich entsinne, . . .’ prevents him from abstracting.’ He is unable to see things ‘mit dem vereinfachenden Blick der Gewohnheit’, for such a conventional simplification seems to him ‘so unbeweisbar, so liigenhaft, so locherig wie nur moglich, . . .’. Thus Chandos refuses to generalize, to disregard the details that only seem to be trivial. Furlani shares this concern for detail, for he too is fascinated ‘. . . von jedem einzelnen Stuckl’. He is not upset by his blunders because he knows, as Chandos suddenly realizes, that confusion is inevitable. But no matter how chaotic the world is, Furlani

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still believes in the value inherent in things themselves. So does Kari, as we see in his scrupulous respect of all people.

These three characters also share a rejection of speech. Kari’s identification with Furlani is based on his desire to communicate wordlessly, as the clown does. Since all articulation is for him ‘eine indezente Selbstuber- schitzung’, he understands himself best when silent. As for Chandos, his farewell to literature is a renunciation of any language other than that one ‘in welcher die stummen Dinge zu mir sprechen, und in welcher ich vielleicht einst im Grabe vor einem unbekannten Richter mich verantworten werde’.

IV Kafka’s short sketch, Autder Gulerie, in Der Landurzt (1919) offers the

first negative example of circus life considered here.8 Like Wedekind, Kafka sees moral implications in the circus, but he is the first to decry the spectacle as a mask for commercial brutality. His spectator, who detects another circus behind the apparent one, does not dare decry it but merely weeps, unconsciously. What he sees behind the glamorous mask is a sick, suffering artiste, driven ruthlessly by both a cruel master and the insatiable audience.

Wenn irgendeine hinfallige, lungensiichtige Kunstreiterin in der Manege auf schwankendem Pferd vor einem unermudlichen Puklikum vom peitschen- schwingenden erbarmungslosen Chef monatelang ohne Unterbrechung im Kreise rundum getrieben wiirde, auf dem Pferde schwirrend, Kusse werfend, in der Taille sich wiegend, und wenn dieses Spiel unter dem nichtausset- zenden Brausen des Orchesters und der Ventilatoren in die immerfort weiter sich ofhende graue Zukunft fortsetzte, begleitet vom vergehenden und neu anschwellenden Beifallsklatschen der Hande, die eigentlich Dampfhammer sind-vielleicht eilte dann ein junger Galeriebesucher die lange Treppe durch alle Range hinab, stiirzte in die Manege, riefe das Halt ! durch die Fanfaren des sich immer anpassenden Orchesters.

Da es aber nicht so ist; eine schone Dame, weiss und rot, hereinfliegt, zwischeii den Vorhangen, welche die stolzen Livrierten vor ihr ofhen; der Direktor, hingebungsvoll ihre Augen suchend, in Tierhaltung ihr entgegenatmet ; vorsorglich sie auf den Apefelschimmel hebt, als ware sie seine uber alles geliebte Enkelin, die sich auf gefihrliche Fahrt begibt ; sich nicht entschliessen kann, das Peitschenzeichen zu geben ; schliesslich in Selbstubenvindung es knallend gibt; neben dem Pferde mit offenem Munde einherlauft ; die Spriinge der Reiterin scharfen Blickes verfolgt ; ihre Kunstfertigkeit kaum begreifen kann; mit englischen Ausdriicken zu wamen versucht ; die reifenhaltenden Reitknechte wutend zu peinlichster Achtsamkeit ermahnt ; vor dem grossen Salto mortale das Orchester mit aufgehobenen Handen beschwtjrt, es moge schweigen; schliesslich die Kleine vom zitternden Pferde hebt, auf beide

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278 ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE ~~

Backen kusst und keine Huldiging des Publikums fur genugend erachtet ; wahrend sie selbst, von ihm gestutzt, hoch auf den Fussspitzen, vom Staub umweht, mit ausgebreiteten Armen, zuruckgelehntem Kopfchen ihr Gluck mit dem ganzen Zirkus teilen will-da dies so ist, legt der Galeriebesucher das Gesicht auf die Briistung und, im Schlussmarsch wie in einem schweren Traum versinkend, weint er, ohne es zu wissen.9

The first verb in this passage, the passive ‘getrieben wurde’, suggests animal training. The endless impulsion of the equestrienne is both stated (‘monatelang ohne Unterbrechung im Kreise rundum’) and implied, by repeated participial forms in the whole first paragraph. The forced activa- tion of this scene becomes quite unbearable with the addition of perpetual driving noises : the show is accompanied by the ‘nichtaussetzendes Brausen’ of the orchestra and ventilators, while the applause of human ‘Dampf- hfmmer’ bangs insistently.

Kafka’s masterly use of two long sentences for his whole account is com- parable to Wedekind’s paragraph-long sentence in Zirkusgedunken. Such an additive style in both works conveys the orchestral aspect of a complex performance. And strikingly similar in both descriptions is the periodic construction. In fact it is tempting to see Kafka’s sketch as an ironic answer to Wedekind’s passage. Wedekind’s rapturous tribute to the spectacle is almost parodied in Kafka’s stark depiction of a scene of brutal sham. And Wedekind’s concluding question, incredulous that anyone could lack his own exhilaration, seems answered in the silent weeping of Kafka’s viewer.

Both Wedekind’s and Kafka’s passages begin with ‘Wenn . . .’, but only Kafka, with his characteristic economy, makes this word one of three main axes in the whole work. There is a tension between this ‘Wenn’ and its complementary ‘dann’ near the end of the paragraph. This tension is essential, for it evokes that bewildering disparity between two visions of reality that is the subject of the piece. When authors treat the problem of distin- guishing the real from the merely apparent, they usually show how deceptive appearances are. What is real lies hidden behind the surface of things; a revelation of this reality serves mainly to unmask the false appearance. But Kafka does not say that the first situation described, what the sensitive observer sees, is the real performance. Indeed, the hypothetical nature of the whole paragraph, bracketed by ‘if’ and ‘then’, makes the reality of the vision seem doubtful.

Furthermore, this is not just two versions of the same scene. In the first paragraph there is only one image of the artiste’s act, her impulsion around the ring. The rest of the description shows the accompaniments of this act: she throws kisses, bows, the band booms on and on. In the second paragraph a whole number is sketched, from entrance to climax, with many subtle gestures and expressions noted. This account is complete and detailed,

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while the first one is fragmentary. The first account could not even be part of the second, for the facts there are different.

Thus it is natural to infer that the first scene is imagined and the second one real. The text says that the first account is not actual (‘Da es aber nicht so ist’;), and the second one is actual: ‘-da dies so ist, . . . ’. But the young spectator perceives two contradictory scenes, and it must be the power of the first one that prompts his final despair. One might even argue that the first scene is more real, in the sense of essential, or true, than the second. Then the subject of the piece would fall easily into the category of reality versus illusion. But this interpretation must be false, for neither scene is clearly illusory. Both visions are real in different ways; the ultimate reality, which must contain contradictions, remains uncertain.

Such uncertainty is one of Kafka’s essential themes. Circus-imagery seems particularly apt in his work, for the artiste’s act is more fraught with uncertainty than other performances. There is, for instance, the uncertainty of constant risk, which reaches a peak in the salto mortale. This insecurity is also shared by the audience, for they too see the artiste’s danger. And the ambiguous relation of man to beast, often implied in Atrf der Galerie, is another aspect of the indeterminate quality of Kafka’s world. Heinz Laden- dorf perceives the disturbing implications of such ambiguity in his article ‘Kafka und die Kunstgeschichte’, ( Wallruf-Richarfz Jahrbuch XXIII, 1961, 166.) Ladendorf calls George Seurat’s painting Le Cirqire of 1890-91 a near- illustration for Kafka’s sketch. Both Seurat and Kafka perceived something terrible in the circus, where ‘Luge und Leid, Schonheit und greller Kitsch so erschreckend dicht zusammengezwungen sind als eine unauflosliche und allgegenwsrtig qualende Unwahrhaftigkeit, . . .’ (Quoted in Heinz Politzer, Franx Kafka, der Kiinstler, Frankfurt, 1965, 147.)

Atrjder Galerie is notable for the profile it gives of circus psychology. The audience as a whole is denoted only by the crescendo of their applause, which is dehumanized into the mechanical noise of ‘Danipfhammer’. The three types that the show brings into mutual contact are the performer, the director and the ‘Galeriebesucher’. Kafka is most interested in the young spectator, who is set apart from the rest of the crowd. Only he, sitting far back in the gallery, would want to stop the brutal show if it were actual. His unconscious weeping is typical of Kafka’s figures, whose baffled passi- tivity is more implied than stated.1° It seems clear from the title Aufder Galerie that this man’s perceptions are the focus of the sketch. Kafka’s scene plays necessarily Aitfder Galerie, not ‘beim Zirkus’ or ‘in der Manege’.

V In Erstes h i d , a story in the volume Ein Hungerkinstler of 1924, Kafka’s

interest shifts from the observer of the circus to the artiste himself.ll Again.


as in A t f d e r Galerie, the performer suffers, but not due to a merciless master, Instead his impresario is unusually kind. It is the performer’s own drive for perfection that compels him ‘aus tyrannisch gewordener Gewohnheit’, to stay always aloft; only by such constant practice can he perfect his art.

Kafka’s portrait of the artiste shows a compulsive performer. This man is quite the opposite of Hofmannsthal’s Furlani, who delights his audience with effortless grace. Kafka’s aerialist is almost as negative a figure as his equestrienne in A u t d e r Galerie, for he too is menaced by death. The first sorrow of the title is his awareness of a fatal insatiability. The demand for another trapeze, a mere beginning of dissatisfaction, is ‘existenzbedrohend’. Like the urge of the fanatic ‘Hungerkiinstler’ to fast for ever, this artiste’s perfectionist mania can lead only to death. In Erstes Leid we might see the self-destruction of any intensely one-sided mode of life. The aerialist’s soaring applies easily to the hyper-intellectual tendency of creative artists, but it might refer further to any rarified life.12

Thus Kafka’s aerialist has a pursuit that is both literally and figuratively transcendental. Perfection, a divine quality, and the artiste’s lack of human contact add further associations to the celestial metaphor. Felix Krull also hints at the transcendental nature of the aerialist in calling Andromache, ‘la fille de l’air’, a ‘Kuhnheitsengel’. Krull uses ‘Engel’ in both superhuman and Christian senses. Andromache is both a marvellous airborne creature and a chaste object of devotion. In the first passage below she is clearly the former sort of angel, in the second she is the latter :

Ein ernster Engel der Tollkiihnkeit war sie, mit gelosten Lippen und ges- pannten Niistern, eine unnahbare Amazone des Luftraunies unter dem Zelt- dach . . . Sie aber, meine Angebetete, obgleich Leib ganz und gar, aber keuscher, vom Menschlichen ausgeschlossener Leib, stand vie1 weiter hin zu den Engeln. (Mann, VII, 460 pp.)

This angelic aerialist may recall Rilke’s juxtaposition of angel and acrobats in the fifth Duineser Elegie of 1922. But Krull’s angel bears little likeness to the spiritual symbol in the elegies. Rilke never likens his acrobats to angels. Indeed his angel, quite the opposite of human, contrasts with the tumblers’ earthiness.13

VI Rilke’s elegy has less to do with the circus literally than any of the other

texts I have treated. Like the figures in Picasso’s ‘Les Saltimbanques’ of 1905, which inspired Rilke in Hertha Konig’s house in Munich in 1915, his performers do not appear in a circus setting.14 These figures are mere fragments of a circus, displaced in some vague landscape. They perform on a ‘verlorener Teppich im Weltall’. Their ‘Vorstadt’, neither country nor

ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE 28 I

city, is an apt setting for such wanderers, for they belong nowhere, they are always outsiders.

The most striking quality in Picasso’s figures is their isolation. Not only do they stand alone in their landscape of infinite emptiness, but neither do they relate to one another. Only the small boy looks toward his mother; the others, despite their physical closeness, look away from each other. It is just this aloneness in Picasso’s picture that Rilke interprets as lovelessness. Only at the end of the elegy might the acrobats attain love posthumously. Until then, love appears only negatively, as a lack. The young girl is shown without any endearing humanity, she is a ‘hingelegte Marktfrucht’ ; the lovers’ attempt at union resembles a mis-matching of animals; and most specifically, the mother is seldom tender to her loving These people seem incapable of love, as Rilke thought himself to be. It is consistent for him to associate these deft performers with love, which he saw as a spiritual skill. Hence he idealized the great female lovers-Gaspara Stampa, Heloise, Bettina von Arnim-for their ‘Herzwerk‘, their huge ability to love. By comparison with such ideal lovers, the artistes’ emotions are feeble.

Yet there is a vital link between the acrobats’ virtuosity and the superhuman skill of loving that they might attain in death. These two sorts of skill are parallel, the immediate, earthly one preparing for that other, hypothetical feat of the heart, ‘ihre kiihnen hohen Figuren des Herzschwungs, ihre Turme aus Lust, . . .’ The acrobats, having achieved the coordination of individual bodies that their gymnastic feats demand, might sometime complete the task of ultimate concord in mutual love. The unevcn sym- metry of this parallel is far from satisfying, but it does give some resolution, however fragile, to the constant tension of the elegy, its uneasy rhythms and contorted syntax that have been likened to the strained breathing of the tumblers themselves.

Like Kafka’s artistes, the acrobats are driven by an insatiable will. Images of this driving will dominate both the beginning and the end of the elegy. First ‘der immer kommende Griff’ tosses even the strongest men, just as August the Strong, King of Saxony, used to bend a pewter plate. Later the force of this will is connoted in the image of Madame Lamort, whose hat- making resembles the performance wrested from the acrobats.

. . . wo die Modistin, Madame Lamort, die ruhlosen Wege der Erde, endlose Bander schlingt und windet und neue aus ihnen Schleifen erfindet, Ruschen, Blumen, Kokarden,

kunstliche Fruchte- . . . . . . er wringt sie,

biegt sie, schlingt sie und schwingt sie, wirft sie und ‘iingt sie zuruck; . . .


Another striking aspect of the acrobats’ life is pain. Wedekind speaks of danger, Mann of ascetic discipline, Kafka of illness and cruelty as hazards of the performer’s life. But no author studied here insists on actual pain so constantly as Rilke. From the beginning of the elegy, the acrobats’ physical hurts form a pendant to their emotional lack. Also painful is the falseness of the acrobats’ show. Their act produces ‘Scheinfrucht’, a smile hides the boy’s tears. Only in death is there the true smile of lovers. Even their death, fabricated by Madame Lamort, has ‘kunstliche Fruchte-, alle unwahr gefirbt, . . .’ Their art of pretence, depriving the artistes of normal human respectability, debases their existence, making them like puppets of commercial deceit.

Dehumanized though their life is, Rilke’s figures are significantly human. In fact his first description of ‘die Fahrenden’ relates them essentially to all men. These wanderers, ‘diese ein wenig Fluchtigern noch als wir selbst’ are an extreme example of human transience. Factually, of course, they live more dangerously than most people; they constantly risk death in performance. And their skill itself is fleeting. What ‘true’ artists do lasts longer than the mere minutes that an acrobat can perform. But most essentially it is the wandering mode of life, their homelessness, that makes the acrobats more transient than the rest of us. Their fragile life is seen as ‘ein ausserster Rand des unseren . . . ein Grenzfall und ein Symbol unseres Daseins’.16

The acrobats’ vulnerability, which brings them unusually close to death, has been called existentialist. Whatever that term may mean, the elegy is indeed an extended query as to the artiste’s existence. The very first line probes their identity. Rilke’s ‘Wer aber sind sie?’ recalls Mann’s ‘Was fur Menschen! Sind es denn welche?’ Mann merely poses the question and answers it summarily, even trivially, by the doubt that circus people are human at all. But Rilke’s question sets the tone of compulsive probing that pervades all the elegies. The search for a human identity, which drove Rilke to define and re-define experience, is nowhere more restless than in this fifth elegy. The acrobats are a focal symbol of life constantly assaulted, even endangered by the vain quest for security.

VII What, then, is the common relevance of the circus in these seven examples?

There is no clear historical development of the circus-motif from Wedekind to Rilke ; indeed the circus seems to have the same basic meanings through- out the modern period. What it first meant, to Wedekind, was liberation from the repressive morality of bourgeois society. Glorifying the freedom and honesty of circus life, Wedekind shows us its healthy animality, both sensuous and aggressive, that exemplifies one of his ideals of life.

ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE 283

None of the other works is as didactic as Wedekind’s, but most attack some strand of the dense social amd moral fabric that underlies the circus experience. Felix K r d may seem to have little to do with social criticism, but the larger identity of Krull as rogue depends on the picaro tradition and its cynical view of society. Even Furlani, Hofmannsthal’s tribute to the grand style of the Eueopean white clown Auguste, is more socially relevant than a mere artistic phenomenon, for it is Furlani who shows Karl that innate grace can survive in a graceless society. Kafka focuses on the moral aspect of circus life. Auf der Galerie treats both the sensitive viewer and the performer in their brutalized relation to the audience. Bestially obtuse, this audience dictates the base economic motives that drive the director. Other social ills, such as isolation and rootlessness, prevail in the life of Rilke’s tumblers. It is this very dearth of social stability, a clear lack for the acrobats, that is admired by Wedekind and Mann. For their view of art is asocial, while the artists in the elegy are deeply tied to humanity.

The trait of the circus with the most social implications is its wordlessness. Pantomime in circus acts gives much of the contrast to traditional theatre, which demands a primarily intellectual response. The non-rational, silent aspect of the circus, which relates it to the very roots of performing art, was also seen as typically modern by Thtophile Gautier, who said in 1832, ‘Le temps des spectacles purement oculaires est arrive !’17 The importance of pantomime, along with general visual aspects of drama, is clear for Wedekind; both Jones’ article and Gittleman’s book highlight the focal role that pantomime plays in Wedekind’s own development and that of other modern playwrights. In this respect the later circus writers are again indebted to Wedekind, for they too make the visual communication central in their works. In Der Schwierige, for instancc, pantomime itself relates to a main idea in the play, Kari’s difficulty with language. Furlani is the mute man who says more to Kari than all of speaking society. Another example is the second paragraph of Kafka’s Allfder Galerie, where an elab- orate description of gesture shows that pantomime is essential as a mask for the hidden reality of the show. In both Kafka’s sketch and in Felix Krriff gesture is important, not only as a communication between performer and spectator that transcends the rationality of speech, but also as an act that is observed only. Spahr’s analysis of Airf der Galerie, cited above, concentrates on the sketch as a portrait of the observer himself, a figure Spahr finds common in the work of both Kafka and Thomas Mann. Mann’s Bajazzo, Spahr shows, is just such a person as Kafka’s circus-goer, who can only look at life, not participate in it. And Rilke’s artistes, though their act depends more on tumbling than pantomime, are also part of this silent world. Thus for each of the authors discussed here the circus’ lack of speech is a compel- ling feature.


The circus has a second meaning as a metaphor for art. Bcyond their alienation from the conventional social order, circus types resemble artists in several technical ways. Skill is one of the most obvious traits that link them with painters, poets, actors, musicians. Felix Krull, the would-be artist of deception, idealizes and identifies with the skillful Andromache. And the virtuosity of the ‘kiihnen hohen Figuren des Herzsprungs’ of Rilke’s acrobats belongs also to the world of art. Kafka’s Erstes Leid shows the tyranny of skill. Part of the skill essential to both art and entertainment lies in creating illusion. Expectably, illusion plays a big role in all the works that focus on the circus act itself. Mann and Hofniannsthal, whose interest in circus is mainly aesthetic, tend to idealize illusionistic art. Conversely, Wedekind has little interest in art and sees only truth here. Kafka unmasks the lies of the circus, for the power of illusion rules all his figures.

A third major significance of the circus is philosophical. Rilke’s acrobats are often seen as artists, yet much of their condition transcends art. Here Rilke stands quite apart from the other writers: his view of circus people has little in common with theirs. There are implications about the nature of man’s existence in Hofniannsthal’s treatment of the clown, but even these are not essential to the figure. None of the other writers relate circus- figures to the rest of mankind so closely as Rilke does. This may be mainly because Rilke’s inspiration lies in Picasso’s painting and his own experience of Parisian tumblers, both of which focus on a fragile existence. And it is just this fragility that Rilke sees in all men. Hard work and suffering, a permanent isolation, wandering and a fulfillment possible only in death : all belong to both Rilke’s image of the artist and to his larger view of modern humanity.

NOTES

‘Frank Wedekind, (Twayne World Authors Series) (New York, 1969); MorrutsheJte, LXI (1969), pp.

ZFrank Wedekind, Gesummelfe Werke, ed. Joachiln Friedenthal (Munchen, 1924, IX, p. 297. Swedekind’s own preference for circus-people-outsiders-shows his disdain for respectable society.

Only in his contact with the circus-milieu did he find a world without hypocrisy. ‘Krull’s identification with the performers also recalls Wilhelm Meister’s, though what is actually

envied is ditferent in each case. Meister wants to attach himself to the ethos of a troupe that he finds morally uplifting: Krull delights in the perfected image of his own sort of social deception, ‘Menschen- begltickung und -bezauberung’. That Mann’s aim in Kmll was often to parody the grand style of Goethe in Dichtung und Wahrheit and Wilhelm Meister is particularly clear in this circus contect.

$Thomas Mann, Gesummelfe Werke (Frankfurt, 1960), VII, p. 463. 6Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Gesummelfe Werke (Frankfurt, 19~9). Lustspiele 111, p. 222.

139-156.

~Ho?mannsthal, Prosa 11, p. 16. SFor a detailed stvlistic analvsis ofthe sketch see Blake Lee Spahr. ‘Kafka’s “Auf der Galerie” ’, The Ger-

man Quarterly, XXXIII (May: 1960). pp. 21I-zr~.

‘OBaudelaire, in a short prose piece from Le Spleerr de Paris, Le View Saltimbanque,’ also weeps silent tears upon seeing a miserable old juggler: ‘Je sentis ma gorge serrte par la main terrible dc I’hys- ttrie, et il me sembla que mes regards ttaient offusquts par ces larmes rebelles qui ne veulent pas tomber.’ (Charles Baudelaire, Guvres, ed. Y. -G. Le Dantec (Paris, 1954. p. 301). Baudelaire’s tears, like those of Kafka’s observer, may well stem from identification with the performer as artist.

ghat12 Kafka, Gesummelte Schrijm, ed. Max Brod (Berlin, 193:). I, p. 140.

O N THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE 285

”Kafka, p. 217. I2Robert Musil, for instance, likens the abstract mathematical study of Ulrich in Der Martn ohrre

Eigenschafteti to just such an act as Kafka’s aerialist does: ‘. . . er . . . arbeitete in1 gedampfien Licht wie ein Akrobat, der in eineni halbdunklen Zirkus, ehe noch die Zuschauer zugelassen sind, einem Parkett von Kennern gehhrliche neue Spriinge vorftuhrt. Die Genauigkcit, Kraft und Sicherheit dieses Denkens, die nirgaids inr Leberr ihresgfeickert haf. erfiillte ihn fast mit Schwermut’ (Miinchen, 1956, p. I 14). My italics are meant to stress the idea that the capacities of both aerialist and mathematician transcend the normally human.

”Kike’s angels belong to his imagery from the earliest poems on, so he need not have been influenced by other combinations of angel and acrobat. Still, he must have known Baudelaire’s ‘A une jeune Saltimbanque’, where the angel-girl, like Rike’s figures, performs on a sidewalk.

‘. . . dechue i present, te voila, ma pauvre ange, Sultane du trottoir, ramassant dans la fange L’argent qui doit sobler ton rude compagnon.’

“See reproduction in Pierce Daix, Pitusso (New York, 1965). p. 42. 15Rainer Marie Rilke, Gesamrnelte Werke (Leipzig, 1930). 111, p. 208. 16Heinrich Kreutz, Rilkes Duitteser Ele,qien, Miinchen, 1950, pp. 75, 84. ”Karl Gtinther Simon, Pantomime, Urspntrg, Wesen, Mdglirhkeiterz (Munchen, 1960), p. 32.

ASKING THE THING FOR THE FORM IN RILKE’S NEUE GEDICHTE

BY ELIZABETH BOA

EMERSON somewhere advises the poet to ‘ask the fact for the form’. On the evidence of the Neue Gedichte Rilke has clearly asked, if not the fact, then the thing. The term ‘Dinggedicht’ as used of the Neue Gedichte, implies objective presentation of a thing rather than subjective expression of emotion. Poetry aspires here to the plasticity of the visual arts, especially sculp ture, rather than to the lyrical emotion of music. Just as a piece of sculpture is a t once a thing in its own right and a representation whose form is derived from the thing represented, so the Dinggedicht should be a thing in its own right, but a thing whose form is determined by the object and not by the subjective feelings of the poet. Such a distinction between objective plasticity and subjective lyricism is, however, too simple. True, a Rodin statue, for example, derives its form from the object, but it also expresses the attitude of the artist towards the object. It is an interpretation and as such a blend of objective and subjective moments. Further, it is a representation in a medium, that is to say, something different from either the object or the internal feelings of the artist. And so it is with Rilke’s Dinggedichte. Analysis of three poems will demonstrate how very thoroughly Rilke asks the thing for the form of his poems, how brilliantly he translates the material into the verbal. But the poems show too how the very act of translation implies a subject. No lyrical ‘I’ appears in any of the poems, but the form everywhere betrays a subject reacting to and interpreting the thing. This is true of Rilke’s poems not just in the necessary and trivial sense that any poem must have been put together by somebody (always ignoring com-

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ON THE CIRCUS-MOTIF IN MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE