DIE RAUBER WALLENSTEIH WILHEDI THE STYLE AID FHIICTIOH OF THE IOHGLOGHE III THREE P-LA-YS HI FRIEDRICH SCHILLER THESIS FOR m DEGREE or PLIL -: L I B R A R Y Li Michigan State University This is to certify that the thesis entitled Form and Function of the Monologue in Three Plays by Friedrich Schiller: Die REiuber, Wallenstein, Wilhelm Tell presented by William J. Bohn has been accepted towards fulfillment of the requirements for Ph . D degree in German if? “~me Mag/@MZW Major profess0{ w w . Datem/ 0-169 this study concentr Eller's plays: the iii: dramas and the st Sofly‘ric, epiC, 811 whethe basic liter The predominant SW lining such facets of 212W (1.9., firs Muse, imagery. and i‘amonologue has, W 53m speech makes to 31'} the speech and no filer presents in his I Each soliloqwr in th‘ '=-:leand function. T1 951 are the followinE‘ Twin every play to £19 25$ The three plays iiéorScnmer's car \'58 transition from 3599p1gys reflect hi ABSTRACT STYLE AND FUNCTION OF THE MONOLOGUE IN THREE PLAYS BY FRIEDRICH SCHILLER: DIE RAUBER, WALLENSTEIN, WILHELM TELL By William J. Bohn This study concentrates on two interrelated areas of Friedrich Schiller's plays: the function which monologues have in the structure of his dramas and the style of the monologues. Style is discussed in terms of lyric, epic, and dramatic, criteria which Schiller used to describe the basic literary modes as he understood them. rDhe predominant style of any given monologue is determined by analyzing such facets of the speech as subject matter, perspective of the language (i.e., first, second, or third person), vocabulary, syntax, verb tense, imagery, and rhythm—meter. When analyzing the mnction which a monologue has, two aspects are emphasized: l. the contribution which the speech makes to the staging of the play; 2. the ideas projected through the speech and how these ideas relate to the ideals which Schiller presents in his play. Each soliloquy in the three plays selected is analyzed according to style and function. The reason for selecting the three plays con- sidered are the following. It is not necessary to analyze every mono- logue in every play to determine a change in Schiller‘s style of writing. The three plays considered represent the outset, mid—point, and end of Schiller's career as a dramatist. Consequently they coincide With his transition from Storm and Stress to Classicism. His cements on these plays reflect his deliberations concerning poetic form. The Ilile, lmever, it 1 Wales. For examp mil: in dramatic st hamster extent in W tiller utilized lyric lyletim'ng and APP he" as Schiller inflation of his play he constructs is £56 The shift in basic 3 'iller's transition fro Elam vertexes in Die fiancertain extent 1: ‘i‘lerlc temperament ' r15lis less frequent i : hematle style in l “the epicism. The 1! Iitlwcholeric. i-e- a1'lllon rather than e Tae sheer number 0f i‘ht play primeril ml of characters » William J. Bohn themes, motifs, imagery, and ideas around which each of these three plays is constructed share a. number of common denominators which facilitate comparison. The study demonstrates that Schiller employed the three basic styles in a wide variety of combinations within his monologues. At the same time, however, it is also shown that one of the styles usually 1 predominates. For example, the monologues in P_i_e; R'auber were written primarily in dramatic style. The monologues in Wallenstein, and to an even greater extent in Wilhelm Tell, were constructed around epic style. Schiller utilized lyric style much less often than the other two. H H I By defining and applying the concepts "lyric, epic,’ and "dramatic" as Schiller understood them, a coordinated study of the construction of his plays and the function of monologues in those poetic constructs is facilitated since the two aspects correspond. The shift in basic style and function of the soliloquy parallels Schiller's transition from a Sturmer _u_nc_i_ Driinger to a Classicist. The emotional vertexes in I_D_i_e_ Rfiuber are expressed by means of dramatic, and to a certain extent lyric style. These early speeches often convey a choleric temperament. The hyperemotionalism of the Storm and Stress variety is less frequent in the plays from 293 Carlos through Wilhelm _Te_ll_. Dramatic style in the monologues gives way to a more detached, objective epicism. The later monologues, especially in T_el_1_, are more choric than choleric, i.e. , they are employed as vehicles for reflective description rather than expression of emotional explosions. The sheer number of soliloquies drops drastically from the first to the last play primarily because of the increasing emphasis on a large bOdy of characters , representing various strata of society. ”hum tbr th Ml! mining the '1!- Goncepts expressed idle: for: of trope , . Elan-ohm Te ‘ “Marianna . Ming Thekla de “Nutty. fler1n:;; 111mm and her ch' Mlle same force. Exiting Schiller did “the he placed the ‘s ~‘I William J. Bohn As the larger body of people becomes more important this body- is given the function or commenting on the action, of representing the ideas of main characters, of proJ ecting the ideals permeating the moral atmos— phere of the play. Consequently the necessity for main characters delivering soliloquies was reduced. Another reason for the drop in the number of monologues is uncovered by analyzing the imagery—symbolism found in the speeches and plays. Concepts expressed in Qi_e_ Rauber through metaphor, simile, or some other form of trope, become elements of staging by the time Schiller wrote Wilhelm Tell. For example, Franz Moor projects the image of a trampled field which depicts his despotic drive in pig Rauber. In Wallensteins 23d Thekla describes Max Piccolomini as the symbol of trampled beauty. Her imagery has the same thrust as Franz's metaphor. In T_e];J_._ Armgart and her children are literal, concrete stage represen- tations of the same force. By incorporating the metaphor into the stage setting Schiller did not have to sequester Gefdler to express the idea; rather he placed the same idea starkly before the audience as action. h- -'|_ . 5. u a . Mi in partial Depaz STYLE AND FUNCTION OF THE MONOLOGUE IN THREE PLAYS BY FRIEDRICH SCHILLER: DIE REUBER, WALLENSTEIN, WILHELM TELL By William James Bohn A THESIS Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of German and Russian 1971 Irish to express .. this patient reading II! also thank Profes ifiu'sn and enoourag ~_.. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I wish to express my gratitude to Professor Raimund Belgardt for his patient reading of the manuscript and his thoughtful criticism. I must also thank Professors Stuart Gallacher and Kurt Schild for their criticism and encouragement. ii amnu-“i D :iiiller's Honolofiues “aim or the Monolos Whiterature. ~ - Ethic. . . - . glityle. . . ..... laiesme ..... little Analysis of Th Wehnologue: Ame 3licl’mologue: Wall Mic lhnologue: have. . . . . :\ .. \E} I \‘v Mr (1,1) Q1“ Yon Edelreich (' in “her (11,1) . . MW (11,2) . , Fri I {n ”W (11,3), . . “m N W“ Emilreich TABLE OF CONTENTS Table of Contents. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . Style in Schiller's Monologues . . . . . . . . . . . . . Definition of the Monologue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Secondary Literature. . . LYric Style . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . EPicStyle.................. Dramatic Style. . . . . . . . . . . Stlilistic AnalySis of Three Representative Monologues . LYric Monologue: Amalia, Die Rauber (111,1) . . . - - - 1 13)- Epic Monologue: Wallenstein, Wallenstelns Tod (II a . .. I l Dramatic Monologue: Franz Moor, Dle Rauber (1 , ) Procedure , Die :- \M . . Franz Moor (1,1). A1Ilalia von Edelreich (I,3). . . . . . . . . . . . . FranzMoor(II,l)..............-- ElderMoor(II,2)..............-- FranzMoor(II,2).............-~- KarlMoor (11,3), . . . s o u n n c n Amalia von Edelreich (111,1). . . . - ~ .13 .19 .22 .29 J. 1 1, WWW" Mum“ ( insischiller's "ma nation of the M may, Literatul‘ WW1“ ‘ ' ' hiefiylh - ' ‘ ' Maticstyle' ‘ Stylistic Analysis ‘ (hiclhnolofiue: Bpichnologue: Dramatic Monolw Pfoeetiure. . . . 3%‘II. Nzhor (1,1). . Mia von Edelreich i112 (tor (11,1) . 311111001 (11,2) . Moor (11,2) . Moor (11,3). . M m Edelreich TABLE OF CONTENTS Table of Contents. Introduction . Style in Schiller's Monologues . Definition of the Monologue . Secondary Literature. Lyric Style . Epic Style. Dramatic Style. Stl’listic Analysis of Three Representative Monologues . Lyric Monologue: Amalia, D_ig Rauber (III,1) . . . Epic Monologue: Wallenstein, Win—s M (III,l3). Dramatic Monologue: Franz Moor, % Rauber (II,l) Procedure . Franz Moor (1,1). Amalia von Edelreich (I,3). . . Franz Moor (II,l) Elder Moor (II,2) Franz Moor (11,2) . . . . . . Karl Moor (11,3). . . Ainslie von Edelreich (III,1)- rr-fi‘ R1 .10 .13 .19 .19 .22 .25 .29 .32 .32 .10 .11. .52 .57 .611 .71 mmmfi mmmmfi mmmm. Miel(V,l). . . , Mmmn. hm hr (v31)| t conclusion. . , WWW” Win53. Hallenstein (II, Wmmn, “Mmm‘ Introduction . . Hallenstein (1.1% 0W0 (11,5) . Octavio (II,6) . Griifin Tel‘zlgy (Ii Wallenstfin (III Karl Moor (III,2) . . . Karl Moor (1v,1). Karl Moor (1V,2). Franz Moor (IV,2) Franz Moor (IV,2) . . . Karl Moor (IV,3). Amalia von Edelreich (IV,b) Karl Moor (1V,5). Daniel (V,l). Franz Moor (V,1). Franz Moor (V,1). Conclusion. Wallenstein. Introduction. Wallensteins lgggeg. Dig Piccolomini . Wallenstein (II,5) Thekla (111,7) Thekla (111,9) Wallensteins 2351- Introduction . Wallenstein (I,h)- Octavio (II,S) Octavio (11,6) . Grafin Terzky (111,11) Wallenstein (III,13) Buttler (1v,1) . . .16h .16h .165 .180 .183 .185 .188 Wm (11.11 I lilllelllIell (rm; eOllclusdon. . . . anion. , . . at...” filing-(WM ' ' 'l Thekla (1V,l2) . . Grafin Terzky (V,8). Conclusion. WE}. - Introduction. Attinghausen (11,1) . Wilhelm Tell (1V,3) . Conclusion. Conclusion . Footnotes. . Bibliography . .191 -l97 -l97 -l99 .203 .208 .22h .226 .230 .256 it his we “dress new“: 1' I m of Schiller's; “it mdl'mtic st)!“- ammted this it am. 50111qu have easimricantly 8° amber of such SPeec @@ h, Since it Schiller often use zttese terms be aPPli‘ =Little style 0f m0! itimship between SW] :3: study steIns from the: of lyric, epic xit"sconeepts of li Acoutrehensive stud ting from the Schil ‘t‘rants closer and ' \W to date on the 1 {N ”Meet, or as a its Fs select one or INTRODUCTION This study addresses two interrelated problems of Friedrich— Schiller-research: l. the function which the monologue has in the structure of Schiller's plays; 2. Schiller's utilization of lyric, epic, and dramatic styles to construct monologues. The questions which instigated this investigation were these: 1. What function does the soliloquy have in Schiller's plays? 2. Does the function ‘change significantly from D_ig Réiuber to Wilhelm _T_e_l_l_? 3. Why does the number of such speeches diminish radically from D_i_e_ Rauber to Wilhelm ELL? Lt. Since "lyric," "epic," and "dramatic" are terms which Schiller often used to describe the basic literary phenomena, can these terms be applied to style——as Emil Staiger argues-—specifi- cally to the style of monologues in Schiller's plays? 5. Is there a relationship between style, function, and Schiller's transition from a Storm—and—Stress poet to a Classicist? The idea for the procedure of this study stems from Emil Staiger (Grundbegriffe £131; £93115) whose categories of lyric, epic, and dramatic style correspond closely to Schiller's concepts of literary modes. A comprehensive study of the monologue in any of Schiller's plays is missing from the Schiller studies; and such an important dramatic f01'111 warrants closer and broader scrutiny. In all of the studies publi'shed to date on the soliloquy in Schiller's plays, either as the Primary subject, or as a part of a general investigation of monologues, the authors select one or two speeches from a play for analys1s, 1 18 °° In addition to dis “manly, these 3. mfmthfi Main‘ unorthmi'e dimly! dhuutext. in the pl imlogues in terms c mu to Schiller's m“ ‘dhs seldom been exp hyiuvestigetion 0 dtstopuith the cons lthus. Schiller's \1 has itself to the hiS‘ it in the use of the I i‘dessary, however, t< ‘T'ddahe such determil “hie, which plays mldthis study are - .. .fisn ~05 the few and si "laiduoiut, and end "i rePresent his tra <3 co dents on these 2 leaving out the majority;L By excluding the majority of monologues in a play, these critics tend not to discuss the kaleidoscope of forms found in them. Nor do they consider in their discussions the general stylistic tendencies of the soliloquies with which a protracted study, such as I propose, is concerned. In addition to discussing the aesthetics and poetics of individual monologues only, these studies often present the monologues as entities separate from the remainder of the plays. In this dissertation I aim at a comprehensive analysis of the entire complex of monologues, within context, in the plays chosen. Also, by analyzing the style of the monologues in terms of the lyric, epic, and dramatic, I utilize an approach to Schiller's monologues——and to his plays in general—— which has seldom been explored.2 Any investigation of the monologues in Schiller's plays, however, cannot stop with the consideration of individual monologues in indivi— dual plays. Schiller's use of the monologue underwent radical change from EM to W_il_hfl Eli, and a comprehensive study must also address itself to the historical perspective, i.e. , to analyze the Change in the use of the monologue and determine its cause. It iS “0’6 necessary, however, to tediously analyze every monologue in every play to make such determinations. Therefore, the question of selection 8rises, i.e. , which plays to consider. The three which have been chosen for this study are 21:: Rauber, Wallenstein, and Wilhelm leg};- The re‘ELSOIIS are few and simple: 1. The three plays represent the outset, mid~pOint, and end of Schiller's career as a dramatist; 2' they represent his transition from Storm and Stress to Classmlsm; 3. . .. h hls Comments on these plays outline his developing awareness of t e .o:"-" -'. ' ‘.:'I".. H _ n. ‘m. n.‘ 3 epic and dramatic phenomena especially; Ll. the themes, motifs, imagery, and ideas around which each of these three plays is constructed share a number of common denominators which facilitate analysis. Whit“ “ uhuuersm» 'h°’ "h: Me in his presence: hdfluzius 9. Input :htue character ‘91 ltuouolosue at that Miner 03% “lion from the perSPe hhtems it a self‘ thug" hell )of the SP“ Gr'uudbem'ffe Q We from the poet ': ltdioh allows the a) t ‘ thou of e charactel dd various terms. \ute specific types “8 three categorie an aspect 1h ”d be sustained. hes a tharect ' er R s a ‘| “h the characte STYLE IN SCHILLER'S MONOLOGUES By definition a monologue is a discourse spoken by a person alone, or by a person, who, when not alone, does not take cognizance of other persons in his presence.l In analyzing a monologue there are two questions to consider: 1. how the character expresses himself; 2. why the dramatist has used a monologue at that particular moment in his play. Emil Ermatinger (g5 dichterische Kunstwerk) describes the soliloquy's function from the perspective of the character speaking in the drama when he terms it a self-analysis, a self—evaluation ("Selbstauseinan— dersetzung") of the speaker's status in his environment.2 Ehnil Staiger (Grundbegriffe deg; Poetik) , on the other hand, regards the monologue from the poet's perspective, as a structural unit of dramatic style which allows the audience to be aware of the intention and covert motivation of a character's behavior.3 With various terms, German literary critics have attempted to delineate specific types of soliloquies. Ermatinger, for instance, considers three categories in his discussion. There is a "technical monologue" which a dramatist utilizes when he needs to inform his audience about an aspect of his play so that the continuity of the action may be sustained. Another type, which he terms "dramatic," Expresses a character‘s attempt to understand his position in his environment; the character weighs the various facets of a problematic h it?” 'u huh; ," an *- d'frme moloi Mine 01' developmi iiuooiht in the act w” ”t' 3? "brid Whoa between segue ”“3 levels of a chm ”11! in conflict with 54d, me" ”‘6 presen é'“°s‘1illselt‘hri'c11 " Mat Petsch uses aZ'ihthe metim of 31mm“ dramatic W nlnction and .,. hsolu'loquieS. in Die dhotteu Triften"m “is‘eu ') to be more 11 Nhthehr Vie ichw wanes" re 5 situation. In a third type, according to Ermatinger, a character expresses the meaning which a situation has for him. He terms this type "lyric.“ Robert Petsch (My Formen deg Dramas) uses the terms "Rahmen," "Briicke," and "Kern" to describe the function of the mono— logue. A "frame monologue" has the function of initiating or termina- ting a line of development ("Entwicklungsreihe"), or of emphasizing a turning point in the action. It is often found at the beginning or end of an act. By "bridge" he means a speech which serves as a transition between segments of the action. In a "core monologue" various levels of a character’s personality rise to the surface, usually in conflict with one another. Such discourses, according to Petsch, often are presented in a quasi—dialogue form: the character addresses himself with "du." Though Petsch uses the terms "Rahmen," "Briicke," and "Kern" to describe the function of the monologue, he frequently employs the terms lyric and dramatic for the discussion of a monologue's quint— essential function and "Haltung." For example, he considers the frame soliloquies in D_i_e_ Jungfrau 3111 Orleans ("Lebt wohl, ihr Berge, ihr geliebten Triften" and "Die Waffen ruhn, des Krieges Sti'lrme schweigen") to be more lyric than dramatic. Wallenstein's "K'onnt' ich nicht mehr wie ich wollte?" represents a true dramatic monologue.S "Bridge monologues" resemble what he describes as "epic attitude" in his liking Formen 9531 Erz'ahlkunst6 in that they do not express a Conflict; rather they serve to instruct or portray a character reviewing eventS.7 It would seem, then, that Petsch finds lyric, dramatic, and perhaps epic to be more accurate descriptions of iii’iiiw ihhotinxer. mi 'Iiinger's "technical ninhich have not 11 liutic quality, ace initiation erupting iiaionvhich he has p iii, with this distin he other two form h'refleciive.“ "Tec iii the seventeenth—c meter on stage at a i-‘oier pondering a S Sohauer and Wodtke i‘ierovonililpert LS} iiionologic forms as ilie designates "(11‘9J diovever, admit th‘ FMathis brief Sui firms which continw 'i‘iiioal," and "reflei 3?:iedrich Schiller ' S il‘e these terms haV‘ 6 the possible forms which monologues may take. Wolfgang Kayser (Das sprachliche Kunstwerk) differentiates five ' and "dramatic." types, three of which bear the names "lyric," "epic,’ By means of a lyric soliloquy a figure expresses his subjective attitude ("seelische Gestimmtheit"), a distinction similar to that made by Ermatinger. What Kayser terms "epic" bears a resemblance to Ermatinger's "technical monologue": both make the audience aware of events which have not been presented on stage. The expression assumes a dramatic quality, according to Kayser, when a character finds himself in a situation erupting with personal conflict, and he verbalizes a decision which he has privately made to alleviate his problem. Here again, with this distinction, Kayser and Ermatinger seem to agree. The other two forms which Kayser distinguishes are "technical" and "reflective." “Technical monologue" specifies that type of speech which the seventeenth—century French tragedians employed to have a character on stage at all times. A "reflective soliloquy" reveals a character pondering a situation.8 Schauer and Wodtke (Reallexikon $9}; deutschen Literaturgeschichte) and Gero von Wilpert (Sachwdrterbuch gar Literatur) advance the same five monologic forms as Kayser. They vary from him only in terminology: what he designates "dramatic,” they term a "monologue of conflict." 9 They, however, admit that it has a dramatic form. From this brief survey of secondary literature on the monologue,lo the terms which continue to reappear are "lyric," ”epic," "dramatic,” "technical," and "reflective." Since the subject of this dissertation is Friedrich Schiller's use of the monologue, we must ask what signi— ficance these terms have in his writing, and which of these we can use ,_ in: work; mu 'Reflective'i minute a mode ‘ qignificoht aestheti For Schiller and G iiieni impressions cha mimics make this ifiiial exhibiting a i 5588, his mood. At ' $185,119 seems to 13‘ times and the vorli my, nor depict th' .355ion is his sentiel he. The objective i 3m to Staiger: "1 hind, sondern Zust! i‘iundiiatur in der 1 1'51, Especially from helmcist's ati eisieoome part of hi Wie I Mir C 7 in a study of the monologue in his dramas. In his poetic writings Schiller, like Goethe, uses the terms " "epic," and "dramatic" to the designate what he considers to be "lyric, the three natural forms of literature. These, they contend, rarely exist alone in any work; rather one finds them interwoven with one another.ll "Reflective" appears in his philosophical writings, but not to designate a mode of poetics. "Technical" does not appear in any significant aesthetic context. Lyric Style12 For Schiller and Goethe, the expression of an individual's sentient impressions characterizes "lyric poetics."l3 Several recent German critics make this assertion also.lu The lyricistvemeaning any individual exhibiting a lyric attitude——"ex—presses" his momentary feelings, his mood. At the moment he expresses his personal subjective feelings, he seems to lack intellectual, reflective perspective to his experiences and the world around him. The lyricist does not delineate causality, nor depict the world of objects. Rather the cause of his expression is his sentient reactions to stimuli. He feels but does not analyze. The objective world becomes part of his "Zustandlichkeit," according to Staiger: "Alles Seiende. . .ist in der Stimmung nicht Gegenstand, sondern Zustand. Zustandlichkeit ist die Seinsart von . l Mensch und Natur in der lyrischen Poe51e." 5 Sentient stimuli from the environ, eSpecially from experiences, become part of the lyricist's mood. The, lyricist's attention is attracted to what he feels, and 0bJects become part of his feeling. For instance, Goethe's "Mailied": Wie herrlich leuchtet Mir die Natur.’ interns"hinnerli| Mimi Obiekt, . I on intensity and Iimly instinctive ( institute the moo hose characterist histic forms an ind kph in a monologue- nttmles for 137109; disgramatical, 3-1 fins the seeming coni heist, as in Goethe'! Wi D1 3:2 tried to re—arrain “hit, an entirely d insult result. G0“ ”in ore a statement ‘2‘ . “Lit 1s spontaneous; 8 Wie gl'a'nzt die Sonnei Wie lacht die Flur! This stanza does not constitute an objective description of what nature is at the moment of expression; rather it is the verbalization of the individual's enthusiastic feeling. Such a state of subjective being Staiger terms "Erinnerung," meaning "das Fehlen des Abstandes zwischen Subjekt und Objekt, . . .das lyrische Ineinander."17 This intensity and lack of perspective, as well as the lyricist's seemingly instinctive ("unwillkiirlich") reaction18 to the world around him, constitute the mood of the lyrically disposed individual. These characteristics of disposition are conveyed by the various linguistic forms an individual uses when he speaks lyrically, as for example in a monologue. Goethe and Schiller assert that there are no strict rules for lyrical language;19 it is characterized by a lack of graphic, grammatical, and logical cohesion.2O This lack of cohesion conveys the seeming control which stimuli and emotions have over the lyricist, as in Goethe's "Ganymed": Wie im Morgenrot Du rings mich anglfihst, Frfihling, Geliebter! Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne Sich an mein Herz drangt Deiner ewigen Wirme Heilig Geffihl Unendlich Schone. If one tried to re—arrange these lines according to rules of grammar and logic, an entirely different structure and, therefore, a different mood would result. Gone would be the expression of enthusiasm; it would become more a statement of fact, not a celebration of love. The lyricist is spontaneous; he is sensitive to a stimulus; he expresses HM“ " _-I _. ._. .' .i r I L'--" . _l' to emu-Ii? 3' " f -.. Mm... a! 2.: «um-s mum _ L - II I . --1 -. w..- :99" ' F firmlavdsm- g'imbhvibfli ‘ um .1‘0 V I . _. , :-s i. 1.7-." ‘ :";--.: ':",‘s.=.-:‘ ‘ WW titan," 'ms,"i 1 Vite Speaker is cog "it, is foreign to ("I ' i‘ifiienii- . .in'irt das II i Willi-"23 Likevis i i it. to establish th i will to lyric langw I Wits the existence . Since the lyricist i lufirsi-person pronm I that." Asia the example 1 fiediacy between the ions immediacy, 1 Moms of the verbs i59.150 express a 1y! hPitt becomes a theme to? the individual ' s E‘t‘mioist: it remain rital reaction to it e hand, expresses hi 9 what he feels, and the emotion dissipates quickly for him. He seems generally oblivious as to whether what he says follows rules of causality. In the syntax, the result of the lyric phenomenon is a pure paratactic construction: one expression follows another without strict syntactical relationship.22 Conjunctions, particularly causals such as "veil," "denn," "dais," "ob," are usually absent because they indicate that the speaker is cognizant of causality. Such recognition, Staiger asserts, is foreign to the lyrical disposition: "Im Moment des Verstehens. . .hort das lyrische Dichten auf; der Zustand wird zum Gegenstand."23 Likewise, the use of "sein" in the function of a copula, to establish the physical being of objects and their attributes, is alien to lyric language.2u If the lyricist uses "sein," it usually signifies the existence of an emotional reaction. Since the lyricist expresses his personal feelings, he frequently uses first-person pronouns,25 e.g. , the "mir" in the first stanza of "Mailied. " As in the example from "Ganymed," "Mailied" conveys the impression of immediacy between the lyricist's feeling and its expression. To convey this immediacy, the lyricist will frequently utilize present— tense forms of the verbs. Staiger argues that the preterite can some— times also express a lyric mood: in lyric style a subject taken from the past becomes a theme of the expression; in epic style it is an ob— Ject of the individual‘s observation.26 The event has an immediacy for the lyricist: it remains fixed in his memory, and he expresses an emotional reaction to it, even though it is past. The epicist, on the Other hand, expresses his detached attitude by describing a past event “mammoth e]: 'mnshuisci We, wenn ich micfl ihhlt, fiber den is W opinion.” By W30 one could add, Mounts) , rhyme , Wt role in commun term subjectivit fiilhmcterizes the Ether makes all phen 4h. the modern (i.e. Em9581118 as his one Wing, dealt more wi {enhfi The epicis 3thologist who intu Sittents and the str Smiles t1181113]; phenom ffihentel world (VII IMaking his obser "m as a wise man wh 10 as an object which he observed. Another feature of lyric style is its shortness: because intense emotions are short—lived, lyric expression tends to last only for short periods.27 When discussing lyrical poetics, Schiller emphasized musicality more often than any other feature. He wrote his friend KBrner (25 May 1792): "Das Musikalische eines Gedichtes schwebt mir weit ofter vor der Seele, wenn ich mich hinsetze es zu machen, als der klare Begriff von Innhalt, fiber den ich oft kaum mit mir einig bin."28 Goethe held a similar opinion.29 By musicality they meant, above all, rhythmic effect;3O one could add, as Staiger does, the elements of sound (vowels and consonants), rhyme, verse and stanzaic forms, all of which play an important role in communicating a lyric disposition.3l Epic Style Whereas subjectivity characterizes the lyric disposition, objec— tivity characterizes the epic disposition.32 The epically disposed character makes all phenomena objects of his attention. According to Goethe, the modern (i.e. , eighteenth—century) epicist's concern was much the same as his ancient Greek counterpart who, when describing or narrating, dealt more with the appearance than with the causality of 33 Phenomena. The epicist's attitude could be compared to that of the phenomenologist who intuits phenomena, analyzes them, i.e., distinguishes the elements and the structure of the intuited phenomena, and then describes them,3hr phenomena which, can be of the physical, the moral, or the mental world (v11::551,3o ~ 552.16)- In making his observations, the epicist remains composed: he aPpears as a wise man who surveys the world around him "in ruhiger ‘_ - I 3L“- 99:21!) 1 L' the”? ...-.a' [flu Rpm ,[h] hit-ken der E Int who" 1" M m- nicht mend it w nit Liebe hheepicist. then: Wt than reachinfi ahees for his audi than about and in h' Acconiingly. “h We points to some hist's intuition: ". it as therall an. "37 “Whit: it doe: the he is interests ittpresent somethint tmsively in Adelbe ert 91!: larissa' s mysteri< nOch mirehenh Witht' Uher a wEldeser stan den ungt ham ’ m ll Besonnenheit," according to Schiller and Goethe (VII:552,l9v-20). The epic situation is one in which a narrator relates events, already past, for the entertainment of an audience.35 Such discourse imparts the narrator's composure, mentioned above, as contrasted to the lyricist's emotionalism. Schiller elaborated further on this narrative form in a letter to Goethe (21 April 1797): . . .er [der Epiker] schildert uns bloB das ruhige Daseyn u[nd] Wirken der Dinge nach ihren Naturen; sein Zweck liegt schon in Jedem Punkt seiner Bewegung, darum eilen wir nicht ungeduldig zu einem Ziele, sondern verweilen wir uns mit Liebe bei Jedem Schritte.3 For the epicist, then, according to Schiller, description is more important than reaching the conclusion of the story. The epicist reproduces for his audience the appearance of the phenomena which he has heard about and imagined, a process which Staiger terms "Vorstel— lung." Accordingly, whereas lyric language releases an emotion, epic language points to something, it illustrates, gives shape to the epicist's intuition: "Auf ein Verdeutlichen, Zeigen, Anschaulichmachen n37 kommt es iiberall an. In pure epic expression, the imagery would remain graphic: it does not have symbolic value for the epicist because he is interested in the appearance of phenomena, not in how . 8 . . they represent something metaphysmal.3 Such imagery ls found extensively in Adelbert Stifter's works. In Der Hochwald, for example, When Clarissa's mysterious singing is described: . . .noch marchenhafter war es, wenn eine schone Vollmond— nacht fiber dem ungeheuren dunklen Schlummerkissen des Waldes stand, und leise, da nichts erwache, die weiBen Traumk'o‘rner ihres Lichtes darauf niederfallen lieB, und nun Clarissens Harfe plb‘tzlich ertdnte-«aman wufite nicht woher, denn das lichtgraue Haus lag auf diesen groBen Massen nur wie ein silberner Punkt-und wenn die leichten “- u“: t" i' . rs- .. M Hon-rue 3 I "~= swarm 1‘n'ffr. _‘,-n."I.. agfl. . ' "us:- an 7.. an:- M Learn.“ "f ‘. ' . .o . " I.‘ . J' -, - a'tai‘s‘nv} __ ' "I” i [Flirt . 70f}? ‘- ' .L' r..'-' ”Ff-”1 that“ in' I. .- hemomectiw’ I - hmntsphors: "a l hitchtes." As the: ! Ihtmphic, verba' l “describe. é IPiclmguage is a: “nation of the epit battle, can be alt: I. Mains the same. in income“. in lyric ‘ W118 aliphatic Mm“ Stifter's) E thiebasis of this uits from the eric I ftelpression after thicttpe, 0n the ot hit ted sentence.hl I httions Joining the he verbs of epic 1 ate forts be°ause \% past. [13 l2 einzelnen ‘I'Bne wie ein si'iBer Pulsschlag durch die schlafen- de Mitternachtluft gingen, die weithin glanzend, elektrisch, unbeweglich auf den weiten schwarzen Forsten lag: so war es nicht anders, als ginge sacht ein neues Fiihlen durch den ganzen Wald, und die Tone waggn, als riihre er hie und da ein klingend Glied. . . . In this passage there is a high frequency of words which function as comparatives: e.g. , the adverb "wie" and the conjunction "als." Colors are projected in adjectives: "weiB," "lichtgrau," "silber." There are also adjectives of mood: "leicht," "suB," "schlafend." There are metaphors: "Schlummerkissen des Waldes" and "Traumk5rner ihres Lichtes." As they appear in Stifter's language, these elements create a graphic, verbal presentation of the area and mood which he wants to describe. Epic language is also characterized by its relative uniformity, a reflection of the epicist's composed attitude.”O Homeric hexameter, for example, can be altered, but only subtly, so that the overall rhythm remains the same. There are none of the emphatic stresses which one encounters in lyric rhythm. As pliable as prose is, its rhythm also remains unemphatic when the poet describes, as in the example taken from Stifter's Hochwald. Several critics maintain that the Syntactic basis of this unemphatic, epic language is parataxis. It ; differs from the lyric parataxis in that the latter is the arranging 0f one ex’Pression after another without particular grammatical sequence. The epic tYPe, on the other hand, indicates a rhetorical period, a comPlEted sentence.l‘Ll It is a period construction with fewer causal conjumtions Joining the sentences than, for example, dramatic language- The verbs of epic language will normally be found in their Preterite forms because the events which the epicist Speaks Of are already past . 1‘3 r .- ‘ I, '_ ','_ .*_:'..w._ ._ .. L. I I?.l"'-"':I'fl r .. -l ‘ ‘:""h- _r _ p I I I. I - 4' p : ‘ “story- The uni: 51”mm'itltfll’t desi WWW! epic 1 “description of III character reconnt ”Went. Inadramatic situai ' i “mallty of things, tires is d6eply (livid Emtflother; 110 um: étisters Lehl‘ 8hr \ \k at ten toward an unf {fitted Ciro“Instances order of the envi; entail concerned 4 I .thth that Conf; f'is‘ | . \ thself continua] Eleilits ’ things are E "tad The completeness of epic parataxis parallels the independence of parts which Schiller considered a principle characteristic of epic poetics.2m In April 1797, Schiller and Goethe corresponded frequently about the characteristics of epic and tragic poetry. And when they referred to epic, they meant the M or Odyssey. Each book of either work can be considered as a separate entity because each contains a complete story. The narrator could re—arrange some of the books within either work without destroying the total unity of the work. On a reduced scale, any purely epic passage would be a complete statement, a complete description of some phenomenon, as in a monologue, e.g. , when a character recounts the events leading up to his particular predicament . Dramatic Style In a dramatic situation, according to Schiller, nature, i.e. , the causality of things]45 appears to be awry. The world the dramatist Perceives is deeply divided by diametrically opposed forces in conflict With one another; no unifying force seems evident. As described in Wil@Meisters Lehrjahre, the dramatic situation involves fate driving men toward an unforeseeable catastrophe. Fate signifies diSJ'Ointed circumstances in the world of the poetic work};6 The adverse order of the environment confuses the dramatist, meaning nOW any individaul concerned about the discrepancies in nature. He appears to be cognizant that conflicting forces control his existence. He finds himself continually exposed to sudden changes Of events when, like Oedipu5, things are going right for him and his happiness seems near at hand. .."e I I. I, -._ --' _. . . 1],"..17‘ 1f 5*“ I I “1 . 1-- ‘r'rfl C: ”:1 . .v—Jfl" '- 4 ‘16"! L . _.. a“. . ' . .1«'-" . ,-' . gm 4:: w an .1 he“ ”:9.“ in " _..-.-..-'- 5.1390"! _, ‘... lug-'1' 1 I. I‘ LIF'I‘I- I I doom“ as MW. If he‘d his“ men the 1 assessable: he “attain that ids Schiller maintains fits the resoluti°n fieipstion of the end issues is Mme“ iisto the end as t° trim 's involvfflnent 5511 resolved ”is , sceordi ,and the end is When one Would 10« !'l sees so much inport‘ ‘\ s0? eVents becomes 11 , 'LSohiller asserts ‘ sum, is, "aw: When, . . "51 ‘th . EWilld tomd 8. AU ' Elolem whet pro] ‘: life is . Judged}: 1h Dramatic style, according to Staiger, has two subcategories: l. problematic style and 2. pathetic style. Problematic style focuses on the enigma existence is to a particular character as caused by the conflicting forces in nature. The character's problem is to determine what causes his world to seem uncertain and what form it should take};7 If he cannot make such a determination, life will remain problematic. But if he does become, even vaguely aware of the difference between the reality around him and some ideal form which he finds preferable, he can convert his resolution into action in order to attain that ideal form. Schiller maintains that all aspects of the dramatic phenomenon #8 point to the resolution of the problem. Critics who call this anticipation of the end "Spannung" concur with Schiller that such anticipation is fundamental to dramatic style because the suspense remains to the end as to whether the basic conflict of forces and the individual's involvement therein will be resolvedf"9 If the problem is not resolved, according to both Kayser and Staiger, the goal is not attained, and the end is tragic; if it is resolved, but in some other 50 manner than one would logically expect, it is comic. And since the end bears so much importance in the dramatic structure, the relation- ship of events becomes important. In a letter to Goethe (25 April 1797), Schiller asserts that the dramatist comes under the category 0f causality, i.e. , "etwas kann und darf. .als Ursache von was anderm daseyn. ."51 One event leads into the next in such a way that they build toward a climax. To explain what problematic style is, Staiger compares it to a trial: life is judged,52 not simply described as in epic style. ‘15; 'I'-= ‘ - A -.' a - r - I __-"- _ 1: ‘.. -~ I: I: 'H. ""3 . " _ ., ."" ,Jfigmm‘.’ ‘rww in WNW a. In“ I "fair 11"“ maxim n: amt .Itao In! H V! -‘ ~.-- midi-1:; mm - .- .4 - . . I . _ ' . I ' “ m " b . 1 Q, I .Cu‘fi . «L .. i" ' l. I "' ' ' I .3 ’ ‘3 S J. ”In.“ .5) . .. H " -1.'_u.' :.""-i‘ fifigxatfiamld mimmtmfl : Ifliet of forces cm! ' '“flbience. SChil W19. that "der Mom "msfinfliskeit de: v “WK dli-l'l'nn liegi 3°“! event among a s: at”, he f<>cuses on Martial“ men t 11w Hammipulates TM “her subcateg E'99P ls "pathetic st dices “101310113. 5h mutation or a More in (“1:172 binds, 335 ~ 17 in Net “dag er [ms h\v 01113 Verl “Sets t dageg 15 The dramatic poet, like the lawyer, tries to construct a case in order that his audience, the jury, can understand the causality of the action and the necessity of the outcome. Each act, each scene, each sentence should seem to result from preceding events. Whereas the epically disposed individual tries to comprehend the totality of his world, the individual with a dramatic—problematic attitude concentrates on that one phase in his world where he finds a conflict of forces causing the discrepancy between himself and his moral ambience. Schiller wrote Goethe concerning Wallenstein, for example, that "der Moment der Handlung ist so pragnant, dais alles was zur Vollstandigkeit derselben geh'ért, natfirlich, ja in gewissem Sinne nothwendig darinn liegt, daraus hervorgeht."53 In his Geschichte des dreiBig-J'ahrigen Krieges, Schiller recounts Wallenstein's assassination as one event among a series of events (IX:379—80). In the dramatic trilogy, he focuses on the causes of Wallenstein's fate; he selects that particular moment from which all subsequent events necessarily follow. He manipulates the subject matter to suit his intent. The other subcategory of the dramatic phenomenon mentioned by Staiger is "pathetic style." By "pathetic" he means something which influences emotions.51‘L But for Schiller "pathetic" is the aesthetic manifestation of a more fundamental disposition: the will to exal— tation (VII:172,35 — 173,11).55 Exaltation, he asserts is a mental attitude. Zum Gefiihl des Erhabenen wird also schlechterdings erfor— dert, daIB wir uns von jedem physischen Widerstehun s— m vollig verlassen sehen und in unserm nicht physi- schen Selbst dagegen Hiilfe suchen. (xv:16h,18—21) “IT-5mm: m m o - ; tithe core of - , this situation. Illlttel'intic (VII:23 Hunt to instinctive 'Iiriiutl intelligent ”hint about it. A intionm MY Vag its recognition i m“'56 Near the b tines, Schiller pre tattbout how the at} titted. its More definiti- iitdin'dun tains o- ne disgusS ed: itch herv ' 3%thth (it ”“11 attains this 1 VI “fishimself t0 the 1 mah—fi__ _ _ 16 Exaltation is the decision to raise oneself morally, i.e., by means of ideas above the discrepancy in the environment, to the level of an ideal form of existence (XV:157,1 ff. ). If a person is able to exalt himself, he gains a moral victory. This means he wins in principle, even if he has not been able to change the situation confronting him. At the core of exaltation is the individual's will to do something about his situation. When Schiller calls "will" the basic human characteristic (VII:23l,5—7), he is referring to an intellectual will and not to instinctive inclination. In Schiller's distinction, the individual intelligently analyzes a situation and desires to do something about it. At first, the person involved in the dramatic situation may only vaguely recognize the existence of a discrepancy, but this recognition is enough for him to decide to correct the problem. 56 Near the beginning of the drama Wilhelm Tell, for instance, Schiller presents Stauffacher deciding to speak with Walther Fiirst about how the atmosphere of Oppression engulfing Switzerland can be lifted. The more definitively the will is exercized, the more freedom the individual gains over his own situation, a freedom whose essence Goe-he discussed: Betrachten wir uns in jeder Lage des Lebens, so finden wir, dais wir auBerlich bedingt sind, vom ersten Atemzug bis zum letzten, daB uns aber jedoch die hochste Freiheit iibrig geblieben ist, uns innerhalb unsrer selbst derge- stalt auszubilden, dais wir uns mit der sittlichen Weltord— nung in Einklang setzen und, was auch fur Hindernisse sich hervortun, dadurch mit uns selbst zu Frieden gelangen konnen. A Person attains this highest degree of freedom when he willfully brings himself to the point where he acquires inner peace because his I 21": h...\ I - - : . I" .. r . .. . ms i- L“ . - - . .331 " . um; st.“°’*"‘" ‘ I . . . ‘VM - .Tr'aaz-w “"5" ' ”up I ' . 1 77-. A‘H I — 'II‘I- fl‘.‘ " I I. . ‘ _ _. - _ ' . --F ' . , . __ . . ‘-.--- 1-3.7 " mad Jan P2...”- M 11 can": .. .i m 2 - 'e 3:. W - . h I film,“ ll I who: (11'th i that sic11min zu dem ‘ I”order to demon . : iltie attitude, we _ ' “Pmsecution and ‘ if I “lineman idea Mm“ from tn fisseonstitutes th< I “Mean be similm lition is taken by 0] hides are presentet Moth and eventual is nurse, and Paule distress, Paulet t1 Millions are elfibc 17 moral being harmonizes with the moral world order. Such a state of being suggests Kant's categorical imperative: "Handle nur nach derjenigen Maxime, durch die du zugleich wollen kannst, dad sie ein allgemeines Gesetz werde."5.8 The person with an attitude toward exaltation will attempt to surmount all hindrances barring him from such an ideal. Succinctly summarizing the dramatic disposition Staiger writes: Das Pathos drangt vorwarts wie das Problem. Jenes will dieses fragt. Wollen und Fragen sind aber eins in einer futurischen Existenz, die, je nach Temperament und Kraft, sich mehr zu dem oder jenem entscheidet.59 In order to demonstrate what forms are used to communicate the dramatic attitude, we can utilize the trial metaphor again. A trial has a prosecution and a defense. Each side presents a case for or against a certain idea and/or person; each witness is examined and cross—examined from the opposing points of view. This dialectic Process constitutes the core of the trial's structure. Dramatic dialogue can be similar to the debate of a courtroom examination: a position is taken by opposing sides regarding a particular issue. The two sides are presented in the dialogue so that the audience may hear them both and eventually make personal judgements as to which side is right. Maria Stuart begins with such a dialogue between Hanna Kennedy, Mary's nurse, and Paulet, Mary's guard. Kennedy presents the case for her mistress, Paulet the case against the Scottish queen. And these two positions are elaborated throughout the remainder of the play. The syntax of this dialectic form differs only slightly from the Paratactic~period construction of epic style. In a dramatically struc- tured speech, as in a trial, fact is built on fact to prove a case. , ., ‘ ’2 "I .o a ' ’ 'II I T E — I I I’ -: I. En: ‘I':l Etta; A '3 . '="_.‘. 'I I Z. I - .0“ g .- ‘fl . I '_ I ‘ I - #1., on" 35'... ,Janm ”first .n! it“ are 3‘3" «in! new ' h ' when ' ' Inn-nu ILLV anti-11m . t > H ._ , ‘ N”. ' ‘ ._.,-'-E ,‘J ,..:-- W‘md \ I " flit-it could be i l WW he an a: I when descript: a h: 60 i the facts. Th1 ! ! ”Hi, the epicist . ' i medial QHestions, 1:, '61. Jimtion, rather t ascribed u dramati In their Joint ess l illler and Goethe ass. "‘i l x 111 Meant time, 1 3.. nacho), Therm . isthepreteri1 “film language. I IWHQ’ 01‘ the 1y] \,. Vie linkage Pres” muses existence t “r 5' 9r . S thls conflict 18 The type of sentence corresponding to the registering of evidence, to the stating of facts, is parataxis. But, in an examination, as in any analysis, one eventually draws certain conclusions based on the evidence. In language, conjunctions convey the relationship of cause and effect. And when such conjunctions appear, the syntax is termed hypotactic. Drawing conclusions can be essential to dramatic style also. If it could be hermeneutically isolated, the syntax of dramatic language would be an amalgamation of parataxis and hypotaxis, parataxis conveying the description of facts, hypotaxis the drawing of conclusions about the facts.60 The basic difference between epic and dramatic syntax is one of degree: the dramatist is more interested in the causality, the epicist in the form of phenomena. If a character poses existential questions, e.g. , "To be or not to be, that is the ques— 61 tion," in order to ascertain the reasons for the conflict within himself, and if he reaches decisions regarding the subsequent course of his action, rather than just describing phenomena, the language can be described as dramatic. In their joint essay £3103}; epische _u_n_d_ dramatische Dichtung, Schiller and Goethe assert that the dramatist portrays events as taking Place in present time, whereas the epicist reports them as being past (VII:550,8—10). Therefore, whereas the prevailing verb tense in epic language is the preterite, in dramatic language it is the present tense, as in lyric language. But, in lyric language the present tense conveys the immediacy of the lyricist’s subjective reaction to stimuli. In dramatic language present tense signifies the presence of a conflict Which causes existence to seem problematic to the dramatist. In that he ponders this conflict and seeks a. solution to it, he attempts to -. ‘ 7 " kfikh ‘ .«. I WW chit-h. sun—IBM ”16:,” um . g ,3 .mm . . ._- ”gamma cw I ‘I‘.'..J-.|- - . _ .. __ .. 1.5). u to; .msfla- 1““ ,3 .. . . '. W! "9:1 ‘13,.“ “5"." . I'll mmha.. .-vI_—: -' I 1 "J! I. ~ I. II ' ‘ inmtaupoeti Maizexpress that Muses in that let: Willa: "Das ist Mtiert, nicht I ! RuinCkliche Offen‘ he, each object, ‘ Wingthat part1Cl Mions, certain Sin hiicfigure in an e] I trance of phenomex W118 Meanings be; Wity he attempts The following thJ :19“ use of 1m ”h Stiles More Glee “flame 0f 1y: 19 62 mfiicipate the course of events: he looks ahead to what might follow. By way of contrast, when lyrically disposed, an individual seems to be totally involved in his own feelings; he appears to remain unaware—-or mmoncerned——with what will come to pass. To Schiller, part of the awareness expressed by dramatic style is the use of symbolism. Referring to dramatic characters, he wrote Goethe that all poetic persons are symbolic beings, meaning they repre— sent and express that which is characteristic of humanity.63 What he expresses in that letter corresponds to Goethe's definition of symbolism: "Das ist die wahre Symbolik, wo das Besondere das Allgemeine reprisentiert, nicht als Traum und Schatten, sondern als lebendig— augenblickliche Offenbarung des Unerforschlichen."6u In a drama each fight, each object, each event represents some part of the order gwerning that particular poetic reality; i.e., they have certain finmtions, certain symbolic values. Transferred to the monologue, a pomfic figure in an epic attitude contemplates the objective, external qmearance of phenomena; in a dramatic attitude he sees the same objects aslwying meanings beyond themselves: i.e., they are symbols whose camality he attempts to understand.65 The following three speeches have been chosen to illustrate Sdnller's use of lyric, epic, and dramatic styles because, of the afliloquies in his plays, these three seem to exemplify each of the fimeestyles more clearly than other such speeches. Lyric Monologue Amalia, Die Rauber (III,l) An example of lyric monologue occurs in the third act of Die Réuber ”I. it ir-lfii' A.“ ~.J ms: In? 1” gal! . _cn" . 11m; .w‘hum'm' a? "f. l ' -. . e» ' - .l‘ l " . 7. ' .0‘ Heel with the tom Mceheing that '01 t. he first and r: Mere, function as 1 Euphessioh governs Kites e young man's : ‘? thteh verb in the st ‘ teeth as h copula v1 | “emanates to t] ‘I I Weeih" in the pre 1that this stam I l l I . I e BeWine with the "teeth, the singer 1 pt Wee, but tc "i‘reh esehce. Sub J Wm“ "Unser" j h . Mine the first. e he ”93 to conerey V Shh WWW-white \ :lee‘ ”HIV . eh Sement I'EE 20 which begins when Amalia, who loves Karl Moor, appears on stage alone and sings about a past love. This love is enthusiastically remembered in the lyrics of her song. The musical effect of the language results from the verse form that Schiller employs: it is a trochaic meter in five feet. Enhancing the musical effect of this basic rhythm is the alternating rhyme scheme (a b a b) found in all five stanzas. The monologue exhibits alternate structure similar to, but not ’66 t identical with the form sometimes associated with songs (A—B—A) he difference being that the third section is not a repetition of the first. The first and fifth stanzas, parts one and three of the structure, function as prologue and epilogue to the middle stanzas. Epic expression governs the first stanza: using similes, the singer67 describes a young man's beauty and his gentle mien. "Sein," the only inflected verb in the stanza, supports her epic description since it functions as a copula verb in the syntax: i.e. , by using it the singer related predicates to the subject of her son, the young man. The use of "sein" in the preterite and the unfragmented parataxis underlying the syntax of this stanza are typical features of epic style. Beginning with the second stanza, and continuing through the third and fourth, the singer no longer directs her attention toward the young man's appearance, but toward the sentient reactions that she experienced in his presence. Subject and object unite as indicated by the posses— SiVe adjective ”unser" in the third line of the second stanza. It is the only time the first—person form appears in the song, but this one time suffices to convey "Er—innerung.” "Sein Umarmen——wiitendes Entziickenl--" (II:96,8) describes her SUbJective, sentient reaction to the young man's embrace. She still l “ms-2"! ~73: . _ 1 - . i "u".9 'l“ I- - ‘91 .m Ageing! M 3' . . . flare-mil" I ' We c" L- .3‘.’ 5" “IF ”15mm “it!“ thrift-J‘- w“, -;. . .- 9591'." 1'” p been. ! m, w; “thin stanza vh monument, the Mines of the fourt beetle after noun, e Mining. This immediacy on three stanzas unde: he“, ll "ht ziicken , it's physical beizh M95 sentient men We subj active b. E’fihhehe"-~the verb “timing to fir. i ten," and "brennel “W Netics acc< \p ., ehfhhleuhd des Sp] Fa I } nip ' my of Scull! Ct 21 remembers her feeling with an intense, positive sensation of enthusiasm, as if she were experiencing it at the moment she speaks. Gerhard Storz aptly describes such remembering in Schiller‘s works as "riickfiihlend."68 Despite the fact that the verbs of this second stanza remain in the preterite, the fragmented parataxis conveys that the songstress's mood is lyrical rather than epic: she verbalizes her emotions as she perceives them . The momentary sensation of direct involvement becomes even clearer in the third stanza where present—tense forms of verbs appear. Because of an enjambment, the third stanza flows into the fourth. In the first two lines of the fourth stanza verb directly follows verb, noun directly after noun, expressing the intensity of the experience for the person singing. This immediacy and intensity are also conveyed by the vocabulary of the three stanzas under consideration: e.g. , by the verbal nouns "lhnarmen," ”Entziicken," and ”Fiihlen;” by the nouns referring to parts of man's physical being, e.g. , "Herz," "Mund," "0hr," whose mention generates sentient memories. Dynamic verbs help to describe her 11 n momentary subjective being: e.g. , "klopfen," "wirbeln, rennen," "zerrinnen"—~the verb "sein" does not appear in these three stanzas. Words referring to fire indicate intense energy: e.g. , "feurig," "Flammen , " and "brennen . " Lyric poetics according to Goethe and Schiller is the "Ausbildung _"69 der Geffihle und des Sprachausdrucks derselben. The noun "Ffihlen" then associates these lines with the lyric disposition as the two poets describe the phenomenon. "Ineinander spielen" alludes to a "musicality of soul" corresponding to ”dem lyrischen Ineinander” which er. .- n. £1...- .-_ .n -.‘- ._'-- - ':-_.- II. .‘ w ‘ I' "' ..g.;.1_._,_f:'.5 25E? .3 5“le , _ W . Ila“, _- L" .. ._. I " 1}th an '-.-. V 1 , “I ' His-net? . a new an!- we: Jun an: " ' I “.1 '- "“ qiszM-n ISP‘LIJ'IL' ' - ' Won-'1 "‘ 311s... _ -,.._. 37,1331. 9:... .9 "t it- WMM." " I then: is teach Mt, hmctioningf '1" the two verbs in, the lamenting o; lthan of the first mm uflderscorin! W and or the Stem tend “Mate strt with. thin to Staiger, i itseriptive rhetori witnessed in th Wing lines form a ethehung Man has 3 wallen :15 tile) Wallenstein N stances}? Taken 133 mnol 08118 than m 22 "70 The sense of spiritual unity experienced Staiger terms "Erinnerung. by two individuals in love is likewise expressed in the words "Seele rann in Seele" and the past participle "zerronnen." In the fifth stanza, the third section of the ternary structure, an elegiac mood replaces the enthusiasm of the middle stanzas, which form the "B-section." The songstress becomes objective in contemplating that her lover is dead (II:96,20). The verb "sein" exerts a strong influence, functioning here as an existential verb rather than as a copula. The two verbs "stahnen" and "wimmern" express, in the present tense, the lamenting of the young man‘s passing. The parallel con- struction of the first two lines and last two functions as a structural repetition underscoring the sadness which the singer feels. The "Ach" at the end of the stanza caps the spirit of resignation created by the verbs and stanzaic structure. It is an epilogic comment on her experience. The song as a whole centers around the theme of love which, according to Staiger, is the characteristic theme of lyric poetics.71 The descriptive rhetoric of sublimation in the first stanza, the ecstasy expressed in the middle stanzas, and the plaintive mood in the concluding lines form a unit because the singer's experience of love for the young man has stimulated each of her responses. Epic Monologue Wallenstein, Wallenst_e__i‘r_1_s__'ll)_d_ (III,l3) In the monologue to be analyzed as an example of predominantly ePic style, Wallenstein recounts history and describes his immediate 72 circumstanceS. Taken as a whole, chronicling is more important in his monologue than making a decision. When he does draw a . . H‘- - i' 3.: ' =_.- .x' a '4‘- h .. ... 'H'?~jfif_31lr' nil-flM'fiC' “its!“ 5 _ Ha - I "' ‘ ‘.‘KI 3'11“: 3-“ yak-m” I ..._:{ :. M - T's-M ,., ”up," boon nah! - __ ' 1- 51-?” 95,1 Tr‘f: th , l l " ‘ her-email “hitters of the . fiwiheflapsburg ‘ iMarines What he W a refine, the e “Mir of indepem been is an in] tench; MEtapho] i iilatices, and eVents. : teething,” to a t t heath, force. H ohmia With a si t I I I I All Lee IDS Ba been hasten the“ i it. h, 23 conclusion at the end of the speech, it does not represent a change in attitude or a decision designed to alter the course of events. Rather he reaffirms that there is a creative force in him which he considers to have been, to be, and to continue to be a quintessential part of his being. The force carries him on and will make him vic— torious, despite the change in circumstances. In the description, Wallenstein offers a sweeping, though one— sided picture of the times, centering around himself and his relation- ship to the Hapsburg court. He revies the history of the relationship and summarizes what has been said previously in the trilogy. In the sense of a review, the soliloquy stands apart from the main action; it has an air of independence. Imagery is an important factor in the descriptive language of this speech: metaphors and similes are used to graphically portray situations and events. For example, Wallenstein employs a metaphor to compare himself to a tree, stripped of its foliage but still containing the creative force. He depicts Tilly's defeat and Gustav's entrance into Bavaria with a simile and a metaphor: Am Lech sank Tilly, euer letzter Hort, Ins Bayerland, wie ein geschwollner Strom ErgoB sich dieser Gustav. . . . (11.5556-58) To Wallenstein these images do not have meaning beyond their graphic quality, i.e. , they are not symbols. With such figurative language this character expresses how he envisions his past. The syntax of Wallenstein's soliloquy is characterized by a full Parataxis: there are none of the fragmented sentences which signify lyric and, to a. certain extent, dramatic expression. The only causal '. .-J.. I. I .. . - . . .. a ; I t . . _- H“ I -- " ' e- '3‘u5;nef "HI-1m u I. a.“ he: Raider. o1-:5n '-ns~ _ r": ,9: oa-anaoielvld vised the! 19 1-135 -.'-‘_~. «If; ._;n.. . hearts are, re |resent tense tom e Itte subJective im Mt tense, Wollen: Wired: e-8-, "Nc mention remain t “We and how they he linguistic fe tithe e state of co i . ‘W'WMtnpn E “heed t ' hroushout 1 ! he . i "Jed 1n the Thirty I 1 he . \ .Jlfliitttes 8. Pause with the line (in tether" meaning th “mailed on his 2h conjunction to appear in the entire discourse is "denn" (1.5560). It functions to explain a vital step in Wallenstein's second rise to power: soldiers were scarce and the kaiser needed help. But "denn" does not function to convey a change of emphasis to causality, rather it makes an important step of the description more comprehensible. In the following sentence, Wallenstein returns to description: "Da wandte man die Augen / Auf mich. . ." (11.5561—62). The verbs are, for the most part, in the preterite. Occasionally a present tense form does appear, but when used it ordinarily does not connote subjective involvement as in lyric language; rather, by using present tense, Wallenstein compares his current situation with what has transpired: e.g., "Noch fiihl' ich mich denselben, der ich war!" (1.5570). The description remains objective, i.e. , he depicts phenomena in his ambience and how they relate to him. The linguistic features discussed in the preceding paragraphs indicate a state of composed, detached reflection. Only once does Wallenstein seem to become intensely emotional, that being in lines 5567-69. Using the preterite he recalls how he saved the kaiser a second time by creating another army. He reminds himself that his name was feared throughout the world, meaning that part of the world involved in the Thirty Years' War. Abruptly the tense of the verb changes to the present tense and he begins to recall events as if they had an immediacy for him at that moment. The dash at the beginning of 5570 indicates a pause during which he calms himself. Then he con- tinues with the line quoted previously: "Noch fiihl' ich mich denselben, der ich war" meaning that he has regained his composure and can again lucidly reflect on his own feelings. By understanding his situation, ’ 7 . , . 7-7, , 1' '|_l- ...): I a: ”amines ‘ .. '" I I W11L'éfté"? £er £353” mm so: fly |. -_I I" ...1- z. "- I 4": nr-I-II- ‘ - - I - m .: . . a- ' w m I I-‘Inln I. w v I 'I’ul .. ‘ I u]: . i I I .'.,.,A I' . I. I‘ll]. r .... ') fl ' 'r-m; fies-.‘wmm (:1. i'“ ' I 'I_-'; "I la. '- . 3-3 . ,- l . . F“ “Mule or the MM Franz bar 5 “monastic 5i hmience should m] i W’ Schiller Pla i; me allbJIJllctive moo W & “upm‘iso W The first is I: 51th "I l "he! Moor wi :heated by some 3mm his name. We recovery Comp g . “WM-1 situation ' I:‘ I ~! the {'le fort- M ‘2 l I tissubjlmctive f0: .: ”We'll,“ For F: «state or being t‘ l .e feels frustrat. (:8 \w as he indie; ___‘_ “.MFH 7.. 25 Wallenstein gains a historical perspective: he believes that the past can potentially be recreated in the future. In this epic disposition, history seems to Wallenstein to be a continuum, and there are few, if any, points along that continuum at which one must make decisions which would alter the course of events toward the achieving of a goal. Dramatic Monologue Franz Moor, Ea Rauber (11,1) An example of the dramatic monologue occurs in _Qie Rauber, second act, when Franz Moor expresses dissatisfaction with what he considers to be a problematic situation. To communicate the uncertainty which the audience should understand in Franz's character at the moment in the play, Schiller places two of the three verbs of this first paragraph in the subjunctive mood. The third verb is in the indicative and used as part of a comparison. Both subjunctives are formed with the verb "sein." The first is a "concessive subjunctive" form;73 it indicates that the elder Moor will probably recover from months of emotional strain caused by sorrow over his other son, Karl, who he believes has dishonored his name. But, the elder Moor's continued existence and probable recovery complicate life for Franz. In the latter's opinion the optimal situation would be his father's death. Then Franz would assume the family fortune and power. That such is not the case, in Franz's mind, nor is it likely to be so, is expressed by the second of the two subjunctive forms in this paragraph, the "hypothetical subjunc— tive" "ware.”b’ For Franz there exists a discrepancy between reality and a state of being toward which he wants to strive. He feels frustrated but is by no means willing to accept the _Status 939 as he indicates in the second paragraph introduced by * res-aw w '2'" ‘ I : Illa-"1"!“ *. .'-' ' ' l" :51 ‘9'} .'.\.-u~.. arc: wwfl’hufi' M90” 39‘” ',fl’ ' ._ ”I -.L:u.:. eta. a..a..-. ...- ;. ....‘s a: mango .7th and: on“ - - 2-. ..H‘ ”tr": "'. sen-1.: :- 1953' 1535.5 Wow his: ” ' Emmi 1 . _ 7 . ”his neck, m; “”59 PM! to veil 1 m” M in the f1 “litr- With yet , ”Min: "Und '11. 9. ”Hiram, mm , ha Wines hilasel: ! lmflsider its flora: He gives widen“ fines When he exp“! Saintsnt in a ream zmutionwhich he ca wemmifests hi and the mum]. Wething is, rat thing for “We“ willresolve the PI ‘5 is second paras: ‘la ttEMDts to find 26 questions concerning the justness of his predicament: "MHssen denn meine Entwfirfe sich unter das eiserne Joch des Mechanismus beugen?" (II:S6,lO-ll). The dichotomy established in this statement is repre— sented by "meine Entwiirfe" and "Joch des Mechanismus." The former alludes to his plan to become sole ruler over the Moor estate; the lat— ter refers to mechanics of life which sustain his father and prevent Franz from attaining his goal. Thereby a figurative yoke is placed around his neck. This and a similar question which immediately follows it cause Franz to weigh the feasibility of abbreviating his father's life so that in the future his (Franz's) desire will coincide with actuality. With yet another question he succinctly states the problem before him: "Und wir vermogen doch wirklich die Bedingungen des Lebens zu verlangern, warum sollten wir sie auch nicht verkfirzen k'dnnen?" Franz imagines himself to be faced with a physical problem and does not consider its moral implications at this point in the play. He gives evidence of his intent to do something about his circum- stances when he expresses his willingness to actively manipulate events rather than passively accept fate. Here, in the monologue, he expresses this intent in a reserved manner by predicating any action upon finding a solution which he can covertly execute. The interrogative sentence structure manifests his attempt to fathom the meaning of existence and understand the causality of things. He is not satisfied to simply know that something is, rather he inquires why it exists as it does. By searching for answers he creates a suspenseful atmosphere as to whether he will resolve the problem at some future time. The second paragraph transfers smoothly into the third in which Franz attempts to find an answer to the question which he poses at the . t. :le- l' H a wmémtri‘w.“ l'u lament-m .-"'"‘-'":: f - -. . . ”f. _ ' ' .:----7,“ 9r”: ‘mm min I ‘J.'l.--. J" '14“; ' M. ; . . '--"'"'-"-- ' . “an an! :m ”Wm . ' , ...-,9” :- .. - a . ._. ‘ '. . _ Imam: hex-eel ' l mMeidenscha: ’ . 'lflatelyfollonng' hishpomnt; m its Schlofl des Lebl “fiber-ha! ein 0: ‘ heOitclusion he rem L3: I kion since the sub. {1" :il hiW9- But he r: .: W“! lingers. ? [he uncertainty 1 heissertive temper We of the pang] g thematic language has as the con t1 h. Vida result of the ascienee mi] 3 in nest (1W,7 ‘12 “that as on 03115 a] "u on he mst be a 27 end of the previous paragraph. The first two sentences of this paragraph seem at first to be epic expression. Using verbs in indicative voice, Franz calmly recounts what medicine has to say about the mechanics of life. But these sentences are the expression of an epicist only on the surface. In "pure" epic expression, descriptions of phenomena are more important than conclusions about them. But for Franz, the case is just the opposite: he recounts in order to find answers. And here his answer is "Leidenschaften mifdhandeln die Lebenskraft" (II:56,2T—28). Immediately following this conclusion he explains why such a considera— tion is important: "Wer es verstiinde, dem Tod diesen ungebahnten Weg in das SchloB des Lebens zu ebenen?——den Korper vom Geist aus zu verderben-—ha! ein Originalwerk3—-wer das zustand' brachte‘?" (ll:57,l—S). The conclusion he reaches in this quote is itself a problematic con— clusion since the subjunctive mood conveys that the potential exists to manipulate. But he refrains from making this a direct statement; some uncertainty lingers. The uncertainty which the subjunctiVe expresses passes into the more assertive temper of the indicative voice in the next to last sentence of the paragraph in which the importance of causal conjunctions for dramatic language is evident. The consecutive conjunction "daB" functions as the controlling element between two clauses, making the second a result of the first: i.e. , because the mixing of poison has become a science facilitating the discovery of the limits to human nature, one can, therefore, control death by gradually reducing the heart beat (II:57,7—12). Such deductions again demonstrate that Franz concentrates on causal relationships in this monologue: to change his situation he must be aware of why it is the way he perceives it to be m M iii "~7- R‘s-Hun“ ..." I.- 2' In“ am. ’ 16-? m .1“ n1 " ...-qglh‘Is 49 " '1‘. h, _: _ .. :‘tr. -: l. .3: ‘ .. ...-I- ._.:_|: v ,3 fiw'zflilmJ "ants". """' ‘Eifintd ' fl (1W7: WW6 mution til at; his intant to! m fourth W381 um :11 Kerk 8811‘ irimjty not evide Maph Franz b68135 Mimi means by W e his problemati< the previous quote: 'liuit ihren Leibe ‘t Vihlen mfissen? then?" (II:57,lll- ”he. symbolizing t with body: " he" Wolf represent re h." After conside 0hhedismisses, ‘Mrsenal of de ea mid" his unto ”ti Ja keine ‘1’ ’10‘11). Previo 28 and determine what will alter it. Awareness of the manipulation of life by means of poison induces him to still further mental interrogation. And this interrogation discloses more clearly than before his determination to rectify this problematic situation: "Wer sollte nicht auch hier seine Flfigeln versuchen?" (II:57,l2—l3). As he gains knowledge and approaches a definitive solution to the problem before him, he more confidently asserts his intent to control the moral environ. The fourth paragraph, which begins with the question "Und wie ich nun werde zu Werk gehen mfissen. . . ‘2" (II:S'{,lh), expresses a resolve and finality not evident in preceding paragraphs. With the fourth paragraph Franz begins the transition to action in that he considers practical means by which he might shorten his father's life and thereby remedy his problematic situation. This is evident in the continuation of the previous quote: ". . .diese sfiBe, friedliche Eintracht der Seele mit ihrem Leibe zu stdren? Welche Gattung von Empfindnissen ich werde w'a'hlen mfissen? Welche wohl den Flor des Lebens am grimmigsten anfeinden?" (II:57,lh—18). He weighs one potential remedy against another, symbolizing them in a series of images of animals which destroy the human body: "Wolf,” "Wurm," "hallische Eumenide," and "grabende Schlange" represent respectively the emotions "Zorn," "Jammer," and "Reue." After considering these and several other possibilities, all of which he dismisses, he decides on despair as the ultimate weapon in his "arsenal of death." Once he has decided on this emotion, he considers his plan to be complete, "denn (spottisch) des Zergliederers Messer findet Ja keine Spuren von Wunde Oder korrosivischem Gift" (11:58,).0—11). Previous conclusions create more questions to be - .r—i J -«u¢.l V news; .5» 40-in xrijmzin“ «:4 .=-::-: saw an 111-19 Hal! " ._'.‘.'."-5‘|' LL .3 ' -- m!“ :ml‘iMflsfe alumina-sq ‘ . ‘ I I - them I \ tweeofl‘ranz'sy w WWW”; Mtic‘hflotactic i ‘1 i y “W's lest won 5 | ”itching Prefect MM. Such a p] I W in this Charm i! Woes. “I! he ”Mom has . Him intense exp] intensification F1 Wtfirms (first 1 Mon (second paraé moo (third pare is“ myoontrol of < a . . M1“ to specii lithe following MGM will be anal) insider emetic! 29 answered, but this one is the climax toward which he continually points throughout the monologue. It represents the potential fulfillment of the wish he utters in the second paragraph: "Und doch mdcht' ich das nicht gern selbst getan haben um der Leute willen. Ich mEScht' ihn nicht gern getdtet, aber abgelebt" (11:56 ,15—17). As he expresses his final solution a causal conjunction ("denn") again has an important position in the sentence structure: it introduces the cause of Franz's satisfaction. The prominence of conjunctions such as "daB" and "denn" give the language of dramatic style its particular paratactic—hypotactic character . Franz's last words before another character enters are "Wohlan denn" which Schiller prefaces with the stage direction "entschlossen" (II:58,l2). Such a phrase evinces the determination which has been created in this character to carry out his plan and lift himself above circumstances . The monologue has an incremental structure which develops into the final intense expression of will. With increasing concentration and intensification Franz presents the difficulty of his situation, in general terms (first paragraph), analyzes the justness of nature's creation (second paragraph), analyzes how life can be controlled and terminated (third paragraph), and considers the specific means of effecting control of death (fourth paragraph). He traverses from generalities to specifics. Procedure In the following study all the monologues in the three plays selected will be analyzed in a similar manner. In addition the analyses will consider function. The method used to present the analyses is 5 4 :aa' s; 'ra%$**fl5eb $53“ letsalasnn-annallf '. ~___ ' ‘“ =4' 9. 151' m WNW“ J ' I1? ' -! T'Em‘Lfl . 33-3'6158 I!“ “mi! ; :1 .n--._._,; -- an. at -f§flztit1e of I; I -- Wmmfl I) Warns of “lyri: tunneana hand in the precl i I“issel‘htion does in r Mwmm Whites, e.g., 1 I maristics which E ‘ flWteristicg a: .. “financed into t] M be diverse m Man lessarily the Seine. In the analysis c 0 WW 319“»th a . WI? 8 1 K :‘ tenSe ”lemme, 3111):): 3O induction: first the phenomena are described, then conclusions follow. The analysis proceeds by placing the monologue in its particular frame of reference, within a play. Next follows a description of the speech's style. The third point of the analysis is a discussion of the monolo— gue's significance and function within the play's structure. As the title of the dissertation states, this investigation deals with the style and function of Schiller's monologues. Style is discus— " "epic,“ and "dramatic." The criteria for sed in terms of "lyric, determining the styles in which Schiller created his monologues are discussed in the preceding introduction. Therefore, the remainder of the dissertation does not constitute a continuing process of defining lyric, epic, and dramatic styleS, although new criteria are introduced several times, e.g. , "addition" with regard to epic style. Only those characteristics which are relevant to a particular monologue, and not all characteristics associated with, for example, lyric or epic styles, are introduced into the discussion of that monologue. Soliloquies are shown to be diverse mixtures of the three styles rather than being purely one style or the other. Furthermore, style and function are not necessarily the same. In the analysis of style such things are considered as: l. The subject matter: e.g. , does the character try to come to terms with a discrepancy in his environ? Does he remember an ideal past? 2. The perspective of the language, i.e., first, second, or third person. 3. The vocabulary: what forms of speech predominate? Nouns, verbs, adjectives? What type of content? e.g., abstract nouns or verbs of violence? 14. Syntax: parataxis and/or hypotaxis? Are there particular word orders, such as interrogative or disjoined, which continually recur? 5. Verb tense (present, preterite, future) and voice (declarative, imperative, subjunctive). 1 5". 3. n ’I I! I o .... 1m _- In 5:- ' _ I-- . - I ‘. . “5“. p In .— [Id—"..."; “Bi-3"}: HIM -. I... nit-1|. -5 I. .I ‘ . - . ‘ . ‘-_‘alr:5..' . I‘ I *I J ..- ‘H 15 MM! 511‘ ' " --h.:.‘.: I: 7-4.}! ..s . .r..- -.-I '.'-'"-.- _ ' 1'“; ‘ ‘Jl’ émvwiitnala ~ 91"“- . - -4 ;_'.. gm. Willie}: are con; W1 function. P] 'Miclllar' 50111qu W why did Schil‘ “lion in the play': We and tension? r!" 1-- g a - ,; fission of ideals? “Physical m, Win “”13 Whi< W the discllssiox meal Motion of i “chillers aesthq all as {m Other Wariekare it found in a Mirth if 011(1er and mt 31 6. Rhetorical figures, e.g. , anastrophe, aposiopese, auxesis. 7. Imagery, particularly the forms in which the images are phrased (metaphor, simile); 8. Rhythm, meter, rhyme, especially when lyric style is present in the form of a song. 9. Length and structure of the monologue. The latter refers to the sections into which a monologue may break. 10. The disposition being expressed by the language: e.g. , emotive, descriptive , discursive . When dealing with the function of the monologue, there are two aspects which are considered: 1. its physical function, 2. its meta- physical function. Physical function refers to the contribution which a particular soliloquy makes to the staging of the play. The question is then why did Schiller place a particular monologue in its unique position in the play's structure. Is it supposed to build or relax suspense and tension? Is it to provide a vehicle for the emotional expression of ideals? Is the function lyric, epic, or dramatic? Metaphysical function signifies the ideas present in a monologue and what relationship these have to the ideals governing the play. The existential forms which Schiller idealizes in a play fall under this area of the discussion. The symbols and motifs determine this meta— physical function of a monologue. Where applicable, thought constructs from Schiller's aesthetic, poetic, ontological, and historical writings, as well as from other poets, philosophers, and critics—-especially his contemporaries—~are introduced into the discussion to help clarify a form found in a particular speech and/or play. In this regard, symbols from folklore and mythology are also utilized. 1 1.4.1:, VI ' "r‘ '- - ' i -_. E “W“;- l . fill. 93 i I 7’"; .‘.--'- I -.. f. Q'Fl‘sm. k Qua-1:" o! .‘i '1' N 0"“ "I Dfl IDFr'i-f (‘- ---."-" " 5:.” _-_-v f‘filqfl' _ «4-9: "'44" ..- ...-5'01 1 . t ". -)_ _‘n =- --E‘-’L—~1 ‘h-l 3'" _ . " . M. 21.13: ffiL -'.'l---’ mama ' WWW interplay:- i the plmy's first Intention betvee i1. ltming the con Illfsnfly member s intrast to the in We dutiful son. termed treatment m use (II:26,l9-23) It is not until bi» that the latte in with his fath QM he has broug MES concern for h :“m’lisheso an we“ his fathe mm? is mad” \n "I (I IL 30,19‘22 DIE RAUBER In Die Rauber, Schiller's first publicly performed and published play, he utilizes monologues nineteen times, more often than in any of his other plays. Franz Moor (I,l) The play's first monologue is delivered by Franz Moor. It follows a conversation between himself and his father about Franz's brother, Karl. During the conversation Karl is described as a social criminal and a family member who has dishonored his name (II:21t,25—26). By way of contrast to the image of his disloyal brother, Franz presents himself as the dutiful son. In his language Franz reveals a jealousy for the preferred treatment which Karl has received in the past at Franz's expense (II:26,19-—23) . It is not until the elder Moor exits, and Franz utters a sarcastic laugh, that the latter's role comes into question. The laugh contrasts sharply with his father's sadness in having to disinherit Karl for the dishonor he has brought to the family (II:30,8). Because Franz demon— strates concern for his father in the preceding dialogue, his laughter now establishes a contradiction between his overt expression in the presence of his father and this private expression of mockery. The discrepancy is made more explicit with the statement "Ich muid diese Papiere vollends aufheben, wie leicht konnte jemand meine Handschrift kennen!" (II:30,l9—22). The letter which supposedly relates Karl‘s 32 h 9!! diese Brag! 5”“ I15.11:!" (Ii ”tunes, (138 . ”We Plan, 1 “Franz's words. M" t° his inter tindefim'te "einer ttrererence is n ‘elast semen“ of threatens to di its cost of the el iistdto resolwe a thin sch-0n. ”focusing at te wie . t suspense is 33 criminal activity (II:22,9 ff.) is Franz's fabrication. The laugh and the statement about his handwriting nullify what he has already said to his father and place a great deal of importance on the monologue which Franz delivers after his father's exit. The first paragraph consists primarily of vague statements which require further explanation: e.g., "Tro'ste dich, Alter, du wirst ihn nimmer an diese Brust driicken; der Weg dazu ist ihm verrammelt wie der Himmel der Héille" (II:30,9-ll). And: "Er war aus deinen Amen gerissen, eh' du wuBtest, dais du es wollen ko'nntest" (II:30,ll—l3). Up to this moment in the play, no expositional material has appeared to give mean— ing to Franz's words. Even his next statement only leaves an obscure allusion to his intent: Da miiBt' ich ein erbarmlicher Stiimper sein, wenn ich's nicht einmal so weit gebracht h'altte, einen Sohn vom Herzen des Vaters loszul'dsen, und wenn er mit ehernen Banden daran geklammert wa‘re. (II:30,l3-l6) The indefinite "einen Sohn" keeps the speech on an impersonal plane; direct reference is not made to the elder Moor or Karl. It is only with the last sentence of the paragraph that the vagueness somewhat dissolves: Franz threatens to dislodge Karl's memory from his father's mind, even at the cost of the elder Moor's life (II:30,22—25). By stating a goal designed to resolve a problem in his existential sphere, Franz anticipa— tes future action. By focusing attention on what will ensue, a dramatic situation is created: suspense is engendered as to whether the elder Moor will embrace Karl again or whether Franz will successfully execute his desire.1 This same polarity also underlies the conflict throughout the play. I , _. y . a , _. 'I'I-i ... . _..-.. e“. -.' . _IJI'I'Ii "’1' V _.-.;.-.-_._-.-r..-"_ ‘c M m .. . ""-..- ". . 1'54?“ ' '. $3.; '. in” 3'? qflli £19136 9" " 9-! _ I I- I I “w; I 'u . _ , "mun 0M m m M -- 1 h ‘ " II. I.“ I - .‘q’fgeuq :IIa‘jIT . I Ii\I“l ' I. .. '- ~"'L . '. - '2 .:‘- ..‘II‘V {"5 MIN» .f._'--.'"'I-I ' " -‘. [prrobImtic di' ; mastitis change: thnofquestiom “reality or his si ill'um bin ich :1: him nicht der hn H‘stlichkeit 0 sie bei meim hr min die 1 W11? Diese Hot ht von eilen M! the Middle three I “is; he attempt with! form. PM Franz ls QUE umpfinSity to con x” of maP'IYSical , it we force, but a m . % “musical. I \n I” eXtensiv 3h The dramatic mood of the first paragraph is continued into the second which begins with the vehement statement "Ich habe groBe Rechte, fiber die Natur ungehalten zu sein, und, bei meiner Ehre! ich will sie geltend machen" (II:30,26—-27) , a typical Storm and Stress cachet of the individual who recognizes no law but his own.2 The impassioned statement of will quickly shifts to the expression of a problematic disposition. The syntax of the remaining sentences reflects this change: twelve of the fourteen sentences are stated in the form of questions concerning what, to Franz, is a conflict between the reality of his situation and that which he thinks it should be. Warum bin ich nicht der erste aus Mutterleib gekrochen? Warum nicht der einzige? Warum muBte sie mir diese Biirde von Hiifdlichkeit aufladen? gerade mir? Nicht anders, als ob sie bei meiner Geburt einen Rest gesetzt hatte. Warum gerade mir die Lappl'éndersnase? Gerade mir dieses Mohren- maul? Diese Hottentottenaugen? Wirklich, ich glaube, sie hat von allen Menschensorten das ScheuBliche auf einen Haufen geworfen und mich daraus gebacken. . . .Wer hat ihr die Vollmacht gegeben, jenem dieses zu verleihen und mir vorzuenthalten? Konnte ihr jemand darum hofieren, eh' er entstund? oder sie beleidigen, eh' er selbst wurde? Warum ging sie so parteilich zu Werke? (II:30,28 — 31,5) In the middle three paragraphs he concentrates on answering these questions; he attempts to understand why his situation takes its Particular form. From Franz's questions a pattern to his thought evolves: namely the propensity to consider existence as a physical, temporal phenomenon, Void of metaphySical, transcendental values. Nature is not a mysterious creative force, but a physical, deterministic evolution. And, at best, it seems whimsical. In the succeeding four paragraphs the style is primarily epic. Using images extensively, he describes his perception of the world. | , d 1 _ .. ”13;, ; . ‘, , I I "Lent!!! bid .fim . -.. -‘ .l _Ekzrr' ... -:%r- I 'F , i V . ‘- . I . , ' ,1" I. P, M “'3 V : :1 _' ' l 33-33.,O‘E11!’ V" w , ': _ in ’ simmer-'1 mi! hmfiifl'fifl ma. I « " -:-.i': Mala Mint imagq Wire Etfiphor 1' Mani of his V6 ‘9" “ch as a see M t°° Visualizes We den 026811 Yer m*.7.3ll.35). Fran ”“9 0f the Shim “Wen kann, im. not help f ”6391181011, t W; it is not p: i‘hfiflfhenml, da; than forges hi: lttvohnet beim Uh! 31W are relati‘ Wm Franz, j "x'i'msere Gesetze" humus “hiking meta x I th‘ In it Fr 35 Besides the use of images for description, the paratactic syntax clas- sifies these paragraphs as epic. The only conjunction to appear in the third and fourth stanzas is the additive "und" which has the effect of connecting phenomena in the description without indicating a causal relationship between them. The technique of adding one description to another is considered by some critics to be the basic epic technique.3 The first image in the concatenation of images centers around an extensive metaphor which compares the world to an ocean (II:3l,6—8). In several of his works Schiller employs the image of a large body of water, such as a sea or lake, to symbolize the instability of life.Ll Karl too visualizes the world as an ocean when he declares, "O ich machte den Ozean vergiften, dais sie den Tod aus allen Quellen saufen‘." (Ilth7,3h-3S). Franz uses a water metaphor to project an image of life in terms of the animalistic law, survival of the fittest: "Schwimme, wer schwimmen kann, und wer zu plump ist, geh' unter!" (II:3l,8—9). Survival, not help for others, is his constant interest. By extension, fate is a matter of the individual's ability to survive; it is not predicated on a mystical force: ". .wozu ich mich machen will, das ist nun meine Sache" (II:3l,lO—ll). How the individual forges his destiny depends on his strength because "das Recht wohnet beim Uberw'a'ltiger. . ." (II:31,13—1h). And since right and wrong are relative values, the only limitation any individual has, according to Franz, is the Self: ". . .die Schranken unserer Kraft sind unsere Gesetze" (II:31,lLL—15), another cachet of a Storm and Stress 5 disposition. A striking metaphoric statement appears in the fourth and fifth Paragraphs, In it Franz depicts the extent of his despotic desire: ‘ -'-. “Fr” Ii .- .- . .- .olfij‘,‘ -. . fir‘ I r. _ _ .- I ‘ fl. .- .. I -r MHz-e 9.1,? Sod-41¢”; I .4-- "museum - . 2:. .w r: - Ia, ihhl .- '.:*"|"-.'.'a'z. I": ql‘nhm“. I . ,. 1-: '5 " . ..in ,.1*"-"" " '_ -. .l __ _ '_ 5,:- ' __ n5, Traum“ immanent i I Miriam“; he deective "g WWW-85 the s “in and their a W and "zaloppie '“etrmles what Mat”? his far M119? reason t "filed "Win" r “other Man bei “1’” d6? gnadig rim or the Posses With the "gniidi {Paragraph of the he seventh Dara with“ Statement tints Fan's in‘ W riEhts. At ‘ Tithe Wins lon Dramatic‘prOblem .1‘. \\,‘d I ‘ escnptmn 011' 36 . .gewisse gemeinschaftliche Pakta [Gesetze], die man geschlossen hat, die Pulsa. des Weltzirkels zu treiben .kommen mir ffir wie die Hecken, die meine Bauren gar schlau um ihre Felder herumffihren, daft Ja kein Hase drfiber setzt, Ja beileibe kein Hasel—uAber der gnadige Herr gibt seinem Rappen den Sporn und galoppiert weich fiber der weilend Ernte. (II:3l,l6-32 passim) This metaphor rev-emphasizes that certain individuals cannot be restricted, the hedges representing restriction. Such individuals usurp law for their own laws whenever it suits them. ' and the adverb The adjective "gnadig," the verb "galoppieren,' "weich" express the sardonic spite with which Franz considers those under him and their attempts to protect their possessions. First, "weich" and "galoppieren" are mutually exclusive terms: when galloping, a horse tramples whatever comes under its hooves. Also, a fief lord who would destroy his farmer's fields—~the product of their toil and labor-- for no other reason than to demonstrate his unrestrained power, cannot be termed "gnadig;" rather he acts mercilessly and inhumanly. Such men treat other human beings as objects for their manipulation: "- . .aber der gnadige Herr braucht Hasen!" (II:3l,31+—35). The inter- jection of the possessive adjective "mein" in the above quote associates Franz with the "gnadigen" lords. This association is made clearer in the last paragraph of the speech. The seventh paragraph continues the "gn'adigen Herrn" metaphor with the initial statement, "Also frisch drfiber hinweg!" (lI:3l,36). It represents Franz's intention to trespass the figurative fences of his tenants' rights. At the same time, he identifies himself more closely with the gracious lord of his metaphor- Dramatic—problematic style governs the seventh paragraph. At the outset description outweighs questioning (1181,37 - 32,17) , but Old all.“ 6:“ wit-“1“" 1r! 1 . "I i 0 [£2 r I far .5- “ 9]! 3:; .3" ...-fig '.- 1... u:' : F: c“ I? :‘k: If. .gmrl '~ “ “11:3“: "WT tng'! ..o ---.=“ . I - i ' “WW-fact 5111 Mon it should} @ lefairly. We Use of 1' I “has consider se i. f {1-2; a 5i '1 in, he ridicules 1 l'Isbm’cher and fa [382,747)‘ He st melderfiruder1 ist Nassau bist" (II Em 16hr Ware als I:32,32.33)_ He e m“ 01’ a family :HICh ihm [d an?“ liebt? “miller Kfin ml es mich no 37 beginning with the question "Ich mochte doch fragen, warum hat er [der Vater] mich gemacht?" (II:32,l7—18), interrogative syntax dominates the remainder of the paragraph. This syntax reflects Franz's mental con— frontation with his mode of existence and his attempt to fathom the reason why it has its particular form. His understanding is confused, and through his questions he describes what existence is not, rather than what it is. As he perceives it, his form of existence was not created in love and respect (II:32,27—3l). The high frequency of contrary—to—fact subjunctive forms conveys that existence does not have the form it should have: he believes nature should have treated him more fairly. By the use of imagery Franz degrades what other characters in his ambience consider sacred. In the case of the paragraph under considera— tion, he ridicules facets of the family: e.g. , the injunction to love one‘s brother and father simply because one is related to them (II:32,7-17). He strongly profanes procreation with such images as "Er [der Bruder] ist aus ebendem Ofen geschossen worden, aus dem du geschossen bist" (II:32,8-9) and "A15 wenn dieser [Aktus der Zeugung] etwas mehr ware als viehischer ProzeS zur Stillung viehischer Begierden'." (IZ:32,32~33). He expands his ridicule of procreation, and thereby the creation of a family, by mocking it with the concept of the artist: Soll ich ihm [dem Vater] etwa darum gute Worte gehen, dais er mich liebt’! Das ist eine Eitelkeit von ihm, die SchoB— siinde aller Kfinstler, die sich in ihrem Werk kokettieren, war' es auch noch so haBlich. (21:32:32,140 For the Storm and Stress poets, the artist connotes the creative genius who stands above other human beings. He is a law unto himself, a G(ML-like individual.6 Franz also considers artistry as something " "Lie-needs mi» I. .- p4» flied-1‘1“? “mu a“ - :3" -525“ 1 “ILL- .. if: ..._.. presmn‘nmmflh ' “M in earl :3 u!- Coil”. I - & Jaw-1:11 "‘ W n:_ "'1'- ' Nihilist moral ”“118 that is nc “an believes hm” P08sessin hthe last par mafia?" mag Ich “11 alles “Ich nicht H ten (II:33,3.11)tze l'ifil'nation 0f th1 Mm“ t0 att: uremic Sti’le é him and the ini new, as Franz \th 10rd of the IV they exists ,0 M" convey r inhiwehis goal a :hipulates his 8 Jim. 10 sentence 3‘ 38 positive (II:57,l-7), but in the above quote "artist" has an ironic connotation which ridicules fatherhood. Another extensive metaphor in which the concept of magic appears concludes the paragraph: "das ist die ganze Hexerei, die ihr in einen heiligen Nebel verschleiert, unsere Furchtsamkeit zu miBbrauchen" (II:33,5-6). "Nebel" represents the deceptive facade which morality creates to cover otherwise base human instincts. The noun "Hexerei" signifies that moral codes figuratively enchant people into believing something that is not, namely that there are ideals of moral conduct. But, Franz believes that right and wrong are variables, determined by the person possessing power. In the last paragraph of the monologue, Franz reintroduces the "gnz'-idiger—Herr" image, applying it this time directly to himself: Ich will alles um mich her ausrotten, was mich einschréinkt, daIB ich nicht Herr bin. Herr muffs ich sein, dais ich das mit Gewalt ertrotze, wozu mir die Liebenswiirdigkeit gebricht. (II:33,8-ll) The gemination of the noun "Herr" emphasizes the position of power which Franz intends to attain. Dramatic style governs the paragraph under consideration in which a problem and the intention to overcome that problem are expressed. The difficulty, as Franz perceives it, revolves around the fact that he is not the lord of the Moor estate and he thinks he should be; therefore, a discrepancy exists for him in the form of his being. The modals "wollen" and "miissen" convey respectively Franz's intent, the necessity he feels to achieve his goal and become as the figurative gracious-merciful lord who manipulates his subjects to satisfy his desires. The paragraph's hifpfi>ta.ctic sentence structure reflects the emphasis which Franz places . . a; ";_ new soda; sign! '19 high * 3'3 7! .- .-'-'".‘J..'-'. . Hill! 9 'flnnaw Iadpl no. - I I . 11“ J — ~23 1" .(Bvu.EF.. .'. '.r-I}. Whine vhat he m i ' Worn of being - Intheplays s r ' _ Mien as the ant s mmfielfish, de 1 J L'" aWain. Karl o ‘ I mu! PM fiber (is. I l I l v This (tsetz hat w (1135.940). in than at Ila-tn is("ImSchatten : it Mich ein e dle; Ely structure, 7." . _iltIVe In his Spa. . r. In the Sm he ”1&3 written 39 on causality: he concentrates on determining what he must do to achieve his goal. He decides that he must eliminate all obstacles between him- self and his goal. In that the two opening and two concluding paragraphs of the speech are constructed in dramatic style, they attract attention: they envelop the four epic passages between them which convey Franz's Weltanschauung. The content of the monologue concerns Franz's existential crisis, his intellectual attempt to understand his form of existence, and to determine what he must do to alter that form into what, for him, is a model form of being. In the play's structure, this speech begins to clarify Franz's function as the antagonist who attempts to overturn established order to achieve selfish, despotic goals. Positioned as it is at the end of the first scene it provides an inunediate comparison to Karl's characteristic expression. Karl opens the subsequent scene with the explosive words "Mir ekelt vor diesem tintenklecksenden S'akulum, wenn ich in meinem Plutarch lese von groBen Menschen" (II:33,lS—l"{). This is followed by "Pfui! pfui fiber das schlappe Kastratenjahrhundert. . ." (II:3h,15—16) and "Das Gesetz hat zum Schneckengang verdorben, was Adlerflug geworden ware" (II:35,9-lO). Karl's wrath, however, is directed at society rather than at nature. In contrast to Franz, he embraces the ideal of 10“? ("Im Schatten meiner vaterlichen Haine, in den Armen meiner Amalia lockt mich ein edler Vergniigen" [IIz30,33 -— 1+O,l]) and venerates the family structure. For example, references to father are generally pogitive in his speech, even after he has been deceived by Franz's letter. In the second scene "of the first act, the audience also learns that he has written a letter asking forgiveness. This act indicates \mhla. . a l i I I - - w:- Hu't {means but M -_ in“ :' .-.- f ’ headrnf'sfi'cm 9‘1! ’o - ... ' -r- 1""! 'aLI ii"; tint act. hold the elder! ”White the 1: hr in the eventm inter, vie ich t WEI mien Liebe. After Franz ex: "i” Zittem" (Ii non which begj in bi” in11 Viedei hick dein Vert" ‘ ”it of Karl been this ieceptim; j Which She be Mia's initia it Rich medreht! Jilin), is en tilt aufopfern ! ll Emil form igh ... "hi the. To her it then physical \: | I hunch in soci 140 his desire to reconstruct the family organization which he has disrupted. The desire to construct rather than to destroy contrasts Karl's attitude sharply with Franz's intentions, as expressed in this monologue. Amalia von Edelreich (1,3) Schiller places the play‘s second monologue at the end of the third scene, first act. It follows a scene between Franz and Amalia, Karl's lover and the elder Moor‘s ward. In their conversation, Franz attempts to perpetrate the lie that he swore an oath to Karl to become Amalia's lover in the eventuality that Karl did not return. But Amalia retorts: "Verrater, wie ich dich ertappe! In ebendieser Laube beschwur er mich, keiner andern Liebe—-—wenn er sterben sollte—-" (II:5M,28—30). After Franz exits, warning her with the words, "Wart'! so sollst du vor mir zittern" (II:55,9—lO), Amalia delivers a highly emotional monologue which begins and ends with similar triumphant declarations: "Itzt bin ich wieder bei Karln" (II:55,ll-l2) and "Karl! Karl! so bin ich dein wert" (II:55,23—21L). In the first instance she feels worthy of Karl because their love has transcended the challenge of Franz's deception; in the second case because she rejects the forces of royalty which she believes are repressing Karl. Amalia‘s initial statement, "Bettler sagt er [Franz]? so hat die Welt sich umgedreht!——Bettler sind Konige, und Kdnige sind Bettler!" (11155,12—l3), is engendered by Franz's parting comment "Mich einem Bettler aufopfern!" (II:55,lO). The chiasmus in her comment conveys the Paradoxical form which existence has for her, if Karl has been reduced to a beggar. To her, beggar and king are psychological attitudes rather than physical states of being: a man is not a king because of his position in society, but because of his character. She presumes, Ga fl. - '7 ' . - . _'-' _ - _: I '. ..- ' I. - I 3.4 r 1i ””momw H _. -- a I. - flat.“ 5 «l0 1 ..."! flfiflufi --Ii'.A “ _ .. win»! -; 19:11:19“ haunt“ Y I .. “I ...-I. I I. “Mixesvifll! . f I. I lemme (the a 7' ' hshe rips the P' ' h lauperficial arm ; Y the honorable e: | Who? the actfl - Inhis plays St Wie brilliance . 1 lane ("Sein"). . J:- .: Elect; it creates I "llama, disclai «ihr. To hum: ulll ~er: she learns him of her impe when who we illious colonies heat the lack 0 ”MW Jewels to ’ Milford trans "I? . W0 somethin h]. for example, that Karl appears like a king, even in his beggar state: "der Blick, mit dem er bettelt, das muIS ein groBer, ein kc'iniglicher Blick sein—-" (II:55,15—l6). To Franz, on the contrary, the states of beggar and king are determined by social, political position. From the outset of the speech the imagery conveys how Amalia‘s perception of the world polarizes into her attraction to Karl and her repulsion from those she thinks are persecuting him. The negative pole she symbolizes with objects of royal opulence v_is_§._ E poverty: the color purple (the color of royalty), pomp, gold, silver, and jewelry. When she rips the pearls from around her neck, she symbolically rejects the superficial grandeur of nobility, a deceitful form of existence, for the honorable existence of being loyal to her principles. In the context of the action, this means to be honest in her love to Karl. In his plays Schiller sometimes utilizes jewelry to symbolize deceptive brilliance, i.e. , appearance ("Schein") as opposed to essence ("Sein"). Jewelry is an object which attracts greed rather than respect; it creates conflict, not peace. In Kabale 1.1.951 Lie_be_ Milford, like Amalia, disclaims superficial nobility, symbolized again by Jewelry. To Milford jewels come to signify the tyrannical manipulation of life: She learns that the jewels sent to her by the Count, on the occasion of her impending marriage to Ferdinand, were bought at the cost 0f countrymen who were sold to British forces engaged in battle against rebellious colonies on the American continent. The jewels specifically rEpresent the lack of comity between government and people. By selling these same jewels to help four hundred families burned out of their homes, Milford transforms the innate uselessness of the expensive stones into something productive. >- TAL. .. - r:IJ".";" flap-sh gum- iudn.mflafil' (w 1&4; _p.. 2d Mai-19395 m an” M fanny: 2:5: @111 for 2:. ._., afi r ‘- ‘ --.... Wanna Em escapes “W, but; “Milford am Nisheiheit"), We emfilwnmez Mi"We. Both EMO‘JVercome 11 W19“: Malia j I”India's livi lather Wrath, re lithe Pronoun "i hthemoral eon f is"Elmer StNCtur miller c011stru 215' 01’ the fourte he is West te beam The“ tens LEO“ discrepfin hetorically Sch 5‘: \Of the Speech V .‘w v‘lmes’ each tim‘ 1+2 Although Amalia does not carry her protest as far as Milford, the actions of both female characters are similar: Amalia's is a figurative gesture, satisfying her own emotions, but without substantially reaching beyond herself. Milford's is more literal and far—reaching. Her protest is not quieted when she verbalizes it: she literally rejects the opulence of wealth and leaves the royalty of her immediate ambience. Thus Milford escapes a tragic end; Amalia never does escape Franz's web of intrigue, but rather becomes more and more enmeshed. Both Milford and Amalia, in this monologue, attain psychic freedom ("Geistesfreiheit"), in that the arcane, captions forces within their respective environments do not have control over them——temporarily in Amalia's case. Both become, to an extent, aware of the problem and decide to overcome it. But, whereas Milford acts concretely to transcend the problem, Amalia is satisfied to act symbolically and privately. In Amalia's lividness the members of the royalty, toward whom she directs her wrath, remain nebulous: she addresses them only with the collective pronoun "ihr": "ihr GroBen und Reichen." Because Franz causes the moral confusion in her life, she mistakenly identifies the larger power structure as the source of chaos. Schiller constructed this monologue in predominantly dramatic Style. Of the fourteen verb conjugations in the speech, for example, only one is a past tense form; present tenses constitute the other thirteen. These tense forms convey Amalia's reaction to the immediate, ubiquitious discrepancy within the Sinnzusammenhang ihres Seinsraumes. Rhetorically Schiller utilizes a gemination to create the dramatic finale of the speech when the imperative "seid verdammt" is repeated three times, each time in conjunction with infinitive clauses which V ‘ ”LN-i. i" 1-: III. '_ "II I.- ,, 77 ”I ‘ilPr ‘.‘-I. .‘r hill-“Cir“ firérr'z-il’ .3- _ ."l I” I.:.-:: 1.; . “'2‘ o" ' | l l" ‘d ‘l I. ‘L- . .- _ . ‘.‘ I I - ("'.‘ ’9‘ III .8) v a B"- I y“ ‘ '.‘ - ._r ' - 3 '0 l eke-1:193"!!! m l ...” 1"‘11-2. q_ ‘ I x _. ur_.- '.=- I. t, .u_ I. f_".. III. WW4, . h-':_ "u . I - on Ii M v hrqjq-‘uj’ 3 _",.u -— .i’ . i l "'2 M“ in “Which appear: I I. I ” Whammy; Mann and: Mia's Speed; I nth: combination hilOlogue. It 2 h) but the heme. “l dramatize a .i '| I ll i W “50 corresp‘ him his charactl Shim" create an ‘ lathersmm and : lEllie's “Ouch M and the act. llhuflamg his Sflerpresents a {3) 311d that Chan “Jim‘s dec‘éit, Y 9' | 4.10mi, decfiitj \‘luih her) Sth 116 \ M3 explicate the reason for the imperative. This rhetorical device also builds the ~speech to a dramatic climax. The first stage of the incremen— tal structure entails the symbolic superficiality of wearing precious jewels. The second step is the more sentient effect of imbibing alcohol at lavish meals. And this leads into the third and culminating stage of the auxesis: total immersion in sensual satisfaction. The four dashes which appear in the first half of the speech indicate pauses in Amalia's speech for reflection. From the last dash forward, the speech gains momentum and intensity, building to a climax. Amalia's speech has a rhythm which results from the repetition and the combination of repetition and auxesis appearing at the end of the monologue. It is not the flowing, musical rhythm of lyric expres- sion, but the hammering, staccato, emphatic rhythm of oratory which is used to dramatize a point, to convince and/or excite. This emphatic rhythm also corresponds to the strong, coarse language that Schiller H H l assigns his character. Such verbs as "zechen, verdammen,’ and "zer— nichten" create an effect similar to the extreme emotionalism found in other Storm and Stress plays. Amalia's monologue functions primarily as a stirring climax to the scene and the act. For the better part of the act, Franz has his way by camouflaging his intrigue from others. But here, for the first time, Schiller presents a character penetrating the smoke screen of Franz's lies, and that character is Amalia whOSe love for Karl proves stronger than Franz's deceit. In her monologue she rejects such a shallow, superficial, deceitful existence for an existential form based on love. Through her, Schiller indicates, to a certain extent, what are and are not ideals governing the structure of Die Rauber. And, therefore, a _ net-"‘5‘ . at c???” $31M” ‘ I” f mam! fl «1. W11“ mit: WW“ Lil has Mia's a h1~han2's has 5 km cements her «urchins 11““ hfahher and K": The flood for 1 hob fhmtions as h as "neehrlenkex Rh dashes which < he in his deli“ The cause of 1 hhfor lire. T1 he's is eleven I hrharl. But sir é‘eition of not bei : 1 hates his predl' In the imagery 141+ principle of Schiller's poetic technique begins to unfold: he is above all a poet of ideals, and the' ideals governing a particular play are embodied in one or two characters. The discrepancy between idea and reality is however perpetual, and in the end, the individual who 7 embodies the ideal is destroyed by the reality. The glaring exception to this general rule is found in Wilhelm Tell. Franz Moor (II,l)8 Immediately following Amalia's monologue which concludes the first act, Schiller initiates the second act with another monologue, delivered by Franz Moor. Like Amalia's Franz's speech ends triumphantly; but whereas Amalia's concludes an action—~her rejection of forces repressing Karl--Franz's has sinister implications for the future course of events. Amalia cements her spiritual relationship to Karl; Franz considers means 0f destroying human bonds between himself and his father, and between his father and Karl. The mood for the entire monologue is set in the first paragraph, which functions as an exposition. The stage directions describe Franz's mood as "nachdenkend" (II:S6,3). The speech is punctuated throughout with dashes which oblige the actor playing the role of Franz Moor to pause in his delivery to project Franz's reflective mood. The cause of Franz's reflection is the elder Moor's tenacious fight for life. The dramatized time9 between Amalia's monologue and Franz's is eleven months. Franz has expected his father to die of grief over Karl. But since the elder Moor still lives, Franz is put in the position of not being able to attain his goal. And therefore, he con— templates his predicament to arrive at a solution for it. In the imagery of the first paragraph, Franz expresses a low hhfimm we" "’ ” I him 1" he r4. M W mush mmhm“ The second P91 me the end 01’ ' bhl Verbs in mi |Essen" imparts t] :h of events "111‘ WWW of Schil hive because ’01 hot having any ‘ :hhuary of his I tr environ betW 1‘" he become a 1‘6 if: h anticipates hhhh. As used liken" was a he the indiVid Whats of a e In the firs 1&5 esteem for humanity, particularly for his father: e.g. , the metaphor "diesen 'argerlichen zahen Klumpen Fleisch" (II:56,6—7). Franz considers only the physical side of existence, which he finds animalistic. Images of magic also appear in the first paragraph. Of the charac- ters in D_ie_ Rauber, Franz is the only one to use the imagery of magic. In the first monologue he uses the imagery of black magic to figura- tively draw an impenetrable magic circle around his father, which projects how he restricts the bond between father and son. In the speech under consideration the image "Zauberhund" is used in a simile (II:56,8) to express that Franz now feels restricted. The second paragraph contains three questions, two at the outset, one at the end of the paragraph. The two placed at the beginning have modal verbs in initial position: "mfissen" and "sollen" respectively. "Miissen" imparts the meaning of an unbending force, such as a concatena- tion of events which determines the individual's actions. In the vocabulary of Schiller's dramas, "mfissen" often connotes something negative because the person who utters it appears to lose his freedom by not having any apparent control over his destiny. "Sollen" in the Vocabulary of his plays often points to the dramatic variance in the moral environ between what is and an ideal form of existence which has not yet become a. reality for a particular character. In such a situa— tion it anticipates a vague moment in the future when the ideal might be realized. As used in this instance, the two modals, "miissen" and "sollen" express a conflict between the forces acting upon the individ— ual and the individual's goal, a conflict which constitutes one of the Prime elements of a dramatic situation for Schiller. As in the first paragraph, the imagery of the second demeans the 7 I i .. :11? 5 L' P , ., r Fez“: ‘7‘,- . __ s . .'- . {Lilla ‘1" . 1 t ' .. P:- -- r? "31:"- -- fa"? . .-.-' -”_._ ' II ’.'“ u; _. . ‘.-' " .. II ' ski-Ma in: 193-6" cm" "..alsi" ' ' I' I m. all. all! 1° w II. “5"“ it! -I. ._ . '- ':_I“'u=--J‘r ‘.' '- a 4 .14. . I- 4‘2 a --. ' "Jul ._.-4;: am. #1 - . .Ifl'fi .2512 'v— ‘ ._..:_ '? "'* .. _ _.._ ,1 I — . Emma ‘ I I h . dc meetive 1! filing or superiorn' fit to them beet i tenant an the). It i 1: “Eton that Fran: ! Whimelf away t tt doch mtcht‘ 9T Leute Hills atgelebt. Ich Melina-Nu "e3 verrannt, 5 (11565.20) QVl°f°tenness Che “behind the seer {5.0511111}, acts c \‘. has he “Slime \ N «‘5; t° his hon Tue 303118 of t}. stretching agaj t only to create 16 significance of life. Franz envisions his father’s continued life as "das eiserne Joch des Mechanismus" (II:56,lO-CLl) and as the "Schnecken— gang der Materie" (II:56,l2). The taking of life is "Ein Licht ausge- glasen, das ohne hin nur mit den letzten 'Oltropfen noch wuchert-—mehr ist's nicht——" (II:52,l3—15). Franz does not calibrate the importance of objects: human life is no more significant than the light of a candle. Both are common and used to achieve certain ends. The adjective "hochfliegend," modifying ”Geist," conveys his feeling of superiority toward his circumstances. Nevertheless, he feels chained to them because of his father's life: "8011 ich mein hoch— fliegender Geist an den Schneckengang der Materie ketten lassen?" (II:56,ll—l2). It is the dichotomy expressed by these contrasting metaphors that Franz wishes to resolve, although not at the risk of giving himself away behind his facade of lies: und doch mocht' ich das nicht gern selbst getan haben um der Leute willen. Ich mocht' ihn nicht gern getotet, aber abgelebt. Ich mocht' es machen wie der gescheite Arzt, nur umgekehrt.-—Nicht der Natur durch einen Querstreich den Weg verrannt, sondern sie in ihrem eigenen Gange befordert. (II:56,15—2o) Lack of openness characterizes Franz: he inevitable concocts a lie or acts behind the scene of action to achieve his ends. Karl, on the other hand, usually acts openly, not concealing his identity or purpose. Only once does he assume a guise, that being at the outset of the third act to return to his home. The goals of the two brothers also contrast: Karl, who believes he is revolting against a corrupt society, wants to destroy the existing Order only» to create an ideal society for all men. Franz's goal, on the “In | I I I ‘ _ . .- _.‘_ ' I” _(‘l' -. " _ E" g; 9.13.113: Eli-“u" 9 .". e.g.-ah "' ' ..g-pn - V 1 I kill- _ _.g1_ gum _ .. ,..:. m M ‘1 u I. ["I' ‘ .1 I I. I 1""-" ' W“! M16 an “at ale member “the destmcti tilitates Imnatu the lbor famii uiety in IE M Hines within 1 Miles the up] “thing caused b1 5*t'smpta fami: hfisruption of 1 Wk in SchiJ kg; m intrigue 1+7 other hand, is wholly self—centered; he intends to satisfy his own wants even if his satisfaction comes at the expense of life: "wir verm'ogen doch wirklich die Bedingungen des Lebens zu verl‘éngern, warum sollten wir sie nicht auch verkfirzen konnen?" (II:56 ,20—22). To attain his goal he is willing to disjoin the family which constitutes, as Benno von Wiese points out, the original form of social organization in nature. In a family, the natural procreation of a group of people and regulated interaction among humans coincide: the eldest male member is the ultimate ruling authority. Wiese concludes that the destruction of this patriarchial order, which is Franz's goal, facilitates unnatural tyranny by the individual.10 The Moor family becomes a microcosmic representative of the larger society in DE R'auber. The vicious deceit and intrigue which Franz instigates within his family extends to society as a whole in that Karl generalizes the apparent rejection by his father. It becomes to him something caused by the total social fabric against which he revolts. The disrupted family order, then, represents the play's main theme: the disruption of natural human relationships by means of intrigue. The family in Schiller's play is based on authority, trust, love, and mercy; but intrigue is a foreign element in its structurall The imagery in the third paragraph repeats and elaborates what Franz expressed previously. Such images as "wie treffend die Stimmungen des Geists mit den Bewegungen der Maschine zusammenlauten" (II:56,23—25) and "Dissonanz der mechanischen Schwingungen" (II:S6,26-—27) recall similar images in the second paragraph. In his first monologue Franz derides procreation by sarcastically Comparing his father to an artist. In the monologue under consideration, c i '-*.~- . ' ‘ I, r - _ _ .- 3“ 1-' ‘ h r I I . I g .I .' I m - r;’cld\ w u'~I .- 11 m "- .1". u‘flq 3’“ "in”! .. 01 I .. .. J‘ . _— I \ ,.. ' .- new-249m: mmefi I thamfi tatmtic (lisp ltiscrepancy vh 7‘: ”they think she “his speech, as , t Maph he conteml ”Stamens 1i: i Elias colors to a ... ‘ itrtist like mm | fihpfim‘mefl wt We“ besleit htlerl tdene GeiS‘i {Hides that if :t‘seontinue life. ‘M u a! summons "hick ti, II 1003 ( Zorn," "S {Rimming n ) 5,. ‘ 1n the}, the e %is. \- each 811ch an? death, “hi1 A8 the image of "art" again appears in his language. But this time it indicates something positive: "artistic" signifies the ability to destroy life. Such an ability he terms "ein Originalwerk" (II:ST,h). To Franz, art and artist do not have ennobling connotations; rather art is an ingeniously constructed plan by which a life is exterminated in order that he may achieve a selfish end.l2 I After the epically constructed description in the third paragraph,13 the fourth paragraph is governed by dramatic style. Characters exhibit— ing a dramatic disposition are often caught in the attempt to understand some discrepancy which they believe they perceive between what is and what they think should be. Just such a moment characterizes Franz Moor in this speech, as well as in his other monologues. In the fourth paragraph he contemplates perverse "artistic" means which might snuff out his father's life without incriminating himself. As a painter applies colors to a canvas, a poet utilizes words, a composer sounds, an artist like Franz exploits emotions to create destruction: "Gichti— sche Empfindungen werd'en jederzeit von einer Dissonanz der mechanischen Schwingungen begleitet-—Leidenschaften miBhandeln die Lebenskraft—-— der fiberladene Geist driickt das Gehause zu Boden" (II:56,25 — 57,1). He believes that if properly manipulated, emotions can either sustain or discontinue life. Franz wants the latter. Therefore, he considers those emotions which cause death. In all, he ponders seven different emotions ("Zorn," "Sorge," "Furcht," "Schreck," "Jammer—Reue," "Selbstverklagung," and "Verzweiflung"), rejecting the first six. The order in which the emotions appear in his speech, forms a paradox auxesis: each succeeding emotion decreases the conspicuousness of the cause of death, while at the same time increasing the severity of the ll. ‘- . A T -. .r. arm-1 3"" ab 30:” - -- aim-._.; -.' fl . ' Ia." I I var-*9 (figmtflfli’. . _--“-_-| -,- '.: ‘.’-E _l-1-_"_i-‘” ... . . ”:1:- 15““ . ya. ' 1m to ensenj mtion which an} lira-em deterioi II to exist. Exz' Wie. And tn ination the indivi "Prior to his 1 ”he and/or death like”111m rise, to i % “M's persona when nach “he first perfor ' I hasWeakness is W in plann‘ it! human being; “"1““ Side which E mm“ with in h ‘ °f Physmal e1 .2 Is a "heiBhungr 19 internal crisis, i.e. , the psychic pain. The rhetorical aUxes‘is is built to a dramatic climax when Franz decides that "Verzweiflung" best suits his plan, a plan which he then considers complete (II:58,9-—lO). Early in the play the elder Moor establishes despair as the emotion which most worries him when he transfers his responsibility to Franz to write Karl a letter of disinheritance. At that moment he instructs Franz not to engender despair in Karl. In Schiller's plays "despair" is an emotion which an individual feels when the order of the moral environment deteriorates and hope for realizing his ideals no longer seems to exist. Existence becomes an enigma, the individual becomes fatalistic. And tragedy often arises from such situations. In a tragic situation the individual is usually either ennobled, if he feels equal or superior to his fate, or he is reduced to cowardice in the face of failure and/or death. Franz calculates that his father will succumb, rather than rise, to the occasion. Schiller carefully delineates the elder Moor’s personality as weak, characterizing the father as "einen allzu schwachen nachgiebigen Verzartler und Vater" in the advertisement for the first performance of the play (XV:206,20-30). In the play, the father‘s weakness is exploited by Franz, protected by Karl. Franz, in planning his father's death, only understands one facet of the human being: the physiological. He ignores, or rejects, the Spiritual side which Karl and Amalia represent. The zoological imagery in the first half of the fourth paragraph evinces this preoccupation with the physiological. Five of the first seven emotions he mentions are projected with images of animals which destroy the flesh, the symbol of physical existence to Franz (,"diesen. . .Klumpen Fleisch"). Anger is a "heifdhungriger Wolf": the tertium comparationis conveys the I 1“: [H563 Mikes too In. it'billische‘ the latter, the the819th. son “Wind prd It is typical lines (of Which Ills the germ items his thong will Mtrix. He 'li'wto be nature a"1’5“! amorali Mom form of Wolism con million; n_ . written, u 1e Muse Smoliz tensity. The: we in: “like: We POison fidudl E w i“ any auto; ”Wm to t}: 50 meaning that both destroy too quickly and violently, and therefore death i would not appear natural to other people. Continuing the imagery, he projects "Sorge" as a worm. Tertium comparationis: both. gnaw too slowly, and he feels he has waited long enough already ("Es dauert mir zu lange" [II256,1L]). Grief ("Gram") elicits the image of an adder. It also takes too long to be effective. "Jammer" and "Reue" are respec- tively "h'ollische Eumenide" and "grabende Schlange." With the depiction of the latter, the language sinks into gross images to convey the idea that regret is something which consumes the individual and that which the individual produces . 1h It is typical of Franz‘s imagery that it debases: he perceives the ugliness (of which he is an example) and the vulgarity of nature, as well as the servility and the decadence within it. Consequently he patterns his thought and action on what he considers to be the natural social matrix. He has no pangs of conscience because he considers amor- ality to be natural (II:3l,l3-15). At this point in the play's struc— ture, such amorality causes suspense and, therefore, a dramatic situation as to what form of existence will prevail in the end. Symbolism continues in the fourth paragraph with images of self- consumption: ". . .du, heulende Selbstverklagung, die du dein eigen Hans Verwiistest, und deine eigene Mutter verwundest!" (II:57,32—3h). The house symbolizes the human body, mother the self-creation of the personality. Therefore, this image projects the destruction of the Whole individual as Franz perceives it. Self—flagellation is the figurative poison which corrodes the individual but cannot be recog— nized in any autopsy. Whereas to this point in his contemplation third—person pronouns om _ .7 ‘7‘ h" ., ‘ '—.1 _I u. _ ‘ use; at?“ P " I E -r- '1' .. up“; -u - .- .IH .33 I. I *. 4 ‘.'-in J m "- - flute . _..1r,'rJ-":?1‘ "can! u. ' .-1-' ' I '1 : '.'.‘ ~15]: _EezF. . I Nionsothat IiI1:21!"(II:58,8i Toe short, cm I Pit sentence. 5 M's resolution I‘ inaction, a dew ‘ 3 Mon often foi '. -'. 1 Precisely at I l “mu Franz : Which will lotion of the pi The Soliloquy MEN. It‘ ”in :not life Wu“) he oyer .-.lt tothe Side 0 i’afiterizes him I398 eimflfil SO hesfiermns Zu Eist die Mensch hams "101101 51 dominate, indicating his intellectual detachment from the objects of his thoughts, now second—person pronouns dot his language. They convey his growing confidence in his thoughts; he becomes more emotionally involved because he believes he recognizes the correct solution. The switch to the more intimate dialogue form accompanies the change to second—person pronouns. And the more direct speech intensifies the expression so that the resolution "Verzweiflung" followed by "Triumph! Triumph!" (II:58,8) produces maximum emotional impact. The short, concluding paragraph continues the ecstasy of the pre— ceding sentence. The exclamation "Wohlan denn!" (II:58,l2) expresses Franz's resolution to execute his plan, i.e. , to convert contemplation into action, a developmental pattern which characters in a dramatic situation often follow. Precisely at this moment Hermann, a nobleman's bastard son, enters the stage. Franz recognizes immediately that Hermann is a deus e_x machina which will allow Franz not to becomes overtly involved with the execution of the plan. The soliloquy offers another insight into the functioning of Franz's mind. It becomes more and more obvious that nothing is sacred to him, not life, not his own family. He does not have the ability to empathize; he overbalances the figurative scale of the psyche (VII:3h7, 15 Schiller so 1-3) to the side of unemotional, calculating reason. characterizes him in the preface to the first edition of the play (1781); "Wer es einmal so weit gebracht hat. . . , seinen Verstand auf Unkosten seines Herzens zu verfeinern, dem ist das Heiligste nicht heilig mehr—— dem ist die Menschheit, die Gottheit nichts" (II:lB,l6—20). Franz's monologue also sets the mood for the entire second act 7 ' ' 331mg . {kit-HUI ‘5 , - d I. J m E.... ‘k: fill. 'a, 3.3% a? no! ”in , _f “”- 911 mouthed - new; .. .I -. |_ .. 1' i .. .J "Iii-1’ o! In: In; . . .1 2.1.4" w I .3... _ . - “WM: \ l \ I" "° is psycholc Me n“ his imme “D11 Fidually t “is fit“ word m, ll .1 '3 “16: "“6111 Sohn him monoloSues z “I Name ef has "ident fro: l- ‘1] We of wher {‘11 Hume" entr. 311 Sinee "flu" is fish is picked 113 362,18) “hose me; dead Kenug" (I: For the elder l «,ohontatim 01 ten . 09. A8311] t} 52 in which Schiller stages the effect which Franz and Spiegelberg have as antagonists in the play's structure: they manipulate the course of events thereby upsetting the moral cohesiveness of the world and creating disparities between what is (the real) and what should be (the ideal) . The elder Moor (II,2) After Hermann enters the stage he and Franz plan how they can shock the elder Moor to his literal death. The next scene opens with Amalia sitting next to the elder Moor who is asleep and dreaming (II:62,11+). During his sleep he begins to speak. Because of his dream-— ing, he is psychologically, though not physically sequestered on the stage from his immediate surroundings. This is evinced by the fact that he only gradually becomes aware of Amalia's presence. His first words constitute a cry of anguish for his prodigal son, Karll6: "Mein Sohn! Mein Sohn! Mein Sohn! (II:62,1u—15). As in previous monologues, Schiller utilizes repetition here to achieve maximum dramatic effect. That "son" refers to Karl and not Franz becomes evident from the last statement Moor utters before becoming fully aware of where he is: "Garstiger Franz! willst du ihn auch meinen Triiumen entreifden?" (II:62,2h—25). The "ihn" can only refer to Karl, since "du" is directed at its antecedent, Franz. This cry of anguish is picked up in his next speech with the interjection "ach!" "ich (11:62,18) whose meaning is eventually expanded by the statement bin elend genug" (II:62,20). For the elder Moor's function in the play, this speech represents the confrontation of his subconscience with the form of his problematic existence. Again the audience is presented with a dramatic situation , -- '.- ' I _- .. _ '1 " I. 1 1 I H"; “3.1%“ ragga-:1!” my be: ,_ . _ . m- ,_ __ - . -i -..= 3.3m: 11’8““; N -. - '.f-A' L'h‘u .2r.:- b r .I I“ ‘.' ”a ' WNW] “is other son “Mitt little 11 M5 50111qu ‘ iMeals to the . f “tone hand, h ; I I N. he Mann 1_ “‘ ' It also prepa; I = | t ““955 of "Salbst- mm the misery EM ‘1“ 50 elend {2113" the Step . 3m I ”he“ he i: “In“ collditi. “lining, he 3cm. 31': Stile “1:63 to: and “Pong tlllen in Verzwe; . {’.'"(II:65,29_3l ts Went: t1 53 in a monologue. The questions convey Moor's semi—conscious attempt to ascertain whether he is being deceived by the image before him in his dream. Out of this questioning a tragic situation develops when the half-awake elder Moor realizes that he had only dreamed of Karl: "Er war nicht da?" (II:62,23). Furthermore, he imagines that Franz is separating him from Karl. When he awakes, it is with the question: "we ist er [Karl]? (II:62,27). His subconscious goal to reunite himself with his other son evaporates with his dream. And he is momentarily left with little hope for the future fulfillment of that goal. This soliloquy, then, has several functions in the play‘s structure. It reveals to the audience the old man's inner feelings toward his sons. On the one hand, he considers Franz detestable ("garstig"); on the other hand, he sympathizes with Karl's misery. It also prepares the way for the execution of Franz's plot. The process of "Selbstverklagung" has already begun: the elder Moor inter— nalizes the misery he envisions on Karl's face, as the statement "wie siehst du so elend! Sieh mich nicht an mit diesem kummervollen Blick.’ Ich bin elend genug" conveys (II:62,l9—20). Because of such "Selbstver— klaglmg" the step to despair is small, that step being provided by Hermann, when he informs the elder Moor that Karl is dead. The father is already conditioned to hear the word "Verzweiflung": after fully awakening, he scrutinizes Karl‘s picture and discovers despair in his son's smile (II:63,lO). The motif is picked up immediately when Hermann enters and reports that Karl's last words to his father were "ich sei gefallen in Verzweiflung!" (II:66,30) because "ich hab' keinen Vater mehr!" (II:65,29-—30). After this fraudulent report, the scene becomes more turbulent: the elder Moor repeats "gefallen in Verzweiflungl" 11" ~._ ..qu — - - _'- _ - _ - ... "- II. 1: :l h I' n. a n' Witw- mules-fl. ..yt ' . 13:. .... . tsp“? - mt! mum: tool ul- — I III'".'\-' .. I I. d "I I. - I. . I I I. ‘.h "(‘5 r“ ”1* -I c u.' -,_ 4h lair-=1! =5 .:_ mm ent hihecentral a: Mich he first: ”Agra Wt There: Wooscience; “Wham“ Within this te «I I Mbiller rm . -*-_ I Whammy: (II i him, his f i herbs “Verzveif {39m MHZ and t Worm deter them. His re Woman's 1 bl.” kill him . “who”: ‘ J h \ Ether I sre: sdeath. t". ‘ ' 'Mdlencels c \n, \‘ltt is t Structuril Sh three different times. Franz also harangues his father with derivitive forms of the verb "verzweifeln" (II:68,lB ff.). One by one the other three characters leave the stage until the elder Moor stands alone. In the stage directions Schiller describes his condition as "Voll Verzweiflung. . ." (II:69,7). As Franz exits, his father curses him, calling out "Du hast mir meinen Sohn aus den Armen gestohlen" (II:69,6). This assertion verbal— izes the central action of the play from the elder Moor's point of View and which he first expresses in his half—awake state at the outset of the scene. There it is a rhetorical question, partially emanating from his subconscience; here he utters it as a direct statement of fact, and he is fully aware of the judgement he passes. Within this tense situation the elder Moor delivers a monologue which Schiller frames with the six words "Wehe, wehe! Verzweifeln, aber nicht sterben!" (II:69,7—8; lit—15). The words respond to Franz's crass injunction to his father: "sterbt! verzweifelt!" (II:69,3-1+). The two verbs "verzweifeln" and "sterben" bring the dramatic conflict between Franz and the elder Moor into sharp focus, and the elder Moor's words express determination not to die in the face of the news he has just heard. His resolve defeats, for the moment at least, the explicit purpose of Franz's scheme, i.e. , to cause the older man's death without having to kill him directly. Thus, a dramatic conflict develops between the elder Moor's resolve not to die and Franz's determination to cause his father's death. Of the two polar positions, only one can succeed, and the audience's attention is directed toward the resolution of this conflict of wills. As a structuring form, the words quoted above, which form a frame mi imposed to Match is “an.” 444... .. 1|! conjunctit with mint oi 1‘. Honor 3 (11185 Rh! um mir k E Wen?“ (ms; filly are eXpres 53 hi confli cts We syntax to 1mess. 1am“ tantalum, th Mord exclamati tschen “km its the hoPele; therhooq, the f; is! keine Tach- Forfifl’ing thn the, in”Worm We, The W 5 311d Blesiné 55 for the monologue, emphasize his resolution and to give a certain orientation to a speech whose fragmented syntax otherwise conveys Moor's immediate disorientation. The brevity of his sentences com— municates the intensity of the emotion behind the content. Dashes separate the various syntactical units signifying to the actor that he is supposed to emphasize each unit. The result is a. staccato, hammering rhythm, which is often associated with dramatic speech, according to Staiger.17 In conjunction with the content, the syntax builds the expression to a high point of intense emotion. In this speech it is expressed in the form of a question concerning the mode of his existence: "Wehe, wehe.’ Will mir keiner das Haupt halten, will keiner die ringende Seele entbinden?" (II:69,lO—l2). Questions in the syntax of dramatic style usually are expressions of individuals probing to understand discrepan— cies and conflicts in their Seinsraume. Here Schiller utilizes inter- rogative syntax to express Moor‘s desperation in the face of apparent aloneness. From the question to the re-statement of the initial ambig— uous statement, the syntax dissolves into loosely connected, one and two word exclamations of despair. Schiller uses aposiopesis (e.g., "Menschen nur—-will keiner——allein——verlassen—-" [IIz69,l3—lh]) to express the hopeless situation Moor finds himself in. The symbols of brotherhood, the family unit and friends, have disappeared: "Keine Shhne! keine Tochter! keine Freunde!" (II:69,12—13).18 Fortiiying the emotionalism created by the fragmented parataxis, Schiller incorporates only present—tense verb forms throughout the monologue. The two verbs "verzweifeln" and "sterben" found in the Opening and closing phrases of the speech anticipate some future moment will Maw”: Mn is Mani Mails in now. Wu t] Mic effect: 'fliehen." "Vern: met The re: el'othectS 0f th‘ hot the m°n°l‘ theaters 0f a m hmsent Parti' hhhcallh the ‘ he primary 3 it‘lict within t1 12:1an phrase! éthhionvhich: ‘ hing his schex Itihhhrief dis] it"zhtely this r' the: Franz to t! \‘ father (II:13? 56 when the conflict between Franz and his father will be decided. And so these verbs help create dramatic suspense as to the outcome of the conflict. The verbs used in the remainder of the text impart the immediacy of the turmoil raging within Moor, turmoil caused by seemingly profound disparities in his Seinsraum between what is and what should be. The modal "wollen" anticipates the future because of the suspense created as to whether some other character will appear to lend help to Moor who is momentarily alone, pitted against the forces which Franz's plan sets in motion. And help does come when Amalia appears. Throughout this short monologue verbs carry the brunt of the dramatic effect: it is in such words as “verzweifeln" and "sterben," "fliehen," "verlassen," "weichen," and "entbinden" that the conflict is conveyed. The result is that Schiller emphasizes the action rather than the objects of the conflict. Of the fifty—eight words constituting the body of the monologue, only two are attributive adjectives, often indicators of a nominal vocabulary. And of these two adjectives, one is the present participle "ringend" which, like the verbs, stresses action, specifically the turmoil raging within Moor. The primary function of this monologue, then, is to express the conflict within the elder Moor. In the monologue's introductory and concluding phrases, Schiller presents him summoning courage in a situation which, as he perceives it, appears void of hope. While Planning his scheme Franz does not attribute such courage to his father. It is a brief display from the elder Moor but important because it is ultimately this reserve of courage which preserves Moor‘s life and forces Franz to take the deSperate measure of trying directly to kill his father (II:139,1h ff.). “Mi-final. :4. . " x- .~'.-1- a II. I .+' s in!!! 1116:5822“: ufi no: I-‘t‘nqifl. :6 o a " “3' ‘ " '3 r" 1' ':'-.'..'r5l grim IN I. I ' . -- . _: ..."--'_:".-'. .. --. l ’h i - - - mist-mm: maid-n- h ' -" 1-5-3. ad". I- I. D I . . _ l l l l I {h is dead imam “Yamaha Macias: 'l W. Rethinks‘ MM monologue At this We, Nth °f his anti ”“1 "mounted iitrhce, “finely b WMmm “her. In con £1131] the idea M e1‘1’ectihrem h‘hth'u form exi: After the trih hhhelim in p: :13th to the Q imam]: 8111“th ‘ it!" (mugs). W133 01‘ not is o not .3 . I ME News 57 Franz Moor (II,2) Immediately after the elder Moor's second monologue of the scene, Amalia and Franz re-enter. The old man asks his ward to read him the Biblical story of Jacob and Joseph. Similarities between that story and the grief he feels for his lost son cause Moor to faint. Both Amalia and Franz believe he has died. Both react naturally, according to their personalities: Amalia exits "in Verzweiflung" (II:71,21—22), Franz rejoices: "Tot, schreien sie, tot! Itzt bin ich Herr" (II:"{l, 23-210. He thinks he has attained the goal he sets for himself in his previous monologue. At this moment in the play‘s structure, Franz is presented near the zenith of his activity. His plan seems to have worked; he has success- fully manipulated and perverted ideals which undergird the moral ambiance, namely brotherhood and love. Like Karl, Franz is also a robber, but one who destroys ideals in order to gain material treasures and power. In contrast. Karl attacks symbols of worldliness to re— establish the ideals which his brother decimates.19 At the height of Franz‘s effectiveness Schiller isolates him on stage to preview the potential form existence would have if he were left unchecked. After the triumphant introductory line to the soliloquy, Franz takes delight in playing with the words "Schlaf" and "Tod." Unbeknown to Franz, and to the audience at this point, a cloud of irony hangs over his accompliShment. He questions "schlaft er [der alte Moor] vielleicht nur?" (II:71,25). For Franz, the question as to whether his father is sleeping or not is purely academic; he accepts the fact that his father is dead, not just sleeping: "Das ist nun freilich ein Schlaf, W0 es ewig niemals Guten Morgen heiBt." Nothing more has to be done, MW WWW Wing death “shim, m In his father! min lid on the. on be“ with! on Karl, W mm complEi For the We: cashed in his I minty in his {favor Gericht z hhhhhe!" (II= $3th the P18 Pith-ill consume themed with P thhsful and fee 3. it this mome Eh longer feels titlistigen La "heathen, "lar “m shoes complete "i 58 he thinks, to achieve his goal. But this is not true. In the previous monologue his father expresses his determination not to die. Then in‘ the fourth act we learn that his will to live has stood the test of this moment when he merely becomes unconscious (II:l39,32 — 1140,15). But because of his thirst for power, Franz is blinded in his excitement and does not recognize the presence of life. After his careful calculations for causing death, his analytic ability fails him at the moment of truth: in his triumph, paradoxically, his fall begins. At the burial he dis—- covers his father is still alive, and so in desperation he shuts the coffin lid on the elder Moor. That leaves one person, the elder Moor, who can bear witness to his son's deed. When the old man relates his tale to Karl, Franz's fate is sealed. But this causality of events does not become completely clear until the fourth act. For the moment Franz thinks he has successfully fulfilled the wish expressed in his previous monologue, i.e. , to appear innocent of any complicity in his father's death: "Wer wird nun kommen und es wagen, mich vor Gericht zu fordern? oder mir ins Angesicht zu sagen: Du bist ein Schurke!" (II:71,30—32). There is irony in this statement also, since throughout the play reference is made to the Biblical Last Judgement which will consume such personalities as Franz. But because he remains unconcerned with post—mortal existence-—i.e. , as long as he remains successful and feels accomplishment——the Last Judgement does not impress him. At this moment he is presented as having so much confidence that he no longer feels the necessity to act behind a facade: "Weg. . .mit dieser lastigen Larve von Sanftmut und Tugend!" (II:Tl,32-33). Used figuratively, "larva" is the immature, Wingless stage of an insect that undel‘goes complete metamorphosis. In his previous monologue Franz . . !" (II in?! projects M fie thee—VB “Win '1 h“ facade un “M- Heroes t t Mes: they op Wound the i: Minimum 0‘ 11!} their nettle Ma's Min- 3113. In his ml ‘4thth he Wear; 3‘18 “cause of . 59 verbalizes a metaphor which anticipates the liberation of a moth from its cocoon: "Wer sollte nicht auch hier seine Flfigel versuchen?" (II:57,l2—l3). When he expresses this rhetorical question, Franz begins to feel free because of his ideas to end his father's life. In the monologue under investigation, he says "Nun sollt ihr den nackten Franz sehen. . . I" (II:71,31&), which, in the context of the larva—moth imagery, projects the image of the moth that has emerged from its hiding place. The theme——what is pretext (illusion) and what is essential being—— looms forward in most of Schiller‘s plays. Intriguers usually present others a facade under which the intriguer's true personality remains concealed. Heroes do not usually pose a facade, at least, for evil purposes: they openly express their feelings and opinions. Between the hero and the intriguer are various shades of personalities. For the characterization of antagonists, Schiller employs the monologue to convey their actual thoughts. Thereby the audience becomes aware of a character's motivation and understands the causality of the plot more clearly. In his monologue, then, Franz verbally lifts the personality mask which he wears in the initial scene of the play. Wallenstein (Wallensteins Tod) acts in a similar manner when anticipating the fall of Prague because of the Swedish success against the Hapsburg throne: In wenig Stunden kann die Nachricht da sein Aus Frag, daft} diese Hauptstadt unser ist. Dann konnen wir die Maske von uns werfen. . . . (IV, 11.5186—88) Wallenstein sustains a deceptive facade on several levels. Franz is less ambitious than Wallenstein in the scope of his deceit, but he does manipulate people and events behind a facade-mat least initially-.. . _ :. :5 l. '.=_. Lit . ' -' ..-_. . __ l h ”I 'sarw:::¥1vet' eflu- m ‘92 I'] i . . '- C , i _ . '-:. -_\- - f ' V '- ‘ _ _ J. , ‘ "'55,. ’.‘-a 1a m I .. . L ‘ wfi. “& ‘ . ' ‘ " I U I . - mun-3"“? 192ml] ' _ l ' - I l " I l . ,. . ‘ Westlmtme he referrii “in: actions! I hm“) Md crea: .x—‘ngt Which, in c: hehen") and . “Eben," and "t . ‘ Him Wong equ: ., 1. WWW: ’ 1: “respect, i.e. i stances indivif his Franz uses 1 awards the fa] finds the rabbi fi‘happears at 1 tn," Which Fm aim (11:31,: In the image! Wham be: fhlity created i Q $th at the 60 as Wallenstein does, and as do Fiesco, Wurm, and other antagonists in Schiller's plays. As Franz approaches his goal his ideal assumes a more distinct form in his mind. Expression of the forms which he envisions constitutes the remainder of the monologue. By determining the tertia comparationum of his images, one can also determine what intention Schiller has for Franz in the structure of the play. When referring to his father, Franz pejoratively employs verbs connoting actions of amity ("iiberzuckern," "griiBen," "streicheln," and "kosen") and creativity ("schaffen"). He contrasts these actions with verbs which, in context, connote actions of violence ("hauen" and "versuchen") and of static, intimidating existence ("herhangen," "schweben," and "sein"). The verbs relating to his father describe actions among equals and, therefore, liberating actions which his father performed: he raised those supposedly under him and treated them with respect, i.e. , as human beings equal to himself. Under such cir- cumstances individuals are freed from psychological servitude. The verbs Franz uses to describe how he will act suggest subjugating actions. He regards the fmers now under his control as objects to satisfy his whim, as the rabbit metaphor indicates (II:31,33—35). The noun "Herr" which appears at the outset of this monologue recalls "den gn'adigen Herrn," which Franz projects as an image of despotism in his first soliloquy (II:31,30~35). In the imagery of the passage under consideration, Franz's Weltanschauung becomes still clearer. He derisively describes the form of POlity created by his father as a "Familienzirkel" which the elder Moor stood at the head of, treating everyone as "Brfider" and "Kinder." I.‘ I all. .9”! . l . .t--' .19 1 '1'!— '1'" I o :iill‘..rbht WM: 01' l Maw" new“ [weit ”sehen: 50 I lichen m i] We ExiStem swath wrt not, the We“ in also t0 3°} tatevyefirs e‘ themint the tested (XIVl the de toutes )‘ "21 \e. Herdel tgetende Hanshel {Y'anschengeschlfi my der Ge: ":te time Schi] in the state ‘L'fne following Ilflning or enc‘ “be the family 61 The full import of the family as a symbol evolves in the discussion of the monologue Karl delivers in the second scene of the third act. In Franz's monologue, Schiller, by forming a compound from "Familie" and "Zirkel," prepares the audience for the idealism associated with the family in Karl's later speech. The symbolic meaning that the word "'circle" had, or was beginning to have at this time, is expressed by Goethe in a letter to Countess Louise (23 December 1786): Das geringste Product der Natur hat den Kreis seiner Vollkommenheit in sich, und ich darf nur Augen haben, um zu sehen, so kann ich die Verhéltnisse entdecken, ich bin sicher, daft innerhalb eines-kleiaen Zirkels eine ganz wahre Ex1stenz beschlossen 1st. Although Goethe wrote this letter near the outset of his Classical period, the concept of the circle symbolizing a self—contained microcosm applies also to Schiller's Storm and Stress play, gig Rauber, written only a few years earlier than Goethe's letter. Concerning the family, Rousseau, whom the younger Schiller espec— ially admired (XI:75—77) , wrote in his 93 contrat social that "La plus ancienne de toutes les sociétes et la seule naturelle est celle de la "21 famille. Herder describes families as "das ewige Werk der Natur, die fortgehende Haushaltung, in der sie [die Natur] den Samen der Humanit'at dem Menschengeschlecht einpflanzt und selbst erzieht"22 in the M 312 Philosophie C_1_e_x; Geschichte, which was being assembled at approximately the same time Schiller wrote Qi_e_ Rauber. From the statements written by Goethe, Rousseau, and Herder we gleen the following: the circle is a symbol of eternity because it has no beginning or end. "Eternal" is an adjective which Herder uses to describe the family in the above quote: it is an eternal product of '1 mulenstein 1-,l [1:11.510-11). to contrast if trusses a Metap “the sporen 32,54). The misfit hauen .755!“th he wil 1% falters thebroken, dem “Elem 01’ sub.) 5%“ indiCat tlistreats his ttritioug 1‘00 d it; "In mein iii” ein m1 ‘.'.‘en, feWigen ihn. MS this cha 62 nature. As a social form, it transcends time and place, i.e., it recurs among all peoples at all times. The family circle represents then a transcendental form of existence. And Franz's derision of this symbol of ideal pristine polity casts him more distinctly into the antagonist‘s role, against the natura naturans. Contrasting with the family—circle metaphor are the similies with which he compares his own countenance to signs of immanent turbulence in nature: "Gewitterwolken" and "ein drohender Komet" (II:71,38; 72,2). The latter is an evil omen in folk belief.23 Schiller uses the comet in his Wallenstein trilogy with the same symbolism of a sinister force (IV: 11.510—11). To contrast his manner of rule with his father's beneficence, Franz expresses a metaphor of ruthless tyranny: "Ich will euch [Bauern] die zackichte Sporen ins Fleisch hauen und die scharfe GeiBel versuchen" (II:72,5-7). The superlative "zackicht—" and the parallelism of "Sporen ins Fleisch hauen" and "GeiBel versuchen" intensify the severity of the punishment he will delve out if those under him do not do his bidding. That his farmers become a collective horse in his mind, whose spirit has to be broken, demeans human existence to the level of an animal, and to the level of subjugation, as in Franz‘s prevous imagery. Franz's next statement indicates that he will treat his farmers like the horseman who mistreats his steed. Such a person is apt to feed the animal unnutritious food to keep it weak and, therefore, unable to manifest its sPirit: “In meinem Gebiet soll‘s so weit kommen, daB Kartoffeln und Dfinnbier ein Traktament fiir Festtage werden, und wehe dem, der mir mit Vollen, feurigen Backen unter die Augen tritt" (II:72,T—lO). Schiller Presents this character as not only aspiring to power, but also desiring i D- I I Mam!" (Hi7?! chute nine-u" M's Point 01 mlozic‘l st mol'ed‘md new “in“! man's beam] fmill Sums In the lat’t mthe verbs ‘iefutllre' P" laconflict en ‘ie 30m 0f poll' hhis speeCh’ 5142's “11% fl As signifi< fictis on the i3 existence 11101 3%;refers the 5 H II - u 86136111‘" 63 to use that power to humiliate and debase other human beings for no other reason than to debase. In this sense he resembles GeBler in Wilhelm _T_e_l__l_ who wants to subject and humiliate the Swiss simply to gain domination over their spirits. The monologue ends with another metaphor of despotism which conveys Franz's basically dramatic disposition: "Bl'asse der Armut und sklavi— sehen Furcht sind meine Leibfarbe! In diese Liverei will ich euch kleiden!" (II:72,lO—12). The verb "wollen" indicates his intent to elevate himself to an even more powerful position; the conflict, from Franz's point of view, will not be resolved until he places his psychological stamp on all his subjects. The conflict that still must be resolved——and is waged symbolically when Franz attempts to bend Daniel's will——revolves around Franz‘s despotism as opposed to his father's benevolent paternalism. The suspense gathers as to which form will succeed. In the latter half of this one-paragraph monologue present tense among the verbs fortifies the dramatic style; it points to a moment in the future. Preterite tenses are used when Franz discusses his father. The conflict exists, in part, between the past and the future, i.e., the form of polity his father created, and which exists at the moment of this speech, and the form of polity Franz wants to create. Under Franz's rule, the past must yield to the future. As significant as is his use of verbs, Schiller seems to place more Emphasis on the nouns in this monologue; he emphasizes the static form Of existence more than the activity within the Seinsraum. For instance, he prefers the substantives "Sporen" and GeiBel" to the verbs "Sporen" and "geiBeln." By modifying the nouns with "zackicht—" and "scharf" hm Wei int W" ...; he Mimi Trim“) VhiCh‘ g” w's “PMJ Weft Wheel am also 6°” trifth act- The first “1°! nuns With SC rLgRolleP fro“ ii-exmoits. E sind a child u tithe raging fi {tale with th night gran this presence , I‘m desperat 2:3‘ “ ..t) to stop ‘ are ‘ a m an exiS' 6h respectively and reducing the impact of the verbs to "hauen" and "ver— suchen," Franz's language here depicts the enduring form of the tyran— nical force rather than the momentary application of the force. The extensive use of description throughout Franz's speech deter— mines the syntactical construction, which is almost wholly parataxis. It functions to coordinate the images so that a large image evolves as to how Franz perceives what is and what should be. The images which evolve impart Franz's malevolence as opposed to his father's benevolence. The function of the monologue is to convey the tyranny of the individual, which Wiese refers to,21+ evolving as a consequence of the elder Moor's apparent death. The audience learns what would happen were Franz left unchecked. The imagery creates suspense whether Franz's next plan will also come to fruition, a question which is not answered until the fifth act . Karl Moor (11,3) The first monologue which Karl Moor delivers occurs shortly after he returns with Schweizer, Schufterle, and others of the robbers from saving Roller from hanging. Elated by their success, the robbers relate their exploits. During this recounting of events Schufterle tells how he found a child under a table which was about to burn and threw the child into the raging fire. Karl is incensed by this disclosure and upbraids Schufterle with the words "Und diese Flamme brenne in deinem Busen, bis die Ewigkeit grau wird'." (II:85,36-3T). Karl then dismisses Schufterle from his presence, along with the other members of the band. Karl desperately asks the "Avenger in Heaven," "Was kann ich daffir?" (11:86:53) to stop the plunder of the poor and helpless. He finds himself in an existential crisis: a problem concerning the form of his .mmfl: um” ; 0? Mute“ den bl sees a Sim] ill and God's me tether being w he imagery Flt: confronti the: "Her km itsushi] Snaten a!" (II:86:1°‘ my enacting 3.; in the M an in determ lszrsetiveness- thug meash' cases that it I tassel") in th‘ Ti ("die gesegl sh spreads 1i} 65 existence confronts him which he tries to solve. That he directs his questions at God distinguishes Karl's dispos— ition from Franz's. Franz is concerned only with his immediate power; he rejects any laws, any values which he himself does not prescribe. He considers himself an earthly God—-i.e. , a law unto himself. Karl, on the other hand, thinks in terms of an extraterrestrial God. He tries to do good for all men and not just for himself, in contrast to Franz. Karl‘s second question reveals why he addresses himself to God: "Was kannst du dafiir, wenn deine Pestilenz, deine Teurung, deine Wasserfluten den Gerechten mit dem Bosewicht auffressen?" (II:86,8—lO). Karl sees a similarity between the means he has employed to achieve his goal and God's means. He seeks help to understand his situation from the other being which may have encountered a similar experience. The imagery of his third question clarifies more precisely the problem confronting Karl, especially as it applies to the play as a whole: "War kann der Flamme befehlen, dare) sie nicht auch durch die gesegneten Saaten wiite, wenn sie das Genist der Hornissel zerstoren sell?" (II:86,lO—l2). The image of fire appears often in fig R'a'uber,25 usually connoting intensive energy or activity, as Schiller uses the image in the Philosophische Briefe (XV:lh2,3—h).26 The context it aPpears in determines whether it symbolizes constructiveness or destructiveness. In his figurative language Karl expresses consternation at having unleashed the energy contained in the gang of robbers. He intended that it destroy the undergrowth of corruption ("Genist der Hornissel") in the world, but it also consumes uncorrupted parts of the world ("die gesegneten Saaten"). If not controlled, such unleashed energy spreads like wild—fire, consuming everything in its path, l 5%, J half, den :1 11'! hi: Iein He] {11:52.32 - 153! lien" is used s wits lord met 31?! his power, Mo fr“ition. 1’“ problem inspired and wt 2"?” Which he shy, to I‘e~e he. The Seam its cause to sis-12%| The s an ”“1 third ‘ethird Westio fish Mes the its bafehlen. ‘:. ‘ “ihm “"0 °f tens u, w herOre Ka hen Karl po r7, regardless of the intent of the person who starts it. And seedlings are 66 as susceptible as anything else. Whenever seeds or seedlings are mentioned figuratively in the language of Schiller's poetic works, they symbolize hope for the future, something that blossoms forth into an ideal ataraxia. For example, in his Theosophy, Julius writes Raphael: "So wie du hier findest, ging der Semen auf, den du selber in meine Seele streutest. . . .diese Philoso— phie hat mein Herz geadelt und die Perspektive meines Lebens verschESnert" 7 (XV1152,32 - 153,3). In the quote from Herder cited previously,2 "Semen" is used with the same symbolic meaning. Unlike Franz, whose gracious lord metaphor symbolizes his intent to destroy all hope just to prove his power, Karl wants to protect potential ideals so that they may grow to fruition. But he cannot reconcile his means with his end. The problem of the disparity between the reality of what has transpired and what he intended to accomplish, constitutes the predica— ment for which he must find a solution if his form of existence, with its drive to re—establish an ideal existence is to continue to make sense. The search for an answer to Karl's questions about the relation— ship of cause to effect is conveyed in the syntax by the use of hypotaxis. The subordinating conjunction "wenn" functions in both the second and third questions to place a contingency on its antecedent. The third question contains another subordinating conjunction, "daft", which places the qualification on the essential question "Wer kann der Flamme befehlen. . . '.7" These syntactical constructions build a crescendo of tension deriving from the increased complexity of the Problem before Karl. When Karl poses questions, present tense forms prevail among the fit]! the Mescriptio: m, childr ainces _his ‘ This to ach! ltdBPS Which 1 Whereas p] Sim!» preter: lion in 00mm: D3 Steht ( des Himei sDielen, 1 tern 30111 EEWtRXis : 131551 relatiol Schiller 1 3118’" t° Dori film“, as the :2 the "Mensa film the filldj sI‘leee‘sflllly Ii hummus as K‘t 11.3w!" 8mm Rot haViné 67 verbs. They signify the immediacy of the problem. Also they anticipate the future because the resolution of the conflict will come for Karl only when he uncovers the source of corruption. Then he will be able to attack it directly without having to endanger the entire ambience. With the exclamation "O," the language changes from questioning to description. The exclamatory "O" stems from his consternation that women, children, and the sick are murdered while he crusades on. It evinces his frustration regarding the discrepancy between what he intends to achieve and what he actually achieves as a result of the murders which he has become aware of. Whereas previously in the speech present tenses are used exclu— sively, preterite tenses now appear when Karl reviews his past motiva- tion in comparison to his present state of being: Da steht der Knabe, schamrot und ausgehahnt vor dem Auge des Himmels, der sich amnafdte, mit Jupiters Keule zu spielen, und Pygmaen niederwarf, da er Titanen zerschmet- tern sollte. (II:86,15-l9) The hypotaxis in this quote evinces Karl's continued concentration on causal relationships. Schiller uses an image drawn from ancient mythology, "Jupiters Keule," to portray the emptiness Karl feels in the role he has aspired to play as the ultimate judge of life, the final arbitrator, similar "28 to the "Avenger in Heaven." The ironic use of the verb "anmafden allows the audience the inSight that the speaker recognizes he has not successfully fulfilled his role, nor perhaps should ever have been so Presumptuous as to play at it. The contrasting images "Pygmaen" and "Titanenu symbolize the insignificance of what he has accomplished. Not having achieved the goal of the crusade, Karl's situation is mm ultapho’ “ dishes t° I n descriPti we to “11°!” ml" WW gindiate 81': his; to dew 1 Eh as Schufter1 I the and M“ Meets on the < filler term "5 an, (185 ihn halting des Le tide "Reflecti tribes how eac thereby init ,total 11‘ \‘ . "u Wm; H a” he describe: 3‘5 i so erscheint h‘ .‘ at Is "erschn 68 primed for tragedy; hope for the future dimishes. He says of Schuf- terle's deed: "Sie hat meine schonsten Werke vergiftet-—" (II:86,15). The negative usage of "vergiften" here contrasts sharply with its previous appearance in his language when Karl wants to poison the entire ocean, meaning the world and its power structure (II:1l7,3h—35). That metaphor represents Karl's overreaction, which he now regrets and wishes to find a way to take back. The description in the mid—section of the speech preludes Karl's resolve to renounce his plan to control the "Rachschwert der obern Tribunal" because "du [Karl] erlagst bei dem ersten Griff" (II:86,l9—2l). The immediate affinity which Karl has felt with the transcendental world begins to decay because of his sense of helplessness to control such acts as Schufterle's. By speaking in dialogue with himself—~he is both speaker and object of the speech——he objectifies his feelings. He reflects on the confusion of his existence, thereby exercising what Schiller terms "das erste liberals Verh'ehltnis des Menschen zu dem Weltall, das ihn umgibt" (VII:370,7—8), "liberal" meaning "nach freier Gestaltung des Lebens strebend."29 Ilse Appelbaum—Graham, in her article "Reflection as a Function of Form in Schiller's Tragic Poetry," describes how each of Schiller's heroes shifts from action to contempla— tion thereby initiating the process of liberation.30 In Schiller's thought, total liberation is equivalent to freedom, a state of being which he describes as "ein Ding, das durch sich selbst bestimmt ist oder so erscheint."31 The important verb in Schiller's statement about H freedom is "erscheinen," not sein": i Whoa u‘r ll”hunter i. ' iifiimlcm on 35m destiny. 1 Hrs. Graham “pie Style bee rWes, purgin 5'“ which trag Mt in the Whalers so Eta"; es 5011 ‘.‘hiter Von de 3%“ simil "than COnce Either 1797 :i‘zu d3“ eDis 33%:65 yrs. Graham) ‘75::ng the and "is :3 the hero Saw [the he .0. Our tot W and trhsporting 69 Weil aber diese Freiheit dem Objekt von der Vernunft bloB geliehen wird, da nichts frey seyn kann, als das Ubersinn- liche, und Freiheit selbst nie als solche in die Sinne fallen kann-—kurz——da es hier bloB darauf ankommt, daB ein Gegenstand frei erscheine, nicht wirklich ist: so ist diese Analogie eines Gegenstandes mit der Form der prIaktischen] Vernunft nicht Freiheit in der That, sondern bloB Freiheit in der Erscheinung, Antonomie in der Erscheinung. Applied to a poetic reality, this philosophical statement signifies that every character is determined by various socio-historical forces. Any individual can only appear free in the sense that he seems to determine his own destiny. The concept can be applied to both Karl and Franz. Mrs. Graham considers the hero's use of reflection to be a device of epic Style because "the hero's own distance acts as a filter to our responses, purging it of its coarsest ingredients."33 Discussing the effect which tragedy should have on the audience, Schiller issues the statement in the preface of Rig B_ra_1_1£ yon Messina that ". . .das Gemiit des Zuschauers soll auch in der heftigsten Passion seine Freiheit behalten; es soll kein Raub der Eindriicke sein, sondern sich immer klar und heiter von den Rilhrungen scheiden, die es erleidet" (V:350,21—2h), a statement similar to those which Bertolt Brecht makes concerning epic theater.3h Concerning an epic theater, Schiller wrote Goethe (26 December 1797): "Die Tragodie in ihrem h'o'chsten Begriffe wird also immer zu dem epischen Charakter hinaufstreben und wird nur dadurch zur Dichtung . "35 Mrs. Graham, it seems to me, rightfully attributes the function of detaching the audience from psychic involvement in the action of the stage to the hero of a Schiller play: they [the heroes] do not inform our intellect; they trans— form our total response by lifting us out of the tragic action and the very time~stream in which it is embgdded and transporting us into a timeless poetic dimension.3 ”has mum‘s“ in" “h mit detach i mtor W nation: K” whence; he Se hhcides t° s ,2 “wollen hints t0 the hunched a de schillehh tenement! hast wanted read them. A theta lasser- hirhilnerable itisalso his 1 Eaves his "01 Perhuptmnn 2 haven ,0: h“ censtein com 70 By transporting the collective mind of the audience "into a timeless poetic dimension," Schiller suspends "die Zeit in der Zeit" and amalgamates "Werden mit absolutem Sein, Veranderung mit Identitiit" (VII:320,5—8). Even in this first play, the hero's meditation functions as the vehicle by which the audience begins to comprehend the immanence of the timeless ideals and laws which transcend the changing conditions of time in a Schiller play.37 And so Karl's monologue has an epic function for the audience because it detaches the audience from involvement in the action. For the actor playing Karl, however, it is a dramatic moment in the charac— terization: Karl is confronted with a discrepancy in the realm of his existence; he seeks a solution by quickly considering what has transpired and decides to simply steal off, shirking any responsibility he may have. The verb "wollen" in the stage direction "er will fliehen" (II:86,23) indicates to the actor that he should mime the resolution of a person who has reached a decision and intends to convert his thought into action. Schiller, however, does not allow Karl to escape. A posse surrounds the encampment, and it is Karl‘s fate, as leader of the robbers, to be the most wanted of all the gang members. Most of his men seek him out to lead them. And with the aside "Ich habe sie vollends ganz ein— schliefden lassen. . ." (II:87,3l), Karl admits his responsibility for their vulnerable situation. He must lead them in this battle, because it is also his fate to remain with them to the end. In the second act he gives his word to them: "schwor' ich euch hier, treu und standhaft euer Hauptmann zu bleiben his in den Tod!" (IIzli9,2l-23). In Schiller’s plays a word, once spoken, sets forces in motion that cannot be recalled. Wallenstein confronts this problem in one of his monologues (IV: 11.3887- ”W!" it, 3 I 5m: fate h; .‘x sohiller beg fithset the ter min both is i=se00nd act de m solve that E“ (in her m0 litre transpiri :12 m8 She 1 ism e of Fran £1.39 Schiller con i % functi. ii'ne would 0t. sistensity or . égelflpliry th: . ~Ild Brutus 71 980). In a penetrating study entitled "Gedanke, Wort und Tat in Schillers Dramen," Paul B6ckmann describes the dramatic impact which Schiller creates in the Word: Die Handlung konzentriert sich eigentlich auf ein ent— scheidungsvolles Wort, das Sinn und Richtung des Handelns bestimmt und den Handelnden verantwortlich macht. Das Wort setzt die Handlung in Gang, ruft die Verwicklungen hervor und gibt der Katastrophe ihre menschliche Bedeu— tung.38 This is true for Karl's situation also: when he understands his role and "plays" it, i.e. , accepts it, he is able to accept and satisfy the forces of fate he has set in motion. Amalia von Edelreich (III,l) Schiller begins both the second and third acts with monologues which set the tenor for the remainder of their respective acts. But the tenor in both is quite different. Franz's monologue at the outset of the second act deals with a discrepancy in his sphere of existence and how to solve that discrepancy. Therefore, he contemplates the future. Amalia (in her monologue) "re—members" an ideal relationship past, as if it were transpiring for her at the moment she remembers it. At the end of the song she laments the loss of the other party of that relationship. The style of Franz's monologue is predominantly dramatic; of Amalia's lyric.” Schiller constructed her monologue in the form of a song. Songs in EM function as devices whereby a character expresses feelings which he would otherwise not express——or could not express, because of the intensity of the emotion. Besides Amalia's song, two others in the play exemplify this technique: 1. in the fourth act Karl sings about Caesar and Brutus (II:I3lL-35), a song which represents his feelings Mae of tra fl“Onstl'tutea 51inch In the sang ‘4qu "tra M53 in eac tibial form ("t teasftuoun ( 53359.1 eIlthus In the firs 25W Man 's him, but tc "W" (1.1 71:5; the mom 153;: “Perm team where \ Ergraominarb 72 concerning the relationship between himself and his father. 2. In the second act Amalia sings the Hector—song for the elder Moor (II:614-65). In the latter song, Hector and Andromache serve as symbols for Karl and Amalia. Thus the song offers an insight into how Amalia feels toward Karl and her immediate situation. The last stanza of her song contains the following lines: All mein Sehnen, all mein Denken Soll der schwarze LethefluB ertranken, Aber meine Liebe nicht! hehtors Liebe stirbt im Lethe nicht. The theme of transcendental love expressed in the last two lines of that song constitutes the theme of her next song at the beginning of the third act. In the song at the beginning of the third act, the association of the quality "transcendental" with love is made by the noun "Himmel" appearing in each of the first four stanzas: thrice in adjectival—ad- verbial form ("himmlisch" [l], "himelwarts" [2], "himmelvoll" [3]) and once as a noun (h). The order of their appearance conveys a swell of emotional enthusiasm peaking in the fourth paragraph. In the first stanza the songstress describes her impressions of the young man's character. "Schon wie Engel" does not refer to the PhYSical, but to the spiritual beauty which results from being ”voll . .Wonne" (1.1%). But it is not ordinary "Wonne" that he is filled with: the modifier "Walhallas" places the image in a realm beyond earthly experience. Walhalla is the Germanic equivalent of Elysium, the place where heroes reside after death.uO "Walhallas Wonne" implies an extraordinary bliss that transcends normal human experience. The immce amm] Wiring simili lllolently do.- W of ham a high m, that“ hires Spirit] 3‘15 Schiller 1 E'I’Piration tha1 mi“ (Metapm M9. for Se} it it is nc If” x“! is the Emit? because if continuity c m e"idem. 73 noun "Blick" also refers to a spiritual quality; it alludes to a manner of perceiving the world. In this case his gaze is described as "mild." As with "Wonne," the songstress describes his mildness as transcending ordinary human experience: it is "himmlisch mild." The two adverbs together create an impression of great gentleness which contrasts with the appearance of an embattled, violent Karl at the end of the second act. The impression of gentleness and transcendence solidifies in the modifying simile "wie Maiensonne. . ." (L6): a spring sun shines benevolently down from high above the earth causing growth. The tertium coyarationis of this simile associates with Karl the quality of exist— ing on a high moral plane, above other characters in 93 R'alubernlike the 'sun in the sky which outshines everything else in the heavens. He inspires spiritual growth in others who are so disposed. Often in his plays Schiller uses the image of the sun to represent the source of inspiration that enlightens, i.e. , reveals ideals in the midst of cor- ruption (metaphorically darkness).hl It has this symbolic function because, for Schiller, it symbolizes the source of truth (XV:11&2,6-T). But it is not simply sun here; it is a "Maiensonne." In Schiller‘s works May is the central month of spring, the season which symbolizes eternity because old forms of existence, the ideals, are renewed and the continuity of existence, the universality of the form of existence, becomes evident. At the beginning of the Theosophie Julius writes: Jeder kommende Frfihling, der die Sprolslinge der Pflanzen aus dem SchoBe der Erde treibt, gibt mir Erlauterung fiber das bange Ratsel des Todes und widerlegt meine iingstliche Besorgnis eines ewigen Schlafs. Die Schwalbe, die wir im Winter erstarret finden und im Lenze wieder aufleben sehen, die tote Raupe, die sich als Schmetter— ling neu verjiingt, in die Luft erhebt, reichen uns ein treffendes Sinnbild unsrer Unsterblichkeit. (XV:lh2,10—l"() “._. ru._—. It“ In m1} [156). Thus Sc] Wile press Wine of in: "Rimlvir "flhoric direc‘ MMMt WW nive; his ”Menu 391. The at“ in. atHecti- E‘mie" in thy thence the f {fibers it as tsongls “Otif We of “me fiat °f 3 Par Ed" Schim 3% 31m smile a: l \ J3me One ' "(h This symbolism applies to Schiller's poetic works also. Spring repre— sents a paradisiacal, idyllic time when love blossoms and the ideal of harmony among men becomes a reality.1+2 And such ideals are transcen- dentals of existence for Schiller: they are not limited in time or . space. Regarding images representing transcendentals, Schiller attrib— utes the quality "eternal" to the sun (V:l95,333; 27h,23h7), since it always was, is, and will be the source of light, symbol of enlighten— 1+3 ment. In conjunction with "Walhallas Wonne" May is the "Wonnemonat" (1:56). Thus Schiller connects the two images. The "Maiensonne" in the simile presents the young man of the song—-representing Karl-—as the source of inspiration for the songstress—~representing Amalia. "Himmelwarts," the last word of the second stanza, indicates the metaphoric direction of his spiritual growth: his love sublimates her spirit and she transcends her previous physical existence, attaining to a spiritual niveau which is governed by the ideal of mutual love. Such love is represented by the image "Machtig feurig klopfte Herz and Herz" (1-9). The attainment of the new niveau with her lover is expressed with the adjective "himmelvoll" expanding the meaning of the noun "Harmonie" in the third stanza. Unified by their love, the two people experience the feeling of transcendental existence. The songstress remembers it as a "paradiesisch Fiihlen." Schiller ties one thread of the song's motif structure together that is introduced in the symbol May one of whose implicit symbolic connotations in Schiller's plays is that of a paradiSiacal time. To clarify the essence of "paradiesisch Fiihlen," Schiller employs two similes, as he does in the first stanza. The first Simile offer the image of two flames that attract one another and become one. Whereas in the previous stanza the adverb "feurig" is \ . t t , he other h emcentratfi ”flier delicai 5'! rather the: 3m” note 3 1 299) Which 1 is accustomed 3 Mother and ”“13 sound, "W to the 1c 3121mm n Whereas t1 Pious three 5 3‘41 forms of “When um dit Siting t°8€the1 “Anus to eh \i . IQ ”he 5°"8s1 ‘ “0112a. St" . “men, “iDDen, w! Seele ram 75 used as an indirect comparison of "fire" and "feeling"-.—-the "-ig" suffix gives it the meaning having the quality of fire, i.e. , intensive energy- in the third stanza the noun "Flammen" indicates a one—to—one relation— ship between fire and energy. "Feurig" is a more modest description of ' and therefore the change from the former to the emotions than "Flamme,' latter indicates an increased emotional intensity. The other simile "wie / HarfentESne ineinander spielen" (ll.l3-li+) also concentrates on the unifying action of love. But since a harp emits a rather delicate, ethereal sound this image conveys the delicateness of love rather than its intensity. At approximately the same time as Schiller wrote gig Rauber, Mozart wrote a concerto for flute and harp (K. 299) which represents the use of the harp that Schiller would have been accustomed to. The sounds of the harp intermingle delicately with one another and with those of the flute, resulting in a pristine, har— monious sound, The "Harfentéine" simile conveys a similar sensation with regard to the lover's state of being, a state which is designated as "himmelvoll . " Whereas the adjectives and adverbs containing "Himmel" in the Previous three stanzas indicate peripheral association with transcen— dental forms of existence, the image "Erd' und Himmel schwammen / Wie zerronnen um die Liebenden" (11.18—19) signifies the psychological melting together of immanence and transcendence as the two lovers become oblivious to everything but their own emotions. The hyper-emotionalism Which the songstress remembers is conveyed in the first three lines of the stanza: Stiirzten, flogen, rasten Geist und Geist zusammen, LiPPen, Wangen brannten, zitterten—g Seele rann in Seele—-- (11.16—18) “I'l- . -. . "-'.'- Ha . i.‘: 1 7.7 fig‘ - , ~ #5133333‘143.» ,‘u -1. '.', V an} as age he some Meenth; Min of t hhbens I Hi Ming her I Il'lifl- And 5 this betwe ! h” dramatic T Desnite th ‘ fit]! attracts ; iii love as th i 55iller descri‘ :5 his thOUEht 76 The succession of verbs and nouns, without any conjunctions to retard the emotional momentum of the content, does not allow meditation on the wmfld beyond the emotions. Because of their love, the songstress and herlover created their own Heaven, their own Elysium (VII:513,8), their mnigolden age of peace and happiness (VII:508,9—lh). The somber, despairing mood of the last stanza contrasts markedly wiU1the enthusiasm of the first four stanzas. The actual present situation of the songstress is an existential void in which "alle Lust deslebens / Wimmert bin in ein verlorenes Ach!" (11.23—2h). The ideal gwerning her life is gone and only a void remains; to her, all seems hlvain. And since Schiller depicts the despair created by the disparity between an ideal past and an empty present, the monologue has a dramatic function. Despite this dramatic innction, it is the predominant lyric style finch attracts interest. In it an ideal existential form is envisioned, vdth love as the basic cornerstone. In the Theosophie deg Julius Sdfiller describes the form of genuine love which remains fundamental in his thought and poetic: Liebe. . .das schonste Phanomen in der beseelten Schop- fung, der allmachtige Magnet in der Geisterwelt, die Quelle der Andacht und der erhabensten Tugend——Liebe ist nur der Widerschein dieser einzigen Kraft, eine Anziehung des Vortrefflichen, gegrfindet auf einen augen- blicklichen Tausch der Personlichkeit, eine Verwechslung der Wesen. (XV:lh5,35 — lh6,6) hlAmalia's song, love is presented as being like a magnet: the woman is attracted to the man. Because of her devotion to him, she is sub— limated to the level of altruistic love. To convey altruistic love, Sdfiller uses the image of a mirror: in "wie Maiensonne, / Rfickgestrahlt VOIHblauen Spiegelmeer" (11.6—7). In this type of love, the "I" and but“ Wt J MW “e n, ist in i m m vefi the 3”” m when“ en: '21 and Mia him It enE' 3 mdmental 'llps the ind” a. die si‘ hstude hab‘ has beschaf‘ Filler compos‘ hesponds t0 : Lees the axis asap in Mill heat, an ind ti, accordin ~.\\ \‘I' \II I nal 77 "Thou" become one in that they mirror each others' feelings. In the Theosophie again, Julius writes Raphael: "Mit Wohlgefallen [Liebe] erkenne ich meine Empfindungen wieder in dem Spiegel der deinigen. . ." (XV:1h7,lh-15). And then he continues two paragraphs on: ". . .ich glaube an die Wirklichkeit einer uneigenniitzigen Liebe" (XV:lh8,2h—25). Concerning a personality such as Franz's, Julius writes: "Ein Geist, der sich allein liebt, ist ein schwimmender Atom im unermefslichen leeren Raume" (X'V:lh8, 29-30). The verb "schwimmen" appears in Franz's first monologue also, with the same negative connotation of aimlessness: life has no apparent goal beyond existing. But "love" gives life a purpose, as it does for Karl and Amalia: namely, the interest in the welfare of another indi— vidual. It engenders good will which the philosopher Kant considered the fundamental moral in the worldlm It is good will, he writes, that helps the individual fulfill the categorical imperative: "Handle nach Maximen, die sich selbst zugleich als allgemeine Naturgesetze zum Gegenstande haben konnen. So ist die Formel eines schlechterdings guten [*5 Although Kant wrote his Grundleflg zur Meta— Willens beschaffen." My Sitten, in which this quote appears, five years after Schiller composed 2.5-3. Rauber, the concept underlying Schiller's play corresponds to Kant's statement. In the next monologue Karl contem— plates the existential forms of nature and how they correspond to the ethics of the play. In realizing, then, a transcendental—type existence in the immediate present, an individual in the poetic reality experiences altruistic love, Which, according to Schiller, elevates one to "Gott'ahnlichkeit" (XV:lSl, 11—12). In a letter to Reinwald (11+ April 1783) Schiller discusses 1"de ‘Ii. him: lmedhem‘ Monthe oh: “himselfaj he retrospv Elites in the '32 “Masts w. R and Present this speech. 1 the at an i (1y: kt! of the re E Mrechen fa: :W'QLQS) ' 3W" "hem," $335 he Sees 1' “West- Ir. 55%" or id their benefi me? Grimm .439 Md pmje 78 divine love as "Den ewigen inneren Hang, in das Nebe‘ngeschopf fiber- zugehen, oder daBelbe in sich hineinzuschli‘ngen, es anzureiIBen. . . ,h6 a description almost identical to the discussion of love in the Philosophische Briefe. Schiller then poses the question in the letter: ". . .sind nicht alle Erscheinungen der Freundschaft und Liebe . . .so viel KuBerungen eines zur Vermischung strebenden Wesens‘?")+7 In 1113331113 Karl exemplifies love, then, because he attracts to him— self and he wants to do good for them, i.e., he exercises good will. Franz, on the other hand, prefers an insular existence, not caring to extend himself and to empathize with another individual. Karl Moor (III,2) The retrospective mood which Schiller creates in Amalia's song continues in the second scene of the act. For Karl the paradisiacal past contrasts with his immediate present. That he perceives his past and present as antipoles is evinced by the off-setting images in his speech. For instance, as the scene opens, Karl and his band arrive at an idyllic spot along the Danube. Karl is impressed by the beauty of the region: "Seht doch, wie schon das Getreide steht!--Die Baume brechen fast unter ihrem Segen.—-Der Weinstock voll Hoffnung" (II:lOO,2Ll—26). As opposed to Franz's imagery, Karl's associates "beauty," "hope," and "blessing"——all positive qualities—~with the Objects he sees in nature, here specifically as he observes the poten_ tial harvest. In Schiller's plays, the harvest represents the immanent realization of ideals whose seeds men plant and nurture in order to reap their benefit, i.e. , to create a more perfect humanity. After Grim confirms Karl's observation, the latter becomes more Pensive and projects an image with ominous implications: "Aber es kann :73 :h 5.50 * ' injects dud by the Ieimsly con; lifest his do]! “'5 Finlege t‘ “1 reacts. ID centres '11! tries to (:1 ”11 in Mensch fMitt, va: “WOW rv Motion E 3439s that K: “‘5'! individm :,.. ~35 Mn is “M hate I" the nex Mi? of SE L, firemen nae 79 ja fiber Nacht ein Hagel fallen and alles zugrund schlagen" (II:lOO,29- 30). In this image "hail" has the same function as the gracious gentle- man in Franz's facetious image in his first—act monologue (II:3l,30—32): both represent destruction of hopes. But there is a fundamental differ- ence in the perspective of the two images: Karl perceives nature's whim, Franz projects the despotism of a human being bent on power. Karl is confused by the inexplicable destruction wrought by nature; Franz consciously concentrates on how he can dash the hopes of others to manifest his dominion over them. His image is calculated to justify this privilege of power. Franz rationalizes, Karl questions; Franz acts, Karl reacts. In contrast to Franz, who concentrates on man's physical existence, Karl tries to comprehend the function of man's spiritual side: "Warum soll dem Menschen das gelingen, was er von der Ameise hat, wenn ihm das fehlschlagt, was ihn den Gottern gleichmacht?" he asks (II:lOO,31+—35). The dichotomy represented in the imagery of this question is that of destruction versus creativity. By the phrasing of the question, one surmises that Karl subscribes to the idea of a creative capacity in every individual, which is ultimately based on love, according to Julius in his Theosophie. Franz, on the other hand, is bent upon destruction, based upon hate. In the next set of contrasting images leading to Karl's monologue, the motif of gambling is accentuated. Karl represents life as a "Wettrennen nach Gliickseligkeit" and as a "Lotto" (II!101,6-7; 9). This is not the only time he utilizes a gambling metaphor to convey his per- Ception of life. Previously in the play he facetiously describes the Whimsical action of the court which decides life and death with the Verb i ? --.-a--I- hiathe o “was I ! flier hszug'! 'I'Schmpie] m! then mus ‘5 Karl moi 51kt Verschwj tiller him, 5 filles in 111i Kraft: die “1'3 Chiffe: sich dem de AlPhabet, x °Wnsteu (“Hilda ir‘gm, "attire ii“ be initi. 1min both E hi1 then 5 m W01: {Elihu Karl ‘2“ 0? & suns: T»: n whence 0f 1 "i511 imfiim 80 "wfirfeln" (II:92,31). Later in the play's structure, when he learns of Franz's deed against their father, Karl expresses his feelings in another image of gambling: "Die Gesetze der Welt sind Wiirfelspiel worden . . ." (II:lhl,6—7). The tertium comparationis mediating between gam— bling and life is the concept of chance. In an atmosphere based on gambling there is no stability, no universal laws seem to govern; expe- diency is the only guide. Life, to Franz also, is a gamble in which the bold wager their means to gain success. But, as Karl sees it, "Nullen sind der Auszug" (II:lOl,ll—l2) from this type of gambling. He calls it a "Schauspiel," meaning such a form of existence is an illusion. Reality then must assume another form. As Karl more decisively internalizes what he observes ("in den Anblick verschwimmt" [II:lOl,l6]), nature becomes increasingly a hiero— glyph for him, as it does for Julius in the Theosophie: Alles in mir und auBer mir ist nur Hieroglyphe einer Kraft, die mir 'ahnlich ist. Die Gesetze der Natur sind die Chiffern, welche das denkende Wesen zusammenfiigt, sich dem denkenden Wesen verst'andlich zu machen-—das Alphabet, vermittelst dessen alle Geister mit dem voll- kommensten Geist und mit sich selbst unterhandeln. (XV:1h1,12—28) For Karl, nature becomes a symbol for an ideal form of existence which should be initiated in society, a function typically attributed to nature in both Schiller's philosophical and poetic constructs.ha Karl then internalizes the symbolism around him. Sunset, for example, symbolizes the death of a hero (II:lOl,l6), the type of individual Karl idealized in his childhood. Schiller often employs the image of a sunset ("Sonnenuntergang") in his plays to symbolize the evanescence of some ideal.h9 For Karl it is an ideal human type of his youthful imagination that seems to vanish, a type he also read about in I F. I It is the ! WE for the? It! the compo in mind as ”'1 sind, va “I htur vie We, "das fist, das Des 5‘59 Killheit m trams to :52" to Kim has i.e. in beauty, filled. sehiller j v has. as! n in an in? the beat Hit einer 1hr [def § Peimichsl 81 his Plutarch (II:33,16). The concept of the hero stirs Karl, as Grimm xwtes: "Du scheinst tief berfihrt" (II:lOl,lB). The gpg§igpe§§_follow— ing'Ts war eine Zeit-—" (II:lOl,23) conveys the intense emotions which thenmmory of childhood engenders in him. And the more introspective he bammes,the more he contemplates an ideal which was a reality in his youfln Grimm tells Karl "sei doch kein Kind. . ." (II:lOl,33), to which Mud replies melancholically, "war' ichs——war' ich's wieder!" (II:lOl, 3HL The childhood state represents an ideal time for Karl. It is the objects in nature which inspire his memories of, and longing for the ideal form of existence he knew as a child. Some years after the composition of Qi§_Rauber, Schiller wrote that objects in namne remind men of their childhood because "Sie [die Gegenstande der Namnfl sind, was wir waren; sie sind, was wir wieder werden sollen. Wir waraiNatur wie sie. . ." (VII:hh3,lh-15), nature meaning, in this hwtance, "das stille, schaffende Leben, das ruhige Wirken aus sich selbst, das Dasein nach eignen Gesetzen, die innere Notwendigkeit, die mdge Einheit mit sich selbst" (VII:hh3,ll—l3). The later definition umresponds to the definition which Schiller renders for nature in a letter to Kdrner (23 February 1793) in which he equates nature with finedom,50 i.e., ”Selbstbestimmung.”51 Freedom, in turn, is the basis Ofthe beautiful,52 an ideal toward which most of Schiller's plays are directed. Schiller incorporates the qualities of "nature," "freedom," and 'meauty" in another concept which he elaborates in §§23.5EEEE.EE§_H§£QE, namely the beautiful soul: Mit einer Leichtigkeit, als wenn bloB der Instinkt aus ihr [der schonen Seele] handelte, fibt sie der Menschheit Pelnlichste Pflichten aus, und das heldenmfitigste Opfer, “flout h: it f'n: linens at he the "men! it"Wilt-11 der hm soul mm ff. My 0? "play hisiacal in 73h enthusiasm Such a p31 tie “9' Liel 531““ be the}; einer ("1353.1 m” Karl £25,388 dires fist ”Helen :nsenee 01 Me “hich 3th,. FOr ‘xE. 3mm 82 das sie dem Naturtriebe abgewinnt, fallt wie eine frei— willige Wirkung eben dieses Triebes in die Augen. Daher weiB sie selbst auch niemals um die Sch6nheit ihres Han—- delns, und es fallt ihr nicht mehr ein, dale man anders handeln und empfinden k5nnte. . . . (v11:13h,3k — 135,5) In the beautiful soul, duty and inclination coincide (VII:l35,18), and it, therefore, seems to be free. But, as beauty is the appearance of freedom, so the beautiful soul, according to Schiller, is not in fact free: it finds itself in the fortunate circumstance that its inclination only happens to correspond to its duty. Schiller terms this correspon— dence the "unerwartete Zusammenstimmung des Zufalligen der Natur mit dem Notwendigen der Vernunft. . ." (VII:lS3,7—9). This noble innocence of a beautiful soul is basically what the child symbolizes for Schiller (Vllzhhhfih ff.). The behavior of both ideal types exemplifies the beauty of "play" (Schonheit des Spiels" [VIIzl28,2l]). And it is such paradisiacal innocence which individuals in Schiller's plays remember with enthusiasm (VII:508, 9—1h). Such a paradisiacal time occurred for Amalia during the "Sch'a'.fer- stunde der Liebe" (XV:l37,lT—l8) which she spent with Karl. For Schiller the beautiful soul engenders love, "ein Gefiihl, das von Anmut [Ausdruck einer schonen Seele (VII:l37,6)] und Schdnheit unzertrennlich ist" (VII:153,12—1h). After Karl comments on the beauty of the earth, Schiller inserts ' a posture which indicates Karl's the stage direction "zuriickgesunken,' almost complete psychological isolation. The only reference he makes to the presence of others, the second—person plural "seht," is a motor resPonse which is not intended to include his compatriots in his thoughts. For the purposes of the drama, then, Karl speaks monologic— ally. Several remarks which Grimm and Schwarz make about his behavior ilk Elysian bl realizing: " We and ti the hiBlichj flan 1mm x “Enthu- pm i it so herrlic tiles. The re ! messes his c 5" Schiller u Wed that c Perceivmg 7 tech hams Ethan: _ . ' 3 Wings 2 $33, begin tribes the p feeling a 333 Md Perfec Fem "Sonne .{ EyresQntS 83 indicate Karl's psychological isolation: "ich hab’ ihn nie so gesehen" and "Nur Geduld, der Paroxysmus ist schon im Fallen" (II:llO2,26—27; 35-36). That they refer to him in the third person and not directly with the second person "du" evinces their recognition of his intro— spective state of being. Even though the beauty of nature impresses him and evokes memories of the Elysian scenes of his childhood (II:103,3-h),53 Schiller presents Karl realizing that there is a disparity between his immediate state of being and that which he perceives in the beautiful landscape: "Und ich so hia'ldlich auf dieser schonen Welt——und ich ein Ungeheuer auf dieser herrlichen Erde" (II:102,7-—8). This parallelism--the outgrowth of another parallelism: ". . .diese Welt ist so schon!" and "Diese Erde so herrlich" (II:lOQ,3 and 5)--re—inforces the disparity he per— ceives. The reason for the disparity, he realizes, is that he no longer possesses his childhood innocence (II:lO2,lO-l2), a common motif at the time Schiller wrote D_i_e Rauber. Rousseau propagated this idea: he asserted that civilization corrupts.5h Perceiving his lost innocence to be in an abeyant state, Karl's Speech becomes more poetic than previously: "Meine Unschuld.’ Meine Unschuld.‘ . . .es ist alles hinausgegangen, sich im friedlichen Strahl des Frfihlings zu sonnen" (II:lO2,lO—l2). Rhetoric, in the form of the enallage, begins to dominate his expression. The adjective "friedlich" describes the predominant state of nature, and presumably the character- istic feeling an individual would possess were he to regain the happi— ness and perfection which characterizes childhood innocence (VII:LlS9,Lt—5), The verb "sonnen" indicates that Karl's innocence has not died: if the Sun represents the source of truth, then "sonnen" symbolizes innocence f ‘z‘ 33:- .L-Ay {fir-Hi. was; . imm ' Waist fiincesmt ' Human I'M. mm mt Whity; hr in Hechs But at no hing cmaple tween the law tiles: "mm 3102,1243) . ft” childhoo :3: reslizes t mmms ffltion of his Lie? differi fit this no blame“ ’56 I: is a eh mm“ What "‘93 and um 8h dormantly basking in the light of truth but not activated. The noun "Frfihling" functions to give form to the concept of rejuvenation which such figurative sunning may generate. The act of rejuvenation in nature symbolizes men's immortality, the eternity of life. As Karl introspects he experiences a moment of his immortality during which time is suspended in time (VII:320,6). Although existing in a category of time characterized by change, meaning the incessant forward movement of events, Karl momentarily penetrates the temporal—time perSpective in that he gains insight into the eternal, universal, immutable laws of nature which bind change together. For a moment eternity becomes the living present for him and he perceives the ”Dauer im Wechsel" Goethe alludes to in his poem of the same name.55 But at no time during the monologue does Schiller present Karl becoming completely, psychologically suspended in time. The disparity between the laws of nature and his immediate situation continually arises: "warum ich allein die Holle saugen aus den Freuden des Himmels?" (II:lOQ,l2—l3). This is the question he poses after perceiving his former childhood ideal in the image of innocence basking in the sun. Karl realizes that there is a distinct difference between what he per— ceives in the structure of nature and his own form of existence. One function of his monologue is, then, to give expression to the confronta— tion of differing existential forms, a confrontation which occurs within Karl at this moment in the play. For Karl it is a dialectic of time and timelessness,56 of temporal and transcendental forms of being. It is a characteristic of Schiller’s style that the audience does not learn what a particular ideal is, but rather how the ideal is per- ceived and understood by a particular character.57 For instance, after 1'- I. in is often NV- The “(ml pa “flavored raj We "later 6 ill Karl 's ima mill ”Wins Set ”We exemplj We 0f sell I.“ Ilneisenni Homing 5 Ellen liebte E'5"“1“3llre. nation, the E: ““3, an 3:“ 0111:1155 ,: 3350,2142) ‘ 5! ha been: $"id“als to he could res} flier “W“ of Con: 85 questioning his function in nature, Karl expresses his impression about the permanent form of nature: "Daft alles so gliicklich ist, durch den Geist des Friedens alles so verschwistert!-—Die ganze Welt eine Familie und ein Vater dort oben-—" (II:lO2,13—15).58 The motif of the family appears in each of Schiller's plays as a source of conflict, a conflict which is often, though not always, central to the dramatic structure of the play. The conflict in D_igR'a'uber stems from Franz's attempt to alter the natural patriarchal order of the family by replacing the elder Moor, his temporal father, who, in the socio—historical setting, corresponds to the "Vater dort oben" governing nature. The conflict stands at odds with Karl's image of nature, the basic element of which is "Verschwis- terung." During Schiller's life brotherhood was considered to be that form of love exemplified when men do good for the sake of good and not 58 This is what is meant by the "Wirklichkeit because of self—interest. einer uneigenniitzigen Liebe" in the Theosophie (XV:lh8,2h—25), and also the following statement in the same work: "Wenn jeder Mensch alle Menschen liebte, so besafse jeder einzelne die Welt," (XV:lhT,30-32) i.e., nature. If the individual does love all men without some ulterior motivation, then the individual attains a form of divinity (XV:lSl,12). This means, according to Schiller, doing "alles, was die gesunde Natur tut" (VII:h55,lO—ll), since nature is synonymous with God in this usage (XVilSO,2l—22). If an individual loves every other individual he becomes like God because of the pandemic application of his love. And were all individuals to rise to this level of selfless love, a family—like struc- ture could result in society. Because of the peace resulting from the absence of conflict, ataraxia would then prevail. In this type of _ . . .. ...1.’_._gm;5r_,i,f,_ .,-,-..~ 1-2 Tifiyfii ‘1’- . _ - . n.— ”"I- '_',‘.~".'."f.'!' ‘- Tl; :J-H '. “at: “H "i ““ ihmmer Will their butt freely Willy freed they to. B? stiller reason “M i it'vidun has it, nlthoug‘ I tindiVidual iiutilize that I918,3 ff. ); Elie realiz iiflifests 1‘ its an ide item town Asimilhr iii Harem there Ku htiheit iatur zur Kl ‘ historig 86 social structure, there would be one ultimate source of authority: a father. In Schiller's philosophy the concepts "nature," "beauty," "child," and "naive" belong to the same construct. Objects in nature represent ideals which men emulate as children when, in their naivete, they behave in the manner of a beautiful soul: by following their instincts, they fulfill their duty to other men. They are beautiful because they appear to act freely whereas, according to Schiller's philosophy, they are not actually free: their unconscious love for others compels them to behave as they do. But since all men fall from their state of innocence, individual has the task of returning to that same type of paradisiacal state, although it will not be an identical form of existence. When the individual reaches his second paradise he will have the ability to recognize that he acts in accordance with natural, universal moral laws (X:218,3 ff.); his behavior will exemplify the categorical imperative. When he realizes what the natural laws are, and then acts accordingly, he manifests freedom by choosing to act as he does. And so childhood becomes an ideal to be enthusiastically remembered by civilized men, as an ideal toward which to strive. A similar idea is repeated in MM un_d sentimentalische Dichtung: Wir waren Natur wie sie [die Gegenstande der Natur] , und unsere Kultur soll uns, auf dem Wege der Vernunft und der Freiheit [that derives from knowledge of universals], zur Natur zuriickfiihren. (VII:1¥33,15—17) AS an historian, Schiller observed causal relationships between events Wuhan For Karlf Iein Vate ”158m“ Sl'lfle lime Mich-111‘ (H:102,] 3hr fami] iEEHKII‘]. com} "mill. ha hath, Same The cont] i‘rufickuch. '“8 within "a" As I ""11 Once . 1452*ka of I if 1"? beYon. 2""! can s. I“ the s. Eben of s: "513' In or fieq—‘W'AV l__ 87 and patterns of cultural evolution-—resembling the concepts of history professed by Herder and Rousseau——which the philosopher Schiller then transferred into an ontology. In the ontologyr man has a dual nature: body and spirit, animal and divinity, sentience and reason. This ontology also evolved into an ethic in which the individual must decide between inclination and duty. If he should achieve a conscious harmony of the two, he gains moral freedom and becomes like God in this capa- city to know and act correctly. For Karl the disparity between ideal and reality constantly arises: mein Vater nicht—~ich allein der VerstoBene, ich allein ausgemustert aus den Reihen der Reinen——mir nicht der siiBe Name Kind——nimner mir der Geliebten schmachtender Blick—-nimmer, nimmer des Busenfreundes Umarmung'. (II:lO2,l6—20) The Moor family represents a microcosm of the universal family structure. When Karl compares the familial form of nature with his position in his own family, he concludes that his personal existential sphere does not have the same form as that pervading nature. The contrasting images "Kind" and "Grab des Verderbens," "Blumen der gliicklichen Welt" and "ein heulender Abbadona" connote the conflict raging within Karl between the hope in nature and the despair within himself. As a metaphor, childhood represents not only the ideal that all men once experienced, but also the future because a child stands on the brink of life. The grave, by way of contrast, represents the end 0f life beyond which the individual who is caught in the temporal reality can see no existence. In the second set of contrasting metaphors, flowers represent the children of spring (XI:59); they symbolize natural beauty, blossoming ideals. In contrast to the beauty of a flower, "ein heulender Abbadona," " fit; I; y. . WEI m r Ilia mm W list to Fr; W he nigh] inborn a bei little responsa "Hm himsel: ‘ '3‘ his innoc‘ I N, which he Befilming ":1" rhetori. "3! the Danu‘ is” “fleas i: he third-p. 1‘ aPliears, Ehsified em. 5 "Watt mom ""WSZenen "Mich. Wm. BM :‘lnl I "'1" trag‘ 88 a fallen angel, projects a grim image of an illustrious individual reduced to a Jobian level of existence, like the angel in Milton's Paradise fit. The wish to return to the original state of childhood is the theme of the next paragraph. The contrary—to—fact subjunctive voice indicates that Karl understands his wish cannot become a reality; he cannot return to his mother's body, symbolizing the original source of creation. In contrast to Franz, Karl views procreation in a positive light, even though he might wish to change the circumstances of his birth and have been born a beggar or a common laborer, types of individuals who bear little responsibility for the destiny of society. Karl would like to relieve himself of duty and follow his inclinations. But he has already lost his innocence and can, therefore, only remember and lament the ideal past, which he does in the last paragraph of the monologue. Beginning with the formulaic, fairy~tale introduction "es war eine Zeit," rhetoric again swells in the speech as Karl observes the area along the Danube which reminds him of "Elysiumszenen" from his childhood. But, whereas in the previous descriptions the landscape is referred to in the third—person, in this paragraph the intimate second—person pro— noun appears, signifying a highpoint of personal involvement. The intensified emotionalism arising from the involvement is conveyed by the interjection, "O," the fragmented parataxis, and the dashes. At this emotional peak, his deep pessimism breaks through: "Sie [Elysiumszenen] werden nimmer zurfickkehren. . .Dahinl dahin! unwie- derbringlich.’——" (II:lO3,6—9). The future seems totally void of hope for him. Because he has no solutions for his problematic involvement, potential tragedy sets in. H :mh Mo 80 bad" "moral.i he “Mic "directly e1 Elm! % "hands latte) die Kind"'"I‘Scl fast Verge: 8!].er "81‘ ""blick d "net" Phenc i": the and " the m011010! ’tts it has "i wheat is ur IE "1" "Elle , "a" it has it, “here, ~=I§IQSSQS & c ‘3. m. ‘meless " "tint tc 89 Believing that his paradise is lost for good, Karl gives up the possibility of regaining the existential form of childhood. After coming out of his dream—like state he once again swears the ominous oath never to leave the band of robbers (II:th,6). It is ominous because once an individual gives his word in a play by Schiller, he set irrevocable forces in motion which eventually ensnare him if he tries to go back on his spoken word or if that word contradicts an ideal supporting the ambience around him. The function of Karl‘s monologic speech in the play's structure is indirectly explained by Wolfgang Binder when he analyzes a scene in Kabale _ufl Liebe with a similar function: Ferdinands und Luises Erinnerungen stehen in einer langen Kette, die von Karl Moors Sehnsucht nach der verlorenen Kinderunschuld (III,2) bis zu Demetrius' Frage nach Jenem fast vergessenen unschuldigen Jiingling reicht, der er selber war (im geplanten fi'mften Akt). Immer bilden diese Riickblicke einen Ruhepunkt, . . .immer haben sie den Zweck das Tragische vor dem Hintergrund des Idyllischen—-dies ist Schiller spateres Wort "r den ewigen Zustand——in seiner Tragik zu enthiillen. The poetic phenomenon which Binder identifies we classify as an epic effect: the audience is given the opportunity to detach itself, along with the monologist, from the pressure of the action and reflect on the events it has witnessed and is witnessing on stage. The object of such detachment is understanding the forces and ideals at work in Big R'auber. One could argue, as Kate Hamburger does, that whenever a poet employs a monologue it has such an epic effect.60 But, whereas the monologue has an epic mnction for the audience, it EXpresses a dramatic—problematic disposition in the character Karl Moor. Timeless ideals projected in the epic descriptive passages serve as a contrast to Karl's immediate situation which he questions: it . u," [Ilium 1 '1':th 31m. i.e., “lit the 311 Ice predoa Mikey of h “PM tens iwillie childh M appear ""9 as he 1) he use 0 will or the :3 t° his si "Nip of "whim“ 3'] later in 3:5, the cha "alias the "Wher f :3 "QQiSely 3533"" P15 "hits a cc 90 seems to him to be the complete antithesis of the ideals he observes in nature. It is a moment of existential crisis for Karl which he momen— tarily succumbs to by swearing the oath to his men. Corresponding to the fluctuation between epic and dramatic pas— sages, the syntax varies between parataxis and hypotaxis, the latter of which is caused by the use of the consecutive—causal conjunction "daB." It functions to specify the result of the statement which it follows, i.e., is subordinated to: e.g. , "O ich wollte mich abmiiden, dais mir das Blut von den Schlafen rollte" (11:102,31—33). The predominance of present tense in Karl's language expresses the immediacy of his internal crisis between what is and what should be. When past tense appears it is in conjunction with reflections on his idyllic childhood. In the last paragraph of Karl's monologue future tenses appear to communicate the absolute hopelessness for Karl's future as he perceives it at this moment. The use of subjunctive voice indicates a statement contrary to the reality of the situation and, therefore, the futility which Karl attrib— utes to his situation. He feels his fate is decided by virtue of his leadership of the robbers: "Umgelagert von M6rdern——von Nattern umzischt—-angeschmiedet an das Laster mit eisernen Banden" (II:102,20—22). Only later in the play is he presented as realizing that he himself forges the chains of his own fate (II:l36,17—18). At this moment he Visualizes the discrepancy between the values of time and timelessness. Another function which Karl‘s speech has is to inform the audience more precisely than before what form the ideals have which pervade SChiller's play. The socio—-political ideal that takes shape here resembles a concept Rousseau developed in his _D_u contrat social: become} mm tri Nous. F0; Min of; hot all next iifidufl youl 3" 311011 ty “its accord i“Society. 1] Miles they "“80ch house 01 intends ac traction of 5“th m "at with 1 53in the $2 delivere< .34.. ‘ "men 0: '.'n ‘ . \ "his mum 91 La famille est dont, si l'on veut, le premier modéle des sociétés politiques: le chef est l'image du pére, le peuple est 1"image des enfants, et tous étant nés égaux 61 et libres n'aliénent leur liberté que pour leur utilité. The form of society which Rousseau describes corresponds to the family- structured polity over which the elder Moor governed with the love of a father.62 As a consequence of Karl's reflections concerning the social order, much of what transpires in the previous acts takes on greater symbolic dimensions. For example, Franz's rebellion against, and attempted destruction of his family's structure symbolizes the menacing destruc— tion of all natural, social order. Were he successful, tyranny by an individual would replace the universal principle of the patriarchal order. Such tyranny results in a chaotic society in which each individ— ual acts according to his desires without concern for his function in the society. Under such circumstances, peace and happiness do not prevail as they would if the actions of every individual corresponded to categorical imperatives. Order and selfishness cannot co—exist. Because of the emphasis on the idealism of child—like existence, Schufterle's act of throwing the child into the fire symbolizes the destruction of ideal innocence. Schufterle is part of the metaphoric fire meant to do good, but which rages out of control and consumes the innocent with the evil. Karl Moor (IV,l) As in the two previous acts, the fourth act begins with a mono— lOSUe delivered by Karl. Each of the three major characters is assigned the function of initiating an act. The order in which Schiller assigns them this function offers an insight into the structure of the play. ::I. l‘ . ,. .7LS"1 P l lashes ._.- . . :- 4. -. Wind ad “1 delivers Med to ah "I :1 Ms m Hells a tad Id Win. it“ depart ‘ht the attra W: the E "‘ he Place MW in As the I‘c We, a see: Mom Ag tater impact Hith such E‘L‘htgebirger "filing en 3th nature 4 -. h. “the, as 92 When Franz delivers his soliloquy, at the beginning of the second act, he seems in control of fate; he emotes confidence. In that monologue he plans the death of his father which, if successful, would change the course of events. Amalia, in her song, recalls an idyllic past of love. The mood of remembering the past and projecting ideals is continued throughout the act. The third act functions as a transition from Franz's actions which are in direct conflict with ideals of love, such as brotherhood and family, to Karl‘s pursuit of these same ideals. As Karl delivers his monologue at the beginning of the fourth act, he has started to shift from reaction to action. Toward the end of the third act, a young man named Kosinsky appears who wants to join the robbers. He tells a tale of being separated from his love, who coincidentally is named Amalia. The story so moves Karl to see his Amalia that he and the others depart immediately for the Moor castle, an act which signifies that the attraction of love is stronger in him than any dislike result- ing from the paternal disinheritance. By deciding to return to his home, he places another obstacle in Franz‘s path that the latter had not calculated in his plan. As the fourth act opens, the scene is a rustic region near the Moor castle, a scene similar to that in which Karl delivers his previous monologue. Again the objects in nature have an impact on him, an even greater impact than before because of the proximity to his home. With such phrases as "Wie so kostlich wehet die Luft von meinen Heimatgebirgen! Wie strdmt balsamische Wonne aus euch dem armen Fliichtling entgegen!" (II:lll,13—l)4), Schiller conveys the permeating effect nature has on Karl: he momentarily feels a part of the family 01" nature, as he did when a child. Because of this feeling of intimacy, Minemali hWing thq hymn wit] Want. . Mpresent‘ €“With E11 hthis I We leVej Ming "v i.‘L'hses his “Farm. I"Axes w, M The] when,“ mum of] Eethree Rom WW: .138 1 93 he addresses the objects he perceives with the second—person pronoun "euch." .Such expression conveys a lyric disposition according to Wolfgang Kayser: Im Lyrischen flieBen Welt und Ich zusammen, durchdringen sich, und das in der Erregtheit einer Stimmung, die nun das eigentlich Sich—Aussprechende ist. Das Seelische durchtrankt die Gegenst'andlichkeit, und diese verinnert sich. Die Verinnerung alles Gegenstiindlichen in dieser momentanen Erregung ist das Wesen des Lyrischen. Karl internalizes time as well as "alles Gegenstandliche." Temporarily forgetting the discrepancies in his immediate existence, he remembers his youth with fervor: "Die goldne Maienjahre der Knabenzeit leben wieder auf. . ." (II:lll,25—26). Time is momentarily suspended for him; past, present, and future melt into an eternal moment while he exper— iences the Elysian scenes of his youth.6h In this lyric section of the monologue (II:lll,lO—25) the poetic— rhetoric level of the passage is supported by alliteration of the fricatives "v," "f," and "w," by the enallage "balsamische Wonne," which expresses his subjective, synesthetic reaction to nature, and by the use of parallelism constructed around the adverb "wie."65 Images with symbolic implications abound at the outset of the speech. The noun "Vaterland" contained in his first three words alludes to the patriarchal structure of nature and society, and of the cosmic structure of 2552 R'auber. Each realm is overseen by a father figure. The three nouns with which the noun "Vaterland" is formed into new cOmpounds-—"Erde," "Himmel," and "Sonne"-—project images of the most Prominent spheres of a cosmos. Earth is the temporal, physical sphere where man lives and socializes. Heaven represents the eternal, extra— terrestrial, metaphySical sphere, the source and residence of universalS. . _ . Eii-lr: I ‘41- H'eifiru-fi-JP“ {I _ ,3 _I 7- "VLIqu'hy‘ui; ‘ Karl and fimologue ml in: a time 1 Him with : ill! be descr Karl desc W's churc Mather abc i“June the Mush i 5am to hams. Win the 3511! the s, Him” Si its! 0!] “hie mitt.“ damn; dent The in! E3390125 the 9h And the sun as a symbol functions as the intermediary between the physi— cal and metaphysical, the temporal and eternal. It represents then the perpetual source of enlightenment which guides men to transcendental ideals. Once men realize what the ideals are, they may be acted upon in the temporal sphere. Karl envisions the scene before him as Elysium again, terming it in this monologue a "dichterische Welt" (II:lll,l6). By attributing the abstract quality "dichterisch" to his former "Elysium," he implies that it was a time of beauty;66 i.e. , it was an aesthetic existence in con- junction with Schiller's terminology for the ideal form of existence which he described in his later aesthetic writings (VII:3h7,9 ff.). 1 Karl describes nature as a "holy temple,‘ indicating that nature is God's church——a pantheistic concept——and that Karl can commune with the Father above. Nature, then, is a hieroglyph which one reads to determine the Father's will (XV:it1,ih-18). Through Karl's eyes, the audience‘s attention shifts from nature in general to the area of the castle where memorabilia such as the "Schwalbennester," "Gartentiirchen," "Ecke am Zaun," and "Wiesental" symbolize the stability of time: they existed in the past in substan— tially the same form as in the present. The swallows' nests have a particular significance. In folk belief the swallow protects the house on which it nests from such things as lightning, death, and conflict.67 But there is irony in this symbol because conflict and 8opparent death reign in Moor's castle at this moment in the play. The imagery in "Die goldenen Maienjahre leben wieder auf. Projects the rejuvenation which Karl experiences within himself. Gold is a traditional symbol referring to a past or future ideal age, t basic ton Ielimination. Halts from . l”habjec’c h tr Triumph {”1 sMiles t ”535 at the 31tiller, "hi W31 won But Kari :1 Win] 3331mm 1 Emml‘e" ‘5, 3lenden" in”: pet - 95 because of the richness associated with the metal gold.68 Schiller, however, sometimes associates the color gold with the color of light,69 and in this context it alludes to essential being. It is also consistent for Schiller's imagery that Karl refers to his Elysian past as "Maienjahre" since Elysium (in the poem of the same name) is termed a state of "ewiger Mai" in which Die Stunden entfliehen in goldenen Tr'aumen, Die Seele schwillt aus in unendlichen Raumen, Wahrheit reiBt hier den Schleier entzwei. (1:56) The basic form of existence in such a state of being is perpetual rejuvenation. Karl's momentary psychic rejuvenation, his psychic spring, results from the love that attracts him to the area of his youth. And each object he observes, he perceives with eyes of love. In the poem "Der Triumph der Liebe" (1782) , Schiller writes Liebe, Liebe l'achelt nur Aus dem Auge der Natur Wie aus ihrem Spiegel! (I:h5) Karl smiles too: the objects he sees reflect the love he has known and senses at the moment. It is such feelings of love, according to ' i.e. , a heaven in the Schiller, which make a place or time "Elysian,' temporal world (IzhO). But Karl is a finite being in a finite world and eventually returns to a cognizance of his less—than—ideal existence in the milieu. And so his Elysian moment is short—lived, as the continuation of the "Maienjahre" metaphor indicates: ". . .leben wieder auf in der Seele des Elenden" (II:lll,26—-27). Whereas in the first section of the mono— logue, past tenses compliment the present, in this section they convey i met mid he “advi H m“ sign h bin icl Ito the men mimetion "1 is situation Karl use ibis Speech f3110f 31m :her than s ”it Sectio 3W der F1 EmDares 1 359: Which EL“: truth. But, qui 25 Prisoner 35%" (II 53111., n The She: 96 a conflict with the present: "Hier solltest du wandeln dereinst, ein groBer, stattlicher, gepriesener Mann——hier dein Knabenleben in Amalias bfiflmnden Kindern zum zweiten Mal leben" (II:ll2,l-h). The ideal and the reality conflict. The latter of the two ideals formulates the mwortance of the family: the family facilitates the orderly rejuvena- timiof mankind, the process of rejuvenation being conveyed by the present participle "blfihend" modifying "Kinder." The "adversive" conjunction "aber,"70 as well as the combination 'hnd nun" signify a development contrary to his ideal. The question 'Wammlbin ich hierhergekommen?" (II:ll2,5—6) expresses his confusion asto the meaning of his own actions. The use of the ”consecutive” chunction "daB" conveys Karl's attempt to explain the causality of his situation. Karl uses imagery less frequently here than in the first section ofifis speech. When he does resort to figurative speech, it is in the fbrm of similes: the images become conscious, detached comparisons, raUmr than spontaneous metaphoric expressions, as they are in the pre- ceding section. For instance, Karl compares his lyric remembering to a 'Traum der Freiheit," meaning it was an insight into what should be. Hecompares his dream to "Licht" forgotten and a "Blitz in die Nacht"—— images which symbolize the revelation of truth amidst the darkness which hides truth. But, quite the contrary to feeling free, he perceives himself as am prisoner "den der klirrende Eisenring aus Traumen der Freiheit mnjagt" (II:ll2,6—8). He is a prisoner in the sense that his own oaths bindifim, placing an enslaving obligation on him. The short second section (II:lll,26 — 112,7) manifests what Staiger “iv-u but»? an? .'W-JAII‘ 21"} "ac-In"! .. -._-'2-_~ 1533319!!!" 5-, ' -. ' . ,3 --_. .,::-..-'~ " " " '3" ' _._ " H l . n, :~;1:.=m m u = 51,-. _ ; ' ‘ .. . .... ,3”. . bani” 3,1,” 'fl“ .ifiihsthlrd SET ‘ I I. ‘ . in,“ 3:13an Whiramaticallyi ‘ 9 manna)! ‘ 1 hchich his confui ‘ It! leg, hohler, 1 Win for love an Wfically exerciz lifests greatness “greatness" in th Wet" (mm, “19 Problematic ““9 in the third. Minn ““1111" P0111 I I l i has such as those hvergimmir die men“ nor "mg“ mine, but to p01 The Premium WK {muons a: Wesen is por ti homily °Vercom. 3h 9'? terms problematic style: Karl is presented becoming aware again of the discrepancy in his sphere of existence. He weighs what is against what should be, as in the contrasting images "ein gliicklicher Knabe" and "Mann. . .in Verzweiflung," images which emphasize the disparity and conflict between past and present. In the third section (II:ll2,l6—18) the thrust of the monologue shifts dramatically with the question "Sie nicht sehen, nicht einen Blick?" (II:ll2,l6). Karl's love for Amalia asserts itself over the fear which his confusion causes: "weg mit dir, schwarzes, rauchendes Blut! Weg, hohler, grasser, zuckender Todesblickl" (II:llQ,l9—2l). By deciding for love and enjoining himself to be a man (II:ll2,27), he symbolically exercizes his will to overcome his situation and, thereby, manifests greatness in his action, as Schiller describes the phenomenon of ”greatness" in the essay _Vo_m Erhabenen: "GroIS ist, wer das Furchtbare fiberwindet" (rv;172,25).7l The problematic style of the second section changes to "impassioned" style in the third. Parataxis—hypotaxis continues: the temporal con— junction "wenn" points to the near future, as do the present—tense verb forms such as those in the statement "quale mich in schrESklichen Traumen! Nur vergifte mir diese einzige Wollust nicht!" (II:112,2h—26). Neither "quiilen" nor "vergiften" refers to that which is presently transpiring on stage, but to potential future occurrences. The predominant style of the monologue is dramatic. The lyric Opening functions as a backdrop against which the conflict between past and present is portrayed. It is also the backdrop for the decision to temporarily overcome the discrepancy. In the second and third sections 01‘ the monologue, Schiller uses both problematic and impassioned styles. ,4 ll. .a . .l - . ' I ‘ 1 '.‘“>' , J".l-qllc-r- o .4.J‘oqmi'-“l ‘. _ met the openi lemme t0 the N were: the M°°r Until they come at refill!r 15’ gu' hrlover's P°rtrail haveshim Karl t .3: he short mono limeule descripti '3 dwnaticiimblen The first sed 'Sie liebt mich""' center euphasise‘ 2 Slatesgmia's r" - Mint, Amalia The second Se iespmte exclamat it, "Steh' ich ’1 Chum-15). ._. d3 1 I ove for Amfilj hunting betwee 98 The monologue as a whole manifests a transition in Karl‘s dispos— ition: to this point in the play's structure Schiller has presented Karl bemoaning his fate, his seeming ostracism from his family. But, for the first time he decides to act to see his loved ones, rather than react and not see them. Karl Moor (IV,2) After the opening scene outside the Moor castle, Schiller shifts the scene to the interior of the castle, specifically to the portrait gallery of the Moor family. Karl presents himself as "Graf von Brand." And until they come to Karl's portrait, Amalia, not recognizing who her guest really is, guides him through the gallery. But, at the sight of her lover's portrait she becomes so emotionally overwrought that she leaves him. Karl then stands alone on stage. The short monologue which ensues consists of two parts: 1. a minuscule descriptive section which develops into 2. a section governed by dramatic—problematic style. The first section, which is framed by Karl's statement of elation "Sie liebt mich!"——repeated at the beginning of the monologue for greater emphasiS——contains two paratactic clauses. In them Karl relates Amalia‘s reaction to his portrait and to his empathetic question "Du weinst, Amalia?" (II:lih,8—9). The second section of the monologue consists of questions and deSparate exclamations concerning Karl’s continuing crisis of confusion: e.g., "Steh' ich nicht hier wie ein Gerichteter vor dem todlichen Block?" (II:llLl,l)4-lS). In the midst of that which he holds most sacred, i.e., his love for Amalia and his father, his feelings remain ambivalent, Vacillating between ecstasy and deep despair. The form of his Seinsraum l ‘ § ‘ .1 a -I ' ' . +2 Lg,‘,',:. |"_ h _ .. .‘ H “,1 ‘3’" H- «4'. 4“," 'II'I. _ . I t , ._ _‘_. 1,. “E ‘ thfihhuhfih mes Y In: "Paerflmel mug). At this! hemtrol his emotii lateness: "ho bin Movers from the sh 19) conveys the depi he is a conflict '”the positive ' htserhe’civeness (X mhsitively um i" he does not de her his motivati M11? time he at “return hone. B1 £1191 or Franz. ‘ the other hand, 'hPiecolomini er 1mg deception. I (1 MS has a negfitiv Karl's Speech hhethtet!" (H Y I when, to 1 99 remains nebulous and in constant flux. The only sign of stability in his existential pattern is his love for Amalia, which she reciprocates, and for his father. At the sight of his father's picture, Karl's imagination projects frightening images which he tries to counteract by an injunction and a curse: "Feuerflammen aus deinem Auge—~Fluch, Fluch, Verwerfung!" (II: 111518—19). At this dramatic moment Karl is extremely confused, unable to control his emotions. The image of his father shocks him out of awareness: "Wo bin ich?" (II:llh,l9), he asks, after he partially recovers from the shock. The metaphor "Nacht vor meinen Augen" (II:llh, 19) conveys the depth of Karl's despair. Throughout Schiller's plays, there is a conflict in the imagery between night and day, with day signi— fying the positive time of openness, enlightenment, and night the time of secretiveness (XV:lh2,5—T). At all times open action is presented more positively than intrigue. Karl's actions are positive in the sense that he does not deviously try to ensnare other characters in a plot; rather his motivation and actions are always carried out in the open. The only time he attempts to deceive is in the fourth act where he wants to return home. But he is unable to disguise his identity from either Daniel or Franz. Only those he most loves do not recognize him. Franz, 0n the other hand, bases his whole future on deception. In Wallenstein Max Piccolomini criticizes both his father and Wallenstein for perpetra— ting deception. In Schiller's plays generally, the character who intri— gues has a negative function as the antagonist. Karl's speech ends with the despondent conclustion "Ich, ich hab' ihn getbtet!" (II:llh,20), the "ihn" referring to the elder Moor whom Karl believes to have died in sorrow. This monologue, whose dominant Indiately aft huhei). Up to puts Franz as tall mituation by v.7 upect he is simile; hm (xv:2o3,22) Ms disturbed be that (II:llh,23} than and suspens¢ Hi8 honologue l F'blmtic, the se has f0“? question hardthe Count. hhhich events ha‘ hflected by the p? hams. The 00 EM) comPare on W'Stunden, dj {set ein 391011 d( statement the "al: way that the S hen"kls Venn" i hunt}, or the 100 style is dramatic, reveals then how well Franz's plan is working: Karl is confused to the point that he believes himself guilty of the arcane treachery which Franz has schemed against the family. Franz Moor (IV,2) Immediately after Karl exits, Franz enters "in tiefen Gedanken" (II:llh,21). Up to this moment in the dramatic structure, Schiller presents Franz as taking a rather smug pride in being in control of every situation by virtue of his rational, calculating guile. In this respect he is similar to Shakespeare's Iago after whom Schiller pattern— r ed Franz (XV:2O3,22).72 With the presence of "Graf von Brand" Franz ‘ becomes disturbed because he feels he should recognize the Count but does not (II:llLL,23). For Franz, the moment is dramatic, filled with tension and suspense. His monologue divides into two parts: the first written in problematic, the second in impassioned style. In the first section he ’ poses four questions calculated to determine why he feels as he does toward the Count. In this section he considers especially the manner in which events have meshed together. This emphasis on causation is reflected by the prominent use of hypotactic syntax in addition to n73 Parataxis. The conjunctions of modality, "als" and "als wenn, func— tion to compare one phenomenon with another: e.g., "Ist mir's nicht die wenige Stunden, die der Graf in diesen Mauren wandelt, als schlich' immer ein Spion der Holle meinen Fersen nach" (II:llh,2h-26). In this statement the "als" has a function similar to "wie" in a simile: both convey that the speaker is fully conscious of the act of comparing.Th When "als wenn" is used, it expresses Franz's attempt to rationalize the Causality of the Count's reaction to Amalia‘s tears. The temporal I _ I . . . a ‘E .yh. w“ ‘.' .. '.' I 4.3.4 .1, ...-.....g , .. . . ‘ Ike. which in Ge ihm form of Hi Meant as a syn WE imagery of “I he pictures th “as, as Garland hlelement of the ‘hthefore he com mm“? "dieser m" “tun die H6] Reflecting on than a realistih Wes Gesicht ,n m. . ‘fibel‘hang hscription Projee :ahd esl'ecially b It is in the heaven The ad} the of a POWem i .eu ll . er 1!] Column 3501?th for th 101 conjunction "wie" and the relatiVe clauses function to expand the meaning of his observatiOn, to help him gain understanding. In the first section of the speech, Franz concentrates on Count von Brand and on what has transpired between the Count and Amalia. He compares the Count's visit to that of a "Spion der H511e" which slinks around behind him ("nachschleichen"), an allusion to the activity of a snake, which in Germanic and Christian folklore is often associated with some form of Hell.75 Franz's use of this particular metaphor is significant as a symbol for his change of character. Previously in the play his imagery often implies that he is in league with evil forces. Now, he pictures the source of his figurative ally aligning against him. He has, as Garland points out, so alienated himself from the metaphysi— cal element of the play that both Heaven and Hell become his enemies.76 Just before he commits suicide, at the end of the play, he states the following: "diesen Sieg soll der Himmel nicht haben, diesen Spott mir nicht antun die H611e——" (II:155,35—36). Reflecting on the Count's physical appearance, Franz occasionally renders a realistic picture of him with such phrases as "sonnenver— branntes Gesicht," "sein langer Gansehals," "seine schwarzen. . .Augen," "sein. . .iiberhangendes, buschichtes Augenbraun" (II:llS ,h—6). His description projects Karl as a rugged individual of the outdoors, indi— cated especially by the attributive adjective "sonnenverbrannt."77 It is in the adjectives that Schiller presents Franz as a keen obserVer. The adjective "feuerwerfend," modifying "Augen," projects the image of a powerful, penetrating personality. It also puns the word It _ . . . - - Feuer" in conjunction w1th the Count's origin, "von Brand," which 18 Significant for the play as a whole. The name "von Brand" itself h‘vfhplayh' w, hm describ Minis in his real} that (II:25,13 hahtion of come Imlogue initiatin exhibit “greatness' h is consistent t1 hence. The adjet hhectly identifi‘ inlay he has se hi, therefore, he his" and "Gese hmmm hr the audience 1 ‘1 “N" Presents an audience can obset render the illusi To describe hastens of ave “ | I “mm Traner hints out that 1 1M "T9 “he . . 5 . llke i 102 Mludes to the pyrotechnics which Karl and the robbers have known as a way of life. In his description of the Count, Franz attributes three qualities tolfim which correlate with Schiller's characterization of Karl to this point in the play: "groB," "gesehen," and "wild." At the outset of the play,Franz describes Karl as one who wants to emulate greatness such as In finds in his reading of Plutarch and on the personality of Alexander the Great (II:25,l3—25). In this context ”greatness" signifies the mani— festation of courage and leadership. And in the discussion of Karl's monologue initiating the fourth act, it is pointed out that Karl does eflfibit "greatness" in that he overcomes what frightens him.78 And so itis consistent that Franz deciphers "was GroBes" in the Count's coun— tenance. The adjectival noun "Gesehenes," modified by the adverb "oft,” correctly identifies Karl's extensive experiences. By this moment in Hm play he has seen and learned a great deal about the human experience, and,therefore, he would have a knowing mien. The adjectival nouns 1'GroBes" and "Gesehenes" describe abstract qualities of Karl's personal— ity. With the adjective "wild" the description becomes more concrete fbr the audience watching a production of Qig_Rauber in the sense that 'Wild" presents an image of an individual's deportment. Members of the mwience can observe when an actor gestures in such a manner as to render the illusion of "wildness.” To describe the relationship between the Count and Amalia, Franz uses terms of avarice, thievery, stealth: "gierig schmachtende Blicke," 'Hiebische Tranen,” ”so hastig. . .hinter meinem Rficken.” Garland Points out that the sardonic mode typifies Franz's "moments of mono— logue"79; like Iago, who, in his speech, drags all higher values down lith the con helmet!" (II:lL section is to gail‘ Win. It is 1 intensity conveyed Ifterobserving K3; the "Graf von Bran receives with mini Meals. One can sense “was in the fi] like one of the P4 Seats him conmse‘ hweb of intrig Fable, Behind idem Bild! Weg, The questiox zeal With the can ~65 done: fig '3 Vs “Remit rebel fl \ "Richer (lurch 103 to his low level,80 Franz, in his monologue, debases the intuitive, positive feeling Amalia demonstrates toward Karl, even though she does not recognize him. And this sardonic pattern of thought, once verbal— ized, transfers into action in that Franz tries to reduce all those in his sphere of influence to an animalistic existence. With the conclusion "dahinter steckt irgendein verderbensschwangeres Ungeheuer!" (II:llS,l—2), Franz conveys that the object of his retro- spection is to gain insight, i.e. , understanding of his problematic situation. It is a conclusion which intensifies his reflection, the intensity conveyed by the short sentence fragments which follow. And after observing Karl's portrait Franz finally realizes that Karl and the "Graf von Brand" are one and the same person, a ken which he receives with ambivalent emotions, as the oxymoron "schadenfrohe Holle" reveals. One can sense a shift in Franz‘s function in the play's structure: whereas in the first three acts he appears to be the master of destiny, like one of the Parcae who spin the threads of fate, Schiller now pre~ sents him confused by the first real threat to his aspirations. As his own web of intrigue begins to enmesh him, the arrogant facade begins to crumble. Behind the exterior of boldness lies a coward: "Weg mit diesem Bild! weg, feige Memme.‘ Was zagst du, und vor wem?" (II:llh,22— 23), he asks himself as he cringes at the sight of the Count's face. The questions in the second section of the monologue continue to deal with the causal relationships: he considers the result of what he has done: e.g. , the question "Bin ich darum gegen alle Instinkte der Menschheit rebellisch worden, daI?) mir zuletzt dieser unstete Land— streicher durch meine kfinstlichsten Wirbel tBlple?" (II:llS,l2—lS). The -..-nu» ma: ”Myra-l: 'I-s: 1:9!sz arm: I!" .- ; -.-.-'- as: am: _u:_,__., ..L, lszurfickzusch ‘. W19)- iith the alpha Int: e.g., "hinw lien,"and "sch ' Mare used as a M follow them, ‘ Wed questions . lesubjunctive ("i ii! original plan. he quality 0 ‘ fr“Ibis personali ‘ : wiparagraph wit i “bible-11). F ‘ v Negative time i: the when intrigu: i, “We of Schilli mm, during . 31“ F1”anz seeks ”Meal (xv:1h2,5 °-‘P°Site: Karl 1' 101+ causal adverb "darum" requires that the opening statement in which it appears, be completed, i.e. , be explained by a qualifying statement. This creates a hypotactic sentence structure, constructed around the ”consecutive" conjunction "daB." In the following statement "daB" appears in tandem with the conditional conjunction "wenn": "Bin ich doch ohnehin schon bis an die Ohren in Todsfinden gewatet, daB es Unsinn ware, zurfickzuschwimmen, wenn das Ufer schon so weit hinten liegt" (II: 115,16—19). With the emphasis in this section being on action, verbs are promiw- H l! nent: e.g., "hinwegraumen, machen" (in the creative sense), "t'dlpeln," "waten , " and "schwimmen." Several verbs are placed in the past tense; they are used as a temporal prelude to the verbs in the present tenses that follow them, such as in the questions quoted above. In those extended questions, two of the verbs indicating present time appear in the subjunctive (”to'lple" and "wa'.re") signifying a result contrary to his original plan. The quality of stealth that is inherent in Franz‘s plan results from his personality. And this aspect is alluded to at the outset of this paragraph with the question "Hab‘ ich darum meine Nachte verpraBt—J‘ (II:llS,lO-—ll). Franz is a nocturnal being, and night often symbolizes a negative time in Schiller's works when demonic forces rule. It is a time when intrigues are planned. Wallenstein is perhaps the best example of Schiller's use of night: Wallenstein makes more of his decisions during the night because of the stars; and he dies at night. That Franz seeks the cover of darkness indicates he has a secret to conceal (XV:lh2,5—6), he acts furtively. In this respect, he is Karl's c>PPosite: Karl is a diurnal being, as the adjective "sonnenverbrannt" f'l - . 'r-i.':' mi: about It; . . .~. Mina nid’sndo 6935i Wthetaph - “a”, , e .35: filliionship to hi . . hethey spring f inpresent in the . hcontrol of his knees. He pictures - Mules between haggafimt and of rebellion again represents an exp] lump brother" t< they clause of h: . iiisltisfaction w: instinct, i.e., i‘ brother in the st ‘ ] F”his portraye I! “his indicate. . With, on the axi ['lernunft"). A1 “though he would rEluce others to 105 evinces. Franz's avoidance of the sun, the symbolic source of truth, represents his aversion to truth and ideals, and to openness, meaning trust among men. Contrasting to the frequent use of simile in his previous solilo— ques, Franz's imagery in the second section of this monologue appears in the form of metaphors. In his previous language, he stands in a rational relationship to his images, i.e. , they are calculated for maximum effect. Here they spring from his emotions, from the discovery that his brother is present in the castle. And for the first time in the play, he is not in control of his emotions; they flow from him and form into spontaneous images. He pictures his previous action, directed at eliminating the obstacles between him and power, as a leveling process: "darum Felsen hinweggeraumt und Abgriinde eben gemacht?" (II:llS,ll—12). The question of rebellion against all instincts of humanity, quoted previously,81 represents an explanation for the flaw in his plan which has allowed his "tramp brother" to stumble through his smoke screen. Behind the contin— gency clause of his question lies irony: the audience perceives Franz‘s dissatisfaction with himself insofar as he does not possess enough instinct, i.e. , intuition v_i_§ E 1i}; reason, to have recognized his own brother in the stranger. But, in the structure of Schiller's play, Franz is portrayed rebelling in a much more serious manner than his words indicate. For Franz, instinct signifies the psychic capacity which, on the axis of cognition, is the opposite pole to reason ("Vernunft"). And instinct implies a base, animalistic psychic quality. Although he would not deign to trust his human instincts, he wants to reduce others to this low level of existence. He is presented, then, as ‘.‘ err-'.' zit-.1- '.‘o I”! m keptions and int Heist" modifying W003, mtive ! We of the plan lirlel" signifies must the realm ( teen, a plan 11k. it. Karl's retur: litheplny, Schil “his own metapho l1!!!" having a. pe liters, His plan inhis critique _U} hm." i.e., the “it. true nature Slim Franz's a1 332% True net ”“305. which, in Sehiller sym’ 106 the type of person who brings all his intellect to bear on manipulating others, usually by deception, without allowing empathy to interfer in the process. But such intellectualism, void of empathy, contradicts the basic ideal cementing the moral cosmos of Big Rfiuber together: the ideal of love—-symbolized by the "heart"82 which engenders intuition. By rebelling against his intuition, Franz denies the ideals of brother- hood. And yet in spite of his self—accusation, he takes pride in his deceptions and intrigues, as is evident from the superlative "kiinst— lichst-" modifying "Wirbel." He equates artistry with devising a captions, furtive plan to trick others, hiding reality behind the facade of the plan. He does not act openly as Karl does. The metaphor "Wirbel" signifies how flimsy and unstable a plan is which is directed against the realm of ideals: as "Wirbel" dissipates with the slightest breeze, a plan like Franz's crumbles with the slightest miscalculation, e.g., Karl's return to the Moor castle. Ironically, for the structure of the play, Schiller does not present Franz realizing the significance of his own metaphor: he continues to consider his plan "Spielarbeit," "play" having a pejorative connotation as the whimsical manipulation of others. His plan remains part of that form of existence which Schiller, in his critique p.333 Matthisons Gedichte, terms "wirkliche (historische) Natur," i.e., the ever—changing concatenation of circumstances. In con- trast, true nature ("wahre Natur") endures the most devasting challenges, SUCh as Franz's and Karl's, to continually reassert itself (XV:381,31 — 382,2). True nature designates the permanent existential form of the cosmos, which, in Qi_e Rauber, is the family. Schiller symbolizes Franz's conclusion that he has gone too far to .fir“. 1.1 : 'E'MYJ a . 53‘? *- claim-3w: ‘to Nov manna-non! :-i.-Il.'j""1 fiesta. In it buttoned: then «mini verb used 1 near, it is in t1 utmnto the origi Home the fall in its prefix "zuriick' lire." The persp this on mortal emce~figurative1 Images drawn emiicate Franz' s iiitelsteh gebracl ii? hir meine Schi such images manif l-‘Osuic level, in statement as a wh integrity in Frat iiiil Schiller‘ s I den Stempel des . him has this s 107 turn back with the ocean metaphor, employed also in his first monologue (_II:31,7 ff.). There the language projects the image of the individual about to swim from the shore of innocence attempting to challenge the world, which the ocean symbolizes. The impression which the image leaves there is that Franz is confident he will not drown in the battle for survival. In the speech under consideration, the entire perspective has changed: the more cautious verb "waten" replaces "schwimmen" as the central verb used to portray Franz's action. When "schwimmen" does appear, it is in the compound "zuriickschwimmen." The wish to be able to return to the original shore, i.e. , the primeval state of innocence before the fall into knowledge of the world, is faintly perceptible in the prefix "zuriick—" and in the use of the verb with the subjunctive "wire." The perspective of the ocean metaphor shifts from the world to his own mortal Sins whose large number excludes his return to inno- cence-—-figuratively, the shore of his departure as a child. Images drawn from the world of business and finance further explicate Franz's moral predicament: "Die 99333 selbst wiirde an den Bettelstab gebracht und die unendliche Erbarmung bankerott werden, wenn sie fiir meine Schulden all' gutsagen wollte" (II:llS ,20—22). Although such images manifest Franz's propensity to reduce lofty principles to a prosaic level, in this case, to the level of monetary manipulation, the statement as a whole has the function of expressing a degree of personal integrity in Franz. This positive note in his personality is consistent with Schiller's philosophy, expressed in the preface to the first edition 0f E Rauber: "Jedem, auch dem Lasterhaftesten, ist gewissermafden der Stempel des gottlichen Ebenbilds aufgedrfickt. . ." (II:lO,28-30). Fr8le has this stamp in the sense that he is momentarily honest with ’W Kym-4195:: L53 3|AJEQ§3N “um“?- 10’“ ‘.‘ ‘ - t I -. 7": .msflcflflfl“fl§hfi arms 3nd: at 91:15 " n‘ :‘1‘ 9-171 " sari-21m 101 einManfi _‘ M. W.- figurative shore: \ . v . iktriedto reach‘ mm to retract flail revealing the film's charact h. The swimins m tether shore symb hesn‘ll appear or The significant 'ledeveloping hope: inns on like a man than at the fin Whites his play me the perspec‘l?i 5m three acts 0‘—f ‘AiKarl reacts. I in and Franz rem For Franz, th‘ ‘is ideal and the H: confrontation 1: ovarcome a thre is reality . 108 himself, admitting the truth of his deeds, and also admitting the fact that he has gone beyond the point of forgiveness, i.e. , unless the moral world were to become totally corrupt. Implied in his metaphor is the existence of morality v_is_ a v_i_s_ his amorality. Franz arrives at the only possible avenue left open to him: "Also uv vorwarts wie ein Mann. (II:115,23). He must continue swimming because the figurative shore of his departure is out of reach. He would drown if he tried to reach it, meaning he has so corrupted his childhood inno— cence that to retrace his steps in order to regain that status would entail revealing the vileness of his actions. But Schiller has devel— oped Franz's character in such a way that such openness is foreign to him. The swimming metaphor implies another shore toward which one swims, the other shore symbolizing the attainment of one's goal, which Franz hopes will appear on the horizon.83 The significance of this monologue as a whole is, then, to portray the developing hopelessness of Franz's situation. His decision to con— tinue on like a man does create suspense as to whether he or Karl will be a man at the final resolution.8h But the manner in which Schiller structures his play indicates that Franz's decision may be in vain, since the perspective of the action is beginning to change: in the first three acts of the play, it is Franz who instigates the action, and Karl reacts. But now Karl unconsciously begins to take the offen— sive and Franz reacts, i.e. , he is beginning to lose control of events. For Franz, the moment represents a dramatic confrontation between his ideal and the developing reality symbolized by Karl's contretemps. This confrontation elicits a decision filled with the pathos of desire to overcome a threatening obstacle, i.e. , to sublimate himself beyond the reality. .tmms conclud‘ t m to be (moth! Iterinthe play (3 ”n extract a pl What Franz boa Helacquiesing ’60 tr a qualificatior 3th» relationship 1 trifles his mucti ttrlhtt und mein End. This staten tn. And when F1 isplan would be t‘ it: killing Karl . ‘ hei' und Ruhe im hiel a conflict '5 'lmel's} conscie’ laxative worm in am of the POte 31's old age . mt fishing control C lO9 Franz Moor (IV,2) Schiller concluded the second scene with another soliloquy which Franz delivers shortly after his first monologue of the scene. Between the two speeches a confrontation involving Franz and Daniel, a servant, takes place in which Franz regains some of the courage he seemed to lose when he recognized that Count von Brand is Karl. As Franz concluded his previous monologue Daniel enters the stage and seems to be another de_us_ ex machina for Franz, as was Hermann earlier in the play (II:58,12—l3). During the ensuing dialogue Franz tries to extract a pledge of loyalty from Daniel by reminding the latter that Franz boards, clothes, and rooms him. But in portraying Daniel acquiesing to Franz's demand for loyalty, Schiller has him utter a qualification to his pledge of allegiance which alters the form of the relationship between himself and Franz and, at the same time, " .wenn es nicht clarifies his function in the dramatic structure: wider Gott und mein Gewissen geht" (II:llBJt-S), he says of Franz's demand. This statement characterizes Daniel as one governed by moral ideals. And when Franz, who does not recognize or care how untenable his plan would be to Daniel, discloses his intention to hector Daniel into killing Karl, the old servant's conscience revolts: "Was, Herr, Fried' und Ruhe im Alter, und ein Totschlager?" (II:ll8,27-28). For Daniel a conflict develops between what Franz wants and what his (Daniel's) conscience tells him should be. Franz's charge implants a figurative worm in the old servant's conscience (II:ll9,6)85 which robs Daniel of the potential repose he naively expects in the ataraxia of his old age. Furthermore, Franz robs Daniel of freedom by arrogantly assuming control over the servant's fate and demanding blind obedience ' metirst 11 “infidel exit Mom: "DieV: We: seines Gl 'tboren" serves 2 "t 0! pmereatior 01 Mum trees m1 idea] “Hpeech Under < mm)" 8. mundm Maine "Gin." lerhllesarbeitn 1 {11:57.53)’ procn Ham niCht ‘ an der HitZe schlai‘entlen ; Licht? (11:1 dkeIago, who 11s ‘A n ”“955: "Ist d1 ‘mflmfi- . . 2n nation “1:120, ..s him as simply 110 from him (II:ll9,l9). This demand represents the transition of cogita— tion into action: after his father's apparent death Franz expresses his will to subjugate all those under his dominion. And this scene with Daniel manifests the attempted realization of that goal. The first line of the monologue, delivered by Franz immediately after Daniel exits, serves as a. transition from the dialogue to the monologue: "Die Versuchung ist stark, und der war wohl nicht zum M'értyrer seines Glaubens geboren" (II:l20,l—2). The past participle "geboren" serves as a springboard into a discussion of procreation. The act of procreation, a constant motif in Franz's imagery, is the fulcrum of his Weltanschauung. It is a phenomenon which he continually degrades, whereas Karl idealizes it as a symbol of rejuvenation (II:ll2,2—h). In the speech under conSideration, Franz represents procreation as a "Kitzel," a mundane, sentient reaction created in his father by a "Bouteille Wein." "Kitzel" he contrasts with the hyperbolic image "Herkulesarbeit" symbolizing creation. As opposed to creation, which, in Franz's opinion, entails the careful planning of a work of art (11157—58), procreation is erotic happenchance: Hangt nicht das Dasein der meisten Menschen mehrenteils an der Hitze eines Juliusmittags, oder am anziehenden Anblick eines Bettuchs, oder an der wagrechten Lage einer schlafenden Kfichengra§%e, oder an einem ausgelbschten Licht? (II:120,13—i7) Like Iago, who usually imagines the ideal of love dragged down to the level of rutting animals,87 Franz imagines procreation as a bestial process: "Ist die Geburt des Menschen das Werk einer viehischen An— Wa-nd-lung. . . ?" (II:l20,l’{—18). He considers man the last thought in Creation (II:120,9—lo). Ignoring man's spiritual being, Franz visuali— ZES him as simply organic matter: "Der Mensch entstehet aus Morast, und ifimhsinand mige Zirkel dei 'IIago'simgery, 1 Irelmterial, VOII Franz sarcast: M. It become MW and of dent Wm [an Franz Her1m; the life 1W“ hier [be I'm Iilltstehen we WW him wit} Wot his iIHage which is a man's thought analogue nude: hm Curses th Mums to t tins t° utilize 3mg "hast" repr 'fect’ Well, he ...1 as himSelf‘ lll watet eine Weile im Morast, und macht Morast und g'a'.rt wieder zusammen in Morast, bis er zuletzt an den Schuhsohlen seines Urenkels unflatig anklebt" (II:l20,3S -— 121,1). The acute parataxis, the repetition of "Morast," and the alliteration of "m," "w," and "5" create a pomposity which bespeaks the ironic meaning behind the statement. This process of originating in and returning to "Morast" he sarcastically terms "der morastige Zirkel der menschlichen Bestimmung" (II:l2l,l.—2). Again, as in Iago's imagery, the objects named by Franz belong to a lower, and purely material, world.88 Franz sarcastically continues the "Kitzel"—metaphor applying it to himself. It becomes a device whereby the creations of life (by his father) and of death (by himself) are contrasted in the vulgar statement "und dran [an Franz' Kitzel] krepiert ein Mensch. . ." (II:l20,ll). Underlying the life—death motif is the dichotomy sentience—understanding: "gewiB ist hier [beim Toten] mehr Verstand und Absicht als dort bei seinem Entstehen war" (II:l20,ll—l3). Franz's imagery consistently associates him with rationality, excluding feeling in any form; the sub— stance of his images often conveys a lack of respect for life. Religion is another concept which becomes increasingly important in Franz's thought and imagery during the latter stages of the play. In the monologue under analysis, Franz terms religious teachings a fairy tale and curses those who perpetuate the fairy tale. Whenever Franz‘s thought turns to transcendental principles and religion, his imagery begins to utilize symbols of restriction. The adjective "frostig" modi- fying "Angst” represents the deadening effect and, therefore, restricting effect, which, Franz believes, moral principles have on an individual such as himself. The metaphor "Ketten abergliiubischer Finsternis" It: Hort flutte knimion ofli he two moti . lulu "die Nabe' hmflical cord “Hm. Franz's Elbe severed a: Nieves he himse] “19813er of ms'escfiptive : M which phr; '“nwiumn :‘Iostize Angst, s Wham, Vernun M" 01‘. as 1' Flame Conju: Dose '0 the ne) Eoflstitutes foam as intended 1‘: WW the 1 “Notional ei‘ since the “pm .10“) and mag 112 signifies the enslavement of "unsere erwachende Vernunft" .(II:120,25,28). Franz thinks that the only categorical imperatives he need follow are those he sets for himself. Therefore, he derides the individual who abhors the word "Mord!" and who reacts "wie eine ganze Holle von Furien um das Wort flattert-—" (II:120,28-29), because murder is only the termination of life, life not being valuable in his thought pattern. The two motifs, procreation and religion, are united by the metaphor "die Nabelschnur ist nicht unterbunden worden" (II:l20,30-3l). The umbilical cord represents the dependency individuals have on religion. Franz's images convey the impression that the dependency must be severed and the individual become self—sufficient, as Franz believes he himself is. The style of the monologue is governed by description. Imparting this descriptive attitude is the predominantly paratactic sentence struc— ture in which phrases may be placed together without conjunctive words: ". .unwillkiirliche Schauder rfitteln die Glieder des Mannes noch in frostige Angst, sperren unsere kiihnste Entschlossenheit, legen unsere erwachende Vernunft an Ketten abergl'aubischer Finsternis. . ." (11:120, 21‘“28). Or, as is usually the case in Schiller's descriptive style, the Copulative conjunction "und" is used to bridge the transition from one phrase to the next. Of the twenty conjunctions in this monologue, "und" constitutes fourteen. Whereas the pure parataxis of the above quote seems intended for emotional effect because of its austerity, when "und" is employed the combination of things or events stands out rather than the emotional effect. Combination in this sense is a form of epic style, Since the capacity to combine, according to Schiller, is that of imagina. - 8 . . . . tion, 9 and imagination is the psychic capacity most involved in epic Mira-person p: the are few dash mu indicate int ilelose proximity likewise the pm Tue Monty 5mm, ten pretq “0 Present tense hum, to ge: o‘.‘)hlsical and s, hast either i warMei der gm] lemme to his flatten LEib bEkc {ups to emPhasi: true. When the s tenses Whigs .‘ne mture tense Wu Abend ihr Q to the result 113 writing (VII:SS2,26). Staiger and Kayser conclude that this tendency to combine, which they call "addition," is a basic principle of epic composition . ’90 Except for two instances when Franz addresses his brother in absentia, the speech remains in the third person. Like his Shakespear— ian counterpart, Iago, Franz would like to sustain a rational detachment between himself and the objects of his observations.91 Grammatically the third-person pronoun conveys such detachment in this monologue. Also there are few dashes appearing in the speech which in other monologues often indicate intense emotions as they do when a flurry of five appear in close proximity to one another in Franz's monologue (II:l20,28—33). Otherwise the paucity of dashes evinces Franz's cool decisiveness. The majority of verbs appear in the present tense; there are, however, ten preterite tenses and one future tense. In this monologue the present tense communicates the perpetual present of universals: Franz turns to general statement to express what to him are universals of physical and spiritual being. When preterites appear, Franz reviews the past either in general terms, e.g. , "der Mensch war gewiB das letzte, uoran bei der ganzen Herkulesarbeit gedacht wird" (II:120,9-10), or with reference to his father, e.g. , "der Vater hat in der Hochzeitsnacht glatten Leib bekommen——" (II:20,31—32). In the first case, the preterite helps to emphasize the continuity of time, i.e., what was true, remains true. When the speech concerns an action of the elder Moor, preterite tenses communicate how Franz envisions his personal, physical inception. The future tense appearing in "Allem Ansehen nach werden Sie [Karl] mOI‘EEIl Abend ihr Henkermahl halten!" (II:120,3—1&) continues the suspense as to the result of Franz's plan. In this sense it points to the future, pifiorinthesyn umthinz "is,' him and expresi “urban: des sub! Nun considers ‘ tepicist creates h is true of rhshve a 983°“ reverts of force 'rltem“); verbs U ghpieren,“ "flat fliehen"); and 1111‘ Men," “verscl Most nouns i] iterative overton in portrays the fireman.“ "He ‘iiltrmmer, b1 hrs tilnction 1‘ The monologr L“fitment of the ”es recurring 1 lit the future often being a component of dramatic style. Semantically the dominant verbs in the first half of the monologue are verbs of causation, cogitation, cognition: e.g., "ankommen" ("auf"), "hangen," "denken," "sein." They express Franz‘s respect for the rational and verifiable. The verb "sein" has a particularly central position in the syntax: it is used most often in this speech to express that something "is," a characteristic of epic style,92 because such per— ceptions and expressions of physical being remain bound to the "Anschauung des substantiellen, des gegenstéindlichen Daseins."93 And Schiller considers "Substantialitaet" to be the category within which the epicist creates.9h As is true of the monologue's speech in general, most of the action verbs have a pejorative connotation in their respective contexts. There II N H H- are verbs of force and violence ("driicken," "sperren, riitteln, jagen," ”foltern"); verbs used figuratively with sarcastic connotations H H H II N H ("krepieren," "flattern," "entstehen, waten, machen, garen," "ankleben"); and miscellaneous verbs, also used sarcastically ("machen," "bekommen , " "verschwinden") . Most nouns in this monologue tend toward metaphor, also with pejorative overtones in the context of the play as a whole. For instance, Franz Portrays the poison he believes his brother will take as a "Henkermahl." "Henker" symbolizes an individual who creates misery,95 "ein grausamer, blutdiirstiger Mensch," a definition which applies to Franz’s function in fig Rauber. The monologue as a whole functions as a retarding moment in the development of the plot. During the speech Franz describes how he per- ceives recurring phenomena among men. Such description signifies an epic . .' ‘ i .. ., __ - 7 D U “ ‘. ‘> -‘ 5 -¢.* .‘.‘ "‘.‘r'i -_ f'”"‘”~"" ~ .n- ; - . «1:15; in a; ,2 _8 ”Heel-- " m. In it he eerie unlit? (. lime whether he 5 \ indefimce of ai hurt direct ck ht, despite “Fill, the pen] herrironment er Silihr to those l he in the com WWII not lies, the Sinkila We. Both a hip cillicism 11 ”mum in c‘ aI'esi”‘i1‘“i’crr a; rather than Meta; he 0bfleets belt Wily fllfictions, riches 10%. E heparauels st 5981"an 90pm I I'M Compared t( 115 disposition,96 as do the paratactic sentence structures, the large number of images, the objective attitude. And yet accompanying the epically-styled description is an under— tone of the dramatic, which surfaces in the form of Franz's concluding remark. In it he expresses his resolve to continue neither heeding nor fearing morality (II:95,3—7). With such a statement the suspense con- tinues whether he can succeed. This speech then manifests his burgeon- ing defiance of a positive ideal in the face of what he considers to be the most direct challenge to his tyranny——namely, Karl. But, despite the several questions and this terminating statement of will, the perspective of the monologist remains epic: he describes his environment and man in it. And, although he passes value judgements similar to those of a dramatically—disposed individual, they are uttered here in the course of his description as facts of existence. Although not mentioned in conjunction with Franz's previous solilo— quies, the similarities between Franz Moor and Shakespeare's Iago are striking. Both characters are schemers; both are cynical and project their cynicism into action; both create moral chaos; both symbolize evil; both delight in dragging down all higher values to their level of being.97 The similarity also extends into their imagery: both tend toward simile rather than metaphor (although this speech has only one simile); both name objects belonging to the material world, e.g., repulsive animals, bodily fUnctionS, commercial terms. They thereby degrade higher values such as love. Both use terms referring to magic, demonology, and Hell. The parallels should not be overemphasized because Franz is more than a carbon copy; but the nature of Schiller's character becomes clearer when compared to Iago. M m metaph‘h 1 identify a feat“ mmstion- on “‘95th by ere FollWing tr minsbmeen I hr the truth °1 hludmits his : hrhrl- Sm: hrl tells the 03 hiel utters Se' huthes tranSPi trulcgue follow The monol°€ hue. The first herein the E thtrrenz hes 0' Zeuices Schillel 1. recurring das 3inglcucruls (e. 116 Garland writes the following about Franz's monologue: The magnificent speech which concludes the second scene of Act Four offers a further example of Franz's compelling and dynamic rhetoric. Its supple and flexible rhythm quickens and checks its pace, its tone rises and falls. This is the sinuous course of the serpent, the apex of the sardonic. The snake metaphor may or may not be accepted, but his description does identify a feature of this monologue: the alternation of description and question. One retards, the other sometimes quickens the tempo of the speech by creating suspense and anticipation. Karl Moor (IV,3) Following the scene between Franz and Daniel, Schiller stages a meeting between Daniel and Karl in which the old servant confronts Karl with the truth of his identity. After trying to continue his masquerade, Karl admits his identity to Daniel. The latter expresses his compassion for Karl. SurmiSing that Daniel might reveal who Count von Brand is, Karl tells the old servant to remain silent, even to Franz. At this Daniel utters several allusions to what Franz has done. The cause of what has transpired suddenly becomes apparent to Karl. And in a monologue following Daniel's exit , Karl vents his feelings. The monologue is divided into two parts by Kosinsky‘s brief appear- ance. The first part is characterized by a parataxis of exclamations GX‘pressing the emotional turbulence which rages in Karl. The knowledge that Franz has deceived him all along ignites choleric emotions in Karl. Devices Schiller employs to present this extreme emotionalism include 1. recurring daShes which fragment the expression; 2. repetition of Single words (e.g. , the geminations "Schelmerei, Schehnerei!" and "ich bloder, blo'der, blader Tor", 3. repetition of phrases (e.g. , Mmdw Warming: htic existence. this matter a kmmmn Mannasd WW. he even1 “”0 counterad W8 existentil We first tim. he taken to cor “More, has th WY the Situa M0118 With 1 Male of the am”- 1Pranz 1 Aseheulicher BB: IUNtive “Schle film tmptat at aesthetics Wh .mitzbfibische R MS of art in 117 “spitzbiibische Kiinste," " voll Liebe sein Herz" and "voll Liebe sein Vaterherz"); 1+. repetition of grammatical patterns (e.g., the paral— lelism "Es hatte mich einen FuBfall gekostet, es hatte mich eine Trialne gekostet—-"); 5. gestures ("Wider die Wand rennend" and "Er l'aluft w'Litend auf und nieder [IIzl25]). The use of contrary—to—fact subjunctive in this paragraph signifies the understanding Karl now possesses concerning the cause of his prob- lematic existence. It also implies that, contrary to previous belief, fate is a matter of individual action, and not a transcendental force: the individual is responsible for setting forces in motion which affect him, as well as others. If he acts contrary to the universals of morality, he eventually will be enveloped by his own deed. But he could move to counteract his original misdeed if he wants and if he realizes why his existential form is amiss. In his monologue, Karl is presented for the first time having the advantage of understanding what it would have taken to correct the discrepancy which he has perceived. He, therefore, has the potential to determine what means it would require to rectify the situation in its present form. Along with this knowledge he gains understanding of Franz's role in the scheme of the ambience, understanding which Karl transfers into imagery. Franz he describes as an "unbegreiflicher, schleichender, abscheulicher Bosewicht!" (II:l25,lh—l‘5). The present—participal adJective ”schleichend" alludes to the image of a snake, the symbol of evil and temptation in many paradise myths.99 Karl refers to the realm 0f aesthetics when he further describes his brother‘s actions as "Spitzbiibische Kfinste!" But, whereas Franz considers his deceptions Works of art in the positive sense, Karl imagines them as perversions maintains the such as he meld apply tol enriches close!“ In world order, w! tribe the effect “We "ansch'u' ASHhemc’cer Wt, Karl manif‘ Ilium and viole [alum a town 1 “Minimal. The “10110me the min the midst humus Koe sh concerning 1 5”me deeisio “Nasty ‘ée chain of cans W8 Structure em. deiner U neht mm m 118 of creativity because they destroy rather than create. Karl's plan could also be considered perverted art, like Franz‘s, in that both use destruction as a means. But their goals are vastly different: Franz directs his means at other persons to prove that he can destroy; the means become the end for him. Karl seeks to destroy corrupt institutions so that they may be replaced by an ideal form of existence such as he finds in nature. This natural paradisiacal exis- tence would apply to all men, not just to one as Franz's plan does. And so Karl comes closer to the ideal of an artist in that he seeks to create a new world order, whereas Franz wants to destroy an old order. To describe the effect which Franz's plot has had on life, Karl uses the verbal—image "anschwa'rzen," black alluding to the evilness of the action. As a character whose thoughts frequently concern universals of conduct, Karl manifests love in a variety of forms. Even his most emotional and violent moments thereby contrast to Franz's. For example, Karl burns a town to save a life (Roller's) because of his loyalty to an individual. Therefore, it is consistent with Schiller's character— ization of him that Karl emphasizes the constancy of his father's love even in the midst of his wrath against his brother. Following Kosinsky's interruption, Schiller has Karl express deci- sions concerning his future and conclusions about Franz's past actions. The prime decision, to flee before sunset,100 indicates that Karl still has a propenSity to react toward, rather than decisively act to alter the chain of causality that has created his fate. At this moment in the play's structure, he is willing to leave Franz unchecked: "Ernte die Frfichte deiner Untat in Ruhe, meine Gegenwart soll dir [Franz] den GenuB nicht langer vergallen" (I15125,28-.-30). On the poet's level, the images Iiueming is littlest [Kn-1s 13' (mum-32). flies the cover humor truth, “has, since he i zWhittle. L11; W light (11:5 Wt, thereby c1 éiificmee of "pi, zition to the c Heath of an ide Elli! in Which, hit, Fm“1's on: The conelllsio militant 2 them of the s “thump betw: that the Play ‘.‘u sm’StI'IICture The Style 01 33.5 - . 1s used in ‘ 119 "ernten" and "Frfichte," and the concept "Ruhe" represent sardonic irony, because in Schiller's plays they ordinarily symbolize positive values of a paradisiacal existence.101 But by having Karl utter them in conjunc- tion with the noun "Untat“ the language symbolically concerns Franz's function as the spirit of negation and of wanton destruction. This meaning is carried further when Karl says: "Finsternis verlb'sche sie {Karls Gegenwart] auf ewig, und der Tod rfihre sie nicht auf!" (II:l25,31—32). In Schiller‘s imagery, "darkness," like night, symbolizes the cover under which evil can be committed because "light," the symbol of truth, is absent. Franz's deception represents metaphoric darkness, since he distorts truth to such an extent that it becomes unrecognizable. Like the elder Moor's life, also symbolized by the image of light (II:56,13—1h), truth is a light which Franz attempts to blow out, thereby creating a cover for his basic intentions. A deeper significance of "Finsternis" as a symbol is elicited from its parallel connection to the concept "death": darkness represents for characters the death of an ideal. The same is not true for the moral structure of the play in which, for example, the ideal of love is never in jeopardy despite Franz ‘ s onslaught . The conclusion Karl reaches about Franz's endeavors is: "es war nicht brfiderlich gehandelt" (II;125,27—28), repeated for emphasis. On the level of the stage reality, "briiderlich" is meant to refer to the relationship between Karl and Franz. With regard to the overall struc- ture of the play it refers to the concept of brotherhood, the quintessen- tial substructure of the familial form of existence. The style of this section of the speech is dramatic. Dialogic form is used in which several aspects of Karl's situation are contrasted: was of :1 lime which I ' e‘ m the audienc | We will be m Schiller draws thi We resolution For the four Me interior ‘mologue at th Her SDetach d 5’” section is glean the backgrc halia‘3'-~und (1&5 M6,“). Ir ““01 the fallil ltl's Mm t a I‘m?" (Hillh memes feel: , 1%. The (lathe 2102 a = the “0 new in her I) 120 his abhorrence of what Franz has done, on the one hand, and Karl's lack of resolve to do anything but escape, on the other. The consequences of the decision to flee create suspense—filled tension as to whether Franz will continue to have his way. The present tenses in which the consequences of his decision are formulated point to the future form of existence which Karl imagines will exist because of his departure. And again the audience is left in suspense as to how the seeming moral impasse will be resolved. By utilizing such dramatic monologues, Schiller draws the action incessantly forward, foreshadowing a necessary future resolution to the problem created by individuals and events. Amalia (IVA) For the fourth scene of the act, Schiller shifts the stage setting from the interior of the castle to a garden outside. He gives Amalia a monologue at the outset of the scene. Her speech divides stylistically into two distinct sections: the first section is written in lyric, the second in dramatic style. We gleen the background of the scene from her opening remark: "'Du weinst, Amalia?‘——und das sprach er mit einer Stimme! mit einer Stimmel" (II:l26,6—7). In the scene during which she leads the Count von Brand through the family art gallery, he notices her tears at the sight of Karl's portrait and sympathetically poses the question "Du weinst, Amalia?" (II:llh,8—9). The tone of his voice so impresses her that she exPeriences feelings which had been dormant since Karl's presence as her lover. The dative pronoun "mir" in "mir war's" indicates an introverted 102 mm : the words to follow describe what types of sensations were Created in her psyche by the tone of his voice. The subordinating, WW As werience’ tl' theme t° thl Maison “Vie (LI Mine“ "are htcontr‘sts Vi tract. hing this We be°°mes ntalfiradiSiaca] h experience 01 mich pml‘ mirwar'sa " nossenen Le: he hachtis he dwals‘ (11:126.8-l t Schiller' S “0 Mall as "bli'lh hail of a (101 fit, of & golde ‘.':a: she shared the reJlIvenatiOI =t! senses a sil ltd of the 00' 121 comparative conjunction "als ob"103 in combination with hypothetical subjunctive verb tenses, expresses her initial reaction that she only thinks there is a similarity between the feelings which the Count and Karl arouse in her——that in fact, such comparisons are intellectual fabrications. As she becomes increasingly involved in remembering the experience, the grammatical voice switches from the hypothetical subjunctive to the preterite indicative. This tense, along with the I comparison "wie damals,' signifies her temporary attitude that both experiences were identical. The indicative used for a statement of fact contrasts with the subjunctive which expresses something contrary to fact. During this lyrical moment, when she remembers her experience, her language becomes more poetic. Finding herself in the garden——symbolic of a paradisiacal, divine existenceth——she is inspired to translate her experience of nature into a series of paratactically joined meta- phors which project images of an ideal form of existence: mir war‘s, als ob die Natur sich verjiingete.——Die ge— nossenen Lenze der Liebe dammerten auf mit der Stimme! Die Nachtigall schlug wie damals-—die Blumen hauchten wie damals——und ich lag wonneberauscht an seinem Hals. (II:126,8-l2) In Schiller‘s works "Frilhling," "Lenz," "Aufd'a'mmerung," "Verjiingung," as well as "blfihen," "griinen," and "aufkeimen," signify the return, the renewal of a dormant ideal, of a past paradisiacal, Arcadian existence, 105 i.e. , of a golden age. Amalia's "Arcadia" was the paradise of love that she shared with Karl (II:96,l2; 128,2). The metaphors concerning the rejuvenation of nature and dawning of a spring of love express that She senses a similar paradisiacal feeling germinating within her at the Sound of the Count's voice. -'-.:- L: (”._.- - = “4.1:?- motley seen licohthe I: Wt coincide. L‘ hing a recurri]1 ‘ mic level of ‘ how in which t lair obligation. lie theme oi “118."which rc “innere she hrcsents bless IWests itself lowers, then, 107cm raised “in Symbols {3153,21”) as V hi prese“ted i c We ““3, 1m 122 The remaining images of this first section also concern love. In folk belief, the nightingale is the messenger of love.106 Being a species of bird it also represents freedom since, in Schiller‘s imagery, alnrd in flight symbolizes apparent freedom from restraints.107 Because they seem to be free, birds, for Schiller, symbolize beauty.108 And so in the nightingale image, three important concepts of Schiller‘s thmmmt coincide. The same three concepts interact in Schiller's plays forming a recurring motif: through love, characters transcend the prosaic level of their daily existence to a psychological state of moral beauty in which their inclination toward one another coincides with their obligation. The theme of love is continued in the image ”Blumen hauchten wie damals," which refers to the roses Karl formerly plucked for her in the garden where she presently speaks (II2126). As a symbol the rose often represents blossoming, flowering love.109 For Schiller, this symbolism mafifests itself in flowers pg; sé, For example, Qi§_Blumen (l781): Kinder der verjfingten Sonne, Blumen der geschmfickten Flur, Euch erzog zu Lust und Wonne, Ja, euch liebte die Natur. . Kachtigall und Lerche singen Euch der Liebe selig Los. (1:52—53) Flowers, then, symbolize the potential of love: they are nurtured with love and raised to "Lust und Wonne." But, according to the poem, they remain symbols of potential until plucked, "zum zarten Liebespfand" (I153,2h), as when Karl plucked the roses for Amalia. When he plucked and presented them to Amalia-«”zum zarten Liebespfand"——the potential of the roseS, like that of flowers in general, was realized: they f. Influenin .; dq'ipiegelbild 7 ihiihringend'n 1n ‘ tulloIism' 13 ref] 'H'vhich iesorib Mit: mMilitias Go “'0 are identic 339.). in novel iihiversal ide lathe song a M Spring 31 {muses the W. Wm For A the... of him ‘flz‘iisch mild he,“ him and h ,1“, i.e., ( 123 transmitted their fragrant "Lust und Wonne," and Amalia became "wonneberauscht" as she embraced Karl. The act of plucking the roses, then, and presenting them to Amalia, symbolizes the transmission of his love to her. The flower, in particular the rose, is also considered to be the earthly "Spiegelbild der Sonne und in ihr [der Blume] ist Gott belebend und fruchtbringend in die Materie hinabgestiegen," according to Belt. 10 This symbolism is reflected by the conclusion of Schiller's poem "Die Blumen" which describes the effect which plucking "zum zarten Liebes— pfand" has: Leben, Sprache, Seelen, Herzen, Stumme Boten siifser Schmerzen, G013 euch dies Beriihren ein, Und der Machtigste der Gotter SchlieBt in eure stillen Blatter Seine hohe Gottheit ein. (1:53) That which makes God, or nature, divine——in Schiller's thought construct the two are identical (XV:lSO,2l—22)——is the principle of love (XVzlSl, 5ff-)- And flowers symbolize this exalted, transcendental principle, this universal ideal. In the song at the beginning of the third act, Karl is associated With the spring sun which is "Riickgestrahlt vom blauen Spiegelmeer," and causes the symbols of love to grow——the sun being the sign of the divine.111 For Amalia, Karl's being has divine quality as her des- CI‘iptions of him convey: e.g. , the images "voll Walhallas Wonne," "himmlisch mild sein Blick" (II:96,14,6), and the contrast she makes between him and the "Erdensohn" (II:l26,17). Figuratively he represents her sun, i.e., a constant source of guidance toward truth (XVzlh2,6—7), bEleause she could always trust that his word would correspond to his \ For Amalia, me Which he i Marl her-rscht, 10h. The verb 'J residence in the iris. It would Where the nj hiif Km and1 than. The use of 1 ”it The compa- ‘hohject 335mm itssepmte i de: mite between reactions to the ”the “meme "Embers when 3 But her lYI ‘.rehloseg Herz} H 3&1st the Cc 12h deed. She does not, therefore, hesitate to call Franz a liar when he attempts to deceive her into believing that Karl had sworn him to become her lover in case he (Karl) did not return. The reason she knows Franz is lying is "In ebendieser Laube beschwur er mich, keiner andern Liebe—— wenn er sterben sollte" (II:5h,29-30). Her intuition tells her that Karl always acted openly toward her and, therefore, did not deceive her in this one instance. For Amalia, Karl also has a function similar to that of the night— ingale which he is loosely associated with in the statement "Im Herzen, wo Karl herrscht, darf kein Erdensohn nisten" (II:l26,lT): he symbolizes love. The verb "nisten," used to figuratively describe Karl‘s permanent residence in the realm of Amalia‘s love, is ordinarily reserved for birds. It would seem to be an obtruse descriptive verb to use at this point were the nightingale not mentioned in the same brief monologue and if Karl and the nightingale did not have the realm of love in common. The use of metaphor in this passage indicates Amalia's lyric atti— tude. The comparison and the object to be compared become one: i.e. , the object assumes the qualities of the comparison rather than retaining its separate identity, as in a simile. She momentarily does not differ- entiate between objects in nature stimulating her, and her subjective reactions to the stimuli: dawning of spring, a nightingale flapping, and the fragrance of flowers represent phenomena within her which she remembers when she "ex—presses" her feelings into language. But her lyric disposition does not endure long: "Ha falsches, treuloses Herz!” (I12126,l2nl3) signifies a conflict between what she feels for the Count and what she thinks she should feel. In his own naive: ales iimconflict ‘ hill is hippos meibecause o: here again: minced: his J Natural for K TTTTTSG, but y he believes he Tier being (I We Of her cc The three TTT her Parcel With of he Tue" nach (lit her character, lithe 5m“ Ti“ The “1st. TTTTOnment an mm is to Although The Wine 125 discussion of the play, Schiller describes the dramatic mood of this monologue: ". . .sie ké'mpft gegen die Liebe zu Karln (der unter einem fremden Namen ihr Gast ist) als gegen einen Meineid. . ." (XV:2l9,35 — 220,1). It is an existential crisis for her because she thinks she perceives a descrepancy between her word and her deed. Duty and inclin— ation conflict within her: i.e. , she swore an oath of loyalty to Karl, which is supposed to transcend even death, but she thinks it is endan— gered because of her feelings toward the Count. Here again Schiller portrays the havoc which Franz's intrigue has produced: his lies force Karl to disguise himself, something which is unnatural for Karl. And because Amalia does not recognize Karl‘s disguise, but yet the natural bond of love attracts her to the Count, she believes her heart, the symbol of intuition,112 the divine oracle in her being (IV:317,66T+l), deceives her. Franz, then, is the ultimate cause of her confusion. The three questions which follow Amalia's dramatic confrontation with her perceptions indicate the continued search to understand the causality of her feelings: "Aber warum meine Seele, so immer, so wider Willem nach diesem Fremdling?" (II:l26,lT—18). But, as is typical for her character, Amalia remains bound in her emotions——the fragmentation of the syntax evinces the extreme tension of the moment. She does not gain the wisdom of understanding the forces which are at work in her environment and manipulating her. Like Karl, her solution for the Problem is to flee to avoid seeing the Count again. Although he considered Amalia‘s role in the first three acts as "die t'odliche Seite des ganzen Stiicks" (XV:219,25), Schiller felt that from the fourth act on this figure became a noteworthy character. He m anticipat- Tnhsve between ‘ ution of the sc5 motion toward i in she perceive: 'I'he predomh We serves a 5“ EXistenee be TOT-Towing t ThT-‘TS' encamp, Th- Kau is 1 TE Tiller der T9 ideal of hr Tellidst of an lilie manage 3111811110,] den TTTTTDlOl's 1‘ filing sTTTbOli: :fsohething n‘ Tihaells depa ‘Tt Tm, Rap 126 was particularly impressed with the garden scene which he considered "ein wahres Gemiilde der weiblichen Natur und ungemein treffend f'dr die drangvolle Situation" (XV:219,33—35). Her lyric—dramatic monologue prepares the audience for the scene with Karl which follows. The paradisiacal images which are expressed in the lyric segment of the speech anticipate the discussion of a "Paradies der Liebe" in the dialogue between Karl and Amalia (II:128,2). The dramatically styled section of the soliloquy prepares the audience for Amalia's ambivalent reaction toward Karl when she sees him; it makes the audience aware of how she perceives the conflict in her psyche. The predominant style of Amalia's monologue is dramatic: the lyric passage serves as an idyllic backdrop against which the discrepancy in her existence becomes more glaring. Karl Moor (IV,5) Following the scene in the garden with Amalia, Karl returns to the robbers' encampment to discover that Schweizer has murdered Spiegel— berg. Karl is humbled by this murder because he thinks he recognizes the "Finger der rachekundigen Nemesis" (II:l33,6) at work. It destroys the ideal of brotherhood that the band of robbers represents to him in the midst of an otherwise corrupt era and area. Schiller gives Karl sym— bolic language to communicate how he perceives the moment: "die Blatter fallen von den Baumen——und mein Herbst ist kommen" (II:lB3,lTl—lS). Karl Often employs images of nature with which to compare his own situation. Spring symbolizes creation, the genesis of an ideal, the bringing forth 0f something new. Autumn represents dying, the loss of something, as RaPhael's departure does for Julius in the Philosophische Briefe: "Du biSt fOI‘t, Raphael, und die schone Natur geht unter, die Bl'atter fallen “car-’.j‘w” ‘- £1 4LT «or. bshhlieh en la ideal within bile feels hiel‘ In such a di inspiration and ; T has. The form Thestmzas in hhlectie, exch T918131! of vm' Th rather mm The solemn Mam, The and Caes Th concerns t Time is ti stem belongs T3 a $va htone with s sing about Em TIT has been hi loading hi shim ideals JOTTIEI‘S ("mef 127 gelb von den Baumen, ein trfiber Herbstnebel liegt wie ein Bahrtuch fiber 113 As Karl refers to "Herbst" dem ausgestorbenen Gefilde" (_XV:l33,T&—9). it symbolizes the passing of the time when he stood at the head of a band of men united in brotherhood and fighting against a corrupt society to establish an ideal for all men. Now he perceives the corruption of the ideal within his own group in the form of the decay of brotherhood, and he feels his own end is near. In such a despairing mood, Karl takes his lute——symbol of poetic inspiration and often of a lyric disposition (II:96,3; l29,2)-—and sings. The form of the song which he sings consists of five, eight— line stanzas in rhymed trochees of five feet. They are predominantly catalectic, except for the last line of each stanza which is acatalectic. The lack of variation in either meter or rhyme creates a mood of solem— nity rather than enthusiasm. The solemnity created by the form corresponds to the serious nature of the subject matter: the father—son relationship between Brutus and Caesar, a symbolic distillate for the entire play. The song concerns the time after Caesar's assassination and Brutus' suicide. The place is the Elysian fields ("friedliches Gefilde").llh The first stanza belongs to Brutus. As a symbol Brutus‘ situation is not an exact equivalent for Karl's, but one with sufficient similarites to make it plausible for Karl to sing about Brutus as an expression of his own emotions. Like Brutus, Karl has been driven to the brink of suicide, as the gestures of cocking and loading his pistol signify (II:l36,3,3l). In both cases the loss of Similar ideals causes their despair: l. the destruction of an army of brothers ("mein briiderliches Herr"), and 2. the fall of order, symbolized I i' LEI-1 .l’." -r.. r. ‘ IT' ' .‘ . .. ‘ wfirnfi 1339: {we The process ’6: lien Caesar': lies the constr Idol order. Ca‘ Them: "Sohn-. “911110 You Wies hithetragic i1 “Kilt, dell e: Thllseheftsord Thmlt, aus d This attempt T Brutus may it the bond wit 521’ the chills father and son. fishers“: Bru ETTTTTE a rem h The that Shh T“ eTteht mi “1305 Wh 128 by "Rom verloren." Rome represented the center from which order was disseminated to most of the known world for several centuries. Like Brutus, Karl perceives the genesis of chaos and does not know how to counteract it. Both Brutus and Karl are political idealists rather than practical statesmen;l15 both attempt to replace what they consider to be corrupt forms of comity and polity with a new ideal order. But in the process they help to create the chaos they bemoan. When Caesar's part is sung in the second stanza, another perspective enters the construct: the image of the father, symbol of final authority, and of order. Caesar possessed the world and wanted to hand it on to his son: "Sohn——die Erde / war gefallen dir als Erbe zu" (II:l3h,3h-—35). As Benno von Wiese points out, the elder Moor is certainly no Caesar, but the tragic involvement of father and son is similar: "Auch von Karl gilt, daB er die eigentliche, die gerechte, die republikanische Gesellschaftsordnung verwirklichen wollte und zwar in Absage an die ."116 But he sees Vaterwelt, aus der er sich ausgestoBen fiihlte. that his attempt has been in vain, and thus the statement "Keine Welt ffir Brutus mehr" also stands for Karl's future, as he perceives it. Yet the bond with the father remains, even though, for both Brutus and Karl, the course of events has driven an irrevocable wedge between father and son. In both cases, the sons become murders of their "fathers": Brutus eliminates Caesar whom he considered a barrier blocking a republican form of society, and Karl murders his father in the sense that his form of existence contradicts the ideal of order to such an extent that his father cannot accept the radical deviation into moral chaos which a band of robbers represents. The song raises, as Wiese points out further, the relationship . u '..;§..:-l_. '1, -__ .f': , ‘ ' ”.4 a... 1*- ‘u.-.‘. mate. The cone hm alliterej hhtives "v," ' hieiliches," it later tvo words Thai is taken f: hlflict between Then the two. The general The: it is t} TTTTTE emotion: T “15° functim Thich Karl 0 Mill take to In the fir T T questior 1W mated ihmtic die] T1" human hamph 001w ‘.TE 5900“ pay 129 between Karl and the elder Moor from the personal to the "suprapersonal": it has symbolic meaning for the political order of mankind in general.117 As a form, the song contains many characteristics of a ballad, a genre which incorporates elements of the three literary styles, lyric, epic, and dramatic.118 The lyric element manifests itself in the musi— cality of the verses which the rhythm, rhyme, vowels, and consonants create. The consonants and vowels contribute to the musicality when they are alliterated: e.g. , the alliteration in the first line of the fricatives "w," "f," and "i" ("ie") sounds, the liquid "1" in "willkommen," "friedliches," and "Gefilde," and also the "ld"—"dl" dipthongs in the latter two words. Characteristic of epic style is the subject matter which is taken from history. Dramatic style is represented by the conflict between father and son which is expressed in a dialogue between the two. The general stylistic function of the ballad for the monologue is lyric: it is the vehicle by which Schiller allows Karl to express intense emotionS, a function which music fulfills in D_i_e_ Riiuber.l19 It also functions as a setting for the second section of the monologue in which Karl contemplates the form of his existence and the measures he will take to resolve its problematic nature. In the first two paragraphs of the prose speech there is extensive use of questions, introduced by the interrogative "warum," and extensive use of paratactic—hypotactic sentence structure both of which can convey a dramatic disposition. The predicament of orderlessness gives rise to Kfi-I‘l's dramatic—problematic disposition. The present tense in the first paragraph conveys the immediacy of his confusion; the future tense in the second paragraph points to a time beyond his present conflict. The MW (e the Te“ Sen mm mm The in T’ T we effett of lhe came of reaction TO The c lemme Labyrj W The 1“" ihilistic We] itfistence- T hi the rev T° magnifies l Though the 001‘! halal hei’ hated it svmb°3 h'ch ohlitelhhT is in prev had him and selenlosen Nat ssh?" (11:135: The represel Thhduel fret 130 consternation he feels about the disorder carries over into the syntax which is frequently interrrupted by dashes, breaking the syntactical pattern into a series of fragmented phrases and creating choppiness in the syntax. The phrases, moreover, are constructed with contrasting pairs of words (e.g. , "den Weisen dem Toren——den Feigen dem Tapferen—- den Edlen dem Schelmen") or contrasting clauses ("Es ist doch eine so gdttliche Harmonie in der seelenlosen Natur, warum sollte dieser Minlang in der verniinftigen sein?"), which give rise to the sticho— mythic effect of dramatic language. The cause of the staccato in this language is Karl's emotional reaction to the confusion surrounding him: "Es ist alles so finster—— verworrene Labyrinthe——kein Ausgang——kein leitendes Gestirn" (II:lBS, 13-15). The images which Schiller allocates Karl here project a nihilistic perception. They signify his total perplexion with his form of existence. The labyrinth is a spatial symbol for confusion, meaning that the way to the goal ("Ausgang") is confused in Karl's mind. The star signifies the symbolic light of truth which guides the individual through the corruption in life, like the stars guide a seafarer at niShh—Karl being the seafarer (II:l27,30). Franz's intrigue has created a symbolic moral darkness ("Es ist alles so finster" [IIzl35,l3]) which obliterates truth's enlightenment for Karl. As in previous soliloquies, Karl observes the physical nature around him and asks: "Es ist doch eine so go'ttliche Harmonie in der seelenlosen Natur, warum sollte dieser Minlang in der verniinftigen sein?" (II:135,22—2h), i.e. , in the moral nature of men (VII:3h8,l2—lh). Nature represents the ideal of perfect freedom120 attained when an individual freely sets himself a limit in order not to infringe on the M" M917: his bent on de Memes. Karl's ques not his exis mince among ‘ believes, shoulc' NShthat pom-ti “1m And we: ifilled the “aes “the EiSllteen uistence would it, freely re others, With the S meeting of m“ death, ti “at“ line the of the s 3‘9°t~to.be‘ .‘ Karl envj life as a “Ge: :H‘BSM)‘ 131 expression of another's i‘reedom.12l Karl and Amalia have a propensity to use nature imagery when pro— jecting transcendental principles because nature represents beauty, i.eq freedom within order, the ideal relationship between objects. Franz's imagery, on the other hand, incorporates the ugliness of nature; heis bent on destroying universals in favor of the particular order of his desires. Karl‘s question about soulless and rational nature represents the crux of his exiStential crises. In nature he perceives an ideal form of existence among the inanimate objects, and this ideal structure, he believes, should be extended to society. If it were, men would relin— mush that portion of their freedom necessary to sustain the freedom of others. And were such social intercourse achieved, what Schiller later termed the "aesthetic state" would become a realityv—"aesthetic" meaning "122 The fundamental law of in the eighteenth—century "sensitivity. existence would be "Freiheit zu geben durch Freiheit" (VII:389,36—37), i.e., freely restricting one's own freedom to insure the freedom of others. With the stage direction "Er setzt die Pistole an" (II:136,3), the perspective of the monologue changes from interrogation to resolution in which death, the meeting point of time and eternity ('25gt_ung_Ewigkeit -—gekettet aneinander durch ein einzig MOmentl"), becomes the central theme of the speech. The remainder of the speech becomes Karl's "To—be— OT—not—to-be." Karl envisions both mortal and post—mortal existence spatially: life as a “Geffingnis” and eternity as a "Behausung der ewigen Nacht" (II:l36,Se7). Prison is a concrete image which symbolizes harsh hult'reint- iteplayfitp hing within an I “went the qui dilation is n01 5" If, howeve: "fixation become {the which he mallard} “N's forces, 11 {3:135:31} over The trip int ii? there is n‘ Fasting about h iii-6), As Dr in“ “311 eith Eh far in the 5:1. But Elite: he: I I 'die M “it “Ilsege tire Ger 8 We Sehat cheln. (I “inactive 132 restrictiveness. The abstract noun "Behausung" signifies that post- nwrtal existence is only a nebulous concept of residence in Karl's mind. Posbmmrtal existence is termed variously a "Fremdes, nie umsegeltes Land" (II:l36,8), a "namenloses Jenseits" (II:l36,1h). The adjective "umsegelt" reintroduces the image of the sea voyage used several times mlthe play; it projects the perilousness and insecurity inherent in lhdng within an unstable, corrupt ambience. Schiller uses this image to present the quintessence of Karl's dilemma: on a sea voyage the demfination is not visible and, therefore, sailors fix on stars to guide than If, however, storms cloud the sky so that the stars are hidden, navigation becomes difficult. The storm would be analogous to Franz’s hmrigue which has covered up truth; Karl admits that his guiding star has disappeared.123 He feels like a marionette, at the mercy of the storm's forceS, meaning that events create an unbreakable chain of fate (II:l35,3l) over which men have no control. The trip into post—mortality is a trip into an unknown, uncharted sea: there is no certainty. And so he can only pose the desperate qmstion about his future: "wohin——wohin wirst du mich ffihren?" (II: 136,7-8). As presented in El: Rauber, such a confrontation with the Lmknown can either make the individual a coward of generate his courage. mum far in the monologue under consideration, the confrontation cows Karl. But after a moment's reflection he rejects his momentary coward— ice: . .die Menschheit erschlappt unter diesem Bilde [dem des nie unsegelten Landes]. . . .die Phantasei, der mutwillige Affe der Sinne, gaukelt unserer Leichtglaubigkeit selt— same Schatten vor.——Nein, nein! Ein Mann muB nicht strau- cheln. (II:136,9—l3) The collective abstract noun "Menschheit" generalizes Karl's individual mi conclusion ilmnloses Jei themehme" (IL Hidif the indiv filth. With his thi M1743), 1 which bei We? is crea‘ iiimmduy of 1 the the m tum,“ and Despite the :‘h {Willows timing the these Freihei t 35.30%” Th: flaw h 375 disinherit MES It i 133 experience to include all men. More than a decade later Schiller formu- lated such a generalization into a poetic theory when he wrote Goethe (25 August 1798) "daB sie [poetische Personen wie Karl], als poetische Gestalten, immer das allgemeine der Menschheit darzustellen und auszusprechen haben. ."12h After Karl concludes that men should not be cowed, he arrives at a second conclusion: "bleibt mir nur dieses mein Selbst getreu--sei wie du [namenloses Jenseits] willt, wenn ich nur n;i_c_h selbst mit hiniibernehme" (II:l36,lh—l6). Post—mortality is then not an existential void if the individual retains his own being which he develops in mor— tality. With his third conclusion, "ich bin mein Himmel und meine H611e" (II:l36,17-—18), he gains the ken that Heaven and Hell are states of psychological being which individuals create for themselves in mortality. Whatever is created is the Self which the individual carries across the boundary of mortality into the "namenloses Jenseits." By contem— plating the transcendentality of being, he frees himself from fear of the unknown and assumes the reins to guide his own destiny. Despite the realization that he could be reduced to nothingness ("Du [namenloses Jenseits] kannst mich zu nichts machen" [IIzl36,29—30]), Karl retains the one ultimate freedom, the control over life and death: "diese Freiheit kannst du mir nicht nehmen. (Er ladt die Pistole)" (II: 136,30—31). This moment represents a nadir for Karl as a poetic being in Pig: Meg; because the $1.822 E2 existentiellen Sinnzusammenhangs have disintegrated. A tragic moment is, therefore, created in this 125 scene, It is a moment charged with drama, i.e. , tension and suspense as t0 what will ensue. And we do not wait long; the stage directions invhen the ef nations will h linot succumb flatness into i Mlle, in Log Hir sehen der Macht den Geden] entzogen ; The conseq- in“ enters 1% him hum F filter, the 133 Ed the effect men, (195 Bar. 15:30!“ hat se Eliemw E in; inst Pri< EHQI‘ZQD hat 5.2 7). And F: a ms the mini? 13h continue: "Plétzlich halt er inn" indicating that the crisis of suicide is past. The last four sentences of the monologue exemplify both problema— tic and impassioned styles in concentrated form. The first two ques— tions of duty are answered by the last two statements of resolution; the questions focus on the concept of "Sollen," the resolutions on "Wollen." The present tense of all four verbs implies future time, the time when the effect of the resolution for the problems posed by the questions will be judged.126 By having Karl decide to endure his fate and not succumb to fear of the unknown, Schiller builds the quality of greatness into his character still more clearly than previously. For example, in Vom Erhabenen: Wir sehen das Furchtbare ohne Furcht an, weil wir uns der Macht desselben fiber uns als Naturwesen. . .durch den Gedanken an die Unzerst'orbarkeit unseres Wesens entzogen fiihlen. (XV:168,15—19)127 The consequence of Karl's decision soon becomes apparent when Hermann enters and discloses that he has hidden the elder Moor to pro— tect him from Franz. When Karl learns that Franz tried to kill his own father, the last symbol of order——the father—son relationship——evaporates. And the effect on Karl is that "Die Gesetze der Welt sind Wiirfelspiel worden, das Band der Natur ist entzwei, die alte Zwietracht ist los, der Sohn hat seinen Vater erschlagen" (II:lhl,6—8). The greatest Sins in Dig Rauber are patricide and fratricide, as Pastor Moser explains to Franz just prior to the latter's suicide: "Wehe dem, der sie beide auf dem Herzen hat! Ihm were besser, daB er nie geboren ware!" (II:lS3, 26‘27)- And Franz does bear responsibility for both. Patricide repre— sents the annihilation of authority and, therefore, order; fratricide Mandolins Item's att i than from Karl; n. in initi Ito! intrigue t “fill Franz bf ht revenge then than at a thisill)“ For the") when 1 it. who Commit L“dilation to . l"retinas the intrigue, has c In the 183 timing from We der in the ist Vie (in in" “1:16;; at as Such it than, which new Pheno the» ..I Dame Sig 135 desecration of the principle of brotherhood, the unifying element underlying existence. Franz's deed then comes to symbolize a potential- ly terminal infection of the social organism (VII:hOO,25) against which remedies need to be applied to check the social disease before it spreads and consumes. Franz's attack against the elder Moor is the act which elicits action from Karl. He forgets himself, because his father needs his help. Karl initiates a plan to extricate the familial order from the web of intrigue which Franz has woven around it: he sends Schweizer to bring Franz back to Karl who will exact revenge. But revenge is a destructive action, directed at an individual rather than at a principle, and, therefore, not an action condoned in this play. For this reaSOn Karl manifests his relief ("froh empor— hfipfend") when he learns that he does not have to deal with his bro— ther, who commits suicide (II:l60,19). Nevertheless the display of his inclination to take revenge has a function in the play's structure: it symbolizes the confusion which the corrupt ambience, specifically Franz's intrigue, has created in Karl's moral capacity. In the last scene of the play, Schiller portrays the confusion deParting from Karl's life because of Amalia's love for him: "Rein bin ich wie der Ather des Himmels, sie liebt mich! . . .Der Friede meiner Seele ist wiedergekommen, die Qual hat ausgetobt, die Héille ist nicht mehr" (II:l62,23—27). Love becomes a living form for him once again, and as such it eradicates the ethical confusion by creating a personal ataraxia which replaces despair and anguish. If Heaven and Hell are personal phenomena as Karl says they are in his monologue (II:l36,17—18), then peace signifies the return of his psychological Heaven, his Elysium i WW 1 i M though KJ “1111 him to '1) Within 11 mil‘ { I‘d. After he 1’11 lite, his underste Wins to pene“ has symbols. Ii“ Men einer "35°11?“ (11:165, “51W capacit: m” in creati My, which 731 detemines he Men [set Mich bezahl - n \l n .... “is“ Wins We) die w :Emzhsihkei “is life 8.: 136 (11:103,3; 111,16), because Hell no longer exists for him. Amalia, whose function in Qi_e'_ Rauber resembles that of Gretchen in Goethe's _Fiufl, creates a paradise of peace for him, because of her constant, intuitive (II:l26), natural love. It transcends the moral chaos created by Franz; it even penetrates Karl's disguise, although Amalia’s intellect contradicts her intuition. Even though Karl may attain his personal golden age, Schiller does not allow him to be satisfied; he does not exist in a vacuum but is a being within a milieu in which the concept of brotherhood should domi— nate. After he fulfills Amalia's wish that he be the one to take her life, his understanding of his environment continues to become sharper; he begins to penetrate the meaning of things and events and understand them as symbols. He recognizes that her life is a sacrifice for his: "das Leben einer Heiligen um das Leben der Schelmen, es ist ungleicher Tausch?" (II:l65,l—3). He then begins to more clearly exercise his rational capacity ("Vernunft"), that capacity which is the controlling factor in creating a sublime, noble disposition.128 By using this C&P&City, which Schiller also terms the moral capacity (VII:3148,13—lh), Karl determines that the natural order has not yet been set straight: "Die Narben [seine Taten], die bohmischen Wilder! Ja, Ja! dies muIBte freilich bezahlt werden" (II:l6S,7—9). Amalia's death represents the sacrifice for the lack of love in Karl’s life which has been caused by corruDtion, specifically by Franz's intrigue. But Karl too has trans— gressed against the natural moral order: "0 fiber mich Narren, der ich Vfihnete, die Welt durch Greuel zu verschonern und die Gesetze durch Gesetzlosigkeit aufrecht zu halten!" (II:l5s,2hz-26). This reflection on his life as a robber leads to the conclusion that "zwei‘ Menschen wie 2 Inhis dimIfa 1 '- % shied infract- ' I t transgresso W, he ach hm)- Ev noch blieh versibnen Sie bedari hare Majes °Pfer bin sterben. I But Karl l till mum, 3 i0 authority, We“, and 395.11: Of his t miis lesS s k1ause Karl s when“ befon Wags d8 S tn The fift Slang: Danie In the s a I .3111” 5“er 137 ich den ganzen Bau der sittlichen Welt zugrund richten wiirden" ( 11:165, 31-33). As Schiller's spokesman in the play Karl Judges what transpires during the play: he and Franz bring the moral world to its figurative knees. In his play, Schiller presents characters responsible for their actions. If a character transgresses against the natural moral order, the transgressor endures some form of punishment to rectify his or her ethical infraction. If the person imposes the rectifying process on himself, he achieves what Schiller terms the sublime niveau (V_c>_1r_1 Erhabenen). Evidence of Karl's sublimation is the conclusion that noch blieb mir etwas fibrig, womit ich die beleidigte Gesetze vers'dhnen und die miBhandelte Ordnung wiederum heilen kann. Sie bedarf eines Opfers——eines Opfers, das ihre unverletz- bare Majestat vor der ganzen Menschheit entfaltet~—dieses Opfer bin ich selbst. Ich selbst muB fiir sie des Todes sterben. (11:166,3—8) But Karl does not allow his to be an idle sacrifice in an existen- tial vacuum, simply to satisfy an abstract concept. Giving himself up to authority, he assigns the reward money to a poor man with eleven children, and in so doing sets an example of ideal comity outside the realm of his band of robbers and outside of his family. This act of help is less spectacular than the saving of Roller, but more significant because Karl symbolically re—establishes order to help an entire family, whereas before he destroyed order to help an individual, and in the process destroyed families . Daniel (V,l) The fifth act contains three short monologues, all in the first scene: Daniel, the servant to the Moors, delivers one, Franz two. In the soliloquy which opens the fifth act, Daniel bids farewell to familar surroundings. In doing so he tersely describes and reflects on handing Mitodete u Ihhterest ini hnflections.i the purpose oi iii his present hum ich hi1 3%, the v heir correspond ”We presen “the? Us a rela "Perspective 1 i110: eXhilan 5°! in one mom I3311iel‘s o (H:lhh,15.17) ah PerceiVes 11 3"”? castie hated 1101152: her family, I file" the Self 138 several objects which he sees as he leaves. Schiller constructed the speech around the preterite tense since Daniel recounts the past significance of the several objects he per— ceives. Unlike the lyricist who expresses emotional reactions to sensa— tions emanating from his environ, and unlike the dramatist who compares objects to determine causal relationships which affect him, Daniel's main interest in this moment is description, not conclusions drawn from his reflections. For him, description is both means and end, i.e. , the entire purpose of his speech. Eventually Daniel associates the past with his present circumstance to delineate a continuum of existence: "Leer kam ich hierher leer zieh’ ich wieder hin" (II:lhh,l6). As in the M, the work which Schiller and Goethe most often discussed in their correspondence when they considered the epic phenomenon, Daniel's monologue presents existence without definite beginning or end, but rather as a relatively unaltered continuum implying a certain breadth of perspective rather than concentration such as the momentary expres- sion of exhilaration of lyric style, or the concentration on a discrep- ancy in one moment of time's continuum in dramatic style. Daniel's concluding statement "aber meine Seele ist gerettet——" (II:lhh,l6-17) is a statement of fact about his present state of being, as he perceives it. Physically nothing has changed since he arrived at the Moor castle as a baby, but spiritually he has increased because he has acted honestly and industriously, fulfilling his role within the Moor family. In other words, by his actions he has created his Heaven, i.e., the Self which he will take into death. As a function in the dramatic structure, the monologue prepares the Stage for the confrontation with Franz: the evil intent which the Martial 1 e limit with f ht Judgment 1 Mutt about ti lust. he rece‘ After Dani hitters the c Mtions cont: We a God: lime); or: ”certainty is tom (”Ilium 111., “hen Vi“? Rein, : The form if I constant gating him. MS 11 vi“ Wanted Fr men iiber Mime c ”Neal the ‘ 139 latter wishes to promulgate becomes even more stark against the back— drop whi'ch this monologue provides. Daniel's innocence then contrasts sharply with Franz's evil design from which Daniel vainly tries to escape . Franz Moor (V,l) As Daniel is about to leave the Moor castle, Franz enters, beside himself with fear. The cause of his fear is a dream he has had of the Last Judgement in which he alone is not saved. Trying to appear non— chalant about the experience, he asks Daniel why the old man does not laugh. He receives the answer "Triiume kommen von Gott" (II:lh8,3l). After Daniel exits to fetch Pastor Moser, Franz stands alone and considers the consequences of Daniel's statement. A series of eight questions contain expressions of uncertainty as to whether there is or is not a God: e.g. , "Riichet denn droben fiber den Sternen einer?" (II: lh9,T—8); or: "Wenn's aber doch ware?" (II:lh9,l6). The mood of uncertainty is re-inforced by the hypothetical subjunctive, the condi— tional conjunction "wenn," and contradictory, ambivalent statements, such as "Nein, nein!—-Ja, ja!" (II:lh9,8) or "wenn es doch etwas mehr ware? Nein, nein, es ist nicht!" (II:llL9,13—lh). The form of the speech corresponds to its content which consists of a constant vacillation between the pros and cons of the problem facing him. For the first time in the play, transcendental existence becomes a vital factor in his thought. To this point, Schiller has presented Franz as holding to the View that "6d, einsam, taub ist's droben fiber den Sternen" .(II:lh9,12—l3) , stars representing in D_i_e_ Rauber the outer limit of the perceptible universe, those objects which \. reveal the will of the power beyond them called God. The problem White bee-m mete antith the of E 1 khtennines tl‘ 2142). But uh: hlose by push “9 consequence “‘86th we: lfl:lh9,15.17) ‘ And yet h< und wenn ‘ i515. Wais ihm auf, Wm has Chiller gusts MUS to t) mleaShed wil' tummy neu Them10 Meter Pas :‘rdnip Ulric 3% The tymdation; i m and we 1ho confronting Franz is that if he were to accept the existence of God, then he must also accept the reality of the moral laws which, to this point in the play, he considers fabrications. If he accepts this " as he terms it in a previous monologue (II:lZO,2l—22), then "M'drchen, his future becomes totally hopeless because his actions represent the complete antithesis of the behavioral pattern demanded by the moral fabric of Dig. Rauber. Using imagery of finance in a previous monologue, he determines that he has already gone too far to be forgiven (II:llS, 21-22). But whereas in that monologue he decides that he has nothing to lose by pushing on with his plan, here he more seriously considers the consequences of his past with the statements "Weh dir, wenn's nachgezahlt worden ware! wenn's dir vorgezahlt wiirde diese Nacht noch!" (II:lh9,15—17). And yet he cannot bring himself to believe that he is wrong: und wenn er [der Racher droben fiber den Sternen] gerecht ist, Waisen und Witwen, Unterdriickte, Geplagte heulen zu ihm auf, und wenn er gerecht ist?-—Warum haben sie gelitten, warum hast du fiber sie triumphiert?-- (II:lh9,20—23) Schiller sustains the dramatic—problematic mood beyond the monologue, pointing to the future when the forces of revenge which Karl has unleashed will confront Franz. For the moment he attempts to intel— lectually neutralize his dream. The monologue sets the stage for the only appearance of the character Pastor Moser, a. monument to Schiller's teacher from Lorch, 129 Phillip Ulrich Moser, with whom Franz contends about the existence Of God. The monologue reveals that Franz's confidence is shaken to the fOlmdation; he finds himself in the ultimate existential crisis between WOT‘Ch and worthlessness of life. ENE, Eon, Of ‘ Inhiarchy. «he: stands. ham tyrai M: since he, they act1 heir mother, I he second of ' 1m which per P133. Franz at clusion: "Weh M er nie get striking in t? 5°” 0f Pcten Flier to the tribunal of : themes; | Verzweiflung‘ The see $310th One '2! tries to Elsingl T] $me 211 1 1&1 Franz Moor (V,l) In the debate with Moser, Franz asks what the greatest sin is and which sin incenses the Pastor most. His answer: "Vatermord heiBt die eine, Brudermord die anderee—e" (II:lSB,2l-22). The first symbolizes the destruction of order, since society in Die Ra'uber appears in the form of a patriarchy. And as long as the father figure continues to exist, order stands. But once this figure is destroyed, the potential for individual tyranny arises. The same situation appears in D_ie_ 133313; E; Messina: since Manuel and Cesar no longer have a father to control them, they act as they want to, i.e. , according to their passions. Their mother, Isabella, is not strong enough to fulfill the father—role. The second of the sins, fratricide, represents the spirit of the moral laws which pervades the patriarchal order. During the course of the play, Franz attempts both sins, and therefore falls under Moser‘s con— clusion: "Wehe dem, der sie beide auf dem Herzen hat! Ihm ware besser, daft er nie geboren ware!" (II:lS3,26-—27). These words are particularly striking in the structure of the dialogue because they create a situa— tion of potential despair for Franz who bears the burden of both. Just prior to the pronouncement, Moser directs Franz‘s attention to the inner tribunal of justice which is inherent in each individual (II:lSl,29) and concludes: "was hier endlicher Triumph war, wird dort ewige, unendliche Verzweiflung" (II:lS2,30—3l). The scene with Moser forms the causal basis for Franz's suicide, although one hope remains for him: prayer-“if there be a God. And so he tries to pray, forcing Daniel to pray with him. But even in praying, he sins. The old servant deserts hfin with the statement "Ich mag niemand zu frfih in den Himmel f5rdern, viel weniger zu frfih—e" (II:lS6, him and m action from Inn's desceni Abandoned l wince: the ten milhser. Bee "My (VII:5 Meceives hi Eissaries fro: tcriptive st: {entering mu Mgrands?“ (11 “395 in the I tithe Mun The fiSurat: 1:31 struct m Once mashed by 156:: also an is on fate The Syn a less an {'I. ‘ lnentrinn 11+2 T—8),which Franz picks up at the beginning of his next monologue with the question "In die Héille, wolltest du sagen?" (11:156,1o—11). Franz's situation, viewed as a stage effect, is one in which he stands completely isolated at this moment, in contrast to Karl around wmm1more and more characters gather as the play progresses. The desertion from Franz and accumulation around Karl symbolizes the former's descent and the latter's ascent. Abandoned by all other characters, Franz delivers a speech which evinces the terror he feels concerning what he has learned from Daniel mm.Moser. Because of his terror, his imagination, i.e., his intuitive capacity (VII:STS)-—that capacity which he ignores throughout the play—— now deceives him into believing that the robbers storming the castle are wfissaries from Hell. The rhetorical questions interspersed with a descriptive statement become a stylistic teichoscopy of his imagination centering around the question "Hor' ich euch zischen, ihr Nattern des Abgrunds?" (II:lS6,l2—l3), the snake being repeated again. Several times in the play venomous animals are associated with Franz, represent— ing the nature of his character and his plan,130 but here the hellish fbrce figuratively recoils against him. Franz's facade of lies is a flimsy structure: one crack in the facade and the whole structure falls aPart. Once the reality behind the facade becomes known, the forces unleashed by the creator of the structure are turned against him, as they also are against Wallenstein. In this sense the individual creates his own fate. The syntax of the monologue steadily breaks down as Franz is less and less able to control his emotions, until finally he is cornered ("unentrinnbar"), and the only escape is his unheroic suicide. On the Mani“ I! sue higher mm gives 'lhe speechf Raising theig In the an: Mind that t} the“ is a prm ii lonologues Wilflict Wit Me side 0 m1“ ‘50 under “1 Often this t‘stic 13118118,, T0 conve; RH as Wasp m°l°EUes. 192d t0 assez hich is Usu; The hm ME by . 11:3 one hand, Schiller portrays Karl as a hero who finally understands the chaos in which he finds himself mired; and he decides to endure his earthly and individual restrictiveness.131 Franz, on the other hand, is presented succumbing to his fear—-Karl rejects his—«and taking his own life to avoid the embarrassment of his cowardice, not as a self—sacrifice for some higher law, as Karl gives himself up for the sake of order, or as Amalia gives herself, symbolically, for Karl. The speech then functions to demonstrate the effect of fatal forces exercising their justice on the individual who unleashed them. Conclusion In the analysis of Schiller's use of the monologue in Die Rauber, we find that there is no typical form to Schiller's monologues, although there is a pronounced tendency toward dramatic style. The majority of the monologues arise from situations in which a character is involved in a conflict with the moral environment and seeks clarification by weigh- ing one side of the conflict, as he perceives it, against the other, in order to understand the cause of his vortex of confusion or exasperation. And often this vortex bursts forth in a paroxysm of impassioned, bom— bastic language, typical in Storm and Stress drama.l32 To convey the search for clarification of causal relationships, as well as exasperation, Schiller utilizes questions extensively in the monologues. They appear less frequently in dialogue where characters tend to assert their personalities rather than question motivation, Which is usually done privately. The hypertension of inner, subjective turmoil is evinced in the language by the repetition of words and phrases, often in the form of a w, each repetition intensifyfilg the speech. A breakdown of the ' hitheexhens hall's ImoloJ havens and Eel l as ist die heiten erg ganze grol I in den W01 nicht von Me for Lenz, WO-politice ‘r Mtrol over t It is in * individual a]- itmcted his ”d Heel]; th With the sea; The tendt ; hr, rem We and an '.ith his Stu k a “Rivers his his 0‘ deal We ideal, he :1 :5 creates 1’41} syntax resulting in sentence fragments and individual words, separated by dashes—-often as aposiopese——and punctuated by exclamation marks conveys vertexes of emotions. One of the primary results for the structure of the play deriving from the extensive use of monologues is that they reveal, especially in Franz's monologues, that individuals create their own fate, their own Heavens and Hells. As Lenz wrote in his essay "Anmerkungen fibers Theater:" es ist die Rede von Charakteren, die sich ihre Begeben— heiten erschaffen, die selbstandig und unveranderlich die ganze groBe Maschine selbst drehen, ohne die Gottheiten in den Wolken anders n6tig zu haben, als wenn sie wollen nicht von Bildern, von Marionettenpuppen--von Menschen.133 Fate for Lenz, and for Schiller later in Di§_Rauber, is determined by socio-political forces which an individual helps to create, but has no control over once set loose. It is in the imagery that the inner workings of the play and the individual are revealed: e.g., the ideals around which Schiller con- structed his play are conveyed by the images of spring, May, blooming, and green; the nature of the moral atmosphere by the images connected with the sea; the intensity of experience by images of fire. The tendency toward synthesis, especially in the figure of Karl Moor, removes Schiller's play from the main stream of Storm and Stress drama and anticipates the Classical temperament which fully blossomed with his study of Kant. As a child, Karl played the roles of heroes; as a university student he becomes confused by Franz's deception and leads his own army of robbers—~an unheroic role—-to re-establish an ideal order based on brotherhood. But instead of re-establishing an ideal, he destroys that which he is trying to establish: i.e., order. He Creates conflict in society. At the end of the play, when he Hlfisincli dthesme, uhild posses has the chi] Ihre. The he Blend force: Wing free “hrs in the their homes or “91' and brot 1h5 realizes his error, he reasserts the quality of a hero, which he played as a child, by sacrificing himself for order: he willingly submits to law, while at the same time bequeathing the reward money to a poor farmer with a large family as an act of brotherhood. When he understands that his inclination toward order and his duty to sustain order are one and the same, he attains the inner harmony which, in Schiller's theory, a child possesses. But Karl creates his own harmony as a conscious act, whereas the child possesses inner harmony by chance, as a gift from nature. The harmony liberates Karl's mind from sentient reaction to external forces, such as those his brother emitted. He gains freedom by giving freedom to the farmer in the form of money, and implicitly to others in the form of peace to continue their lives unafraid of losing their homes or having their families destroyed, both being symbols of order and brotherhood . Artery; Extent that ha! W VerJLhi {1183), six ii a (1799). her inquiry Between 3 tihn of Dfl g striking Chan m“ 011 Onto Weathed; hence and re hi cencluded mining“ c Wow his linatjon), t} inability ( 3h conflict; As in h: mm‘lfls . ranthishih WALLENSTEIN Introduction After Di§_Rauber Schiller did not again employ monologues to the extent that he did in that first play. There are only nine monologues in Dig Verschworung g§§_Fiescos gg_§ggua (1782), six in Kabale End EEEEE (1783), six in mg Carlos (1787), and thirteen in the trilogy Wallen- spgig (1799). An explanation for this change can be gleened from a brief inquiry into his views concerning poetics at that time. Between Die Rauber and Wallenstein, expecially during the construc- tion of 293 Carlos, Schiller's views on constructing a drama underwent a striking change. With the study of Kant's philosophy Schiller formulated ideas on ontology, ethics, and aesthetics which he had not previously systematized: e.g. , the dual nature of man as body and spirit, sen- tience and reason. He juxtaposed this dualism unto the realm of ethics and concluded that every individual can choose whether to adhere to inclination or duty. The choice depends on whether the individual tends to follow his feelings (sentient reactions) or his reason (moral deter— mination), the psychic capacity to determine duty (VII:3h8,lB-lh). The Possibility exists for a synthesis if an individual can harmonize the two conflicting poles of his psyche- As an historian Schiller observed that history consisted of certain individuals confronting the forces of nature, meaning the covert causal relationship of things or events.1 These personalities either passively 1M6 hibisan hfinMfion, UK It: minen H. thdm Mews new Rents which c EQQEISEE he trim criti< - h htnature, ; forces at wor Poeticiz fie time he 1. @93th i] “tics in gl “My Must the Sleech f Der Rhy Roch dj charm 11nd Si! a“Sfi'lh V011 a1: Allgem Sieh 1 “nd di tanten beErei 11w endure the situation or actively deal with it. The subject matter of history furnishes, as Bockmann points out, "den ideellen Hintergrund" for dramatic dialectics,2 in which the dicotomy sentience-morality (material existence or existence according to ideation) manifests itself. As an artist Schiller considered history a "Magazin" for his imagination, whose "Gegenstande mfissen sich gefallen lassen, was sie unter meinen Handen werden."3 When Schiller returned to the writing of dramas he chose Wallen— stein as his subject matter. As an historian (Geschichte gg§_§£gi§i§f jahrigen Krieges) he discovered forces in the subject underlying the events which corresponded to his ontological ideas. In writing Wallenstein he did not have in mind to realistically stage his his- torical critique, but rather to transform the subject into poetic literature,h manipulating historical fact in order to illuminate forces at work. Poeticizing subject matter had several meanings for Schiller at the time he wrote Wallenstein. Two of these connotations appear repeatedly in his correspondence with Goethe and Korner concerning poetics in general and Wallenstein in particular. First, a complete tragedy EUSt appear in verse form, because the rhythm of verse equalizes the Speech for all characters throughout the poetic production. Der Rhythmus leistet bei einer dramatischen Production noch dieses groBe und bedeutende, dafl er, indem er alle t Charactere und alle Situationen nach Einem Sesetz behandel , und sie, trotz ihres innern Unterschiedes, in EineruFormt aqufihrt, er dadurch den Dichter und seinen Leser notige , VOn allem noch so characteristisch verschiedenem etwasll Allgemeines, rein menschliches zu verlangen. Alles so Sieh in dem Geschlechtsbegriff des Poetischen vereinigen, und diesem Gesetz dient der Rhythmus sowohl zum Repraeien— tanten als zum Werkzeug, da er alles unter Seinem Gesifize begreift. Er bildet auf diese Weise die Atmosphaere r @the epic} firmly cont‘ Ithat one my“ his to Waller] Wining m Der Moment 101‘ Volls1 Miflem Sf - - - Zug' infang' m ihrem in 510mm th Since the “010%, the a! 1107 line: 4e furlction V I“ a let- :ien to his d kmks! an tent that h 1h8 die poetische Schopfung, das gr'obere bleibt zuriick, nur das geistige kann von diesem diinnen Elemente getragen werden. A second aspect of this poeticizing process revolves around the integration of epic and dramatic styles: "Die Tragodie in ihrem hochsten Begriffe wird. . .immer zu dem epischen Charakter hinaufstreben 7 und wird nur dadurch zur Dichtung." Relating this statement to Wallen- Lein, the epic element would be the breadth which the historical subject inherently contains; the dramatic element is represented by concentrating on that one moment in the concatenation of events which consequently leads to Wallenstein's downfall and death. In an oft-quoted statement Concerning Wallenstein, Schiller wrote Goethe (2 October 1797) that Der Moment der Handlung ist so pragnant, daB alles was zur Vollstandigkeit derselben gehort, natfirlich, ja in gewiBem Sinn nothwendig darinn liegt, daraus hervorgeht. . Zugleich gelang es mir die Handlung gleich vom . Anfang in eine solche Praecipitation und Neigung zu brin— gen, daB sie in stetiger und beschleunigter Bewegung zu ihrem Ende eilt. He Portra a this " re nant moment” in the first play of the trilogy, y P 8 W Lager, in which no monologues appear. WALLENSTEIN S LAGER Since the object of this investigation is Schiller's use of the "10110108116, the question arises why he did not utilize any monOlogueS 1n the 1107 lines which constitute Wallensteins Lager. The answer lies in the function which the characters fulfill. In a letter to his friend Korner, Schiller admitted that, in addi- tion to his discussion of epic and dramatic art with Goethe, studies 015‘ SOphocles' and Shakespeare's artistry had influenced him to such an ”13th that he had decided to make changes in his WallenStEJ-P; aches Abs darn m; m einen Uirhlichef die Massq wenig em] Shakespel Paar Stii Yolk gel [Would be r of their mg he. rather “M: "poe1 dMustellen 9195mm it the allNS of "“5: none is “Wat: W in Q ceschichte Before hemmed]. View“ < Wm; 11+9 Schiller saw in Oedipus rex, for example, that Sophocles had constructed his plots around a type of "pregnant moment": "Der 'Oedipus' ist. . . eine tragische Analysis. Alles ist schon da, und es wird nur herausge— t."10 wickel In Shakespeare's Julius Caesar he admired the reduction of acomposite folk personality into the form of several characters: Hier [in Julius Caesar] bey der Darstellung des Volks- characters, zwang ihn schon der Stoff, mehr ein poeti— sches Abstractum als Individuen im Auge zu haben, und darum finde ich ihn hier den Griechen auserst nah. Wenn man einen zu angstlichen Begriff von Nachahmung des Wirklichen zu einer solchen Scene mitbringt, so muB einen die Masse und Menge mit ihrer Bedeutungslosigkeit nicht wenig embarrassieren, aber mit einem kfihnen Griff nimmt Shakespear ein paar Figuren, ich mochte sagen, nur ein paar Stimmen aus der Masse heraus, laflt sie fur das ganze Volk gelten. 11 He would be reminded of the Greeks because he considered the characters of their tragedies to be ideal masks,12 i.e., they represent a general type, rather than individuals. They are poetic persons in Schiller‘s terms: "poetische Personen. . .haben. . .das allgemeine der Menschheit darzustellen und auszusprechen. . . ;" they are symbolic figures, as are 13 the several representatives of the masses in Shakespeare's work. At the outset of his play, Schiller creates a scene similar to his analysis of Oedipus 5325 in that characters represent types, not individ— uals: none of the characters has a proper name, rather each is named by ' or "Bauer"); all his occupation (e.g., "Wachtmeister," "Kurassier,‘ SP8&k in Knittelvers "nach dem Geist des Jahrhunderts, in welchem die Geschichte spielt," according to Schiller.lh Before a word is spoken in the play, the "pregnant moment" is Presented in the form of "Soldatenjungen" throwing dice on a drum, in the midst of the soldiers being assembled in Pilsen by Wallenstein. Symbolically this represents the moment from which the further action imhhng' h histhe i Min of a ‘ As an sq m fulfill! traction: Wenn die dazu tei neuerer tail, (is nicht a] her his SchilleJ 150 develops: Wallenstein's entire existence as a general rests on the gamble that he will be able to play both sides, the Hapsburg and the f Swedish, against one another and become the benefactor of whichever side wins. His pieces in this game are the mercenaries he has assembled. The young boys throwing dice symbolize that the atmosphere of gambling has filtered down to even the most innocent persons. The drum is the instrument by which troops march; it represents the regimen— tation of a group of people for a war effort. As an exposition for the remaining sections of the trilogy, the Lage; fulfills a function which Goethe identified early in its con— struction: Wenn die alten Dichter ganz bekannte Mythen, und noch dazu teilweise, in ihren Dramen vortrugen, so hat ein neuerer Dichter, wie die Sachen stehen, immer den Nach— teil, daB er erst die Exposition, die doch eigentlich nicht allein aufs Faktum, sondern auf die ganze Breite der Existenz und auf Stimmung geht, mit vortragen muB. Schiller hat deswegen einen sehr guten Gedanken gehabt, daB er ein kleines Stuck, die Wallensteiner, als Exposi— tion vorausschickt, wo die Masse der Armee, gleichsam wie das Chor der Alten, sich mit Gewalt und Gewicht darstellt, weil am Enge des Hauptstfickes doch alles darauf ankommt: Formel des Diensts verandert. Regarding the expositional nature of Wallensteins Lager Schiller wrote Goethe (1 December 1797) Die Exposition verlangt Extensitat, sowie die fortschrei— tende Handlung von selbst auf Intensitat leitet. Es kommt mir vor, als ob mich ein gewiBer epischer Geist angewan— delt habe. . . , doch glaube ich nicht, daB er dem Drama— tischen schadet, weil er vielleicht das einzige Mittel war, diesem prosaischen Stoff eine poetische Natur zu geben. The epic spirit Schiller refers to derives from the form of the play in which a broad spectrum of types is portrayed, representing various ”motion wt oration as ( soldiers is i Sophocles' c‘E the Public .1 "Billions exp the society Mite their ”d hamoni: in the chop tharaeter i E MHOIOgue In the he Same e2 3&th Cir the 5°1die fiddle fig Which cm conflict 1 Imps dis 151 nations, social types, and classes of soldiers, from the lowly Croat to the noble Curassier. Schiller also creates epic extensity by having characters recount what has transpired before the scene opened, i.e., they recall the past, the province of epic style. In this exposition characters function in the manner of a chorus in Greek tragedy, e.g., the chorus of old Thebian men in Oedipus 32x7- a function which Goethe also recognized in the above quote. They function as a backdrop for the main characters. Schiller's use of the soldiers is more complex than Sophocles‘ use of the Thebian men. Sophocles' chorus speaks in a unified voice which is representative for the public.17 Among the soldiers in the Lager there is a variety of opinions expressed which are symptomatic of the Opinions being heard in the society at large. Not until the end of the play do the soldiers unite their voices when, as a chorus, they sing a song which summarizes and harmonizes their points of view. And, although there are leaders in the chorus, such as the Curassiers and the hunters, no single character is sufficiently important in the Lager's structure to warrant a monologue in which to express his private perceptions. DIE PICCOLOMINI In the second play of the trilogy Schiller presents essentially the same elements as in Wallensteins Laggg, except in a smaller, more select circle of characters who represent a higher social niveau than the soldiers. The characters are now generals and officials. These middle figures between the troops and Wallenstein express opinions which correspond to those of the troops they lead.18 Whereas the conflict between Wallenstein and the emperor remains clouded when the trOops discuss it, it becomes more distinct among the generals and bile trilogy otheplay. e.g., in the he explanatini timed his rel; motive thrc inthis second WW attn ‘0 achieve th W119 pres ”5 son, but it when he “hired by 1 Mint the 1 he sop betw In the W Wane itree of hi ”to son] i"tions. In 13 ilteut, 01112 r“kin deli l 152 officials, especially when Wallenstein himself appears and 1110 and Terzky press him to take action by moving forward with his plan. With E Piccolomini the perspective of the play shifts gradually from an epic to a dramatic perspective. In the La er, the exposition to the trilogy, the past, i.e., the epic perspective, governs the style of the play. In D_i_g Piccolomini the past still remains a major factor: e.g., in the confrontation between Questenberg and Wallenstein, and in the explanation of the dream which Wallenstein had in which he envi— sioned his fall in battle. Epic style is also found in the form of narrative through which Wallenstein's previous actions are told. But in this second play of the trilogy, the immediate conflict attracts the generals' attention more than the past: they question what will be done to achieve the goal Wallenstein has set forth. In _Qi_e_ Piccolomini, Schiller presents the blossoming of some of the seeds which Wallenstein has sown, but not in the form he expects. And so, at the end of the Play when he learns that Sesin, his messenger to the Swedish, has been captured by the Emperor's forces, Schiller portrays Wallenstein himself feeling the pressure of an increasingly problematic form of existence: the gap between what is and what should be grows wider. In the staging, Schiller presents a diminishing group of people around Wallenstein; he stands increasingly alone. The greater the degree of his isolation, and the isolation of other characters, the more often Schiller uses monologues to present their inner thoughts and emotions. In Di_e Piccolomini, when no character is isolated to any great extent, only three monologues appear. The first belongs to Wallenstein; Thekla delivers the other two. She and Max have an insular existence in Fm; she dean nonnative tl ihlfllensteii lithe banquet; filing for a n “his wife h hitten in fiithie. Gran finance of M Ito" “M "fa: I“Semifinal 5" in thin Elliot “tit Wrote th ii" that of “omelet, helm“ wt W °f the Wire. ihe mom)1 31‘“ and S. SS as &Q 153 Wallenstein‘s encampment because of the love they share and the openness which they display toward one another. Wallenstein (11,5) Two events motivate Wallenstein‘s first monologue: the first is a conversation with his wife, who has just returned from the court in Vienna; she describes how the people at the court had been more reserved and secretive toward her. The second event is Terzky's request to speak with Wallenstein privately. The rest of the family, including Max, exits for the banquet; Wallenstein and Terzky are left on stage alone. For— getting for a moment that Terzky is present, Wallenstein reflects on what his wife has told him. Written in epic style, his monologue conveys a reflective, objective attitude. Grammatically the objective attitude manifests itself in the dominance of nouns in the passage v_i_s_ a E functional verbs such as "sein" and "fassen." Nouns such as "Nachfolger," "Heiland," and "Abgeschiedner" emphasize forms of being, rather than action and causal— itY~ The third—person perspective also represents Wallenstein's detached attitude. The three times first person pronouns appear, they communicate that Wallenstein is the object of a third party‘s action, i.e., that of the Viennese court. Correlative with a detached attitude is the relative unemotional involvement which, in Wallenstein's monologue, is conveyed by the even rhythm of the blank verse and the straightforward paratactic sentence structure. The monologue functions as a retarding moment in which Wallenstein review and summarizes his position at the Viennese court. It also serves as a contrast to the mounting pressure in the following scenes Mia's s wading it. Win act | We structui Was an idei hues a goal Meme and , “me of de‘ 516th rep “It "Mamba I3|bel"._in ‘ Winnie“ he held t‘ ”ting is ; ‘.‘:eir mic .I 418.5 me 15h from Terzky and 1110 to declare himself and take direct action. But Wallenstein has a contemplative temperament, as his monologue reveals, and he tries not to let himself be rushed into decisions. Thekla (111,7) Thekla's song—monologue is motivated by the three scenes immediately preceding it. The most important of the three is the fourth scene of the third act in which Max remembers his childhood, a typical moment in the structure of Schiller's playslgz the hero contemplates his child- hood as an ideal paradisiacal state of innocence, a state of being which becomes a goal to be attained again so that the individual may experience the peace and joy he knew in the past. For Max, childhood represents a source of deep meaning: . . .tiefere Bedeutung Liegt in dem Marchen meiner Kinderjahre Als in der Wahrheit, die das Leben lehrt. Die heitre Welt der Wunder ist's allein, Die dem entzfickten Herzen Antwort gibt, Die ihre ew'gen Raume mir eroffnet, Mir tausend Zweige reich entgegenstreckt, Worauf der trunkne Geist sich selig wiegt. Die Fabel ist der Liebe Heimatwelt, Gern wohnt sie unter Feen, Talismanen, Glaubt gern an Gotter, weil sie gottlich ist. (11.2731—h1) Childhood represents an ideal of an aesthetic existence—-indicated by the words "Marchen," "heiter" ("Heiter ist die Kunst [Pro., l.l38]), and "Fabel"——in which individuals exercise their poetic capacities, i.e. , imaginationS,2O their intuitions, to create and sustain a form of exis- tence held together by naive, spontaneous love. The mood in this state Of being is peace and bliss. According to Schiller, by exercising their poetic capacities unselfishly, they manifest their humanness: "- .das menschliche ist immer der Anfang des poetischen, das nur der hmther'e . hhmstein's Ehrlich, 1| ilhition ext:1 lhr . .“). ‘ ihekla' si me "YEW-c] Shane Max's fiffers fmm 9111 she is r: In the ‘ istic than M 52” time sh. w“ Perst We her 1 mmNon, finalism: hier Words :33 01ml, In the 351‘ the et. .55 l I Gipfel davon ist."21 They then initiate the possibility for realizing ; an aesthetic state of being, such as Schiller projects in fiber dig fisthetische Erziehung g§§_Menschen (1795).22 Max's poetic speech arises from Thekla's apprehension concerning her father's belief in astrology (1.2701 ff.). Max tries to justify Wallenstein's belief by characterizing astrology as the language of the heart which, in the confused, contemporary world, replaces naive intuition extant in childhood ("Die alten Fabelwesen sind nicht mehr. . ."). Thekla's response to Max's vision reveals her doubt: Wenn das die Sternenkunst ist, will ich froh Zu diesem heitern Glauben mich bekennen. (11. 2751—52) The "wenn"—clause conveys the doubt in her mind: she would willingly embrace Max's vision, but by implication, she thinks that his concept differs from the function which astrology has in her father's life—- and she is right. In the play's structure Schiller presents her as being more real— istic than Max: she comprehends the meaning of the encampment. At the same time she is more idealistic than her father in that his goal is to attain personal, political power whereas she strives unselfishly to devote her love to Max and help him sustain his purity in the midst of corruption. She manifests a temperament with qualities of realism and idealism: it is a middle ground between two diverse perspectives. In other words, she embodies a synthesis and as such she becomes a symbol of a Classical temperament. In the fifth scene of the act, Schiller presents her as a symbol for the eternally feminine ("das ewig Weibliche”) when she tells Max to . ':'l . I; _ I . .I d 1 I - I I . . l P- :- I. ~ . : . 4" . min; to det Iereflizes r hat, heca ‘ film‘s nai After 001‘ hr the banqui initially dis ma. Thekla's W1 druntic the first WE girl o M emphasi miner’s fj Mira, co: In the flirt betwe L‘iisehe G1 Elistentia] 3”" [1.2! The c1 they "hie h 011 the 156 Ibllow her guidance (1.2822). In the conflict between the ideal of their love and the reality of the corruption around them, only Thekla can represent truth to Max: she is idealistic enough to want what is good, realistic enough to determine how to put the good into practice, meaning to determine how to perpetuate their insular form of existence. She realizes that she is the only person whom Max can trust to be honest, because intrigue is so widespread that truth is totally hidden from Max’s naiveté behind a facade of deception. After Countess Terzky interrupts Thekla and Max to fetch.the latter for the banquet, and Max tells Thekla that he must obey, Thekla becomes initially disconcerted and then thoughtful. While alone she sings her song. Thekla’s song contains features of a ballad in that lyric, epic, and dramatic styles seem to be equally important. Epic style governs in the first stanza in which the songstress recounts the wandering of a young girl on a shore. The narrative remains objective in the sense that emphasis is on the objects being described. In the syntax the Prominent first position of nouns makes the syntax predominantly nominal, correlating with the ”objectivity" of the narrative. In the second stanza, the mood becomes dramatic: there is a con? flict between an ideal experienced in the past ("Ich habe genossen das irdische Gliick, / Ich habe gelebt und geliebet" [11.2872—731) and the existential void of the present ("Das Herz ist gestorben, die Welt ist leer" [12869]). The conflict which Thekla sings about corresponds to the discre» pancy which she perceives developing between the love she shared with Max on the trip to her father's encampment and the absence of love and dthia ram Ito, five- 'fimer—rhme‘ has also i Iter of the i narrate 1 first four li‘ her in iamh Iith an M thin the 11: “Wild stanz: effect of th. "Ore solem Schille ”3 What. M“ Prior atmsPhere . ha shore, The exI’el‘ie {3.2052511 157 honesty in the camp itself. Vicariously, through the song, she antici— pates the moment when her world will be empty because Max is no longer part of it. Her solution for that moment is to cease existing. Both the epic and dramatic perspectives are placed in metrical form, and this form creates the song's musicality, its lyricism. It consists of two, five—line stanzas with the rhyme: a a b b c / d d e e c —-—the "Kiirner—rhyme" connecting the two stanzas. The fifth lines of the two stanzas also have a similar metrical scheme: v - Vv - Vv— V. In the meter of the first four lines of both stanzas, Schiller creates a form commensurate with the perspective expressed in the subject matter. The first four lines of the first stanza consist of four metrical feet: three in iambs (l, 2, and h), one a dactyl (3). The result is a rhythm with an allegro tempo which helps convey the intensity, the turbulence, within the natural setting described. The first four lines of the second stanza also have four feet, but an additional syllable. The effect of the extra syllable is to slow the tempo of the rhythm, lending a more solemn tone to the tragic subject matter. Schiller utilizes imagery in the first stanza to create a panorama of conflict. The condition depicted in nature is that of a storm. Twice prior to this in the play, characters use a storm to depict the atmosphere of the play (11.1h26, 1803). Thekla's song sets the scene on a shore. As in Die Rauber, water in Wallenstein represents life.23 The experiencing of life is compared to a wild sea voyage on stormy seas (112052—514). For the trilogy, Wallenstein symbolizes the ship on which his troops travel: Das Schiff nur bin ich, Auf das er [Isolani] seine Hoffnung hat geladen, Mit dem er wohlgemut das freie Meer % Meetba filtering on thinning of t‘ eh; the voya' Morn. Re: Ienevigetes the, sperm W, as it list he schon the charm eschuer,‘ schillers t it, his re Maine: The Se: he her sit “le eta tree so pc he deflonie She Sings ‘ is “W Vie stars, Syn we“ Seer: 158 Durchsegelte; er sieht es fiber Klippen Gefiihrlich. gehn und rettet schnell die Ware. (11.538h—88) In 1_)_i_e_ Rauber the shore from which the voyager sets sail represents an original paradisiacal state of being. In Thekla's song, the symbolic ' a color usually associated reference to a paradise is the noun "Gri'm,' with spring and paradise when it appears in Schiller's plays.2h The beginning of the voyage signifies the fall from innocence into knowl- edge; the voyage itself the exposure to corrupting, demonic forces in the world. Reaching the port of destination on the shore toward which one navigates signifies the attaining of a second paradisiacal exis— tence, a paradise of knowledge, gained from the experience of the voyage, as it does for the character Gordon when Wallenstein says "So bist du schon im Hafen, alter Mann? / Ich nicht!" (11.7316—17). Gordon, as the character who expresses the moral of the entire play, according to Schiller,25 has attained that paradise of knowledge which, in Schiller’s theory, one attains when the individual's moral capacity, i.e. , his reason, is no longer influenced by his materialistic responses. For Schiller this represents freedom, and Gordon manifests such freedom. The sea—ship imagery in Thekla's monologue has a similar meaning for her situation: the shore image symbolizes the paradise edge of an earthly ataraxia ("das irdische Glfick) created by love. The waves that break so powerfully unto the shore symbolize the blind lashing-out of the demonic forces against innocence, such as Max’s (114712—13). When She sings out her lament, it is into a symbolic void: her destination is not visible on the horizon, and the storm clouds blot out the sun and Stars, symbols of truth and guidance.26 The night represents the time When secretiveness, intrigue prevails (XV:lh2,5~6), the antithesis of its duty 1 Minus. the : Itimflh ch times the t1 auto mica? tickle. f0 dutch das stehen. sie, und hat, fir After Th “"5. A te 301! versus 1 at, a, M flther's m T0 acce is imageS C This Samoa & Feuerb; the ideal of openness and honesty. For the stage action, the‘monologue ftmctions as a retarding moment, a bridge between Max's exit and the return of Countess Terzky in the following scene, in which the question of Thekla's inclination and her duty is argued. As a momentary expression of her subjective feelings, the song has a lyric function for Thekla: it grows out of an emotionally charged scene between herself and Max. By singing she releases the tension of the moment as the extensive stage directions seem to indicate: Thekla folgt ihm [Max] anfangs mit den Augen, geht unruhig durch das Zimmer und bleibt dann in Gedanken versenkt stehen. Eine Gitarre liegt auf‘ dem Tische, sie ergreif‘t sie, und nachdem sie eine Weile schwermiitig priéludiert hat, fallt sie in den Gesang. (1.2863) Thekla (III,9) After Thekla concludes her song—monologue, Countess Terzlgy re- enters. A tense scene ensues in which the question of Thekla’s obliga— tion versus her inclination is argued. The Countess takes the position that, as Wallenstein's daughter, Thekla has the duty to conform to her father‘s will; Thekla asserts the right to her feelings. To accentuate Thekla's subservient position, the Countess utilizes the images of a seed and a flower: Diese Saat, Ward nicht gepflanzt, daB du mit kindscher Hand Die Blume brfichest und zur leichten Zier An deinen Busen stecktest! (11.2908—11) This sardonic statement is followed by another, uttered as a warning to Thekla: "Vergehen wirst du vor ihm wie das zarte Blatt / Der Blume vor dem Feuerblick der Sonne" (11.2982—83). As is discussed in the } w t . I f nimpie aimed f0 uistence mi | Metre ofl Item's inst Vallenstein; Ironicaf the source 0 braver, it it, the in it. withen‘ ilPlication cmittens, h. i359?! usu this and a In cor Strasses t1 apathy, is 0n fa 3W him '.’:ich has, ”VJ“- His in ich ll 160 preceding chapter, the flower, in Schiller's imagery, symbolizes ’teauty," which Schiller in turn defines as "Freiheit in der Erschei— nung." But in the Countess' image "flower" paradoxically represents Thekla's lack of freedom. Despite Wallenstein's feeling for her, she remains a piece of property to him, an investment to be bargained and exchanged for the right commodity. She is part of the gambling form of existence serving as the foundation on which Wallenstein builds the structure of his existence. Contrary to the ideal on which Max and Thekla's insular existence rests, love is not a consideration to Wallenstein; marriage is a matter of power politics (11.5270—71). Ironically, in her warning, the Countess refers to the sun, usually the source of truth and the nourishment of beauty. To the Countess, however, it is the object that will wilt the figurative flower. Explic— itly, the image "Feuerblick der Sonne" refers to Wallenstein's intimidat- ing, withering gaze. But within the construct of Schiller's imagery the implication goes much deeper: Wallenstein constitutes the sun for the Countess, he is the guiding light. Whereas the sun in Schiller's imagery usually disseminates its light benevolently, with Wallenstein it burns and destroys. In contrast to the Countess' distorted flower image, Thekla stresses the image "Herz" which represents the intuitive, imaginative capacity. This cognitive capacity allows the individual to determine his own fate in accordance with the moral order governing the world around him. For Thekla, then, it represents the voice of fate (1.29h7) which has, in this case, "in—spired" her to know that she should follow M&X. His influence has meant a rejuvenation for her ("dieses neue Leben, das ich lebe") and has made her free: "DaB ich mir selbst gehdre, weiB his in this h countess it the c flies with isolation and A ““9 the 35"“ 0f exi halved in In the Biting as 8.1 3‘29 Weeiv inset. T Emma we .,, disarm i“”ligl‘uous J A”! 13 mm 161 ich nun" (1.2957). By following her intuition she manifests freedom, defined by Schiller in the "Kallias" letters to Karner as "Voninnen— bestimmtseyn."27 Her intuitions tell her what she should do despite the confusing stimuli acting on her from the environ: Den festen Willen hab' ich kennen lernen, Den unbezwinglichen, in meiner Brust, Und an das Héchste kann ich alles setzen. (11.2958—60) Itis in this frame of mind that she delivers her monologue after the Countess leaves. At the outset of the monologue, the dramatic mood continues; the polemics with Countess Terzky confirm Thekla's intuitions about the isolation and conflict she and Max face: Dank dir ffir deinen Wink! Er macht Mir meine bose Ahnung zur GewiBheit. So ist's denn wahr? Wir haben keinen Freund Und keine treue Seele hier—~wir haben Nichts als uns selbst. Uns drohen harte Kampfe. (11.299h—98) The camp then is the site for a dramatic confrontation of two opposing fimms of existence. The continued conflict, which will have to be resolved in one way or another, is anticipated here. In the mid-section of the monologue Schiller places a passage which begins as an expression of a reflective attitude: Thekla describes how she perceives the situation now that she knows her intuitions are correct. The dissonance rings louder: "Das ist kein Schauplatz, wo die Hoffnung wohnt, / Nur dumpfes Kriegsgetose rasselt hier" (11.3002—03). The disarray of values becomes clearer with the personification of lOVe incongruously suited up in armor, ready to do battle. The evidence of fate is more ominous: "Es geht ein finstrer Geist durch unser Haus, / Mot ‘: hmhesive ‘- leilee of ills for his “169% of her | Med reveals Schiller Ii! lines: in: such as Mame wh: We eXist‘ 3:. At the In 2&1“ total 335% and o :53ng D€rspe 162 Und schleunig will das Schicksal mit uns enden" (11.3006—07). The situation is ripe for tragedy: if hope disappears, despair sets in, i.e., the future becomes a void. The cohesion of an indivi- duaUs form of existence gives way, and the entire structure stands in Jeopardy of falling, leaving the individual in a senseless situation. The cohesive element for Max and Thekla is the ideal of unselfish love. Theinmge of love repressing hope refers to the curious love Wallenstein holds for his daughter: it will not let her intuitively choose the object of her love, but rather dictates that object. The last statement mmted reveals Thekla's increasingly fatalistic—pessimistic attitude. Schiller builds the tragic attitude to a high point in the next six lines: Aus stiller Freistatt treibt es mich heraus, Ein holder Zauber muB die Seele blenden. Es lockt mich durch die himmlische Gestalt, Ich seh‘ nah und seh' sie naher schweben; Es zieht mich fort mit gottlicher Gewalt, Dem Abgrund zu, ich kann nicht widerstreben. (11.3008—13) H I! V Veflm such as "treiben," "locken, ziehen,‘ and "widerstreben" convey Hm battle which forces of wildness and disorder wage against the idyllic existence of tranquility which she has in her relationship to Max. At the moment the banquet music becomes audible, Schiller portrays Thdfla totally involved with her own images; the detachment between SllbJect and object is gone. The change from third—person to first— Person perspective confirms the switch from an objective to a subjective mmitude. Sensing the hopelessness of her situation she momentarily n gives in to her emotions: .ich kann nicht widerstreben." After regaining her composure, Thekla concludes the monologue with .mm on inset: in t he incendi a a. m m! Mes the gag mi over her. must his Of all “lily in th '14 the idex inthe sitm Octavio or \ Schiller pr Minority“ 3° Person *3 'Ihekla e W by a] Tamers." Thekl ha a hou ms the e? historh ihing, 163 astatement which generalizes the particular involvement of fate in her family to include all families in a. similar circumstance (11.301he19). And by generalizing her particular situation to all families, she fulfills her function as a poetic person.28 The vision she projects is a violent one, which in itself is startling: the frequency of violent imagery in the Wallenstein—trilogy is low. This is especially true of the incendiary words such as "Feuer," "brennen," "Flamme," and "feurig."29 The storm imagery, which recalls the storm imagery in her song, antici— pates the gathering of figurative storm clouds over Wallenstein's camp, and over her family in general, a storm created by Octavio‘s intrigue against his friend. Of all Schiller's plays the Wallenstein—trilogy presents the family in the most problematic state of being. Two families intermingle and the identity of both becomes confused. Max, for example, is placed in the situation of having to determine who should be called his father: Octavio or Wallenstein. To make the situation more problematic, Schiller presents both fathers——ordinarily symbols of justice and authority-—as intrigants: neither can be trusted; both are chastized by the person they call son for not being honest, for not acting openly. As Thekla envisions in her monologue, both houses are ultimately con— sumed by an entwining concatenation of events, set in motion by the "fathers." Thekla's image of the fall of a house resembles the curse placed upon a house by the gods of antiquity through oracles. But in Wallen— EEEEQ, the individuals create their own fate, i.e., they set the forces Of history in motion which eventually entangle themselves and their families. As Illo tells Wallenstein: "In deiner Brust sind deines dfatebecm m it is r- indish has h hsof contrl The gov!i grit and lyr: hthe descr or1131‘ imed “though co: WWI of fictions hhched an film, she In As thy hill arou tracheal n _'l l W ill, the 5 16h Schicksals Sterne! " (1.2069) .30 Thekla's monologue concludes the third act of Di§_Piccolomini on mlominous note: the future is foreshadowed, the tension and suspense concerning the final outcome grows. In acts four and five the threads of fate become clearer when Max refuses to sign the loyalty oath and when it is reported that Sesina, Wallenstein's negotiator with the Swedish has been captured. The latter event represents Wallenstein's kssof control over the future. The governing style of Thekla's monologue is dramatic, although epic and lyric elements are also evident. But when they do appear, as in the descriptive passage or Thekla's momentary lapse into unawareness of her immediate environ, the undercurrent of dramatic conflict remains. Although conflict is the most important element of the monologue, no paroxysm of emotions develops, as is often the case with monologues in Qig_Rauber. Rather the purpose of this monologue is to present Thekla's reflections on her disputation with her aunt; and the initial tone is detached and low key. But as the images of conflict accumulate in her mind, she momentarily loses her detachment, only to regain it again. WALLENSTEINS TOD Introduction As the play develops, Schiller concentrates its structure increas— ingly around the central figure, Wallenstein. In Wallensteins EEESE’ he symbolically presents a broad crossesection of war's society; in Die Piccolomini, the social spectrum narrows to the world of the elite in war, the generals and diplomats. In Wallensteins Tod the action concen- trates primarily on Wallenstein himself, particularly on his fate which Elias that in the Ihluffled; hesienberg‘i wives. D_i: in, only illlenstein Mtenherg We and m] iinz in m lines the p lthis lag halving f1 Mia's 1 effect the sides “Kai Waders Tho 4 “We , reFlirts S We of 165 is determined increasingly by the broader external conflict. In other words, the play develops from a political—historical to a personal— ethical tragedy. The more the play's structure concentrates around Wallenstein, the more immediate the dramatic conflict becomes on the stage. In Wallen— stggyilggeg Schiller has the troops review the development of the con— flict in the past, i.e., before the first scene of the play. There are mfly muffled references to a more immediate conflict when, for instance, Questenberg's presence is mentioned, or when Wallenstein's family arrives. Dig Piccolomini, in several ways, repeats the events of the La er, only among the elite: the germination of the conflict between Wallenstein and the emperor is again reviewed, e.g., in scenes involving Questenberg (I,2; I,h; 11,7). But the intrigue against Wallenstein comes more and more into the open in the last three acts of the play, culmin— ating in the report of Sesina's capture. And Sesina's capture deter— mines the perspective of the last play in the trilogy, Wallensteins Tod. In this last play, the conflict is viewed by all major characters as evolving from contemporary, not past, events, meaning primarily from Octavio's intrigue. Wallenstein is forced to take action which will effect the future rather than retaining the status qug of playing both sides against each other—~his playing margin is gone, a fact which he considers in the first monologue of Egg. Wallenstein (I,h) Two events give rise to this monologue: l. the report of Sesina's CaPture, 2. the arrival of Wrangel, the Swedish emissary. After Terzky rePorts Sesina’s capture to Wallenstein, Illo interprets the signifi— cance of the situation for Wallenstein: ”Vorwarts muBt du, / Denn :gii’n m 112'“ E manage ihen Illu hm hack, ihr pdtion with! i it both 1110 Wie Und Geh (11 Ellen t} :f the troo; iiins rm my and iiiherheit ‘ :55 politfl I“ I 166 rfickwarts kannst du nun nicht mehr" (11.3816—17). The last thread to the past has been severed with Sesina's capture and with the confisca- tion of Terzky's letters to Kinsky, Oxenstierna, Arnheim, and Thur on behalf of Wallenstein. With these losses Wallenstein has lost his freedom to gamble, i.e., to manipulate both contestants of the war to his advantage. When I110 first confronts him with the conclusion that he cannot turn back, Wallenstein tries to defend the continued flexibility of his position with the statement "Von meiner Handschrift nichts" (1.3820). muzboth 1110 and Terzky parry this argument with their rationale: Illo. So? Glaubst du wohl, was dieser da, dein Schwager, In deinem Namen unterhandelt hat, Das werde man nicht dir auf Rechnung setzen? Dem Schweden soll sein Wort ffir deines gelten Und deinen Wiener Feinden nicht! Terzky. Du gabst nichts Schriftliches——gesinn dich aber, Wie weit du mfindlich gingst mit dem Sesin! Und wird er schweigen? Wenn er sich mit deinem Geheimnis retten kann, wird er's bewahren? (11.3821—29) Eyen though Terzky points out to his brother—in—law the shallowness of the troops loyalty, Wallenstein remains smug in his confidence of backing from them because he has the generals' signed declaration of loyalty and the regimentS' p£g_memoria (1.1030): "Das Heer ist meine Sicherheit. Das Heer / Verlafit mich nicht" (11.3835-36). But I110, the Political realist, counters this argument too: Das Heer ist dein; jetzt ffir den Augenblick Ist's dein; doch zittre vor der langsamen, Der stillen Macht der Zeit. (11.38h0—h2) Illo’s argument has its effect on Wallenstein. He gradually admits the duneheh MSG prete. lat act at' 1110 t ' J and request; lithough he realizes hi ‘0 give him chance to g In thl presents W hen turn 0 Situatim' Wt? 211 The ; assens ’5 es j mm 86h Val: die: mtg; die Ode 39mm ,' Mf' 167 validity of Terzky's and 1110's argument: Sesina’s capture is "ein baser Zufall" (11.3850, 3956), because Sesina will not remain silent (1.3857). The emperor's trust cannot be re—established (1.3863). The situation seems to dictate that there is no return (11.3865-67). And since he has the generals' signed statement of loyalty--gained under false pretenses——and the p£9_memoria of the regiments (11.388h—86), he must act at once, as Illo asserts, while the army is his (11.3875—76). Illo then announces that the Swedish colonel, Wrangel, has arrived and requests an audience. Wallenstein is surprised by this event, and although he wants to hear what Wrangel has to offer——since Wallenstein realizes his future lies with the Swedish——he instructs Illo and Terzky to give him a moment alone because he is not accustomed to allowing chance to govern him. In the moment alone, which the monologue represents, Schiller presents Wallenstein evaluating the situation; he attempts to put the new turn of events into perspective by reviewing the origin of the situation. He then tries to determine what forces are active in the society affecting him. The predominant perspective of the monologue is epic. Benno von Wiese correctly identifies the temper of the speech, I think, when he asserts that es ist kein Monolog, in dem ernstlich die radikale Mbglich— keit einer sittlichen "Umkehr" erwogen wfirde. Weit mehr geht es um die Klarung der Vorgeschichte, wieweit sie Wallenstein in eine Lage hineingedrfingt hat, die. . .in diesem Zeitmoment kaum mehr eine andere Entscheidung m5glich macht, oder um die Klarung der kfinftigen Folgen, die mit einem solchen unerhoiten Schritt verbunden sind oder verbunden sein k'onnen.3 Elements of the speech which make the perspective epic are the hesihpiyl change of. ilcerc is Visualize: i0? insta (11.39112. Yhich ca: 0f "alle] Thi Epic. D ii the q 11-3897‘ should ' it who answers the 0111 cast a, incshi ductic 168 reflective survey of himself in his world, the recounting of past events for which the preterite tense is used, the use of imagery to describe phenomena, description intended to communicate how he intuits his situation, but not to mean something symbolic for him. For example, when he refers to eine Mauer Aus meinen eignen Werken baut sich auf, Die mir die Umkehr tfirmend hemmt!—~ (11.39lh—l6) he simply intends to project the limitation he feels because of the change of circumstances, but not to convey a metaphysical concept. This imagery is predominantly nominal, rather than verbal: Wallenstein visualizes principles and events spatially, as epicists tend to do.32 For instance, the basic principle of life he compares to a lottery (11.39h2-h3). The verbs in the monologue are generally undynamic, which casts more attention on the nouns and consequently on the form of Wallenstein's perception of the world, not the change in it. This is not to say that the monologue's style is unilaterally epic. Dramatic style can be found in the suspense and tension created by the questions. When he asks, "Konnt' ich nicht mehr, wie ich wollte?" (1.3897), one senses a conflict between what is and what he thinks should be. And yet, whenever Schiller builds the suspense he relaxes it almost immediately with a descriptive, analytical passage which answers the question. For example, after the series of questions at the outset of the monologue (11.3897—903), Wallenstein describes the Past as a causal explanation for the discrepancy of the present. The questions are generally rhetorical, i.e., they function as an intro— duction for the reflection and description. in Schi- it merges i cm (11; fictions, i into the he candies s The sp is Schiller Ililihstcil iEllism ge: iii! refer j‘iiil‘iptic like the I iminstei EmMists r'Jli'i’OSes 1 hula 5,. iii Max, 169 Subjunctive voice here conveys an undertone of dramatic conflict: something is contrary to what should be. Or something is contrary to fact, as in the statement War ich, woffir ich gelte, der Verrdter, Ich hatte mir den guten Schein gespart, Die Hfille hatt’ ich dicht um mich gezogen, Dem Unmut Stimme nie geliehn. (11.3922—25) In Schiller's theory the dramatist is preoccupied with causality; it emerges in Wallenstein's monologue when the causal conjunction "denn" is used (ll.39l8,3969), creating hypotaxis. But as with the rhetorical questions, both the subjunctive voice and the hypotaxis are integrated into the descriptive flow so as not to represent a startling discrepancy or sudden conclusion resulting from his observation of the past. The speech as a whole reveals the temperament of a realist which, as Schiller wrote Humboldt (21 March 1796), is an integral part of Wallenstein's character: "Was ich in meinem letzten Aufsatz fiber den "33 Realism gesagt, ist von Wallenstein im hbchsten Grade wahr. Realism here refers not to the common usage of the term, but to Schiller's description of a realist in fiber naive und sentimentalische Dichtung.3h Like the realist who asks "wozu eine Sache gut sei?" (VII:5h2,36), Wallenstein uses "gut" in a pragmatic sense when he says Blieb in der Brust mir nicht der Wille frei, Und sah ich nicht den guten Weg zur Seite, Der mir die Rfickkehr offen stets bewahrte? (11.3910—12) Wallenstein considers something according to how it will serve his purposes, as for instance in the case of Thekla. At the moment when he could satisfy the ideal of love by consenting to the marriage of Thekla and MEX, he sees Thekla merely as an object to be bargained with on the Inichi hicilnste' imieri idiiheh N- In th hmohjeci '55- And 5: When}! the in the It is inflict 0: hi Wit; “W heme 5i! / Di having with; Wain which Ii.) 01“ , ‘W—* 1,. 170 European political scene—-—for Wallenstein's personal gain. And Max is not, Wallenstein thinks, a high enough price (11.1516-3h). Wallenstein's is an "eigenniitzige" rather than an ideal "uneigenniitzige" love (XV:li+8, 2h-25), the latter being exemplified by Max and Thekla. In Schiller's description a realist is implicitly a materialist, as is Wallenstein (VII:5h1+,2h ff.)35: his concern is chiefly the attaining of a materialist goal such as political power. He avers a metaphysical ideal, like brotherhood, only if it serves the purpose of achieving power. In the utilization of all means for attaining the goal, men become objects to be utilized or discarded according to their useful— ness. And so it is not surprising that, like the realist, whom Schiller describeS, Wallenstein does not esteem mankind highly, as the derisive tone in the last section of his speech indicates: Das ganz Gemeine ist's, das ewig Gestrige, Was immer war und immer wiederkehrt Und morgen gilt, weil’s heute hat gegolten! Denn aus Gemeinem ist der Mensch gemacht, Und die Gewohnheit nennt er seine Amme. (11.3965—70) It is this tendency toward realism36 that gives rise to the inner conflict of Wallenstein's situation, a conflict between the appearance and reality ("Schein—Sein") of his actions, stemming from the discrep— ancy between his thought, word, and action: "war's M'oglich? . . .Ich miiBte / Die Tat vollbringen, weil ich sie gedacht. . .?" (113897—98), By hEWing verbalized his thought, Wallenstein unleashed forces which E‘Ventually destroy him (11.3826—28). As a realistic temperament, he entertains the thought of utilizing his military position to achieve political power. Once his aspirations are discussed with another person, l‘e°3 once the thought is verbalized, he loses control over his creation, lith Sesina‘ m WhiCh, ‘ | uissaries g The t: isthe has my 1 W. Le, in motion a"fiber of Er, in th 55 exalt 171 he loses his freedom: "Blieb in der Brust mir nicht der Wille frei.. . 2" (1.3910), and In meiner Brust war meine Tat noch mein; Einmal entlassen aus dem sichern Winkel Des Herzens, ihrem mfitterlichen Boden, Hinausgegeben in des Lebens Fremde, Gehort sie jenen tfick'schen Machten an, Die keines Menschen Kunst vertraulich macht. (11.39hh_h9) With Sesina's capture Wallenstein is caught in the ambiguity of his word which, in turn, makes the action which he has taken through his emissaries appear as something which he had not fully intended: Strafbar erschein’ ich, und ich kann die Schuld, Wie ich's versuchen mag, nicht von mir walzen; Denn mich verklagt der Doppelsinn des Lebens, Und-—selbst der frommen Quelle reine Tat Wird der Verdacht, schlimmdeutend, mir vergiften. (11.3917—21) The triad "thought, word, and action," which according to Bookmann is the basic element of drama, fate, and tragedy in Schiller's major plays,37 is verbalized in this monologue. A character expresses some word, i.e., verbalizes some thought which, once expressed, sets forces in motion which cannot be retracted and which often ensnare the original author of the thought, causing his physical and/or moral destruction. 0T, in the case of the extraordinary individual, these forces facilitate his exaltation. Only idealists such as Karl Moor, Max Piccolomini, Johanna, or Maria Stuart achieve the latter; the pragmatic realists go down to defeat because their word usually contradicts the ideal(s) of the moral world around which a particular play is constructed. They tYPically do not act openly; they camouflage their intrigues, i.e., their attempts to manipulate the course of events aimed at achieving their unnatural goal——unnatural referring to the attempt to establish a hmboi’ z 1m verder mar consi< his idea, hi INN; i The gi M of the Mn arti: tions}8 . Mthetics {Isis ofte artist. 1 “9 fiftis Worm,3 the large world m Giw a (1.6. 3311mm item: firmer ( ' 172 ; . fbrm of existence contrary to the ideal order. They camouflage their } real activities by creating the appearance of legitimacy, as do Franz MOOr, Fiesco, Wurm, Elisabeth §t_§l, But, once they begin to gamble with history, which means they manipulate historical events, they trans— cend the sphere of human influence and ultimately become entwined in the web of their own intrigue. Wallenstein: "So hab' ich / Mit eignem Netz verderblich mich umstrickt” (ll.3935~36). Although Wallenstein x never considered his dream a "beschlane Sache" (1.3905), by verbalizing his idea, he gave form to his abstract thought; and since form endures (XV:322,8; 312,6—7), he created the possibility for his own downfall. The giving of form to projections of the imagination—«inherently part of the motif "Gedanke, Wort und Tat"e—corresponds to the function of an artist whose great achievement is the construction of his percep— tions.38 And so it is not without significance that the vocabulary of aesthetics ("kfinstlich," "Kunst") appears in Wallenstein's monologue. As is often the case with antagonists, Wallenstein is compared to an artist. It would be more accurate to compare him to a poet, since both are artists with words. Wallenstein, like a poet, creates a world within a world,39 i.e., his army which represents a self—contained microcosm of the larger world of war (Pro., 11.9h—95). Like a poet, he creates a world with its own moral code. Given Wallenstein's realistic temperament and his association with art (1.6611), the oft discussed, interrelated motifs, astrology and Wallenstein's hesitation, become clearer. First, one must ask, what the function of the stars is in the Wallenstein trilogy. Schiller wrote Kbrner on the topic of astrology (7 April 1797): Ihoiogy we in he was limits that; ieek traged itermediary Mist. Tht' in whose mieriousl ion as an ohm ~ihile ob: it heaven “tile fact; and “Suites 111 stein rev fieMed g ill-5160. “allen“ in“ the time 01 “lent j 173 Fiir Deine astrologischen Mittheilungen danke ich Dir sehr. . . . Ich habe unterdessen einige tolle Produkte aus diesem Fache vom l6ten Sficulum in die Hand bekommen, die mich wirklich belustigen. Unter andern ein lateinisch Gespriich, aus dem Hebraischen fibersetzt, zwischen einer Sophia und einem Philo fiber die Liebe, worin die halbe Mytholfigie in Ver- bindung mit der Astrologie vorgetragen wird. It is not without significance that the story in which mythology and astrology were brought together, particularly impressed him. At the time he was involved with a study of Sophocles' Oedipus rex. One of the elements that struck him as being indispensible to the technique of Greek tragedy was the oracle.“ The oracle in Schiller's play, the intermediary between the celestial will and man, is Seni, the astro— logist. The stars function in a manner similar to the gods in Greek drama whose names they bear. Throughout most of the play they remain mysteriously in the background, not seen by the audience. They func— tion as an anticipation of events. For example, Seni, at the beginning of Wallensteins 29d, divines the fall of a house--Wallenstein's house --whi1e observing the movement of Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and Saturn in the heavens (11. 3780—82). Wallenstein's interest in astrology is an established, historical fact; and Schiller constructs this interest in such a way that it assumes major importance for the structure of the play. Duchess Wallen- stein reveals that her husband first turned to astrology after being deposed at Regensburg, because he no longer trusted his own judgement (115160—67). She refers to astrology as the dark arts (1.5166) linking Wallenstein to the artist motif. And throughout, Schiller drops hints into the play which infer that Wallenstein has powers which go beyond those of the other persons in the play. For instance, his prophetic talent is rumored in many quarters: "Sie sagen, er les‘ auch in den (1.3312). Inithth- wean . ....i 1 mi Octavia' hi asked 1i person the item of it because he lithe bei mi both ] exlleiienc this expe 10m of imam . 1mg th to the 1 constem Mn 1.}; 901:1an inn is “him, tilher ‘v—fi"? '.‘.vr: 17h Sternen / Die kfinftigen Dinge, die nahen und fernen" (11.370—71). His men attribute this talent, however to a suspected relationship between their leader and the devil (11.372—79), a Judgement he himself lends credence to when he says "Verflucht, wer mit dem Teufel spielt!——" (1.3872), meaning himself. Though the relationship that Wallenstein has with the devil is more figurative than literal, the allusion does place an aura of the mysterious around him. This aura is further enhanced by the simultaneous dreams which he and Octavio had during the night before the Lfitzner action. wallenstein had asked Fate to identify the most loyal of his generals by making that person the one to awaken him the next day. While sleeping he had a dream of dying in battle. Octavio then aroused him from his dream because he had had the identical dream and wanted to warn the commander. In the battle that day, Wallenstein's nephew rode Wallenstein’s horse, and both horse and rider were killed. Wallenstein interprets the experience as a revelation of the "Weltgeist" (ll.h655—56). Based on this experience, he deduces that Fate pointed Octavio out as the most loVal of the generals, since it was Fate, or Chance, that brought him forward to fulfill Wallenstein's request. But Wallenstein does not leave the experience as a rule of thumb for the moment; he elevates it to the level of a categorical truth, i.e., that Octavio symbolizes a constant friend: "Versiegelt hab' ich's und verbrieft, daB er / Mein guter Engel ist. . ." (ll.h70b—05). And when confronted with Octavio's complicity in a plot against him, Wallenstein retorts "Lfigt er [Octavio], dann ist die ganze Sternkunst Lfige" (l.h65l). He commits a fatal error which, in Schiller's philosophy, constantly threatens the realistic temperament: ". . .erhebt er [der Realist] die Regel des Augenblicks zu iihe stars hssshs sub his action w Meshing ‘ mastic so: motions s hm‘s his Wish the Throne Nineties iii-ls), hole in “St the Hi correct a Cont heme: itils he Max 175 einanallgemeinen Gesetz, so wird er sich unausbleiblich in Irrtum stfirzen" (VII:538,25-27). What was true of Octavio at that moment in the past has changed. Schiller develops this relationship between Octavio, Wallenstein, and the stars into a general characteristic of wallenstein's behavior: in seeks substantiation in the stars for his desires. He hesitates to take action until the stars appear in the position he wants them in. In devining the cosmic will, Wallenstein, the realist, the earth—bound pragmatic soul, tries to force the universal will to conform to his aspirations. But, as the gods of Greek mythology cannot be forced to do man's bidding, neither can the will of the cosmos, as revealed through the stars, be qualified to conform to Wallenstein's will. Throughout the play, the heart, which symbolizes intuition— imagination, as it does in Wallenstein’s monologue (11.3900—01, 3932—33, 39hh-h9), is characterized as the surest source of knowledge, as the oracle inside the individual (11.1566—69), especially as Max and Thekla use the word.1+2 Intuition is sufficient for any person to make the correct decisions for the situation; even 1110 avers this idea (1.2069). Contrasted to the heart is the eye, symbol of empirically verifiable observation. But the eye is fallible as Thekla indicates to Max when he tells her Jetzt hab' ich wieder Mut, Sie anzusehn. Heut konnt' ich's nicht. Der Glanz der Edelsteine, Der Sie umgab, verbarg mir die Geliebte. Thekla. So sah mich nur Ihr Auge, nicht Ihr Herz. (11.263366) AS Max's eye is deceived by the jewelry, Wallenstein is deceived in his ] his insa‘ ambition? blamed h‘ be, the: stable 1 the worl myths o Octavio because Bb Presenb person he is, the id i° m b bis: Mob The 0 diffs tie \ Cal 3 176 observation of the stars. He resembles Oedipus in the respect that both are paradoxically blind while seeing (Illo: "O! du bist blind mit deinen sehenden Augen!" [l.h6h8]). On the other hand, the individual’s intuitive capacity constantly reveals the truth, if it is not precondi- tioned, as Max stresses several times in the play.) Wallenstein, however, in his drive for power, neutralizes the power of intuition by his insatiable ambition to achieve his goal. He was blinded by this ambition before being deposed the first time. It is implied that he blamed his intuition, symbolically his heart, for trusting the kaiser; he, therefore, turned to the stars which appear to him to be more stable than intuitions. They seem to be more concrete indicators of the world will. Consequently, astrology became his religion, as the myths of Zeus, Aphrodite, 2: El. constituted religion for the Greeks. Octavio‘s deed, therefore, becomes something unnatural to Wallenstein because his friend's action contradicts the world will. By having Wallenstein stand on stage and reflect on the past and present, Schiller offers a penetrating insight into this character's personality. The cause of his enigmatic hesitation becomes clearer: he is, as Schiller writes,h3 a fantast, a visionary, who has toyed with the idea of political overthrow, but who waits for the astrological sign to appear in the heavens which will justify his move. That he is termed a Visionary does not detract from his realistic temperament which this monologue also reveals. Both a realist and an idealist can be visionary. The object toward which their imagination is directed constitutes the difference in perspective: the realist focuses on physical, materialis- tic visions——like Wallenstein; the idealist is consummed with metaphysi_ cal, moral ideals (VII:535,20;25), as Max is in Die Piccolomini (III,L). Ber 11 Eli. m a. tray Is in the Waste: mite ich We ich “filizati In an em oPinion Sis daffi Gas Wunc‘ all ich Schiller “lens having W11: ,mvt-qF—u—Fx s ,..i 177 As Wallenstein's propensity toward realism becomes clearer, his function in the play's structure becomes clearer also. Neither in the first stages of work on the trilogy, nor after it was completed, did Schiller have a high opinion of Wallenstein's character. He wrote mmmoldt (21 March 1796): "Er [Wallenstein] hat nichts Edles, er erscheint in keinem einzelnen LebensAkt groB; er hat wenig Wfirde. . , ." 4h Schiller hoped, "auf rein realistischem Wege, einen dramatisch groBen Character in ihm aufzustellen, der ein achtes Lebensprincip in sich 1+5 hat." He wrote B6ttiger (1 March 1799) in a similar vein Just a few days before he completed Wallensteins Todu6: Der historische Wallenstein war nicht groB, der poetische sollte es nie seyn. . . .Was an ihm groB scheinen konnte, war das Rohe und Ungeheuere, also gerade das, was ihn zum tragischen Helden schlecht qualificirte. As in the letter to Humboldt, he again expressed his attempt to ennoble Wallenstein's ignoble character: "Dieses [das Rohe und Ungeheuere] muBte ich ihm nehmen, und durch den Ideenschwung, den ich ihm daffir gab, hoffe ich ihn entschadigt zu haben."1L7 By "Ideenschwung" he meant the utilization of the astrology motif to justify Wallenstein’s behavior. In an exchange of letters in December, 1798, Schiller requested Goethe‘s opinion about the astrological motif: "Ich wfinschte nun zu wissen, ob Sie daffir halten, daB mein Zweck, der dahin geht, dem Wallenstein durch das Wunderbare einen augenblicklichen Schwung zu geben, auf dem Weg, "1‘8 den ich gewahlt habe, wirklich erreicht wird. Goethe convinced Schiller that the astrological motif provided the best link between Wallenstein's historically negative character and tragic nobility.u9 By having Wallenstein reflect, then, on the significance of the stars, . O Sehiller hoped to elevate his character.5 further ( leld Md 5 npresenta' 111 men, s an open b! hand, is 1 ml] dece] lane of in order Mple , in attrm Principli lets see His (11.3951 SeMlle: social ‘ Plays u situati sWen hem, burKer 178 Despite the attempt to enoble Wallenstein's character, Schiller did not eliminate the negative function entirely. By not acting openingly, Wallenstein behaves contrary to one of the basic principles of this trilogy, as well as of Schiller‘s other plays. Max, his antithesis, badgers him to openly revolt rather than to furtively push_his intrigue further (ll.h526—31). As Joachim Mfiller points out in his study "Der Held und sein Gegenspieler in Schillers Dramen,"51 open rebellion represents for Max a break with an old order to create a new order for all men, such as he projects in Qie_Piccolomini (III,h). And only such an open break could be justified politically. Treason, on the other hand, is furtive, arcane, hidden behind a facade of deception. But such deception is, to Wallenstein, necessary since he perceives war as a game of chance, a gamble in which he tries to manipulate the pieces in order to gain victory (ll.h017—l8; 66llnlh). The noun "Fortuna," for example, appears only in conjunction with his endeavors;52 and he tends to attract soldiers of fortune (11.6997-98) who do not fight for a Principle, but for capital gain. And since war is a game of chance, he acts secretively, like a gambler, to camouflage his moves. His disdain for traditional order, expressed in his monologue (11.3951—75), sets him at odds with another ideal governing each of Schiller‘s plays: the preservation or re—institution of a traditional social order. Characters having a negative function in Schiller's Plays usually contribute to a physically and/or morally chaotic situation, such as Wallenstein does in this trilogy,S3 whereby everyone suffers: e.g., families are broken, symbolically portrayed at the beginning of the work in the scene centered around the recruit and the burger (11.380—h19). he ne ”the con mlogue My. Bi Schiller (ii the temper notion "ct fidehens 1 wnsidere‘ States th find “at 'n'hel‘ea . ifi—‘ew 179 Or the order of the family is upset, e.g., the scene between the farmer and his son in whiCh the farmer manifests a lack of responsi— bility with his money. The atmosphere of gambling ensnares this father, and he forgets his duty to his family (11.1—h8). The negative impact of his view on traditional order is conveyed by the contemptuous application of the word "Kinderglauben" in his unnologue (1.3955). Childhood signifies acting naively, unselfishly, openLy. But usually only individuals disposed toward idealism, as Schiller discusses the latter concept in flbgg_naigg_und sentimentali- §ghg Dichtung, think of the childhood state as worth considering in the temporal, materialistic world. The pragmatists consider the notion "childish," e.g., Countess Terzky to Thekla: "LaB jetzt des Madchens kindische Geffihle. . ." (1.2928). Sometimes the idea is considered impractical in the materialistic, pragmatic world. Octavio States this idea to his son: Es ist nicht immer moglich, Im Leben sich so kinderrein zu halten, Wie's uns die Stimme lehrt im Innersten. Hohl'war' es besser, fiberall dem Herzen Zu folgen, doch darfiber wfirde man Sich manchen guten Zweck versagen mfissen. (11.355h—65) And Wallenstein gives a similar challenge to Max: Sanft wiegte dich bis heute dein Geschick, Du konntest spielend deine Pflichten fiben, Jedwedem schdnen Trieb Genfige tun, Mit ungeteiltem Herzen immer handeln. So kann's nicht ferner bleiben. (ii.hh77—81) Whereas Octavio expresses a certain empathy with Max‘s position, uallens’c: We tl forced, type of Cox 1(alkul \ coming the be “Spec which 180 wallenstein ridicules the concept of the child—like with Max, as he does in the monologue under consideration with regard to people in general. Here the ridicule is directed at the original order of authority-—the emperor symbolizing a father, the people his children. It is the same order which permeates the family; and it is this, for Schiller's plays, universal order that Wallenstein threatens to help destroy while creat— ing chaos. Symbolically this destroying of the order occurs when he challenges Max with the question concerning who has fulfilled the role of his father more fully, Wallenstein or Octavio (11.5922-23). And then: Auf mich bist du gepflanzt, ich bin dein Kaiser, Mir angehdren, mir gehorchen, das Ist deine Ehre, dein Naturgesetz. (11.59h1—h3) wallenstein attempts to upset natural bonds——such as the bond of a people to the emperor, of a son to his father——and replace it with a forced, unnatural, i.e., untraditional bond to himself. It is the same type of individual tyranny which Franz Moor exhibits in Die Rauber. Contemptuous of the traditional Hapsburg order and ever the Kalkul (1.6618), Wallenstein meets Wrangel, the Swedish emissary, Convinced that it is not too late to achieve his goals. Octavio (11,5) Octavio is given two very short monologues in this scene, one at the beginning and one at the end of the scene—«four and three lines respectively. Both represent retarding moments in the action during Which Octavio reflects on the circumstances surrounding him. In the first monologue, he reveals himself as a personality iotle pl (1 larch 1. es la‘ meine so go In ma rechl lichl von ? Pfli tes den nficl bet] abe: in The diff fOI'IJIeI‘ e “ants t with hi ideal e Previm sooiet: recur: Billie than \ intri 181 similar in temperament to Wallenstein: both calculate, which means they create intrigue (l.h728); both perceive their situations and plans as a game (1.h729); both are extremely cautious in taking each step of their plans (l.h730). 5h he Though Schiller created their temperaments to be similar, intended to give Octavio a more positive function than Wallenstein in the play's structure, as is revealed in the letter to Battiger (1 March 1799): es lag. . .nicht in meiner Absicht, noch in den Worten meines Textes, daB sich Octavio Piccolomini als einen so gar schlimmen Mann, als einen Buben, darstellen sollte. In meinem Stfick ist er das nie, er ist sogar ein ziemlich rechtlicher Mann, nach dem Weltbegriff, und die Schand- lichkeit, die er begeht, sehen wir auf jedem Welttheater von Personen wiederholt, die, wo wie er, von Recht und Pflicht strenge Begriffe haben. Er wahlt zwar ein schlech— tes Mittel, aber er verfolgt einen guten Zweck. Er will den Staat retten, er will seinem Kaiser dienen, den er nachst Gott als den hochsten Gegenstand aller Pflichten betrachtet. Er verrath einen Freund, der ihm vertraut, aber dieser Freund ist ein Verrather seines Kaisers, und in seinen Augen zugleich ein Unsinniger.5 The difference between Octavio and Wallenstein is, then, that the former wants to preserve the natural paternal order which Wallenstein wants to destroy--although Wallenstein too has a paternal relationship with his trOOps (1.56h7). Though Octavio's means are contrary to the ideal of open honesty, his goal is valid. As has been mentioned previously, the preservation of the natural patriarchal order of society against the attack of individual tyranny is one of the motifs recurring in Schiller's plays as a corollary to the family motif. Implied in Schiller's description is that Octavio is more idealistic than Wallenstein: he has asked the question whether Wallenstein's intrigue is good and come to the conclusion that it is not good. From moth he I tether hel The t] W he re mm“ We prob] . We pro “Wills 01 “61y th “Wash the image totem!a “(filthy Oct Vith the "Writ Th1 an, ex mitts “mans 182 his conversations one can surmise his reason: Wallenstein's action creates greater chaos when there is a need for order. The second of the two monologues occurs after he intimidates Isolani into deserting Wallenstein. These lines (ll.h80h-O6) serve as a bridge to the next scene, the interview with Buttler. While antici— pating the next scene, which begins with "Glfick, sei uns auch so gfinstig bei den anderen!" (1.h806), he expresses an apprehension as to whether he will be as successful. Octavio (11,6) The third of Octavio‘s monologues is spoken in reaction to the note he receives from Isolani after Buttler exits: "Macht, daB Ihr fortkommt" (1.h9h3). The message upsets Octavio; the situation becomes more problematic for him. In the grammar this apprehension is conveyed by the presence of questions and subjunctive voice. A discrepancy appears on the horizon between what he wishes were and what might be, namely the completion of his interviews in the encampment. The slightest mistake could destroy his operation. Again Schiller utilizes the image of a water voyage to convey the treacherous nature of Octavio's enterprise (1.h9h5); the "Hafen" symbolizes the haven of security which one reaches when one attains the goal of order. Octavio conveys his anxiety about the jeopardy of his position with the gemination "Fort. Fort!" (1.h9h6). He is emotionally tense, wondering where his son is. The agitation which this speech communicates contrasts with the Calm expressed by the two soliloquies in the previous scene; his, from wallenstein's point—of—view, negative participation in the emperor~ Wallenstein conflict is coming nearer to the surface. The action is are the sq l countess. i the third} dining 11’ (11.5210: in the t1 Interspe: tunism 1 Wife ex} After ‘ the 8.0 “Kilns Home!“ Emoti have 10m 183 becoming more tense and dramatic for Octavio personally. As soon as his betrayal of Wallenstein is in the open, he will stand in direct conflict with his former friend, as Wallenstein stands in direct con~ flict with the emperor immediate after Sesina is captured. Countess Terzky (111,11) Octavio's betrayal and the desertion of Wallenstein by the regiments are the sources of the next monologue in the play which is spoken by the Countess. Schiller builds the tension markedly from the beginning of the third act on. First Wallenstein manifests his opportunism by denying his most devoted follower, Max, Thekla's hand in marriage (11.5270-71), thereby confirming what the Countess tells Thekla earlier in the trilogy: she is a bargaining piece to her father (11.2908—11). Interspersed in the display of paternal—fraternal despotism and oppor- tunism is the theme of Wallenstein's overzealous ambition which his wife expresses with the hyperbolic statement 0 mein Gemahl! Sie hauen immer, bauen Bis in die Wolken, bauen fort und fort Und denken nicht dran, daB der schmale Grund Das schwindel d schwanke Werk nicht tragen kann. (115293—96)52 After the Countess exits with the Duchess and Thekla, the intensity of the action is heightened when Terkzy confirms Octavio's betrayal and the regiments' desertion from the encampment. The Countess re—enters momentarily and learns of the development before withdrawing again, emotionally overwrought with the news. When she returns to the stage, it is to be with the others, who have exited in the meantime. While on stage alone she delivers a mono— logue in which she expresses the conflict within her. Moms 0 1. Th exprt 2- h “wen 3' II 1:. '1 not 5. I lic‘ 33' folk Previou Und ffir tensiox Which h'hen : (11.5 in wt hers thei thus "her 18% She anticipates a potential disparity between what she thinks should be and what might be, namely Wallenstein's degradation. Contras— ting images of fugitiveness and stateliness convey her impressions: wenn er zu dem Schweden Mit leerer Hand als Flfichtling mfifite kommen, Nicht als geehrter Bundesgenosse, stattlich, Gefolgt von eines Heeres Macht—— (11.5513—16) Features of dramatic style in the language are l. The initial short sentences, separated by dashes, which express distraught emotions. 2. Hypotaxis, emphasizing causality as with the use of "wenn" in the above quote. 57 3. "Potential subjunctive" forms of "mfissen." h. The use of "wollen" (1.5519) to express her intent not to experience Wallenstein‘s fall. 5. Expressions of anguish (e.g., "In dieser ffirchter— lichen Angst" and "Qualen der bedrangten Brust"). By following Wallenstein's dramatic statement at the end of the previous scene, "der Zweifel flieht, / Jetzt fecht' ich ffir mein Haupt und ffir mein Leben" (ll.5506~07), the Countess' speech increases the tension of the action. The monologue also functions as a bridge to the next scene in which the Countess reveals to Duchess Wallenstein what has transpired. When she says "Ich muB / Mich zwingen vor der Schwester, ruhig scheinen" (ll~5509—10), her statement is predicated upon a previous scene (111,b) in which the Duchess, to her dismay, learns that Wallenstein is sending herself and Thekla to Holland, a country controlled by Lutherans, for their protection, even though he is ostensibly fighting for a Catholic Cause. The Duchess cannot comprehend this paradox and so Countess Terzky remarks to Wallenstein "Lassen wir sie bei dem Glauben. / Du face of 11 Previous? teenth s Plished Percepti ha Mtaphc In ot‘ fecun foli: ‘than the Likl 185 siehst, daB sie die Wahrheit nicht ertrfige" (11.5313—lh). And for this I reason the Countess tries to calm herself in her monologue. In the I play's structure, her attempt to calm herself anticipates the next scene with the Duchess. Wallenstein (111,13)58 After the Countess tells Wallenstein's wife that the regiments are deserting him (111,12), Schiller shifts the scene to a large hall. There, Wallenstein appears initially alone and delivers a speech in which he reflects on the past and on his immediate predicament. The end of the tenth scene gives rise to this monologue: in the face of mounting pressure Wallenstein appears more decisive than previously in the trilogy (11.5h98—506). The monologue in the thir— teenth scene serves to clarify his resoluteness, clarification accom— plished primarily through the images he expresses: they reveal his perceptions of himself and the war. Wallenstein compares himself to a demonic, creative force with the metaphor of a tree: Den Schmuck der Zweige habt ihr abgehauen, Da steh' ich, ein entlaubter Stamm! Doch innen 1m Marke lebt die schaffende Gewalt, Die sprossend eine Welt aus sich geboren. (11.55h9—52) In other dramas by Schiller, as well as in folklore, the tree symbolizes 59 fecundity and creativity, as in the above statement. The green foliage evinces the tree's fertility, i.e., the creative force in it. Translated to the immediate situation of the play, the leaves symbolize the troops that the emperor‘s forces are plucking from Wallenstein. Like the tree which has lost all its leaves, the quintessential creative tram Yet and the leaves his trc forces metaph in the 00mph havin Thek] a neg Mars 186 I t force remains inside, the creative force being the divine capacity in t an individual. Like a god, Wallenstein has created a world out of a void, that world being the army he brought together for the emperor on two separate occasions (11.556h-65). The thrust of the image is that Wallenstein still envisions himself as possessing the same creative ‘ capacity as he had when his name circulated through the world like that of a war god, even despite the changed circumstances: -—Noch ffihl' ich mich denselben, der ich war! Es ist der Geist, der sich den Korper baut, Und Friedland wird sein Lager um sich ffillen. (11.5570—72) Yet, there is irony in both the metaphor of the defoliated tree and the simile of the war god. As a defoliated tree cannot live without leaves to imbibe the sun's rays, neither can Wallenstein survive without his troops; he stands defenseless against the Swedish and the emperor's forces. From a military point—of—view, he is sterile. And so this metaphor is hollow when taken in the context of the play, especially in the last act of 39g in which Schiller presents Wallenstein as COmPletely deserted by most of the troops and generals. In the total construct of the trilogy, Wallenstein's pride in having the image of a war god reveals itself to be a false pride. Thekla, who, along with Max, expresses the moral code of the work, takes a negative view of the war god Mars (11.2716—25); Max completely ignores Mars in his private astrology (11.2726-50). Mars represents a force counteracting, destroying the force of love and brotherhood. As a Mars-figure, Wallenstein admits late in the play that love is pg§§§_for him because of Octavio's betrayal (11.5835—38). His selfish drive indicates that times of love had been passe since the emperor first ““351-331- kiwi '. I ' mania ‘ . t t t t '- lmet : 1-95'. Utii theentir! the count Like i _ : life) SDI The ma forces securit rather hlhole tethpo him from the j Mom 187 deposed him. Love and brotherhood, however, are basic cornerstones of an ideal future, of a golden age during which the aesthetic state60 would become a reality. This ideal future would be a second paradise of noesis (reason) and understanding, a time of peace and harmony 61 War, on the contrary, creates chaos (11.5567—68), (VII: 513 ,19—20). destroying families and child—like innocence. Wallenstein represents a perpetuator of such destruction: he is "der Lander GeiBel" (219°, 1-95; l.h363), a typical concept of the Middle Ages62 generalized to the entire theater of the war to mean a plague which has decended upon the countries,63 creating havoc. Like other characters in Schiller‘s plays, Wallenstein perceives life, specifically the theater of war, in terms of water: Am Lech sank Tilly, euer letzter Hort, Ins Bayerland wie ein geschwollner Strom ErgoB sich dieser Gustav. (11.5556—58) The analogy of water and war projects the unpredictability of both as forces which threaten the country or the individual accustomed to security, symbolized by land. Wallenstein's soliloquy does not represent an outpour of emotions, rather a relatively reserved expression of a meditative mood. As a whole, the monologue introduces a retarding moment into the accelerating tempo of the action. It leads into the second section of the act—- diVided by the change in scenery—~during the course of which Max con— fronts Wallenstein with the latter's crimes against his own family and the larger family of humanity (11.58h5-50). The effect of his images is Similar to the sarcastic image of the gracious gentleman which Franz Moor projects: both represent the despotic destruction of human ideals, in: for t hose lot and his 1 uhedies tee leev stein's let's d. inlets (hereti the no the m tenses tuttl. frequ “Us: “01101 “hie ttic the 188 6h the moral life—giving force of men. Buttler (1V ,1) With the fourth act, Schiller initiates an act for the first and last time in the trilogy with a monologue. The effect which the speech has derives in large part from its placement immediately after Max‘s departure from Wallenstein. Max and the Curassiers are idealists fight— ing for a principle. The other soldiers are largely soldiers of fortune whose loyalty is only as dependable as the source of their income; Max and his followers are loyal to an idea which they think Wallenstein embodies. But, when the illusion of Wallenstein's cause bursts, they too leave him; the others have begun to leave because they see Wallen— stein's good fortune, and therefore their source of plunder, waning. Max‘s departure symbolizes the loss of the only hope for defense which Wallenstein has. He then stands defenseless against the forces of fate operative against him-~as represented by Buttler in his monologue. Schiller constructed this soliloquy primarily in epic style. For the most part, Buttler recalls the past, although he briefly envisions the future. Because the subject matter concerns the past, preterite tenses constitute the majority of the tense forms. Syntactically, Buttler's speech is expressed in the form of parataxis. The most frequently used conjunction is "und." There is a noticeable paucity of causal conjunctions in the sixteen lines which constitute Buttler's monologue. The only one employed is the consecutive conjunction "daB" which appears in the last line of the speech. The paucity of dashes, Which often divide the syntax into short fragments signifying hyper- emotionalism, indicates rather a reflective mood: in Buttler's speech they appear after protracted statements. ieoletion at the 51 hath rep: ting ele elements 1 his rett ‘ inherit have hi hill, is life ( latte Met in ‘3 COMM r8115 Omen Q(the (he 189 The extensive utilization of images to describe the phenomenon of Wallenstein's existence brings Buttler's language under the category of substantiality ("Substantialitaet"), i.e., metaphoric objectivity ("Gegenstandlichkeit"), which Schiller attributes to epic style.65 Two images, whose objects are associated with water, project Wallenstein's isolation: the metaphor "Der Rechen ist gefallen hinter ihm" (1.6187), and the simile Und wie die Brficke, die ihn trug, beweglich Sich niederlieB und schwebend wieder hob, Ist jeder Rettungsweg ihm abgeschnitten. (11.6188—90) Both represent protective devices. The grate protects against contamina— ting elements in the water—-symbolically Wallenstein corresponds to such elements. In the quote above, it also signifies the impossibility of his return to a former state of being. The draw bridge alludes to the imperial authority Wallenstein had to prosecute the war. That authority gave him access to the Hapsburg court; but it has been withdrawn from him, isolating him again from the imperial authorities. Buttler utilizes the image of a meteor to describe Wallenstein's life (11.6192—95). The image projects his life in terms of a circular pattern: he ends his meteoric career in the same place he began it. A comet image also appears in the language of the Capuchin monk who appears in Wallensteins nggg, in a scene which Schiller took great care to COmpose.66 There too the comet represents Wallenstein, but with religious—astrological implication in that the meteor signifies an evil omen sent from Heaven. The simile of the switch (1.510) identifies the comet with Wallenstein whom Schiller compares to a whip in the Prologue (Pro., 1.95). In both cases, the switch—whip alludes to Wallenstein's tellens the ing mytholc he 5h “hits supple exPle: fete . the f in ac Verde Seth: In t' More Rene 190 figurative flaying of countries by means of his military operations in them, operations designed to achieve his political goal. In both cases "Die ganze Welt ist ein Klagehaus. . ." (1.512). As Schiller explains in the Prologue: Sechzehn Jahre der Verwfistung, Des Raubs, des Elends sind dahingeflohn, In trfiben Massen garet noch die Welt, Und keine Friedenshoffnung strahlt von fern. Ein Tummelplatz von Waffen ist das Reich, Verodet sind die Stadte, Magdeburg Ist Schutt, Gewerb und KunstfleiB liegen nieder, Der Bfirger gilt nichts mehr, der Krieger alles, Straflose Frechheit spricht den Sitten Hohn, Und rohe Horden lagern sich, verwildert 1m langen Krieg, auf dem verheerten Boden. (Pro. , 11.80-90) Wallenstein's complicity in upsetting the natural order is expressed in the image of the Lares (11.2199—200), the spirits which, in Roman mythology, protected the household.67 As I have pointed out previously, one symbol of the destruction of order is the dissolution of family units caused by the military operations and by the social chaos which supplants moral order. The motif of revenge is introduced at the end of the speech to explain the cause of Wallenstein's behavior. Revenge is the force of fate which Wallenstein unleashes and which eventually turns on him, in the fonn of Buttler, causing Wallenstein's own destruction: "Nimm dich in acht! dich treibt der bdse Geist / Der Rache——daB dich Rache nicht verderbe!" (11.6201—02), an allusion to Buttler’s revenge. As in Schiller‘s other plays, revenge represents here a negative life force. In the next scene Gordon terms Buttler's revenge murder: "Das ware Mord und nicht Gerechtigkeit. . ." (1.6h63). Usually revenge is generated by selfish motivation; it represents the taking of a life for Fm Hist hehegi let which liih the: that “all t t t 1 t interme desert] E Syeeeh (11.6s been the v the j W t 191 i the sake of life. But the only justification for taking a life in Schiller's plays is the elimination of an evil principle for the sake of the principle itself. Tell's monologue, for instance, is an elabor- ate justification for the assassination of GeBler on the grounds of principle. Buttler's scheme has no such honorable basis. His speech functions as a summation of the events which lead up to the beginning of the fourth act. It also introduces the fourth act, an act which projects a series of scenes dealing directly or indirectly with the decay of Wallenstein's position. In the lines which express that Wallenstein's meteor must sink in Bohemia and that the evil spirit of revenge may ruin Wallenstein, Buttler hints at what he has in mind, namely Wallenstein's assassination. Thekla (IV,12) Thekla delivers a monologue near the end of the act, after she is informed of Max’s death. In the speech she eulogizes Max and also describes his function in their mutual relationship. Elements of lyric, epic, and dramatic styles intermix in this speech, which consists of three sections. In the first section (11.6913-22), Thekla considers a conflict which exists in her life because of Max's death. This conflict is reflected in the contrast of the verbs "wollen" (1.6916) and "sollen" (1.6918): the "wollen" conveys the intent to remain with Max to the death; "sollen" refers to her unfulfilled moral obligation to him. Schiller constructed the second section (11.6923-3h) with elements 0f lyric and epic styles. Lyric style is reflected in the use of first— and second—person pronouns: the first—person indicates that she exPresses her subjective experience. The repetitive appearance of ‘—— her eubje expresses inspired! i ci tests, i with e 1 as in B! Resulti display in teeth then one 0: the c the j 192 second—person conveys the sense of immediacy she has toward the expere ience of loving Max: she addresses him as if he were across from her at this moment in the play's structure. Her imagery becomes an expres— sion of "Zustandlichkeit" rather than "Gegenstandlichkeit": e.g., the thousand suns (1.6929) represent a subjective phenomenon rather than a phenomenon she observed in the objective world of nature, extrinsic to her subjective being. Other lyric features are the enthusiasm she expresses for her sentient reactions and the theme of love which inspired her sentience (1.6933)- A characteristic of epic style is the relative reserve she mani— fests, i.e., her enthusiasm is not hyperemotional, as is often the case with a lyric disposition: e.g., Amalia in Di§_Rauber (111,1). Again, as in Buttler's monologue, a paucity of dashes indicates her composure. Resulting from her composed disposition is a parataxis which does not display the propensity for fragmentation that lyric parataxis has. When, in the third section (11.6935—38), Thekla describes Max‘s conflict with fate, resulting in his destruction, dramatic style governs the speech. Whereas in the middle section the point—of—view is one of enthusiasm, here it is one of conflict. The monologue's imagery centers around two interrelated objects: the one is Max, the other the principle of love which he embodies. In the last line of the speech Thekla terms Max "der Schdne" (1.6938). As a description of his personality, the metonym "der Schéne" identifies him with the concept of the beautiful soul which Schiller discusses in §§§£_Apmp§_gpd_flfigdg: Venus is central to this identification. For Schiller the goddess Venus is the symbol of "grace" (VII:91,1 — 97,26), "grace" being the expression of a beautiful soul (V11:137,6). In i i i i m“fio11en" ar‘ meets to be a mpeamnce of i stimmng des $5 In a prey Wallenstein su The weak ver] “59de Wall child-like. ENE tehr Anmut l ("Sienna This too cc Etchal‘acte: “small" an Mange of was “FPO: Also humfinity - ~—v——".‘___‘_, 193 Wallenstein the planet Venus is Max‘s celestial sphere in the astrolog— ical charts. Like a beautiful soul, Max behaves naively, following his inclinations which, to a point in the play's structure, coincide with his obligations, meaning his loyalty to Wallenstein's cause: "Sollen" and "Wollen" are coincidentally one in his psyche (V11:153,7-9). He appears to be free from the conflict of decision (V11:13h,2h—29), the 68 appearance of freedom Schiller terms "beautiful," meaning "Selbstbe— 69 stimmung des Sinnlichen." In a previous scene, while remonstrating Max for his naive behavior, Wallenstein summarizes his young friend's behavioral pattern: Sanft wiegte dich bis heute dein Geschick, Du konntest spielend deine Pflichten fiben, Jedwedem schonen Tri§b_Genfige tun, Mit ungeteiltem Herzen immer handeln. (11.hh77—80. Italics added) The weak verb "wiegen" ordinarily refers to the rocking of a child; but used by Wallenstein it associates Max's behavior with that which is child—like. For Schiller the childhood state is the state of grace. In §E§£,A2§gt_und'flgrdg he poses the rhetorical question ". .wo findet man mehr Anmut als bei Kindern. . . ?" (V11:lh8,21—22). The concept of play ("Spieltrieb") is also projected in Wallenstein's description of Max. This too coordinates with the idea of the beautiful soul since "play" is a characteristic of a graceful individual (V11:l28,21). The attributes "schon" and "mit ungeteiltem Herzen" describe the freedom Max experiences because of the lack of conflict between what he wanted to do and what he Was supposed to do. Also, like a beautiful soul, Max exemplifies an ideal form of humanity for Thekla (VII:13h,22—23). As an ideal, he carried Thekla atoms creati i Schiller dis us! In der Anm' die Vernun ihre Fodex raschend i entgegen. ligen der to motivation ”Whole is r (1-6925). Th. Mun unself y“ “6 pom with of 1, it binds men comtmen’c w? love bemeen transcends 1. stability ix contrasts w like a work century sen 19h figuratively to his exalted level of being, to the pinnacle of life (11.6931-32) where her feelings for Max coincided with her sense of obligation to him as a human being. Love, the other theme underlying her imagery, is one of the basic catalysts creating a beautiful soul. Again in fiber Anmut und Wfirde Schiller discusses the relationship between love and a beautiful soul: In der Anmut. . . , wie in der Scthheit fiberhaupt, sieht die Vernunft [die moralische Kapazitat (VII:3h8,1h-15)] ihre Foderung in der Sinnlichkeit erffillt, und fiber— raschend tritt ihr eine ihrer Ideen in der Erscheinung entgegen. Diese unerwartete Zusammenstimmung des Zufal~ ligen der Natur mit dem Notwendigen der Vernunft erweckt ein Gefflhl frohen Beifalls (Wohlgefallen). . .und eine Anziehung des sinnlichen Objekts muB erfolgen. Die An— ziehung nennen wir Wohlwollen——Liebe; ein Geffihl, das von Anmut und Schonheit unzertrennlich ist. (VII:153,h-lh) The motivation for Thekla's enthusiasm in the middle section of the monologue is Max's love. He helped to create a golden age for her (1-6925). The basic characteristic of a golden age state of being is mutual unselfish love among individuals, such as the love Thekla and Max are portrayed sharing. Love, as Kurt May points out in his analysis of Wallenstein, is the highest law in Schiller’s play in that it binds men together;70 it represents, among individuals, the oath of commitment which transcends time and place. For example, the bond of love between Max and Thekla does not terminate with his death, but transcends it in that She is still motivated by it. Love represents stability in the otherwise vacillating moral environ of Wallenstein. It contrasts with all action around it because it has no ulterior purpose: like a work of art, it is purposeless and aesthetic in the eighteenth— Century sense of the word, appealing to the intuitive-imaginative capa- Tl City of the individual's psyche. And this psychic capacity is experienced ’ohei1 oier the condi illminoted byi hose.“ lhroughou‘ idealist: he how it can be attitude cause the standard ( criticism of ‘ with absolute and lmllgness namely, he e: the realist . Wallenstein: the ideflist 915° a char: sein," He absolute m0 hecommCe striving i: to attain ThEr 195 symbolized by the noun "Herz" (1.693h). By sharing their love, they exercise a divine spark which each individual contains;72 inspired by love, they create their own dream—like form of existence: "Mir traumte von zwei himmelschénen Stunden" (1.6926) is how Thekla perceived and experienced their brief relationship. Nothing is hidden and secretive under the conditions of love; everything is totally clairvoyant, as if illuminated by a thousand suns. Reliance on sight yields to intuition (1.69310.73 Throughout the trilogy, Max bears the personality traits of an idealist: he always queries whether something is good (V11:Sh3,2), not how it can be useful, as does a realist like Wallenstein. Max's attitude causes a moral rigorism which does not allow for deviation from the standard of good (V11:537,23—25). This moral rigorism engenders his criticism of both Octavio and Wallenstein. He usually concerns himself with absolute principles such as honesty, love and friendship, rightness and wrongness (V11:537,22—23). But his strength is also his weakness; namely, he exhibits a propensity to neglect particular details which the realist perceives (V11:5hl,5—7). For example, he is not aware of Wallenstein's scheming until it is pointed out to him by Octavio. Like the idealist, Max's morality stems from his own being (VII:5hO,5—7)_- also a characteristic of the attribute "beautiful": "Voninnenbestimmt— sein." He is not dependent on external circumstance to determine absolute morality; he seems to instinctively know how to behave in accordance with the ideals of the trilogy. Like the idealist, his striving is meant for the totality of men (V11:5hh,36 F 5h5,6) and not to attain a selfish end. The real drama of the trilogy is not the conflict of emperor and rudeness i utmtic ‘- hto the paradij em unidealii friendship, lov Schiller, Er [Walled diese mild in sich s haben, sc erreicht ialleostein i is dependent httries to 5 0f despotism In the "die Grenze degen die 8‘ bdk‘a'mpft‘ . hitself (1e, Octavio's : dWuhan. In it based 0n 2 tern exi l_‘<—.- 196 general, but the conflict of idealism and pragmatism—realism, i.e., between Max and Thekla on the one side, wallenstein and Octavio on the other. Max and Wallenstein represent polarities.7h In both cases their one—sidedness is the cause of their downfall: Max is too unrealistic, not pragmatic enough to literally transform the corrupt world around him into the paradise which he envisions as the ideal existence. Wallenstein is too unidealistic in a narrow sense of not placing ideals such as friendship, love, and honesty above all material goals. According to Schiller, Er [Wallenstein] berechnet alles auf die Wirkung, und diese miBlingt. Er kann sich nicht, wie der Idealist, in sich selbst enthfillen und sich fiber die Materie er— heben, sondern er will die Materie sich unterwerfen und erreicht es nicht.75 Wallenstein is a materialist who is not "von innen bestimmt" as Max, but is dependent on external stimuli such as the stars. His mistake is that he tries to subject the matter he depends on to his will, but this act Of despotism only recoils against its instigator and destroys him. In the structure of the play, Max represents, as May points out, "die Grenze des Sittlichen gegen Wallenstein und seine Aktion wie auch gegen die Staatkunst der Kaiserlichen, die den Verrat mit Verrat bekémpft. . . ."76 Max embodies the ideal order of existence such as he himself describes in Qi§_Piccolomini (III,h), which Wallenstein's and Octavio's intrigues attack, and which ultimately cause Wallenstein's downfall. In the world of Wallenstein Max's and Thekla's insular existence, based on love, embodies the presence of the transcendental form of moral existence among men toward which their love makes them i l 1 i l I the plum' odlhollonold for Thekla. Commensuri the monologue ‘ ineol and hyp nosed by the does not undem future resolu' the deve10pin Schiller's us i homeht, Well tipotes it--1 her fixture on The les in that she Offstage, The mom sustaining . Schiller to fttavio ' hotly: 197 extra—sensitive. Love is "der Gesetzgeber selbst, der Gott in uns, der mit seinem eigenen Bilde in der Sinnenwelt spielt" (V11:15h,lO-12). Countess Terzky (V,8) The play's last monologue follows the exit of Buttler, Deveroux, and MacDonald to assassinate Wallenstein. The Countess enters, looking for Thekla. Commensurate with the tense situation it is placed in, the style of the monologue is predominantly dramatic. The four questions and use of irreal and hypothetical subjunctive forms convey the Countess' anxiety caused by the strange circumstances which are developing, and which she does not understand. The use of future tense (11.7h97—98) points to a future resolution of her suspense when Wallenstein receives the news of the developing circumstances and reacts to it. This is an example of Schiller's use of tragic irony, since at the moment she utters this thought, Wallenstein is dead. There can be no resolution as she anti— cipates it——the future is already the past in that Wallenstein represents her future and his life is now over. The last three descriptive lines function as a bridge in the action in that she teichoscopically describes what she hears taking place offstage. The monologue as a whole seems to have the technical function of sustaining the dramatic perspective of the action. It also allows Schiller to bring the Countess on stage for the final confrontation with Octavio. Conclusion Analysis of Schiller’s use of monologues in Wallenstein shows them oeharncter s the action an mm, a characi| course of act‘ inhfihiiuben his plan of a I his plan in t‘ monologue, b‘ The ma in w include epi. monologues : Women as Propensity stmle of t] We exten eifm to epic image the Egg to the oi 198 to be retarding moments in the action for the most part. And Schiller 7 He considered retardation to be a characteristic of epic style.T tends to employ monologues for purposes of reflection, not decision: a character sequesters himself psychologically from the immediacy of the action and reviews the history of his involvement. In the solilo- quy, a character usually does not weigh alternatives to decide what course of action to take in the future. By way of contrast, monologues in Qig_Rauber are often part of the action: e.g., Franz Mbor develops his plan of action in a monologue. Buttler, in Wallenstein, reveals his plan in dialogue, reflects on Wallenstein's past action in a monologue, but does not develop his plan on stage. The analysis of the monologues has shown that a majority of them in Wallenstein are written in predominantly epic style, or at least include epic style extensively. The governing epic style of the monologues presents characters as being reserved, i.e., there is no paroxysm as is often expressed by the speeches in 9;; Rauber. The propensity for epic style in the monologues of Wallenstein reflects the style of the play as a whole: Schiller incorporates epic features more extenSively in his trilogy than in previous plays, probably in an effort to create what he considered to be the highest form of tragedy, epic tragedy.78 He develops his trilogy from the breadth of types in the Lager to the concentration on one individual in the Tod. Die Eiggglggig; constitutes a transition from the dominance of one style to the other.79 'hhe perio -‘ i Schiller's deal primily on t‘. ially true of TE. With lg subject into : emu hohe elenenh use of lyric events, such the French 1 ler's emula- hchorus as die" evince In ME there are holly Sop} Chorus fu' the broth The E ilBI WILHELM TELL Introduction The period from the initial stages of work on Wallenstein to Schiller's death was a time during which Schiller focused his attention primarily on the technique of constructing a play,1 and this is espec— ially true of the three completed plays between Wallenstein and Wilhelm EEEL With Maria Stuart (1800) he placed an historical (Renaissance) subject into a strict, symmetrical structure of acts. With Qig_Jungfrau Egg Orleans (1801) he experimented With incorporating what he considered to be elements of romanticism into his poetic, namely the more extensive use of lyric style than in previous plays and the portrayal of miraculous events, such as Joan breaking her chains at the end of the play to lead the French to victory. 2i§_§£§Et_vgn_Messina (1803) represents Schil- ler's emulation of ancient Greek tragedy which meant above all utilizing a chorus as the short essay "Uber den Gebrauch des Chors in der Trago— die" evinces (V:3h1—52). In Mg;ia_8tuart and big Jungfrau Schiller uses monologues sparingly: there are five in each. With the emulation of Greek tragedy——specifi— cally Sophoclean tragedy——he reduced the number to one, since the chorus fulfills one major function 0f monologues: the communication of the brothers' views to the audience. The next play in the concatenation of Schiller's works is Wilhelm EE}l_(180h) which at first glance seems to be a different type of 199 | iron, Schille: Es ist kt hot, um i Interess her Leid Publicum ninseht Fir meir mein Sch Schille W have in denominators wrtrayal o incorporate shehhherus. as he does is Wipre us Other c 1ikenise h “We are Helchtel‘ as their She “10h no 200 experiment with form than any of the previous plays. Upon closer inspection the form of Tell can be seen as a synthesis of the other forms which Schiller experimented with.2 The two dominant literary influences on Schiller while he wrote Wilhelm Tellf—i.e., beside Goethe's influence-—continued to be Sophocles (Oedipus gel) and Shakespeare (Julius geeeeg). Concerning the latter drama, Schiller wrote Goethe (2 October 1803) that Es ist keine Frage, daB der Julius Oasar alle Eigenschaften hat, um ein ordentlicher Pfeiler des Theaters zu werden: Interesse der Handlung, AbwechBlung und Reichtum, Gewalt der Leidenschaft und sinnliches Leben vis a vis des Publicums--und der Kunst gegenfiber hat er alles was man wfinscht und braucht. Ffir meinen Tell ist mir das Stfick von unsc azbarem Wert, mein Schifflein wird auch dadurch gehoben. Schiller does not mention what specific techniques in Julius Caesar may have influenced the composition of Tell. There are, however, common denominators shared by both plays. In Julius Caesar Shakespeare's Portrayal of the everyday life impressed Schiller;h and in his Tell he incorporates several scenes of the everyday life among the Swiss shepherds. Also, Shakespeare does not focus the play on a single person as he does in Hamlet, although both physically and spiritually Caesar is omnipresent throughout. But Brutus, Cassius, and Anthony, as well as other characters are responsible for the main action.5 Tell is likewise omnipresent in Schiller's play, but the Swiss people as a whole are the heroes of the play. Several characters (Stauffacher, Melchtal, and Ffirst) are slightly set apart as leaders. Tell functions as their finest, though somewhat reluctant representative. Shakespeare utilizes certain stage settings and images in his play Which may have also influenced Schiller's construction of Tell. For . that class " moeph of bro hhile eoni l Sophocles' peg“ he to the 811C! was especially Resins is Sch lhking the ch< hung he ach: - one taking Ma dramatic conf : huuel's and for Schiller Willis in i133, cor-reg Ed 7333 sh: conflict. I The ut “953% sai composing 1 Die 3 verji thihm élite] Stof‘ Wie . 201 instance, both dramatist use storms to manifest an intimate relation- ship between cosmic nature and human nature: the physical disorder 6 created by the storm corresponds to the moral disorder created by men. In both plays water symbolizes the human adventure.7 In both plays the concept of brotherhood is centrally important for the play‘s structure. While constructing 22$}; Schiller also expressed an interest in Sophocles' Oedipus 32%: as he did during the writing of Wallenstein. Due to the success of 2i§.§£§EE.XEE.MESSina on the Berlin stage, he was especially interested in the staging of the chorus.8 gle_B£eee_XeE Messina is Schiller's attempt at emulating the Sophoclean chorus by making the chorus part of the action and by giving it individual charac— ter.9 He achieves this effect by dividing the chorus into two choruses, one taking Manuel's side, the other Cesar's side. They sustain the dramatic conflict with their stichomythic dialogues. They represent Manuel's and Cesar's points—of—view, thereby eliminating the necessity for Schiller to have the two main characters present their individual thoughts in monologues. Only Beatrice, who is the tragic pyeee of the Play, corresponding to the prophecy in Oedipus,lO delivers a monologue, and this she does at a moment in the play when she is unaware of any conflict. The utilization of forms from Greek tragedy in 222.3E223.K2£ Messina satisfied Schiller to such an extent that he thought about a composing Tell in the same spirit: Die ganz neue Form [der Braut von Messina] hat auch mich verjungt, oder vielmehr das Antikere hat mich selbst alter— thfimlicher gemacht; denn die wahre Jugend ist doch in der alten Zeit. Sollte es mir gelingen, einen historischen Stoff, wie etwa den Tell, in diesem Geist aufzufassen, wie mein jetziges Stuck geschrieben ist, so wfirde ich ¥ nature. One n.5,, hiring th tonnes the spel i Inthis exampll its also spe Throughout, as lotion, enaly; “Participan‘ WW, refl “eunuch, diversity of first "1011010; fflhllth act ( Another Whine Us “the form: “Whig" s; titties, Sc elicist. n 359:9). '1“ 202 alles geleistet zu haben glauben, was billiger Weise jetzt gefodert werden kann. l The spirit of antiquity can be found in several aspects of this play's structure. One is the integration of choric procedure among the Swiss, e.g., during the Riitli-scene.l2 In this scene, the speech of individuals becomes the speech of the whole group: Stauffacher. Wir stehn vor unsre Weiber, unsre Kinder! Alle (an ihre Schwerter schlagen). Wir stehn vor unsre Weiber, unsre Kinder! In this example Stauffacher is equivalent to a chorus leader. The Swiss also speak chorically in the final scene of the play. (1.3281). Throughout, different members from the mass of Swiss comment on the action, analyzing it, but not usually as detached observers, rather as participants in the action (111,2). Several times individuals do, however, reflect on the action with a detached attitude; they elevate the particular instance to a generality, deciphering the unity in the diversity of particular events: e.g., Attinghausen in the play's first monologue (11.9h3-58) and the fisherman at the outset of the fourth act (112098—1149). Another aspect of the spirit of antiquity in Wilhelm Tell is the extensive use of epic style. When Schiller studied Tschudi's account of the formation of the Swiss confederacy, he was impressed with the 13 In their conversations about "Homeric" spirit he found in it. pOEtiCS, Schiller and Goethe considered Homer to be the archetypal epicist. "Epicist" meant an individual interested in the past (VII: 550,9). Two forms in particular convey epic style here: 1. narrations, pat, the new uports hmctii m of the fit: hath.1h Since he conflict and i to monologue: The fire Yon Attinghax Whose spirit “tiflshausen M‘s in tk neElected i1 mm at the It ari 3:23;, th foreign in: Men “it does not a Berta Von that his 1 ““1 exiti Int 203 2. reports. Narrations are utilized to review the distant past of Switzerland, the past of their forebearers: e.g., Stauffacher does this on the Rfitli. The report functions to communicate the recent past, the events which have a direct bearing on the action. Often these reports function teichoscopically such as Melchtal's report at the begin— ning of the fifth act where he describes the storming of the Sarner Castle.1h Since he relegates to the people as a group the discussion of the conflict and the interpretation of the action, Schiller employs only two monologues in the entire play. Attinghausen (11,1) The first of the play's two monologues belongs to Werner, Freiherr von Attinghausen, the figure in the play who symbolizes the ideal past whose spirit and form of existence the Swiss want to reinstate. Attinghausen's monologic speech is overshadowed in sheer length by Tell’s in the fourth act: sixteen lines to ninety, and is often neSlected in analyses of the play. And yet it has an important func- tion at the point in the play’s structure where Schiller places it. It arises from an argument between Attinghausen and his nephew, Euiezz, who has forsaken his native Swiss heritage for the unnatural, foreign influence of the Austrian Hapsburgs. Attinghausen confronts Rudenz with the fact that Rudenz's political, ideological conviction does not alienate him from his people, but rather his attraction to Berta von Bruneck draws him from the Swiss (11.935—b1). Rudenz attests that his uncle speaks the truth by abruptly terminating the conversation and exiting. Attinghausen is left on stage alone. In the ensuing monologue the elderly Attinghausen reflects on what ; lttinghausen 1' circustance l Schiller empl IJ"tend,“ "Un We." "Alt Attingh: the new (11, flaming m and from soc enviment scenes in w of a truth} after brot] after tyra life again M18 a The ‘ existenc e Q It innocenm 20h transpired with Rudenz. He also considers the immediate situation in the land. He interprets Rudenz's relationship to the Hapsburgs and sees in it a symbol of a more general phenomenon among the Swiss: So ist der WolfenschieBen abgefallen Von seinem Land, so werden andre folgen. (11.9h5—h6) Attinghausen interprets the constant factor in the changing historical circumstance within Switzerland. To convey this generalization Schiller employs a number of abstract nouns in the speech, such as "Jugend," "Unschuld," "Geschlecht," and adjectival nouns such as "das Fremde," "Alte," "Neue," "Wfird'ge." Attinghausen's imagery centers around the conflict of the old and the new (11.952—53). The old is represented with paradisiacal imagery deriving from phySical nature ("diese still beglfickten Taler" [1.9501) and from social intercourse ("Der Sitten fromme Unschuld" [l.951]). In Wilhelm lell there is an intimate relationship between the physical environment and morality, as is manifested by the storm scenes and the scenes in which the sun rises, indicating the rejuvenation of an ideal, Of a truth. For example, the sun rises at the end of the second act after brotherhood is formalized, and at the beginning of the fifth act after tyranny has been broken and democracy formally becomes a way of life again as it was in the times of their forefathers. Nature in IE1; is a symbol of the moral action among men. The noun "Unschuld," with which Attinghausen describes the mode of Existence before the intrusion of the Hapsburgs, appears frequently in Igll- It usually refers to one of two things: either to a child's l6 ‘ l 1nnocence 5 or to Switzerland and, therefore by analogy, to the Swiss. i.e., without ' contrastil | the images “(lei| nclnnotion "0“ introduced int phrase “der f1 which has ent The pass ittinghausen H9 is the 1 tions (L3: Shares the sel"Iice a: (Hts-6? after m 1#151) exiStent 205 The tertium comparationis which evolves from the dual reference projects mmimage of the first Swiss in a nascent social stage. To carry the analogy further, the form of existence appeared as one in which men fulfilled their moral obligation instinctively, naively, like a child, i.e., without formalized laws. Contrasting to the paradisiacal images in Attinghausen's speech are the images "der fremde Zauber" (1.9h7), "das Fremde" (1.9h9), and the exclamation "O, unglfickselge Stunde" (l.9h9), which the Hapsburgs introduced into the atmosphere of innocence, thereby destroying it. The phrase "der fremde Zauber" projects the connotation of something evil which has entered the moral atmosphere. The passing of a time of innocence is symbolized by the burial of Attinghausen's generation: Sie sind begraben alle, Mit denen ich gewaltet und gelebt. Unter der Erde schon liegt meine Zeit; (11.955—57) He is the last remaining symbol of that time; he honors the old tradi- tions (1.339) as he evinces at the beginning of the second act when he shares the first drink of the day with his servants (ll-753-55). Mutual service and respect exist between Attinghausen and those under him (11.755—6h). The same form of existence is symbolically restored just after Attinghausen utters his last words: "Seid einig——einig-—einig——" (1-3551), when Melchtal and Rudenz give their word to conform to the same existential form: Stauffacher (zu Melchtal). "Seid einig!" war das letzte Wort des Vaters, Gedenket dessen! i i c httingha cc interprets scene which : are presente hiss gather hast, which film and SP Strive is individul 206 Melchtal. Hier ist meine Hand! Des Bauern Handschlag, edler Herr, ist auch Ein Manneswort! Was ist der Bitter ohne uns? Und unser Stand ist alter als der Eure. Rudenz. Ich ehr' ihn, und mein Schwert soll ihn beschfltzen. Melchtal. Der Arm, Herr Freiherr, der die harte Erde Sich unterwirft und ihren SchoB befruchtet, Kann auch des Mannes Brust beschfitzen. Rudenz. Ihr Sollt meine Brust, ich will die eure schfitzen, So sind wir einer durch den andern stark. (11.2h85—9t) Attinghausen‘s monologue functions in the play‘s structure as both an interpretation of Rudenz's action and an anticipation of the Rfitli~ scene which immediately follows his monologue. There the same thoughts are presented and expanded. On the Rfitli a representative group of Swiss gather, led by Stauffacher, Ffirst, and Melchtal. They review the past, Which Attinghausen symbolizes, and lay plans to reinstate the same fOrm and spirit: Wir stiften keinen neuen Bund; es ist Ein uralt Bfindnis nur von vater Zeit, Das wir erneuern. (11.1155—57) What was a natural form of existence for their forebearers becomes an exercise of will for the men on the Rfitli, stimulated by the idea of the idNllic harmony 0f the past when ideal and reality were one (11.1282—83). As in the previous plays discussed, the ideal toward which the Swiss strive is brotherhood. Prior to the Rfitli—meeting, the Swiss often act individualistically: e.g., in the first scene of act one, Baumgarten, trying to escape from the emperor's troops, needs to get across the hinting the mity wh' The speakers repeat the i 0f the seem cinnig Yolk uni Gefahr" With 1 With image: Unschuld," 01’ the inn than disec &180; it 1 Effect of but does A . _- _, V..1‘__—__wi 207 "Vierwaldsthtter See." Ruodi refuses to take him because of the violent storm and because Ruodi thinks only of himself and his family. He does not exhibit a sense of brotherhood, as Tell points out to him. At the Rfitli—meeting the Swiss rectify the lack of homogeneity by emphasizing the unity which exists among them: Wisset, Eidgenossen! Ob uns der See, ob uns die Berge scheiden Und jedes Volk sich fur sich selbst regiert, So sind wir eines Stammes doch und Bluts, Und eine Heimat ist's, aus der wir zogen. (11.1157—61) The speakers' harangues eventually ignite the entire group and all repeat the idea of unity (11.1203-0h). Rosselmann's speech at the end of the scene summarizes all that has been said: "Wir wollen sein ein einzig Volk von Brfidern" (1.1hb8), meaning "In keiner Not uns trennen und Gefahr" (1.1hh9). With this monologue Schiller, then, foreshadows the following scene with images such as "diese still beglfickten Taler," "Der Sitten fromme Unschuld," and "das Alte, / Das Wfird'ge scheidet." Partially because of the imagery, the language of this monologue is descriptive rather than discursive. Lack of discursiveness is conveyed by the parataxis also; it creates the additive effect of epic style, and not the causal effect of dramatic: i.e., Attinghausen describes a series of phenomena, but does not emphasize the causal relationship between them. Rather, the description is an end in itself. For example: Das Neue dringt herein mit Macht, das Alte, Das Wfird'ge scheidet, andre Zeiten kommen, Es lebt ein andersdenkendes Geschlecht! (11.952~5h) Tell's m of drastic e the events whc‘ effect of his which both 1)! clone, which cretarding The sou Personality Tell to sho. the play Te aPiloh‘istic becomes mo: more °°TP1 Scene am The (11 The attituhe hes not "'51 bei “Unbedec tier Tel - fi’. 208 Because of these several features, and because of his predominantly detached reflective attitude, we classify the monologue's governing style as epic. Wilhelm Tell (1V ,3) Tell's monologue represents a retarding moment in the concatenation of dramatic events. During this pause in the action Tell contemplates the events which have brought him to the "Hohle Gasse." The retarding effect of his contemplation momentarily relaxes the dramatic tension which both precedes and follows his speech. The length of the speech alone, which contrasts sharply with Tell‘s early taciturn manner, forces a retarding of the dramatic action. The source of both the change in Tell's speech pattern and his personality is the "Apfelschuss" scene (111,3) in which GeBler forces Tell to shoot at an apple on his son's head. Prior to that moment in the play Tell speaks laconically, in short, two— and three—line, 17 After the confrontation with GeBler, Tell aphoristic sentences. becomes more reflective and manifests a propensity to speak in a longer, more complex sentence pattern, not only in his monologue but also in the scene after his escape from GeBler (ll-22l8~302) and in the Parricida— scene (11.3166—208). The change in his language pattern corresponds to the change in his attitude toward his existential sphere. Prior to the "ApfelSChuSS," he does not think about his action. He remarks to his wife: "WET gar zu viel bedenkt, wird wenig leisten" (1.1532). To GeBler he excuses his "Unbedachtsamkeit" with the comment "War' ich besonnen, hieB' ich nicht der Tell" (1.1872). In the confrontation with GeBler, Tell can no lot the first ’0 patently mus hemts to dol M in order t finder this (:11 “natural dem: tontemPlation The soli the first th} against Getl‘ I'm he is p then he recc the "Hohle ( seems to me “him gener sehen Helde Heme“ en The 1; ‘Tote it u M Tell 209 longer preserve the noble, naive innocence which he displays in the early part of the play: GeBler's demand forces him to consider his action, i.e., to decide whether to shoot or not. GeBler observes sarcastically: "Ei, Tell, du bist Ja plotzlich so besonnen!" (1.1903). Fbr the first time a conflict enters Tell's life between what he apparently must do if he and his son are to continue to live, and what he wants to do. Previously, he could act according to the principle Der brave Mann denkt an sich selbst zuletzt. Vertrau' auf Gott und rette den Bedrangten! (11.139—ho) But in order to save Walter, his son, he must endanger his son's life. Under this circumstance Tell cannot respond automatically to GeBler's unnatural demand: he has to weigh the situation in his mind. The contemplation forced on him in this scene is continued in the monologue. The soliloquy's first stanza functions as an exposition. Within the first three lines Tell reveals that he has already decided to act against GeBler. This knowledge releases the dramatic suspense as to what he is planning. In the third stanza he amplifies this information when he recounts that he made an oath to kill GeBler and that he is at the "Hohle Gasse" to keep his word (11.258h-89). Paul Bookmann, it seems to me, correctly interprets Tell's explanation as the silent word WhiCh generates thought into action: "Der tatfreudigste der Schiller- schen Helden ist er nur, weil Wort und Tat in Innerlichkeit eines Herzens eins werden, das sich zum Aubersten herausgefordert weifs."18 The language of the first stanza is simple and direct: Schiller wrote it using paratactic syntax. It is a descriptive language with whiCh Tell states the reason why he is at the "Gasse." It conveys his In the play, Uri, but Sch like a hunte for GeBler : In the being from Milch der 1 his soul, 1 °°llnteract life‘fiivir Ming (lea existence The 1‘. is a f SYDtax i: Freterit “as, rat asa(1e: 210 reflections on how he can best carry out his plan. As if hunting an animal, he employs the vocabulary of a hunter to describe his strategy. The language of hunting is repeated again in the eighth stanza: Ich laure auf ein edles Wild. Laflt sich's Der Jager nicht verdrieBen, tagelang Umherzustreifen in des Winters Strenge, Von Fels zu Fels den Wagesprung zu tun, Hinanzuklimmen an den glatten wanden, W0 er sich anleimt mit dem eignen Blut, Um ein armselig Grattier zu erjagen—— Hier gilt es einen k6stlicheren Preis, Das Herz des Todfeinds, der mich will verderben. (11.2635—h3) In the play, Tell is the only hunter of any stature; there is Werni from Uri, but Schiller gives that character a minor function. Tell thinks l9 like a hunter; he feels he is strongest when alone. He sets his trap for GeBler as a hunter would set a trap for game. In the second stanza, Tell contemplates the transformation in his being from a disposition of naivete, which he characterizes as "Die Milch der frommen Denkart" (1.2573), to an individual with a conflict in his soul, projected with the image "garend Drachengift" (1.2572). The counteraction of the two liquids used in these metaphors—~the one life—giving, producing growth and health, the other life—taking, pro- ducing death——signifies the contrast between Tell's former and present existence. The language in this stanza reflects a governing epic disposition. It is a direct, descriptive 1anguage——not discursive or emotive. The syntax is paratactic. Since he considers the past, the verb tense is preterite. The main thrust of the language is the description of what wag, rather than the causality of events. The imagery employed exists as a descriptive device and not for its symbolic value: i.e., the IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII:::::___________________________, m Hith the mtence appe mm points: fact to the i] he content of panting to a. in in dos He implications- content of t comPlex thou Tell' s cribes, rec situation; In thi mSSion to “i Sohille Siftcture his Plays Sphere of E ther family, 5 We str- For 9X83} min. 211 intention does not appear to be to communicate some higher meaning behind the images, but rather to create a certain graphic impression contrasting milk and poison. With the sixteenth line of the monologue (1.2775), a compound sentence appears for the first time in the speech. It represents, as Garland points out, a stylistic change, a "shifting from the matter—of- fact to the rhetorical,"20 to speech which is stylized to create effect. The content of the lines indicates a change in thought pattern corres— ponding to a change in style. With the statement "Der kann auch tref— fen in das Herz des Feinds" Tell begins a consideration of the moral implications of what has transpired between himself and GeBler. The content of the speech expresses ideation, a more complex thought. Such complex thought on morality characterizes the next five stanzas. Tell's disposition remains objective in the third stanza: he des— cribes, recounts, reviews phenomena, reflects on his own particular situation; he relates his impressions of the world around him. In this stanza Tell emphasizes his family as the reason for his mission to annihilate GeBler, the symbol of radical evil.21 As in all of Schiller's plays, the family unit represents the quintessential structure of nature. According to Schiller's representation of it in his plays, the family structure includes not only the purely private SPhere of individual families, but also the political—social realm. In Tell there are abundant examples of private family life: Tell's own family, Stauffacher and his wife, gt_§l, There are also examples of the same structure, in the form of a patriarchy, on a more expanded level. For example, a patriarchal order is projected for the political sphere; and in this structure the emperor should function as a father: for example, I ma“ (11.22% tinder" (1.7? fondly struct Whoever forces the f emits an 0 life. In pi not).22 . concerning Elesities aStillst trYing - En Etta 212 Er [der Kaiser] stand auf einem hohen Platz, er konnte Ein Vater seiner VBlker sein. . . . (11.306h—65) The implication is that the people resemble children and form a united family. On the social level, the Swiss constitute a clan whose leader, Attinghausen, presents himself as a patriarch. When he is about to die, for example, he remarks: "Und vaterlos lass' ich euch alle, alle, / Zurfick" (11.2386—87). Early in the play he refers to his servants as "Kinder" (1.767), thereby classifying even the fief as a patriarchial family structure. Whoever attacks the family——private, social, or political—~or forces the family to destroy itself by having one member destroy another, commits an original sin against nature and against the primeval order of life. In Die Rauber Karl Moor observes this order in nature (11:102, 22 . . 13'1h)- A remark by the fisherman at the beginning of the fourth act concerning the storm emphasizes GeBler's sin against nature: Zu zielen auf des eignen Kindes Haupt, Solches ward keinem Vater noch geboten! Und die Natur soll nicht in wildem Grimm Sich drob emporen? O, mich soll's nicht wundern, Wenn sich die Felsen bficken in den See, Wenn jene Zacken, Jene Eisestfirme, Die nie auftauten seit dem Schopfungstag, Von ihren hohen Kulmen niederschmelzen, Wenn die Berge brechen, wenn die alten Klfifte Einsturzen, eine zweite Sfindflut alle Wohnstatten der Lebendigen verschlingt! (11.2139—h9) Besides Tell's family, there are ample examples in the play of attacks against other families: e.g., Baumgarten kills one of GeBler‘s men for trying to molest the former’s wife; Stauffacher and his wife anticipate an attack on their family; Melchtal's father is blinded; Rudenz is 1 in to protect inl, natural and he then: In the insurzi fiedhecausen desire to on nannnl patr Protect people, a f1 98551111). P: then of Rud nutual conc In tht etnnple of Order by a basic, na1 aeilen Wi m. language “wally : 1hfetter into a 1 no). Co r._,___ 213 subversively torn from his uncle's influence; Armgard's husband has been incarcerated. In Schiller's plays the function of a father in nature and society is to protect his family. All the men on the Rfitli fulfill this orig— inal, natural function (11.1287—89). In this regard they resemble Tell, and he them: the rebellion of the individual father has the same cause as the insurrection of the Swiss confederates. Both causes are justi— fied because they are not motivated by revenge (11.992—93) but by the desire to protect the family order against tyranny and to restore the natural patriarchal order which GeBler and his kind have desecrated. Protection is the basic function of the emperor as father of his people, a function which he does not fulfill for the Swiss (11.1210-352, passim). Protection of the fiefdom is the concern of Attinghausen, and then of Rudenz, although after the Rfitli—pact protection becomes a mutual concern of servant and lord. In the structure of his play Schiller creates GeBler as the extreme example of the threat against fatherhood and against the patriarchal order by an external demonic force. Because the patriarchal order is a basic, natural form of existence, Tell's anticipated assassination of GeBler will protect all the Swiss, as well as the patriarchal natura naturans. And at the end of the play they salute him for his deed with language containing an optative subjunctive imperative form which is usually reserved for nobility: "Es lebe Tell, der Schfitz und der Erretterl" (1.3281). At this point in the play the Swiss are united into a family—like structure based on the bond of brotherhood (11.2936a lhh8). Commensurate with the more complex, more elevated thought expressed - men. A sari conjunction " 'tprelschuss“ lichtig flehery Insult statemc clause requirz his decision the syntax it preceding “a; l'ipfelschuss cOlljunction act and Tel] In con] tence repre Tell's 516mm: attract m7 nni adiudg strichness Sehi: mm no: 55 the (pa erlfiuht" “tect S] 21h in the third stanza is a more complex poetic—rhetorical language. Two of the three sentences are compounded with clauses. The second sentence of the stanza (11.2579—87) is the most involved and rhetorical of the three. A series of parallel construction introduced by the temporal conjunction "als" constitutes an auxesis of Tell's emotions at the "Apfelschuss" culminating in the impassioned statement "als ich ohn— machtig flehend rang vor dir" (1.2583). But this auxesis requires a result statement since an "als" is a subordinating conjunction whose clause requires a dependent clause. The result clause, which expresses his decision to assassinate Gehler, begins with the adverb "damals." 1n the syntax it functions as the convergent word for the content of the preceding "als" clause; it focuses attention on the general time of the "Apfelschuss" rather than on one specific moment. The consecutive conjunction "daB" (1.2586) conveys the causal consequence of GeBler's act and Tell's oath: the taking of Gehler’s life. In comparison to Tell's speech previously in the play, this sen— tence represents a drastic escalation of both complexity and rhetoric. Tell’s thought in the fourth stanza transfers from the private to the political sphere which involves all Swiss. He considers the abstract moral values of rightness and wrongness in the political order and adjudges GeBler‘s action to have transcended the line of reasonable strictness into the realm of despotism (112592-95). Schiller uses language in this stanza to create a dramatic, emo- tional moment in the monologue: Tell has difficulty expressing himself as the dashes indicate (11.2593 ff.). The subjunctive form "hatte. Erlaubt" (1.2591) represents a radical departure from Tell's usually direct speech in the indicative voice. Tell uses it to convey a J . mnemon- ' mos. The MMmfl In the ' dininevindii “Ipfelschuss‘ Tell expres When, at th (12091). In th crossbon 3 treated as Alth. Intercom Stanza: Signing: in the n e1lance; his fan In “’0 ste 215 situation which he believes is contrary to what would have been, namely, that the emperor would not have allowed GeBler's despotism. In this stanza the analysis of the conflict leading to a judgement takes precedence over the description of the conflict, as in the previous stanzas. The judgement in GeBler's case: "Es lebt ein Gott, zu stra- fen und zu rachen" (1.2596). In the fifth stanza Tell assumes the function of the instrument of divine vindictiveness, a connection which Stauffacher makes in the "Apfelschuss" scene: 80 kanntet Ihr an einem Manne handeln, An dem sich Gottes Hand sichtbar verkfindigt? (11.2071—72) Tell expresses a similar direct connection between himself and the Lord when, at the end of the scene, he remarks ". . .mir wird Gott helfen" (1.2097). In the stanza under consideration, the artifacts of hunting, Tell's crossbow and arrow, are personified as emissaries of death and are treated as intimate acquaintances——which they are in a figurative sense. Although Tell contemplates primarily the use of his weapons, the undercurrent of dramatic tension continues with the last line of the stanza: "Ich habe keinen zweiten [Pfeil] zu versenden" (1.2608). The Significance of and suspense surrounding the one shot grows as it does in the "Apfelschuss" scene. In both cases Tell will not have a second chance; in both cases his fate, his entire future existence and that of his family, depends on one arrow. In the sixth stanza the tension which is built up in the previous two stanzas relaxes. Tell describes the significance of the "Hohle 'didmbles " '.. .hier ist hing in com , oncept connno i.e., they dc hood. Polit: democracy, 1‘ It is o strn need. And 3 9555 throng Tell's Thesis in 0fObjects mimetic eriTvtion 1 Sin desi Fol] the sixt] dream but Sta 216 Gasse." The picture projected is one of a diffused, transient society, made up of such disparate types as businessmen, pilgrims, monks, robbers, minstrels. Passing through the "Gasse" they represent the antithesis of a stable, orderly society which the family, house, and home symbolize: 'K . .hier ist keine Heimat," Tell observes (1.2611). They all have one thing in common, namely, none manifests the quality of "mitleit," a concept common during the Middle Ages: jeder treibt Sich an dem andern rasch und fremd vorfiber, Und fraget nicht nach seinem Schmerz. (11.2611—13) i.e., they do not practice the ideals inherent in the concept of brother— hood. Politically this bond of brotherhood takes the form of a republic democracy, rooted in the patriarchal freedom of the family and clan.23 It is a structure in which each individual helps other individuals in need. And it is this empathy for the needs of others that those who Pass through the "Gasse" do not exhibit. Tell's language in this stanza continues to be descriptive. The emphasis in the vocabulary is laid on the nouns conveying his perception of objects. The syntax of this description is parataxis; the causal conjunction "denn," used twice in the stanza, contributes to the des— cription rather than indicating causality leading to a decisive conclu- sion designed to change the course of events. Following the interlude in the development of Tell's thought which the sixth stanza provides, the seventh stanza functions to revive the dramatic tension of Tell's situation and also to summarize the preceding four stanzas. In the first Six lines of the stanza he reviews the humped an tion. One se lute of lIell ‘ Fritz Mi the necessitj of the seemii on the one h injunction c hrtini, Tel Ind Versntw vergesisser The ez' concerns tj the act it can. It mulls. mInter, the Openi limp : realm Wh An in the 1 mi an “Plies 217 . justification for his immanent deed: the defense of his family against 1_ GeBler's revenge. With the last line of the speech "Will er [Tell] zum Morde jetzt den Bogen spannen!" (1.263%), Schiller builds the tension of anticipa— tion. One senses that GeBler's arrival is near, and therefore, the fate of Tell and all the Swiss will soon be decided. Fritz Martini points out that Tell, by accounting to himself for the necessity of taking GeBler's life, overcomes the potential tragedy of the seemingly insoluable moral paradox into which he has slipped2h: on the one hand is GeBler's whimsical despotism, on the other the moral injunction against taking the life of another human. According to Martini, Tell becomes "innerlich frei: gerade weil er sich der Schwere und Verantwortung seiner Tat sich selbst, seiner Menschlichkeit gegenfiber, Vergewissert."25 The eighth and ninth stanzas form a unit: the subject of both concerns the strategy of killing GeBler rather than the justification for the act itself, which is the primary concern in stanzas two through seven. In both the eighth and ninth stanzas the language of the hunter Prevails. In eight Tell reflects on the normal precarious activity of a hunter, comparing it to the immediate task of killing GeBler. As in the opening scene of the play, the hunter is placed in a winter setting, high—Up in the AlpS. The setting signifies that hunters exist in a realm which is isolated from the main current of society. Appearing in the eighth stanza is a motif which arises several times in the monologue: the necessity to strike GeBler in the heart with the Only arrow Tell has (11.2576, 258?, 26h3). Beyond the obvious hunting implications, the striking of GeBler's heart has symbolic implications. _‘— . mgr, W an hack of hum In the 111 In: that hunt1 throughout thi he acts withi allein“ [1.t: and his weep After '1 her children hail. IThe literally t Gehler's the mill is him to Kiifl plea andh willtlh she The sta hhich e 218 In folklore the heart represents the place where life and the human soul reside.26 Schiller utilizes the heart similarly as a symbol of an individual's humanity, of his intuition for the needs of others. GeBler, by analogy, possesses a false heart; he exhibits a distinct lack of humanity. In the ninth stanza Tell compares his past as a hunter and the joy that hunting was (1.26MB) to the seriousness of his present hunt. Throughout the play Tell fulfills primarily the function of a hunter: he acts within a self—imposed isolation ("Der Starke ist am machtigsten allein" [l.h37]) outside of the Rfitli group, depending upon himself and his weapons. After Tell completes his speech, a woman named Armgard enters with her children to plead with GeBler for the release of her husband from Jail. The ensuing confrontation between Armgard and GeBler symbolizes literally the main thoughts which Tell considers in his soliloquy. GeBler's death, therefore, becomes even more plausible. Armgard's family is disjoined as Tell's would be if Gefiler had successfully taken him to KfiBnacht. When GeBler arrives, he turns a deaf ear to Armgard’s Plea and threatens to ride over her and the children (11.2763—6h), to which she replies: LaB es fiber mich dahingehn! Da—— (Sie reiBt ihre Kinder zu Boden und wirft sich mit ihnen ihm in den Weg.) Hier lieg' ich Mit meinen Kindern-—laB die armen Weisen Von deines Pferdes Huf zertreten werden! Es ist das Krgste nicht, was du getan! (11.2765—68) The stage setting has an effect similar to the trampled-field imagery Which appears in Die Rauber and Wallensteins Tod, except that here, in field repres - mole who 1) threat to ’51‘1i for other hui the heart“ tyrant who El Schiller's t obliterate ‘ The sce before Tel] i0 inpose ( Getler's a Sehiller's (11:51,”i reine Wel' (Til-51!; in w A berba brotiter plats. 219 Tell, the threat is literal; in the other plays it is figurative. The children are analogous to the seedlings: both represent the rejuvena— tion of nature and the hope for the future. As the trampling of the field represents the disregard for the hopes and aspirations of the people who plant the field in order to harvest it later, GeBler‘s threat to trample Armgard and her children represents his disrespect fur other human beings: i.e., the threatened action manifests his false heart. He functions as the antithesis of brotherhood; he is the tyrant who sins against the natura naturans of this as well as of Schiller's other plays, by incarcerating the fathers and threatening to obliterate the family order. The scene places GeBler at the apex of his tyranny. His last words before Tell's arrow strikes him down concern the despotic law he intends to impose on the Swiss to bend their bold spirit of freedom (11.2778—85). GeBler's actions classify him as a barbarian in the vocabulary of Schiller's plays: e.g., in 213 Rauber Amalia terms Franz a barbarian (II:Sl,7); in 212 Jungfrau ggp_0rleans Karl talks about "eine schuldlos reine Welt. . .grfinden / In dieser rauh barbar‘schen Wirklichkeit" (Vzll.Slh—1S). Max Piccolomini discusses the function of a barbarian in Wallenstein: O auch die schdnen, freien Regungen Der Gastlichkeit, der frommen Freundestreue Sind eine heilige Religion dem Herzen, Schwer rachen sie die Schauder der Natur An dem Barbaren, der sie graBlich schandet. (IV:ll.6089-93) A barbarian is one who desecrates the ideals of friendship and of brotherhood which stand as basic forms of ideal existence in Schiller's plays. Instead of acting as a friend, a barbarian leads others to hcnarhari: hoonnh some ncnges natui (11.3181-82)i Tell‘s Patricide-so functions to nnder. Jo] selfish rea material th the form 01 ”other. Schwahen's the person 0f ideals exercised in the l herore . 220 despair, the function which most negative characters in Schiller's plays fulfill. To a barbarian a man is no longer a man (II:318,23), but an object to be manipulated, i.e., to be subjected to the will of the barbarian. But, as Max observes, the natural order avenges itself through some person; and in Wilhelm Tell it is the main figure who avenges nature: "Geracht / Hab' ich die heilige Natur. . ." (11.3181—82).27 Tell's remark about avenging nature is uttered in the famous Parricida—scene (V,2) which is an extension of his monologue. The scene functions to differentiate a murder for revenge and a justifiable murder. Johannes von Schwaben, the Parricida, murdered for purely selfish reasons, namely to get his inheritance, signifying the gain of material things. Tell murders to preserve the principle of freedom and the form of the family. He thereby fulfills the primordial function of a father. Tell wants to protect against revenge such as Johannes von Schwaben's and GeBler's which is directed against a person because of the person, and not because of a principle which belongs to the realm Of ideals in the play and which has been violated. Revenge, as it is exercised by barbarians, is unjustified: Rache tragt keine Frucht! Sich selbst ist sie Die ffirchterliche Nahrung, ihr Genus Ist Mord, und ihre Sattigung das Grausen. (11.3012—ih) As Bdckmann observes, in contrast to Schwaben's deed, Tell’s is condoned in the play's structure in that he contemplates it in his monologue before taking action: Dem Handeln des Parricida fehlt jene Rechtfertigung durch sin Wort, wie es sich Tell in Augenblick der hdchsten ..., line .. 3311‘ . . nicht . Tell‘s 5 too. In Sch:1 individual on which is who scene Galileo Thinst his is well as for his sin Tell“ his victor the necess W; Something on him. thistent; the task hartini 1‘e’l‘lem ‘.iom t.“ the hi: hlativ 221 Bedrohung gegeben hat; er hat nur mit "rascher, wilder Wahnsinnstat" eine Schuld auf sich geladen und kann sich nicht auf ein allgemeines Verlangen nach Wiederherstellung des Rechtes berufen wie Tell. Erst durch die.Rfickbeziehung auf das verpflichtende Wort, auf das verschwiegene oder offene Gelobnis, verliert die Gewalttat ihre Willkfir. Sonst wfirde nur die eine Gewalt die andere abldsen und nicht die Freiheit die Knechtschaft fiberwinden. Tell's action and von Schwaben's revenge share a common denomina— tor. In Schiller's plays parricide represents the ultimate sin: the individual who commits parricide destroys a family order from within, which is what Johannes von Schwaben has done. In the "Apfelschuss"- Scene Gefiler's demand places Tell in the position to commit parricide against his own son, an act which is totally foreign to Tell's nature, as well as being foreign to the family structure. Gefiler, then, dies for his sin against this natural order. Tell's monologue functions as the vehicle by which he reinforces his victory over the tragic paradox of his situation: on the one hand, the necessity to eradicate GeBler who radically upsets the natura naturans; on the other, Tell's aversion to taking another man's life, something he had never done before. But GeBler forces the possibility on him. For Tell it is a question of the relationship of his previous existential form (the ataraxia within himself and nature) as opposed to the task which his fatherhood demands of him. In this monologue, as Martini points out, Tell detaches himself from the immediate deed and reflects on what has transpired to bring him to the point of assassina— tion. This reflection represents a pause in the action, a relaxation of the dramatic tension.29 With the relaxation of dramatic tension because of Tell's contem— plative disposition, Schiller inserts an epic element into the As in ep descriptive, I preterite tel are often utj The refi liberating a Verh'tiltnis d When be com ihr [der We: Veil er auf The indivic' daunting ; to “term Sixth star ‘hm‘dgh t1 det‘mhmen‘ “Apfelseh mm the himself, which a“ emOti a “alum 222 dramatic structure: Tell recounts past events and contemplates moral values but does not analyze to arrive at a decision. That decision is made before the monologue begins; in the monologue he reinforces his decision. Significantly no existential questions appear in the entire speech. As in epic style, the language of the monologue is predominantly descriptive, the syntactical structure paratactic. A large number of preterite tenses appears in the speech; when present tenses appear they are often utilized to compare the present with the past. The reflective mood conveyed by the language is, to Schiller, a liberating action: "Die Betrachtung (Reflexion) ist das erste liberale Verhaltnis des Menschen zu dem Weltall, das ihn umgibt" (VII:370,7~8). When he contemplates the world, "seine Personlichkeit sondert sich von ihr [der Welt] ab, und es erscheint ihm [dem Individuum] eine Welt, weil er aufgehort hat, mit derselben eins auszumachen" (VII:370,h—6). The individual no longer simply reacts sentiently to the stimuli emanating from the environment but rather he contemplates those stimuli to determine what they are. Tell manifests such reflection in the sixth stanza of the monologue where he observes the world that passes through the "Hohle Gasse." In stanzas two through six he exhibits a detachment, to one degree or another, from what happens during the "Apfelschuss" and from his immediate mission, thereby freeing himself from the pressure of the moment and potential rashness. He assures himself, as is pointed out previously in the discussion, that his decision is correct, his mission just: he does not take revenge—— an emotional response toward another personality——but seeks to restore a natural, ubiquitous order: the family. mit Freihei imielnd sei In midi Nor aesthe: these concep previously I reinstated. D85 G1 flekt‘ ist (1 gen 6 iriede Until the of his na harmonioi t0 his 1. him out elariiy As eOncept 3{Mini Selbst Sen ’1‘ 223 Dramaturgically Tell attains freedom from the pressure in that he verbalizes his thoughts and then transforms his thought into action. According to Backmann, "das Wort als Mittler zwischen Gedanke und Tat nacht Freiheit sichtbar, sofern der [Schillersche] Mensch sprachlich handelnd seine Ziele zu erreichen sucht. ."30 In addition to the concept of reflection, several of Schiller's major aesthetic concepts are manifest in the figure of Tell. One of these concepts involves the transition from a naive disposition to a sentimentalisch one in that Tell reflects on the ideal which existed previously and determines how that ideal form of existence can be reinstated. In a footnote to the essay flb§r_g§ize_gnd_sentimentali— §ghg Dichtung Schiller writes that Das Gegenteil der naiven Empfindung ist namlich der re— flektierende Verstand, und die sentimentalische Stimmung ist das Resultat des Bestrebens, auch unter den Bedingun— gen der Reflexion die naive Empfindung, dem Inhalt nach, wiederherzustellen. (VII:51h,l9—22) Until the third act Tell manifests a naiveness about GeBler, symbolic of his naiveness toward the world around him. He enjoys an ideal harmonious form of family life, oblivious to the corruption and threat to his ideal which GeBler has inflicted on the land.31 GeBler forces him out of his naive attitude; and the monologue functions in part to clarify Tell's silent reflection before the actual "Apfelschuss." As a result of his monologue, Tell becomes an example of Schiller's concept of beauty because he attains "Geistesfreiheit." According to Martini, "diese Freiheit meint die Einheit des Menschen mit sich selbst. . . ."32 seyn,"33 which he considered to be the quintessential element of To Schiller such freedom appeared as "Voninnenbestimmt- Mihey are outside the : characters Sq cmtelplativi leither indi‘ the mture c them and “. list, but w' hich derii the fell 0: plates the athinst m italter‘s 1 Both minthm thither reare, Tell th. Bo tensior 30th m rOresh for t 221+ t i beauty.3h Conclusion An analysis of the two monologues in Wilhelm Tell has demonstrated that they are constructed in a predominantly epic style. Both exist outside the action and represent commentaries on the action. For both characters Schiller utilizes descriptive language to communicate their contemplative, detached, objective attitudes. There is no paroxysm. Neither individual makes a decision in his monologue designed to alter the future course of events. Both monologists interpret: both Atting- hausen and Tell consider what to them is an ideal form of existence, now past, but which should be reinstated. Both deal in generalizations which derive from their particular instances: Attinghausen considers the fall of native Swiss from the cause of the fatherland; Tell contem— plates the necessity to protect the family against GeBler who sinned against nature when he demanded that Tell aim an arrow at the apple on Walter's head. Both monologues give expression to Classical temperaments: both Attinghausen and Tell express syntheses of sentience and reason. Neither goes to extremes, as expressed in their language. In this reSard, Attinghausen, the hero of old, represents the former ideal, Tell the coming synthesis. Both monologues function as moments of retardation in the dramatic tension following and preceding direct conflict of ideas and forces. Both monologues prepare the stage for ensuing scenes: Attinghausen's foreshadows the Rhtli meeting; Tell's, the mortal blow to GeBler. In the introduction to this chapter it is stated that the reason for the paucity of monologues in this play stems from the importance —; cm Mains. discuss cont in the min i epic devices?j imediste ed Althoul hmction as, of the Siris ficsnt to i the finest microcosm, from his 5 the fathe‘ PM this 225 which Schiller gave the Swiss as a unified body in the play's structure. They act as a chorus in Tel}; performing a function similar to that of the soldiers in Wallensteins §§g§£_and the double chorus in Qie_§£§g§ vgp_Messina. They comment on the action and atmosphere in the play, discuss conflicts, introduce expository material. They accomplish this in the main by means of reports and narrations, both of which serve as epic devices conveying, respectively, the near and distant past. The immediate conflict is presented in dialogue. Although there are several prominent characters which now and then function as choral leaders among the Swiss (Stauffacher and Ffirst), none of the Swiss, except for Tell and Attinghausen, is sufficiently signi— ficant to warrant a monologue. Tell does, because Schiller has made him the finest example of the Swiss spirit; his private cause represents, in microcosm, the plight of all the Swiss. Attinghausen's importance stems from his significance for the Swiss: they constantly refer to him as the father-figure because he is the last representative of the ideal Past which the Swiss wish to reinstate. he ther pattern to t such s way t: is no purely usually pref the other ti While this stun “M in <' mcologues Of those 1 Sethence h itIt when j in fourth By 11 in Sohn] cmstruci Dottie c‘ ls“filly the. "65 cs 11111 ( CONCLUSION As there is no typical Shakespeare—monologue,l there is no set pattern to the monologues in Schiller's plays. Each is constructed in such a way that a kaleidoscopic combination of styles results; there is no purely lyric, epic, or dramatic monologue. One of the styles usually predominates in the form of the monologue, but one or both of the other two styles is always present as well. While it is true that Schiller's monologues have great variation, this study shows that he preferred to construct the monologues of gig Béppgp in dramatic style to a greater extent than in epic or lyric. The monologues of Wallenstein are governed by epic style. The same is true of those in Wilhelm Efill: Schiller was not a lyricist, and as a con— seQuence he did not incorporate lyric style often into his monologues. But when it does appear, it is usually in third acts, or in some cases, in fourth acts. By using and defining the concepts "lyric," "epic," and "dramatic" in Schiller's terms, it is demonstrated that a coordinated study of the construction of his plays and of the function of monologues in those Poetic constructs is facilitated. We find, for example, that the two Usually correSpond, thereby substantiating Friedrich BeiBner‘s judgement that "es gibt ein naturliches Gesetz, nach dem in jedem Gebilde, sofern eS nur organisch gewachsen ist, das Ganze und die Teile formal einander entsprechen."2 226 classical n the 1 in drsnat often exp interest i with the i his plays objective rather ti the actic We in his p several drama in increas: individ Ecters sequel [1011011 Peon 227 The change in basic style and function of the monologues and the plays parallels Schiller's development from a Storm and Stress to a Classical poet. The tensions, conflicts, emotional vortexes expressed by the language of the Storm—and—Stress play gig Rauber are constructed in dramatic, and to a certain extent, lyric styles. The monologues are often expressions of a choleric temperament. With Schiller's rising interest in philosophy, history, and Goethe's classical expression, along with the discipline which each of these interests required, the style of his plays, his monologues in particular, shifts to a more detached, objective epicism. The monologues, especially in Tell) are choric rather than choleric: i.e., they are used as vehicles for interpreting the action, rather than creating it. We see that the sheer number of monologues which Schiller employed in his plays drops drastically from gig Rauber to Tell: And there are several reasons for this decline. One is the development toward an epic drama which Schiller considered the ideal dramatic form. Along with the increasing emphasis on epic style came a decreasing concentration on the individual; more and more importance is placed on a large body of char— acters creating the impression of breadth, a major characteristic of the epic phenomenon. Secondly, as the people become increasingly important and begin to function as a chorus——as in Wallensteins Lager) Pi§.§£EEE yon Messina, and Wilhelm Egllf—they are given the function of commenting on the action, of representing the ideas of main Characters, of projec— ting the ideal underlying the moral atmosphere of the play. As a con— sequence, Schiller eliminates the necessity of giving main characters monologues in which they would express basically the same ideas as the people. hmtist, 8 mm for the Engii Int more, ei of epic 6m iwehted wit structure During the unique st} classical interest form epi. A110 from a 5 scenery Often it some 01 tafit 228 The reason for this change of emphasis in the style and function of the monologues is probably due to the increasing influence which Sophocles' Oedipus rgx_had on Schiller. As a young Storm—and98tress dramatist, Schiller was typically influenced by Shakespeare, especially by Othello, and later by Julius Caesar. He never lost his appreciation for the English bard, but the Greek Sophocles gained his attention more and more, especially because of his "analytic" plots which create a type of epic drama similar to that which Schiller idealized. Schiller exper— imented with a variety of forms and structures in the plays from Wallenstein to 22$}: What developed was an increasingly "classical" structure as the word ”classical" refers to the form of Greek tragedy. During the work on Tell_he wrote that he felt he had finally found his unique style, a style which derives partially from his experiment with classical—Sophoclean form, e.g., Qie_§£aut_zgg Messina, and from his interest in historical personalities.3 The two interests combined to form epic drama. Another reason for the drop in the number of monologues emerges from a study of the imagery—symbolism and the staging. The imagery and scenery convey the ideas governing the structure of a particular play. Often what is expressed in the early plays as a metaphor, simile, or some other form of imagery, becomes an element of staging in the later :CD‘ the figurative becomes literal. For example, Franz Moor projects the image of a trampled field to depict his despotism. In Wallensteins *__ Thekla describes Max Piccolomini, ex_pg§t_£agtgj as the symbol of trampled beauty. Her imagery has the same sense as Franz's metaphor. In Egg; Armgart and her children are literal, concrete stage represen— tations of the same idea. By incorporating the metaphor into the stage during mid Tflthese suppressio: honing an “11! Alb: The 1 expresses the end < tony is - about th Moor: 1 Tell "f family 229 setting, Schiller did not have to sequester GeBler or some other char- acter to express the idea; rather, Schiller placed the same idea starkly before the audience, only in a different form. The same is true concerning the cyclical season and day imagery. In Qi§_Rauber "Frfihling" and "Sonnenaufgang" are used metaphorically to represent the beginning of a longed—for ataraxia; night and winter are times of evil and chaos. In Wallenstein night is the preferred time during which the main character tries to divine the moral order. In E§ll_these images become part of the staging: the time of Hapsburg suppression is winter. When the suppression is overcome there is a dawning and the audience is led to believe that it is spring——histori— cally Albrecht was assassinated on the first of May. The metaphor of the entire world being a family which Karl Moor expresses in Qie_Rauber becomes a literal realization in Tell_where, at the end of the play, the Swiss represent a family, a family whose har— mony is underscored by the tranquility in nature. When Tell speaks about the family in his monologue, it is in a different sense than Karl Moor: for Karl the ideal is figurative and refers to all society; for Tell "family" Signifies only his immediate family, even though his family stands as a symbol of all the Swiss. 1 'Gustsv Kc; ii-SS'. G- K! t. Kettner, butcher fl ‘ W, m- Wo“ “Ilia. 'hnuerspre. totzo, 68 York: Colu bonolog," in dentscb ‘W not prete: Carlos. Mal}; does not as Busse investig: consider century; one nonc Content Di: Sebille Structu 0‘3 such exclud: NiSSin‘ A on in 2' on in an: discu usual nary Wire tisc] % high 00b: FOOTNOTES Introduction 1' Gustav Kettner, "Der Monolog der Elisabeth," ZDP, I8 (1886), pp. 5h—55; G. Kettner, "Talbots Sterbemonolog," ZDP, 20 (1888), pp. 3hh—h5; G. Kettner, “Der Monolog Marfas in Schillers ‘Demetrius,'" Neue Jahr— guy," Egg, 2M (1909), pp. 208—10; Adolf Busse, "Der Monolog in Schillers Trauerspielen," Zeitschrift ffir_d§n deutschen Unterricht, 26 (1912), pp. 606—20, 683-96; Erwin W. Roessler, Th§_Soliloguy in German Drama (New York: Columbia University Press, 1915); Eugen Kilian, "Der Tell- Monolog," gig Szene, 9 (1919), pp. 118—22); Irmgard Hfirsch, Q§r_Monolog im_deutschen Drama ygn_Lessing bi§_Hebbel, Diss. Zfirich l9h7. Of the works cited Busse's is the most extenSive, though it does not pretend to be comprehensive; it excludes all plays prior to 293 Carlos. And in each play considered, he selects one or two monologues for analysis, isolating them from the structure of the play. Hfirsch does not isolate the monologues in Schiller's plays to the same degree as Busse, even though the scope of her investigation goes beyond an investigation of Schiller's monologues. Roessler's work can only be considered an introduction for the use of monologues in the eighteenth— century; his comments are general. The remaining studies cited isolate one monologue to discuss aesthetics of particular speeches with little comment made on context. Discussions of monologues appear, of course, in interpretations of Schiller's playS, and these often afford penetrating insights into the structure of particular monologues and their function. But the purpose of such studies is the play, and consequently many monologues are excluded; therefore, statements of overall function of monologues are missing. Abbreviations of periodical and serial titles according to the 1962 MLA International Bibliography (New York: MLA, 1970), II, pp. 7-23. 2. . . . Often terms referring to the "lyric," "eplc," and "dramatic" appear in analyses of Schiller‘s poetry; or they may occasionally slip into a discussion of some facet of his plays. But mention of these terms usually only happens in an ancillary fashion, hardly ever as the pri— mary target of investigation. One of the few studies which directly addresses this problem of Schiller's style is Wolfgang Nehring's "Drama_ tische Funktionalitat und epische Breite in Schillers Raubern,” Aquila: §h§§§g§_Hill Studies of Modern Languages and_Literatures (The Hague: NiJhoff, 19695, I, ppT’110—20. In this dissertation "lyric, epic,‘ and "dramatic" styles will be Considered only as they apply specifically to Schiller's plays; no 230 —; H H I 1' Eons Sc. sehen Lite mm; 2' (Leipzi) B: so desc; dialogue if: he conside contradict cal monolc gne when i the contil whether a.‘ lent of t? 3' II . (Zone Grundbeg: h. Emat: 5. as Erich Re Petsch, 6. DVLG 533.181 1 1' Pets L. m 9, 195 ) 9‘ m m 10. 231 attempt is made to question the validity of these terms pg£_§§, or with regard to other poets, with the exception of Goethe who discussed these literary phenomena with Schiller. Examples given, therefore, from other poets are offered only as proof of Schiller's use of language. Style in Schiller's Monologues 1' Hans Schauer and Friedrich Wodtke, "Monolog," Reallexikon der deut- schen Literaturgeschichte, ed.s Werner Kohlschmidt and Wolfgang Mohr, 2nd ed. (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1967), II, p. M18. Hereafter Reallexikon. (Leipzig, Berlin: Teubner, 1921), p. 383. Hereafter Ermatinger.—- By so describing the monologue he attempts to make it a corollary of dialogue which he considers to be the normal form of the drama. But if he considers the basis of monologue to be self-evaluation, he seems to contradict his own definition when he discusses what he terms a "techni— cal monologue": he claims that a dramatist utilizes a technical monolo— gue when the audience needs clarification on some point in order that the continuity of the play be evident. The question might be posed whether all soliloquies do not function essentially for the enlighten- ment of the audience. (Zfirich, Freiburg i.Br.: Atlantis, 1966), p. 177. Hereafter Staiger, Grundbegriffe. h. . Ermatinger, p. 383. 5' Allgemeine Dramaturgie, DVLG Buchreihe, 29, ed.s Paul Kluckhohn and Erich Rothacker (Halle, Saale: Niemeyer, 19h5), pp. 365—73. Hereafter Petsch, Drama. 6. . DVLG Buchreihe, 20, ed.s Paul Kluckhohn and Erich Rothacker (Halle, Saale: Niemeyer, 193h), pp. 139—M2. Hereafter Petsch, Erzahlkunst. 7. 8. . Eine Einffihrung in die Literaturwissenschaft (Bern, Munchen: Francke, 1959), p. 200. Hereafter Kayser. Petsch, Drama, p. 369- 9‘ Reallexikon, pp. h18—19. Gero von Wilpert, Sachwbrterbuch der Literatur, 5th ed. (Stuttgart: Kroner, 1969), p. 10. . . Cf. also Wolfgang Ruttkowski, Die literarischen Gattungen: Refle— xion fiber eine modifizierte Fundamentalpoetik (Bern, Mfinchen: Francke, 1968), p- 133. Hereafter Ruttkowski. 11' Friedrich Schiller, Werke, ed.s Ludwig Bellermann, Robert Petsch, Albert Leitzmann, Wolfgang Stammler (Leipzig: Bibliographisches Institut, 1922), XII, p. 359, and VII, p. 3&0. Hereafter volume, page, and/or line numbers will appear in parentheses after a quote or paraphrase.—- Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Gedenkaus abe der Werke, Briefe und Ges rache, ed.s Ernst Beutler et_al, (Zfirich: Artemis, 1959), III, pp. 350—51. ‘ In as: W). "m junction : 1y signifi hand, as -| es the con| in den all style“ had serves; 2! which in = verhelinej and "dram “age nhic‘ remains 1 mined by turn, the Seiende ‘ [Staiger sehiede vir den 'Stil' i heiBt sh epische Seiende Tc Senna, any om 232 Hereafter Goethe, followed by volume and page numbers. See Robert Petsch's article "Goethe und die Naturfonmen der Dichtung," Dichtung E§§_Forschung: Festschrift fflg Emil Ermatinger (Frauenfeld, Leipzig: Huber, 1933), pp. 5-62. 12' In an article "Versuch fiber den Begriff des Scthen" (Trivium, 3 [l9h5]), Emil Staiger substitutes the term "style" for "form" in con— Junction with Schiller's terminology. The latter, he points out, mere- ly signifies "something lasting" to Schiller. "Style," on the other hand, as Staiger discusses it, has the same connotation for aesthetics as the concept "world" does for ontology, namely "den Sinnzusammenhang, in dem alles Seiende artikulierbar wird." In his definition, "literary style" has three elements: 1. content, i.e., what an individual ob— serves; 2. disposition, the attitude with which he makes his observations, which in turn determines 3. the linguistic forms the individual uses to verbalize his perceptions (pp. 189-90). When discussing "lyric," "epic," and "dramatic" we are primarily interested in a disposition and the lang- uage which conveys it; content, for all characters in a particular play, remains relatively constant. And so a character's function is deter— mined by the attitude which he has toward the environ. The attitude, in turn, determines the language which the poet gives him: "Dasselbe Seiende nimmt sich. .in verschiedenem Welten verschieden aus" (Staiger, Grundbegriffe, pp. 172—73). As a consequence "die Unter— schiede je nach verschiedenem Welten sind Unterschiede des Stils, so daB wir den Ausdruck 'Welt‘ in asthetischer Forschung. . .mit dem Ausdruck 'Stil' vertauschen dfirfen. Jeder echte Dichter hat seinen Stil, das heiBt seine eigene Welt" (ibid., p. 173). Therefore, "der lyrische, der epische und der dramatische Dichter. . .befassen sich mit demselben Seienden. . . .Doch jeder faBt es anders auf" (ibid., p. 219). To Staiger the adjectives "lyric," "epic," and "dramatic" are not genre, but names of qualities which may or may not be incorporated into any one work of literature (ibid., p. 237). 13. Goethe, XIV, p. 7M2. 1h. . . . Ermatinger, p. 316; Robert Petsch, Die lyrische Dichtkunst: Ihr Wesen und ihre Formen, Handbficherei der Deutschkunde, h (Halle, Saale: Niemeyer, 1939), p. 82. Hereafter Petsch, Lyrik. Staiger, Grundbe— griffe, p. 18; Kayser, p. 337; Ruttkowski, p. 103. Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 62. Also Ermatinger, pp. 317, 32h; Kayser, p. 16. Goethe, I, p. 52. Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 62. For the use of "Erinnerung" in the same sense refer to Ernst Cassirer, Philosophie deg symbolischen Formen, 2nd ed. (1953; rpt. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 196E), 1, p. 22 [Volume I: "Die Sprache"). Hereafter Cassirer, followed by volume and page numbers. Wolfgang Kayser prefers the term "Verinnerung" to avoid the seman- tic misunderstanding arising from the everyday usage of "Erinnerung." Semantically both terms emphasize the subjectivity, immediacy, and in— tensity of the experience. "Er—" and "Ver-" have a two—fold function: :— objective hingebung . 18' Goeth 19' m 20' See I Staiger , 21' Goet 22' Em: tassirei dir psy‘ Gnmdre flehend andre j Heisen no. Allsdru 23. “mid.“ 2t. S finde Erken ziel: Regel SEQ 233 1. they are prefixes of intensification, communicating the enthusiastic excitement which Goethe found to be characteristic of the lyric attitude (Goethe, III, p. 3h0); 2. they also indicate the completeness with which an object is assimilated into the lyricist's subject. "-inner—" indica— tes the internal location of the experience. "—ung" is a suffix added to a verb to make a noun whose meaning contains the aspect of action which is part of the verb. The English "remembering" represents a different aspect of the same concept. The "re-" prefix indicates that something is done again. The "—-ing" suffix has the same connotation as "—ung" in German. "—member—" can refer to a part of any larger whole. And so "re—member—ing" would indicate the process whereby an object, impressed on the individual‘s psyche—~through the senses——has become part of the person who assimila— tes it as part of his "Zustandlichkeit." For the individual it becomes a manifestation of subjective, inner reality, and not of external, objective reality. See also Staiger, Grundbegriffe, pp. 2h, 75 ("die Eingebung, das Lyrisch—Unwillkfirliche"), 78. 18. Goethe, XIV, p. 7h2. l9. ibid. 20. . See Ermatinger, pp. 311, 317, 321, 328; Petsch, Lyrik, p. 100; Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 51; Kayser, P- 336- 21. Goethe, I, p. 322. 22' Ermatinger, pp. 317, 38h; Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 38. See also Cassirer who writes: "In den ersten Etappen der Sprachbildung, zu denen wir psychologisch zurfickgehen k6nnen, bildet die einfache Parataxe die Grundregel fur den Bau des Satzes. Die Kindersprache zeigt sich durch— gehend von diesem Prinzip beherrscht. Ein Satzglied reiht sich an das andre in bloBer Nebenordnung, und auch wo mehrere satze zusammentreten, weisen sie nur eine lockere, meist asyndetische Verbindung auf" (I, p. 288). This phenomenon he terms "Die Sprache in der Phase des sinnlichen Ausdrucks." 2 . . . 3 Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 7h and also p. 37. Ermatinger argues for "und" being the only conjunction appropriate to lyric expression (p. 319). 2h' Staiger, Grundbegriffe, pp. DB, 77. Ernst Cassirer writes, ". . .so finde ich, daB ein Urteil nichts anderes sei als die Art, gegebene Erkenntnisse zur objektiven Einheit der Apperzeption zu bringen. Darauf zielt das Verhaltniswdrtchen 'ist‘ in denselben, um die objektive Einheit gegebener Vorstellungen von der subjektiven zu unterscheiden" (I, p. 293. See also p. 29h). 25. . See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 53; Ermatinger, p. 312; Petsch, Lyrik, P- 5. 26. Staiger, Grundbegriffe, pp. 55—57. 27. . . ibid., p. 23. ‘ 29' Goethe, 30'i_bi_d-.1 31' Staige l. Mu i the differ Petsch's “i 33' Goethe 31" Barbe: dijhoff, : i 35' Goeth f - . .verd deriehter iherlegev snhjeoti‘ the epic Points o novelist 23h . 28' Friedrich Schiller, Briefe, ed. Fritz Jonas (Stuttgart, Leipzig, ' Berlin, Wien: Deutsche Verlags—Anstalt, 1892—96), II, pp. 202—03. 8 after Jonas, followed by volume and page numbers. For each entry the person to whom the letter was addressed and the date of the letter will also be cited. Also Schiller's works XV:38h,23 — 386,3 (fiber Matthissons Gedichte). Here— 29' Goethe, XIV, p. 3h1. 30' ibid., p. Th2. 31. . . Staiger, Grundbeggiffe, pp. 16—23. 32. ibid., p. 58; Petsch, Erzahlkunst, p. h2. For a short discussion of the difference between epic and scientific objectivity, see p. 19% ff. in Petsch's work. 33. . . Goethe, IX, p. 672; cf. Sta1ger, Grundbegriffe, p. 96. Herbert Spielberg, The Phenomenological Movement (The Hague. Nijhoff, 1965), II, pp. 659— 70. 3 . . . . 5 Goethe, XIV, p. 205, and also p. 3M1 ("Das Epische sollte re21t1ert .werden"). Ermatinger comments that all narrating is really "ein Berichten: ein fiberschauendes Zusammenfassen des Geschehenen durch den uberlegenen Erzahler" (p. 3M3). In a novel, which Goethe terms a subjective epic (Goethe, IX, p. 511), the tone becomes more intimate: the epic poet's audience is reduced to one reader. And so, as Kayser POints out, instead of relating events from the world—at—large, the ; novelist turns to a more private, personal world (Kayser, p. 359). 36. JonaS. V, p. 180. See Goethe, III, p. 3ho. ' Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 93, and also p. 121 ("Er [der Epiker] steht in einem Kreis von Horern und erzahlt ihnen seine Geschichten. So wie er sich selbst das Geschehene vorstellt, stellt er es seinem Publi— kum vor"). In addition: Goethe, XIV, p. 369; Ermatinger, p. 353-, Ruttkowski, p. 103. Cassirer writes the following about the development of language from sensuous to intuitive expression: "Der Schritt von der Welt der Empfindung zu der der reinen Anschauung, den die Erkenntniskritik als ein notwendiges Moment im Aufbau der Erkenntnis, als eine Bedingung des reinen Ichbegriffs, wie des reinen Gegenstandsbegriffs aufweist, hat .in der Sprache sein genaues Gegenbild. . . .nur durch die Ver— mittlung der Anschauungen von Baum, Zeit und Zahl vennag die Sprache ihre wesentlich logische Leistung: die Gestaltung der Eindrucke zu Vorstellungen zu vollziehen" (I, pp. lh9-50)- ' See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p.166. Cassirer terms an image' 'ein Produkt des empirischen Verm8gens der reproduktiven Einbildungskraft" (I P-152) The epicist is passive in the sense that he intuits, i. e., he is sensitive to stimuli from his environment. He is active in that he reproduces his intuitions. It is what Petsch terms "vita activa IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIl:::::___________________ it, in, St . i1. Midi . ‘2‘ See p. ‘3' See (to: M! P' i M Goethe? 15' August hi hi' See 8‘ “8' Goeth ' Goethe 18' Emai n. 219, 50' See bagiffe zenst'drv l. 5 Jon idristo Begehev (5 May eesi eir 235 und Vita contemplativa" (Erzfihlkunst, p. M2). 39' Adalbert Stifter, Werke, ed. Max Stesl (1950; rpt. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1963), VI, p. 2h2. h . . . 0 See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 83. h . . . l Ermatinger, p. 38h; Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 112. M2. See p. 21. M3. See Goethe, 26 December 1797; Jonas, V, p. 309 ff. Petsch, Erzahl— kunst, p. 93; Kayser, p. 3h9. hh. . Goethe, 21 April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 180. hS. Augustenburg, 11 November 1793; Jonas, III: P- 380- h6‘ Goethe, VII, p. 331. hY' See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, pp. 151, 155; Petsch, QEEEEQ Pp. l’r9--50- h8. Goethe, 25 April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 183. 119. Ermatinger, p. 36h; Petsch, Drama, p. hlg Staiger, Grundhegriffe, pp. 219, 10h, 1M3, 158, 161, 169, 175; Kayser, p. 367. 50. See Kayser, pp. 371 ff. (tragic), 381 ff. (comic); Staiger, Grund— begriffe, pp. 183 ff. (tragic), especially p. 185 ("Das Tragische. . . zerstort die Fugen des Sinnzusammenhangs, der Welt"), 192 ff. (comic). ' Jonas, V, p. 183. A few days later he wrote Goethe "daB er [Aristoteles] bei der Tragodie das Hauptgewicht in die Verknfipfung der Begebenheiten legt, heiBt recht den Nagel auf den Kopf getroffen" (5 May 1797; Jonas, v, p. 190). 52. _ Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 177 f. See Kayser, p. 367. 53. . n . 2 August 1797; Jonas, V, p. 270. He also wrote that "die Tragodie - . .behandelt nur einzelne ausserordentliche Augenblicke der Mensch— heit" (ibid., p. h18) ' Staiger, Grundbegriffe, P- lh6' Schiller uses "pathetic" in a different sense than Staiger: "Das Pathetische. .ist eine Inokulation des unvermeidlichen Schicksals, wo— durch es seiner Bosartigkeit beraubt und der Angriff desselben auf die starke Seite des Menschen hingeleitet wird" (VII:2M8,6—10). He means the aesthetic manifestation of an individual's resignation to, and moral Victory over fate. "Zum Pathetischerhabenen werden also zwei Hauptbe— dinguflgen erfodert. Erstlich eine lebhafte Vorstellung des Leidens, um den mitleidenden Affekt in der gehorigen Starke zu erregen. Zweitens Eine Vorstellung des Widerstandes gegen das Leiden, um die innre Gemfits— f‘I'eiheit ins BewuBtsein zu rufen. Nur durch das erste wird der IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlI::::;__________________i ,. 111 or “pathetic, attitude, m “imp Rede.“ 56' See S 51' Goat?! 58. mm 1960), D 59' Stai' 60. 61' Wili Jack Ru 62' See drauutf nehmen Dasein ist de oder I aus, ( finde 59am See y Gegenstand pathetisch, nur durch.das zweite wird das Pathetische zu- gleich erhaben. "Aus diesem Grundsatz flieBen die beiden Fundamentalgesetze aller tragischen Kunst. Diese sind erstlich: Darstellung der leidenden Natur; zweitens: Darstellung der moralischen Selbstandigkeit in Leiden" (XV:18h,l9—22). In order to avoid misunderstanding with Schiller's definition of pathetic," I will use "exalted" or "exaltation" when referring to attitude, as described above. When discussing speech, I will use the term "impassioned" to describe what Staiger discusses as "pathetische Rede." 56. . . See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 151. 57. Goethe, XXI, p. 819. 58. Immanuel Kant, Werke, ed. Wilhelm Weischedel (Wiesbaden: Insel 1960), IV, p. 51. Hereafter Kant followed by volume and page numbers. 59' Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 171. 60. . . See Ermatinger, p. 38h; Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 161. 61. William Shakespeare, The Tragedy~ of Hamlet, ed. 3 Tucker Brooke and Jack Randall Crawford (New Haven. Yale ~University Press, 195h), p. 80. See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 152; Kayser, p. 367: "We die Welt dramatisch wird, da h6rt jene ruhige Betrachtung, jenes weite Abstand— nehmen, jene Liebe zu jedem einzelnen Punkte in der bunten Ffille des Daseins auf, die fur die epische Einstellung kennzeichnend waren. Da ist der letzte Sinn des Sprechens nicht Kundgabe einer Verschmolzenheit oder Darstellung eines anderen Seienden, sondern da 15st die Sprache auS, da pro—voziert das Wort etwas, was bisher nicht da war, da emp— findet sich das Ich dauernd angesprochen, aufgefordert, angegriffen da spannt sich alles auf das Kommende." 63' Goethe, 2h August 1798; Jonas, V, p. #18. 6h' Goethe, IX, p. 532. "Traum" probably refers to lyric images which are transitory, dream—like (cf. Ermatinger, p. 321; Staiger, Grundbe— griffe, pp. h3— hh). If one assumes that Goethe is writing metaphori— cally in his definition, as he often does in the Maximen und Reflexionen, then "shadows" could refer to the epic images which, like- a shadow, have no significance beyond their form, their representation of the basic phenomenon. The dramatic symbol is an image which has a meaning, it represents a class. 65. The dramatic poet resembles the scientist who uses formulas, i.e Symbols to express concepts (cf. Cassirer, III ["Phanomenologie der Erkenntnis"], pp. 329—82 ["Die Bedeutungsfunktion und der Aufbau der Wissenschaftlichen Erkenntnis"]). The poet's symbols are his charac— ters and his poetic reality. Referring to the development of language in the phase of conceptual _‘— was s 66‘ Emaru (Cambridge; 1 61' “Singei feelings a: 68' Germ 1968). u- 69' Goeth 10' Staig Seele“) . '(1 2. 1 Sta: must co i-e., V 13' 3&1 lustit g 237 thought, Cassirer writes: "Die Spiegelung nicht einer objektiven Umwelt, sondern die des eigenen.Lebens und des eigenen Tuns ist es in der Tat, wodurch das.Weltbi1d.der Sprache, wie das primitive mythische I Bild der Natur, in seinen eigentlichen Grund—.und Wesenszfigen bestimmt l wird. Indem der Wille und daS'TEn des Menschen sich a3: einen Punkt 7 richten,.indem das BewuBtsein sich auf ihn spannt und kenzentriert, wird er damit ffir den ProzeB der Bezeichnung gleichsam erst reif" (I, p. 258. Italics added). The vocabulary that Cassirer uses is the same that Staiger uses to describe the dramatic phenomenon. 66. Harvard Dictionary g£_Music, ed. Willi Apel gt_al, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1969), p. 796. 67. . "Singer" will be used to refer to the fictitious personage whose feel1ngs are being expressed directly by the song which Amalia sings. 8. Gerhard Storz, Der Dichter Friedrich Schiller (Stuttgart: Klett, 1968), p- 37. Hereafter Storz. 6 . 9 Goethe, XIV, p. Th2. 70. , Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 62. See also p. h8 ("ein Herz und eine Seele"). 71' ibid., p. 69. ' Staiger maintains that recounting history is what the epicist is most comfortable doing; he answers the question "whence?" ("WoherT"), i.e., What is the past of some event or thing (ibid., pp. 89, 131). 73. See Der groBe Duden, ed. Paul Grebe (Mannheim: Bibliographisches Institut, 1959), IV, p. 122. Hereafter Duden. 7h. . . ibid., p. 123. 2i§.B§EEE£ 1. See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 117; Kayser, p. 363. 2. .See J. M. R. Lenz, "Anmerkungen fibers Theater," in Sturm und DranE. Kr1tische Schriften, ed. Erich Loewenthal (Heidelberg: Schneider, 19 9), PP. 723, 729. Hereafter Lenz, "Anmerkungen." Other Storm-and-Stress characters Who express a similar respect for only their own law in— clude Francesco (Gerstenberg, Ugolino), Guido (Leisewitz, Julius von Tarent), Guelfo (Klinger, Die Zwillinge), Wild (Klinger, Sturm und 23223 9 Ganingseck (Wagner, Die Kindesmérderin), among others. ’ See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 117; Kayser, p. 363. ' 11:31, MY, 105, 127; 28h; 1v:9u, 113—1h, 188, 228, 263, 283, 350; V=77. 89; 2h7, 266; 359, 36h, 377, 383, 386, 393. 398, M23, hh3; VI:13, 16. 17, 19, 3o, 81, 101—05. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII--—— 8' The at 9' “Dramaj latter a" the audie‘ elapse in; 10' Benuc 1963). p: 1111 husasi 238 5' Lenz, "Anmerkungen," p. 729. 6' ibid., p. 723. 7' See Paul Backmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung als Bedingung'Seines dramatischen Schaffens (1925; rpt..Darmstadt: Wissensehaftliche Buchge— sellschaft, 1967), p. 91. Hereafter Backmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung. The style of this monologue is discussed on pp. 30—36. 9' "Dramaticized time" is used in contrast to "dramatic time." The latter signifies the actual time which elapses on stage in front of the audience. The former means the span of time which is supposed to elapse in the plot. 10. Benno von Wiese, Friedrich Schiller, 3rd ed. (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1963), pp. 1&6, 151. Hereafter Wiese. 11. . . . . ibid., p. th. In each of Schiller's plays the family construct 1 has a similar function. 12. pp. 35—36. 1 . 3 See pp. 26-27. The development of Franz's contemplation becomes clearer: he begins with emotions which generate within the individual and are directed outward toward an object. Next he considers stimuli acting upon the individual and causing certain passive reactions in the individual. Then he contemplates regret, a psychic state of being in which the individual considers himself to be the condemnable object. Therefore, a subjective cycle of cause and effect perpetuates itself without the individual seeming to be aware of any possible cause for his emotion, other than his own past actions. The fourth stage, despair, is an escalation of the third. With regret the past seems hopeless to the individual (11:58,1). With despair, the future ("b1fihend" [11:58,3]) also seems hopeless. It is, in part, this anticipation of the future which makes Franz's conclusion dramatic by nature. The transition here is from "Klagen" to "Verklagen," to "Selbstver— klagen," i.e., from an efferent to an afferent emotion. l . a I o 5 Karl develops in the opposite psychic direction. 16. Jonas, 1, p. hl. 17. . . Staiger, Grundbegriffe, pp. 187—88. 18. The concept of brotherhood is discussed in conjunction with Karl Moor's third—act monologue (111,2). 19. - See Rauber (111,2). Goethe, XIX, p. h5. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIlE::::;_______________________ Press, 19( ’1' p. 68 28' See J hchdeuts c. 339. 29' Gerh 0- 2279. 3°“ 11 31' KBr 32' Jo: 239 21' Jean—Jacques Rousseau, Oeuvres cemplétes (Paris: Baudouin, 1826), V1, p. 27. Hereafter Rousseau, followed by volume and page numbers. 22' Johann Gottfried Herder, Sfimmtliche Werke, ed. Bernhard Suphan (Berlin: Weidmann, 1887), XIII, pp. 387—88. Hereafter Herder, followed by volume and page numbers. 23' Handwarterbuch gg§_deutschen Aber laubens, ed.s Hans Bachthold- Staubli, E. Hoffmann—Krayer, g§_al. (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1932-33), V, cc. 89-170. Hereafter Bachthold—Staubli, followed by volume and column numbers. 2 . . h Wiese, p. 151. 25' pp. 25, 33, 36, A7, 82, 86, 98, 107, 115, 130, 1h2, 161. 26' See H. B. Garland, Schiller. The Dramatic Writer (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), pp. 10, 17. Hereafter Garland. 27' p. 68. 28. . . . " See Johann Christoph Adelung, Grammatisch-kritisches Worterbuch der Hochdeutschen Mundart (1793; rpt. Hildesheim, New York: Olms, 1970), I, C- 339. Hereafter Adelung, followed by volume and column numbers. 2 . n u 9 Gerhard Wahrig, Deutsches Worterbuch (Gutersloh: Bertelsmann, 1968), c. 2279. 0. 3 PEGS, 29 (1955), pp. 12, 19, 30. Hereafter Graham. 31. " Korner, 28 February 1793; Jonas, III, P~ 292. 32. Jonas, III, p. 2h5. 33. Graham, p. 30. h. 3 "Epische Form des Theaters macht den Zuschauer zum Betrachter." "Der Zuschauer steht gegenfiber, studiert." He is "bis zu Erkenntnissen getrieben."——Schriften zum Theater, ed. Werner Hecht (Frankfurt a/M: Suhrkamp, 1963), II, pp. 116—17. 35. Jonas, V, p. 310. 36 ' Graham, pp. 30-31. 37' Fritz Strich, Deutsche Klassik Egg Romantik gdgg Vollendung 3nd Unendlichkeit (Bernj-Nfihzhen: Francke, 1962), p. 210. In addition WOlfgfing Janka, "Die Zeit in der Zeit aufheben. Der transzendentale Weg in Schillers Philosophie der Schbnheit," gantfstudien, 58 (1967), PP- 33—55. 38. . JDSG, h (1960), p. 5. Hereafter Bockmann, "Gedanke, Wort und Tat." See also Backmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung, p. 72 ff. 2h0 39' Refer to pp. 23—27 for an extensive analysis of this monologue's style. ho' Jan deVries, Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1957), II, PP- 377—78- hl‘ 11:318, 325; 111 62; 1v:266, 290, 330; v 63, 195, 225; 253, 26h, 27h; too, h37, hh6, uso. h2' 11 326, h2h-25; 111:153; 1v:95, 266; v1:11—12, M7, 82, 133 ff. 13 ‘ 11:15; 69. 89, 96. 101. 1311; 190.191.2181. 2511; 318, 325. 373, 395. h07, h19; 111:h3, 62, 86, 113; IV 106, 172; 266, 290, 315, 329—30, 3th, 3h5; v 99, 195, 207, 225, 26h, 275, 285, 318; 359, 361, 37h, 380, hoo, h37, hhs, hu6, u50, A51; v1:h3, th, 58, 71, 72, 112, 133. Ah. Kant, 1v, p. 18. h .. . 5 ibid., pp. 70—71. h. 6 Jonas, I, p. 11k. 147. us ibid. ' B8ckmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung, p. 26. h . 9 IIzhOI; IIIzll3, 253; IVzl86, 315; V:309; 388, h2l. 0. 5 Jonas, 111, p. 269. l. . . 5 ibid., pp. 256—57. 52‘ ibid., p. 277. 53. Although Schiller uses the term "Elysium" in Karl's speech, "Arka— dien" would have been more appropriate——and more consistent with his later terminology——because the former designates the final resting place of heroes, the latter an initial state of mankind which found — S elf in a state of innocence. In Uber naive und sentimentalische -iChtung Schiller took note of this differentiation (W WI: 513, 8. 5A. This is the main thrust of Rousseau' s Discours sur l'origine et les £92§£fl§§t§_ de l‘inégalite parmi les hommes, especially the second_ part (Rousseau, I, p. 292 ff.) 5 . u . 5 Goethe, I, pp. 85-86. See also Bockmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung, P- 25; Strich, p. 210. 56‘ Wolfgang Binder proposes these terms when he discusses a similar Phenomenon found in Kabale und Liebe. In Das deutsche Drama, ed. Benno Von Wiese (Dusseldorf' Bagel, 19 62), I, p. ~25}. Hereafter Binder, "Kabale und Liebe. " (193191 ed. Bong, 1935 1 59' Binde: 60' IIZ‘m ‘ 25 (19511 61' Rous deutsche — 1914).] 3a: ' Sch‘ que, da soins q supplée VI, p, 2h1 57. 58' See Lessing's Nathan'd§£_Weise (1780) and Qi§_Erziehung‘gg§_Menschen_ geschlechts (1781). The following statement appears in the latter work: "sie wird kommen, sie wird gewiB kommen, die Zeit der Vollendung, da der Mensch, je fiberzeugter sein Verstand einer immer bessern Zukunft sich ffihlet, von dieser Zukunft gleichwohl Bewegungsgrfinde zu seinen Handlungen zu erborgen, nicht notig haben wird; da er das Gute tun wird, weil es das Gute ist, nicht weil willkfirliche Belohnungen darauf ge— setzt sind, die seinen flatterhaften Blick ehedem bloB heften und starken wollten, die innern bessern Belohnungen desselben zu erkennen." (Werke, ed. Waldemar von Olshausen [Berlin, Leipzig, Wien, Stuttgart: Bong, 1935], VI, pp. 80—81). 59. 60' "Zum Strukturproblem der epischen und dramatischen Dichtung," DVLG, 25 (1951), pp. 21—22. 61' Rousseau, VI, pp. 27-28. See Hermann Hettner, Geschichte der deutschen Literatur im_achtzehnten Jahrhundert (Braunschweig: Viewig, 189h), III,l, pp. 315—16. ibid. for a similar observation. Binder, "Kabale und Liebe," p. 256. 62' Schiller differs with Rousseau who wrote: "Toute la difference est que, dans la famille, l'amour du pére pour ses enfants le paie des soins qu'il leur rend; et que, dans l‘état, le plaiSire de commander supplée a cet amour que le chef n'a pas pour ses peuples." (Rousseau, VI, p. 28). 6 . 3 Kayser, p. 336. 6b. , , , " Binder, 'Kabale und Liebe, pp. 255-56. 6 . u 5 "Wie so kostlich. . . I wie stromt. . .entgegen!" (II:lll,13—15). 66. See the use of the adjective "schon" in Amalia's song (II:96,h-5). ' Bachthold—Staubli, VII (1935—36), cc. 1392-93. 68. . . Harry Levin, The Myth 9: the Golden gge 1n the Renaissance (Bloom— ington, London: Indiana University Press, 19857, PP. 11—13. Refer to Schiller's poem "Hoffnung" (I:238). 6 . . . 9 IV:3h5—h6; V:h51. In addition see Hedw1g von Beit, Symbolik des Marchens (Bern: Francke, 1967), I, P- 397- Hereafter Beit. 70. Duden, IV, p. 317. 71' The continuation of Schiller's thought is: "GroB kann man sich im Glfick, erhaben nur im Unglfick zeigen" (XV:173,l-2), which points up that philosophical theory and poetic representation do not correlate exactly. The poetic work is always an independent, self—contained creation whose PhYSical and moral laws may or may not correspond to philosophical referred to \"‘ Hm‘nt 132. Here' 13' Duden, — 1 1h ‘ Sch Ste sei me} 2&2 principles that the same man has put forth. The value of philosophical, historical, sociological writings in an interpretation of these monolo— gues is to deduce the structure of the thought pattern. Where it explicates a poetic construction, it can be admitted, although the complete philosphical concept may not correspond to the poetic crea- tion in every detail. 72' For a penetrating study of Iago's mode of expression the reader is referred to the chapter entitled "Othello" in Wolfgang Clemen's The Development 2: Shakespeare's Imagegy (London: Methuen, 1959), pp. 120— ‘ 132. Hereafter Clemen. \ 73' Duden, IV, p. 318. ‘ h. 7 Clemen, p. 121. 75. Beit, I, pp. 395, lhl. An allusion to the snake of Hell appears in his speech just before his death: "H8r' ich euch zischen, ihr Nattern des Abgrunds?" (II:156,l2—13). 6. 7 Garland, p. 29. 77' Schiller may employ the adjective "sonnenverbrannt" here as a symbol for that person who is closely connected with, or searching for truth. 78. p. 98. 7 . 9 Garland, p. 3h. 80. Clemen, p. 61. 81. P- 103. 82. II:28,1h; 37,27; 96,6; 118,h. 83' The metaphor of swimming for survival outlines the triadic struc— ture of an individual's life. In figurative language the triad consists of l. shore, 2. water, 3. shore. Schiller's historical and philosoph- ical writings also delineate a triadic structure in the development of mankind. In the essay Etwas fiber dig erste Menschengesellschaft nach §§§_Leitfaden der mosaischen Urkunde (1790), Schiller theorizes that man existed in_afpeaceful paradise of instinctive, sentient innocence during the early stages of civilization. He then continues: "Aber der Mensch war zu ganz etwas anderm bestimmt, und die Krafte, die in ihm lagen, riefen ihn zu einer ganz andern Glfickseligkeit. Was die Natur in seiner Wiegenzeit fur ihn fibernommen hatte, sollte er jetzt selbst Tfir sich fibernehmen, sobald er mfindig war. Er selbst sollte der Schopfer seiner Glfickseligkeit werden, und nur der Anteil, den er daran hatte, sollte den Grad dieser Glfickseligkeit bestimmen. Er sollte den Stand der Unschuld, den er jetzt verlor, wieder aufsuchen lernen durch Seine Vernunft und als ein freier vernfinftiger Geist dahin zurfickkom— men, wovon er als Pflanze und als eine Kreatur des Instinkts ausgegan— gen war; aus einem Paradies der Unwissenheit und Knechtschaft sollte . lereinigung at lichen thirds 1 Ideal der Sch hesteht also. in ten Stofi hatte, vollkt hr hnpfindu‘ dieser Dicht; Rube, (lie a lie aus der dem Gefiihl In rela demrts c0] aesthetic 1 shore corr philosophy (Schiller attainmen‘ liffcrenc individua "-isch" s tient wh‘ nizant o decide 4: that Km The the ind Wilding the III capaci the se recogx lhdiv each free< othe‘ of a Schi 281' sta his e 2h3 er sich, war' es auch nach spaten Jahrtausenden, zu einem Paradies der Erkenntnis und der Freiheit hinauf arbeiten, einem solchen namlich, wo er dem moralischen Gesetze in seiner Brust ebenso unwandelbar gehorchen wfirde, als er anfangs dem Instinkte gedient hatte, als die Pflanze und die Tiere diesem noch dienen" (Xz218,lh—32). Five years later (1795) the same structure was dilineated in fipgp naive BBQ sentimentalische Dichtung where it applies to the mythic concept of the golden age, and the aesthetic genre, the idyll. "Der Begriff dieser Idylle ist der Begriff eines vhllig aufgeldsten Kampfes sowohl in dem einzelnen Menschen als in der Gesellschaft, einer freien Vereinigung der Neigungen mit dem Gesetze, einer zur h6chsten sitt— lichen Wfirde hinaufgelauterten Natur, kurz, er ist kein andrer als das Ideal der Schdnheit, auf das wirkliche Leben angewendet. Ihr Charakter besteht also darin, daB aller Gegensatz der Wirklichkeit mit dem Ideale, der den Stoff zu der satirischen und elegischen Dichtung hergegeben hatte, vollkommen aufgehoben sei und mit demselben auch aller Streit der Empfindungen aufhére. Ruhe ware also der herrschende Eindruck dieser Dichtungsart, aber Ruhe der Vollendung, nicht der Tragheit; eine Ruhe, die aus dem Gleichgewicht, nicht aus dem Stillstand der Krafte, die aus der Ffille, nicht aus der Leerheit [der Waage] fliefit und von dem Geffihl eines unendlichen Vermdgens begleitet wird" (VII:513,9-2h). In relation to the swimming metaphor, the shore from which one departs corresponds to the first stage of both the historical and the aesthetic phenomena: a state of naive freedom. The implied second shore corresponds to the third state of development in history and PhilOSOphy: the freedom of knowledge, the sentimentalisch state. (SChiller uses the adjective "sentimentalisch" to refer to the re- attainment of the freedom which exists among naive individuals. The difference between the two states of being is that "sentimentalische" individuals attain a higher form of freedom. They act as if [cf. the "—isch" suffix] they were instinctive [sentimental derives from sen— tient which means instinctive in this case]. But they are fully cog— nizant of the moral principle behind any particular action, i.e., they decide to act morally, according to a good idea, "good" in the sense that Kant refers to "der gute Wille"). The middle stage between the two forms of freedom is a struggle the individual engages in to exist in society, the struggle corres— ponding to the act of swimming. To attain the second form of freedom, the freedom of knowledge, the individual must activate his moral capacity——"moral" meaning the process of ideation whereby one sublimates the self (XV:157,7-8), i.e., his rational capacity ("Vernunft")——to recognize that he is not only an individual but also a member of a §§§§11§£h§£2’(VII;390,21 ff.). He must also recognize that for each individual in the Gesellschaft to retain the maximum degree of freedom, each person must, by his own free will, limit his own expression of freedom to the extent that he does not encroach on the liberty of others. Such a form of being in which no member exists at the expense of another appears to be harmonious. And all such harmonious forms Schiller terms "beautiful" (Kdrner, 23 February 1793; Jonas, III, p. 281)- From this beautiful moral—social form derives the aesthetic state in which the ideal of equality is fulfilled (VII:392,ll—l2). Franz's concept of freedom contradicts the ideal of beauty because his form of freedom is created at the expense of others. And so the — l . an 1 85' The worm (1157,19—20‘ 36' The imag image which I act (II:56,1 Bl ' Clemen, 88' See ib_i 89' Goethe, 90' Staige: 91' Clemen 92' Emil E hereafter 93 ' Cassi 9)" Goeth 95' Adeh see Wdrtl RichErT 209. 2n 2hh implied other shore in the metaphor of swimming, where the ideal of equality based on brotherly love would be attained, does not appear in his image because he is not striving toward.it, but away from it. He is moving toward a spatial void in his imagery which corresponds to the moral void in his actions. 8h. See II:112,27 (Karl) vs. II:115,23 (Franz). 85' The worm symbolizes "sorrow" in Franz's previous monologue (11:57.19—20). 86' The image of extinguished light recalls the "Licht-ausgeblasen" image which Schiller utilizes for Franz at the beginning of the second act (II:56,13). There light symbolizes life. 87. Clemen, p. 128. 8. 8 See ibid., p. 125. 8 . 9 Goethe, 12 January 1798; Jonas, V, p. 322. 0. . . 9 Staiger, Grundbegriffe, pp. 117—18; Kayser, p. 363. 91' Clemen, p. 121. 92' Emil Staiger, Friedrich Schiller (Zfirich: Atlantis, 1967), p. 13h. Hereafter Staiger, Schiller. 93' Cassirer, I, p. 29h. h. 9 Goethe, 25 April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 183. 95' Adelung, II (1796; rpt. Hildesheim, New York: Olms, 1970), c. 1107. See Warterbuch der deutschen Volkskunde, ed.s Oswald A. Erich and Richard Beitl, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: Krdner, 1955), p. 66h; Beit, I, pp, 209, 211. 6. . 9 Staiger, Schiller, p. 90- 97' See Clemen, p. 128; Harley Granville—Barker, Prefaces §9_Shakespeare (London: Batsford, 1963), IV, pp. 258—56; G- Wilson Knight, Th§_Wheel g: Eige (London: Metheun, 1968), pp. Ill-17; A. C. Bradley, Shakespearean Tragedy (London: MacMillan, 1963), PP- 190-9“- 8. 9 Garland, p. 35. 9 . u , 9 Bachthold—Staubli, VII, C. 1136. 10 . . O The image "Sonnenuntergang" appears 1n the second scene of the third act also Where Karl compares it to the death of a hero. It has a similar connotation here, but on the cosmic plane of the poet who Would be using it as irony. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllI----——____l 103. his, I l 10'“ Bait, I I 111 (1930-3131 105' 11:101.! “’6' Bachthcj 101' K'émer 103. ib_1d., 109' Beit, no. ib_1d. ' Cassi 2' For : hem has Particula Schillers 113' 0n 5 which, f. 102,15-1 “0“n "Sc Sight) E “Satin ECints Eerbert erotisc m end pry Signif Th 0f Wi] mm 30-32 and s also m? | Who ' 2h5 101' II 212; 353, 357. 376; 111:17, 30. 39, h7. 87. 157; v:385. 395. . h22—23, M38, M51; VI:1h3. 102' See Goethe‘s "Mailied" for similar usage of "mir" indicating a lyric disposition: "Wie herrlich leuchtet / Mir die Natur. . . ." (Goethe, I, p. 52). 103' Duden, IV, p. 318. th' seit, I, pp. 163, 173, 500; II, pp. 101, 192; Bachthold—Staubli, 111 (1930—31), c. 30h. 105‘ 11:101—02, 106, 127; 212, 2H2; IIIz38, 217; Iv:65, 95, 105; v:21, 27, 62; 183, 201, 218, 2M6, 262; 383, 392, 398, h22, h3u; VI:l2, 115. 106' Bachthold—Staubli, VI (l93h—35), c. 803. 10 . u 7 Korner, 23 February 1793; Jonas, III, p. 272. l . . . 08 ibid., p. 266. 10 . 9 Beit, I, pp. 628, 700. 1 . . . lO ibid., p. 53h. 111 . , , . n CaSSIrer, II ('Das mythlsche Denken ), p. 126. 112. For an extensive discussion of the function that the image of the heart has in Schiller's dramas in general, and in Kabale End Liebe in particular, refer to Joachim Mfiller's "Der Begriff des Herzens in Schillers 'Kabale und Liebe,'" gay, 22 (193h), pp. h29—37. ll3° On Schiller‘s level nature symbolizes the bond of brotherhood which, for example, Karl Moor finds realized in physical nature (II: 102315-16; l35,22—2h). The verb "untergehen" represents, as in the noun "Sonnenuntergang," the departure of an ideal or its sinking out of sight, as into the mirky depths of the ocean. If spring represents creation, rejuvenation, in Schiller's poetic of metaphors, autumn Points to dying, coming sterility, as in the Proserpina myth (cf. Herbert Anton, Der Raub der Proserpina. Literarische Tradition eines 2221122223 Sinnbildes undfikthischen Symbols [Heidelberg: Winter, 1967], P- 13). The leaves that~fall from the trees-—leaves representing the end product of "grfinen," i.e., like flowers, the fully—developed ideal—— Signify the death of the ideals. The "Herbstnebel," which has a prominent function at the beginning of Wilhelm Tell (VI:12 ff.), becomes analogous to a pall. And that which is dead are the fields, representative of the ideal world (II:31, 30‘32; 100,29—30), the Arcadian—Elysian fields, which germinate, grow, and stand ready to be harvested to support further growth. The symbol also appears in Wallenstein (IV:9h,l605-O6; 115,2095—99) and in Egg fliesiraa (7:182,5—7). Schiller portrays the person who has experienced moral nature, but Who has lost it and, either consciously or unconsciously, wants to IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIl[::::;________________ 115' See the Harvey (Oxfo 116 ' Wiese, 111 118 of the art 119 'Seefié 'pp- 11 120' K'érne I 121. M1- 1 122. M 123' Karl which his 121. Jon 125' See 12 . . 6 a 12 . 1 Se "crate" Mani! “any 8- Karl‘s Seciet withir 128. 7 129. a s1 130. 131. 132 Bra 2M6 re—activate that golden age, as being sensitive to physical nature, from which he draws images to represent his perceptions. llh' See Paulys Real-enc clo adie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft,' ed. Georg Wissowa gp_al, Stuttgart: Metzler, 1905 , V, c. 2 70. Here- after Pauly-Wissowa, followed by volume and column numbers. 11 . . . . 5 See the Oxford Companion pg Cla551cal Literature, ed. Sir Paul Harvey (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), p. 82. ll . . 6 Wiese, p. 159. ll . . . 7 Ibid. 118. See Reallexikon, I (1958), pp. 902-03, for a general discussion of the art ballade. 119. pp. 71—72. 120. " Korner, 23 February 1793; Jonas, III, p. 269. 121. . . ibid., p. 282. 122. Duden, VII (1963), p. 37. 123. Karl resembles Wallenstein who compares himself to the ship on which his men sail; Karl is the ship on which his band of robbers sails. 12h. Jonas, V, p. A18. 125. . . See Staiger, Grundbegriffe, p. 185. 126. . . ibid., p. 171. 127. n " See Staiger, Schiller, pp. 50—5h for a detailed discussion of GroBe" as it applies to Karl Moor. Staiger discusses the subject as a manifestation of the arrogant drive for greatness which characterizes many Storm and Stress characters. But the form of Qig_§§uber rejects Karl's initial stormy "Drang" against the trivia in, and the order of society. At the end of the play he more modestly asserts his Self within the social fabric. 128. VIizhh,18; 139,1—2; 1h3,1h—16. 129. _ .. . Friedrich Schiller, Samtliche Werke, ed. Eduard von der Hellen 32.21- (Stuttgart, Berlin: Cotta, 1905—05), III, p. M39. l30. II:50,ll; 57,18 ff.; 138,3h. 131. . . . . Beit, I, p. 396 for a description of the hero—figure. 132. . . . See Kurt May, "Beitrag zur Phanomenologie des Dramas 1m Sturm und Drang." GRM, 28 (1930), pp. 265—66. Hereafter May, "Sturm und Drang." 1| 2| 3 Jones, I 4 thkmann? ' Caroline ‘.' Goethe, 5' ibid., ' sicmoet deutschen 6' Goethe 1' Goethe 8' teeth 9' Khme 1 . 0 (he1 sion of Prader. 2&7 Friedrich BeiBner, "Studien zur Sprache des Sturms und Drangs. Eine stilistische Untersuchung der Klingerschen Jugenddramen," GEE, 32 (l93h), p. h25. Hereafter BeiBner, "Sturm und Drang." Mark O. Kistler, Drama of the Storm Eng Stress, TWayne's World Authors Series, ed. Ulrich weisEIeIE: 83 (New York: Twayne, 1969), pp. 57, 60—62 (passim), 67, 68, 71, 83, 87, 91, 102, 107, 125—27 (passim), 129, 138, lhl, 1h6. Hereafter Kistler, Storm ang_Stress. 1 . 33 Lenz, "Anmerkungen," p. 729. Wallenstein 1. Jonas, III, p. 380. 2. u _ , Bockmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung, p. h8. 3' Caroline von Beulwitz, 10 December 1788; Jonas, II, p. 173. h. Goethe, 2 October 1797; Jonas. V. p- 270- 5. ibid., V, pp. 286, 287. An extensive treatment of Schiller's Clas- sical poetics can be found in Karl Toggenburger's Die Werkstatt der deutschen Klassik, ZBDLG, l (Zfirich: Atlantis, l9h8). 6. Goethe, 2h November 1797; Jonas, V, p. 290. 7. Goethe, 26 December 1797; Jonas, V, p. 310. 8. Goethe, 2 October 1797; Jonas, V, pp. 270—71. 9 ' Kdrner, 7 April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 171. 10. . . Goethe, 2 October 1797; Jonas, V, p. 271. For a detailed discus- sion of Sophocles' influence on Schiller's poetics see Florian Prader's §£flill§£ und Sophokles, ZBDLG, 7 (Zfirich: Atlantis, 195M). Hereafter Prader. 11. Goethe, 7 April 1797; JOnas, V, pp. 173—78- 12. Goethe, h April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 168. 13. Goethe, 2h August 1798; Jonas, v, p. h18. 1h. - Nohden, 5 June 1799; Jonas. VI. 9- 39- 1 . 5 Goethe, XII, pp. 73—7h. Italics added. 16. Jonas, V, p. 293. See KBrner, 8 January 1798; Jonas, V, p. 320. Italics added. 1 . 7 H. D. F. Kitto, Greek Tragedy. A_Literary Study (London: Methuen, 1939), p. 157. Hereafter Kitto. P Ger Deutschen _n— 10. Goethe , 21' Goethe, 22' Goethe, i 8'11. 1617 2k Refer ti 25' 1111811111 26. In DE calls them to the sea explains t correspond and ships rePresent become gu the exter, depends < 2h8 18' For similar comments see Kurt May, Friedrich Schiller. Idee und Wirklichkeit im Drama (G6ttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 19E8), pp. 107-08. Hereafter May, Sohiller. l. . . . " I. . . 9 Similar comment by Wblfgang Binder, "Asthetik und Dichtung in Schillers Werk," Schiller: Reden im'Gedenkjahr 1959, Ver8ffentlichung der Deutschen Schillergesellschaft, 2 Stuttgart: Klett, 1961), p. 29. 2o. Goethe, it September 1797; Jonas, V, p. 256. Also VII:l96,22—28. 21' Goethe, 7 September 1797; Jonas, V, p. 252. 22' Goethe, 1h September 1797; Jonas, V, P- 256. 23' 11. 1617—26, 2052—5h, 1167b, 1nil—12. 53811—88. 5556—57, 5859, 7313—16. 2h' Refer to footnote no. 105 of Dig_§§g§§£. 25' Iffland, 2h December 1798; Jonas, V, p. 879. 26. In Qi§_Rauber clouds are associated with the sea imagery: Amalia calls them ships of the sky, which infers that both life and sky compare to the sea. This common denominator may present a possible link which explains the symbolism of astrology in that the elements in the sky correspond to elements on earth. For example, clouds can signify storms and ships, the latter of which symbolically sail on the story seas, seas representing life. The sailor uses stars to navigate with: stars become guides for sea travel, which in turn symbolizes living. And so the extension is to astrology which Wallenstein, as the ocean ship, dePends on for guidance. 27. 23 February 1793; Jonas, III, p. 268. ° See Goethe, 2h August 1798; Jonas, V, p. M18; also Goethe, IX, p. 532. See Garland, pp. 183—8h. ' Benno von Wiese argues inconsistently on this point: one time for transcendental power, another for immanent force of history. It seems t0 me that Schiller has structured his play in such a way that only the latter is a valid interpretation. 31. , Wiese, p. 658. 32. . . - See Staiger, Grundbegrlffe, p. 95; May, Schiller, p. 178. 33. Jonas, IV, p. M36. 3h. . . . . For an extensive treatment of this topic see Staiger, Schiller, PP- 31—38. 35. See May, Schiller, p. 173- 1W! 5 3: Meiche“ ( ' Wallenstein] characterist idealist he clarifies tr 9. 113 ff. ): 31' B‘échnmi one finds ‘d by swearing their lead word is an 38' See 38 39' See Wf (Leipzig , 1:0. Jonas [‘1' Goeti 112. See 66min. “3' mt- analysi “lit wen Phantas und uni Und an 53mm keit c‘ tigt :‘ “£111 der v den w Welci 8115C] sich SQhe hat (G05 Hi. the 2kg 36' While it is obvious that Wallenstein manifests a number of the characteristics which Schiller ascribes to a realist, I agree with Wolfgang Binder who writes: "Wer eine Gestalt der Dichtung mit einem asthetischen Begriff unmittelbar identifiziert, gerat nicht nur in einzelne Schwierigkeiten, die sich mit logischer Differenzierung aus- gleichen lassen, sondern er fibersieht den Wesensunterschied beider Bereiche" ("Asthetik und Dichtung in Schillers Werk," pp. 20—21). Wallenstein is by no means unilaterally a realist; he also manifests characteristics of the opposite type, an idealist: e.g., like the idealist he is "ein. . .Feind alles Kleinlichen und Flatten. . ." (VII:Shh,lS—l7). Kurt May's analysis of Wallenstein's language further clarifies the several facets of Wallenstein's personality (Schiller, p. 173 ff.). 37' Bookmann, "Gedanke, Wort und Tat," p. 13. As has been pointed out, one finds the same phenomenon in Schiller's early plays. For example, by swearing an oath to the robbers, i.e., giving his word, to remain their leader, Karl creates his owu fate; the binding capacity of the word is even more powerful than his love for Amalia. 38' See Bockmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung, p. 38. 39' See Wilhelm Dilthey, Qa§_Erlebnis ung_di§_Dichtung, 8th ed. (Leipzig, Berlin: Teubner, 1922;, pp. 185—87, 196—201. ' Jonas, V, p. 171. hi. Goethe, 2 October 1797; Jonas, V, p- 271~ 1‘2' See 11. 27M, 29147, 3563, 3651;, 3711—12, hu13—1h, W56, 5005, 6091, 66ho—h1. AB. . . Bottiger, 1 March 1799; Jonas, VI, p. 1h. See Goethe‘s famous analysis of Wallenstein: "Wollte man das Objekt des ganzen Gedichts mit wenig Worten aussprechen, so wfirde es sein: die Darstellung einer Phantastischen Existenz, welche durch ein auBerordentliches Individuum und unter Vergunstigung eines auBerordentlichen Zeitmoments unnatfirlich und augenblicklich gegrundet wird, aber durch ihren notwendigen Wider— Spruch mit der gemeinen Wirklichkeit des Lebens und mit der Rechtlich— keit der menschlichen Natur scheitert und samt allem, was an ihr befes- tigt ist, zugrunde geht. Der Dichter hat also zwei Gegenstande darzu- stellen, die miteinander im Streit erscheinen: den phantastischen Geist, der von der einen Seite an das GroBe und Idealische, von der andern an den WahnSinn und das Verbrechen grenzt, und das gemeine wirkliche Leben, welches von der einen Seite sich an das Sittliche und Verstandige anschlieBt, von der andern dem Kleinen, dem Niedrigen und Verachtlichen sich nahert. In die Mitte zwischen beiden als eine ideale, phantasti- sche und zugleich sittliche Erscheinung stellt er uns die Liebe, und so hat er in seinem Gemalde einen gewissen Kreis der Menschheit vollendet" (Goethe. XIV. pp. 56-57). ' Jonas, IV, p. h36. He wrote a statement similarly to Kdrner later that same year (28 November 1796): "Sein Character endlich ist niemals IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIlllI--________i if” " Gero von M' Jonas, (8 ' Goethe, (19' Goethe, “331st ein dos habe ic] inmgen sind nicht weich Votiv in We eigentlich ten Seite 1 mockgeso noon etwas gehen, ob 50' Goethl 51. “in. ( 53' Pro. 11130-35, 51“ Loo causes ' Wallens him (Sc wenn; 250 edel und darf es nie seyn, und durchaus kann er nur furchtbar, nie eigentlich groB erscheinen" (Jonas, V, p. 122). hS. Jonas, IV, p. M36. h6' Gero von Wilpert, SchillereChronik (Stuttgart: Kr8ner, 1958), p. 233. h . 7 Jonas, VI, p. 1h. h . 8 Goethe, h December 1798; Jonas, V, p. M66. h9. Goethe, XX, pp. 658, 660. See Schiller‘s reply (11 December 1798): ist eine rechte Gottesgabe um einen weisen und sorgfaltig Freund, habe ich bei dieser Gelegenheit aufs neue erfahren. Ihre Bemer- kungen sind vollkommen richtig und Ihre Grfinde fiberzeugend. Ich weiB nicht welcher bbse Genius fiber mir gewaltet, daB ich das astrologische thiv im Wallenstein nie recht ernsthaft anfaBen wollte, da doch eigentlich meine Natur die Sachen lieber von der ernsthaften als leich— ten Seite nimmt. Die Eigenschaften des Stoffes mflssen mich anfangs zurfickgeschreckt haben. Ich sehe aber jetzt vollkommen ein, daB ich noch etwas bedeutendes fur diese Materie thun muB und es wird auch wohl gehen, ob es gleich die Arbeit wieder verlangert" (Jonas, V, p. A69). "ES das 50' Goethe, h December 1798; Jonas, V, p. h66. 51' WZUJ, 8 (1958e59), p. h61. 52' 11. M21, 715, 3118. 53. Pro. 11. 80—90; 223, 318—19, 511—32, 1196—98, 1h02, 1h26—27, 1&30—35, 1575—76, 31h3—h9, 3h5h—6o, 3h71—71, h358—67. 58h5-952. Ludwig Bellermann has offered the explanation that this similarity causes the simultaneous dream that the two men had and which convinced Wallenstein that it was to be Octavio's fate to always remain loyal to him (Schillers Dramen. Beitra e gg_ihrem Verstandnis, 3rd ed. [Berlin: Weidmann, 1905], II, pp. 61-635. 55' Jonas, V1, p. 13. 6. 5 See ll. 5272—73. 57' Duden, IV, p. 123. 58. See p. 27 ff. for a stylistic analysis of this monologue. See Beit, I, p. M63 f. for a discussion of the tree as a symbol. Other dramas by Schiller in which the tree appears as a symbol of creativity are Die Jungfrau von Orleans (V:183, 201, 28h, 29h, 302) and Q;g_Braut von Messina (V:371, H22). 60. pp. 85. 95, 121—eh, 135-36. 192-95, 20h—08. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlll---_______i 63' See Adel 6i ‘ Octavio Max oounten senting th‘ he then a see we 65 ' Goei 66. Goe his. 251 61' See fiber das Erhabene (VII:238,22 — 250,31) for a concise discussion of the transition from sentience to noesis. 62' Bachthold—Staubli, III, C. h7lq 63' See Adelung, II, c. 512. 6h. Octavio uses an image similar in content and form to Franz Moor's: . . .ausgestorben wie ein Kirchhof bleibt Der Acker, das zerstampfte Saatfeld liegen, Und um des Jahres Ernte ist's getan. (IV: 11. 160h—06) Max counters this imagery with images of spring, of the season repre— senting the state of ataraxia: O laB den Kaiser Friede machen, Vater! Den blut'gen Lorbeer geb' ich bin mit Freuden Furs erste Veilchen, das der Marz uns bringt, Das duftige Pfand der neuverjfingten Erde. (IV: 11. 1697—10) He then continues with an image which compares life in the upset age to a sea voyage (IV: 11. 1617-26). 6 . 5 Goethe, 25 April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 183. 66. hh Goethe, 21 September 1798 and 8 October 1798; Jonas, V, pp. h32 and 5. 67. . . Pauly-Wissowi, XII, cc. 8lhel8. 68. " Korner, 8 February 1793; Jonas, III, P- 286- 6 . u 9 Korner, 18 February 1793; Jonas, III: P- 260- 70. , May, Schiller, p. lh5- 71. Goethe, 12 December 1797; Jonas, V: P- 297- 72. VII:15h,3-12; xv:1h5,30 — 1h8.30- 73. When Wallenstein laments Max's death, he expresses images which corroborate Thekla's metonym for Max, "der Schbne": Die Blume is hinweg aus meinem Leben, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII...-...._____i Again Max 2‘ and as sym‘ —Thekle r dawning of Wallenstei (1.1203). ‘iallenste‘ existence The is friend 011 the p1 11" See Similar 252 Denn er stand neben mir wie meine Jugend, Er machte mir das Wirkliche zum Traum, Um die gemeine Deutlichkeit der Dinge Den goldnen Duft der Morgenrbte webend. Im Feuer seines liebenden Geffihls Erhoben sich mir selber zum Erstaunen Des Lebens flach alltagliche Gestalten. Das Sch8ne ist doch weg, das kommt nicht wieder. Denn fiber alles Glfick geht doch der Freund, Der's ffihlend erst erschafft, der‘s teilend mehrt. (11.7201—13) Again Max is equated with the beautiful, spoken both outrightly (1.7211) and as symbolized by the flower. Max created a golden age of friendship ——Thekla refers to Max as friend also (l.6936)——represented as the dawning of a new day (1.7206). Max's unselfish love (1.7207) toward Wallenstein was the cause of the new golden age, the rejuvenation (1.7203). The effect of Max's love was to exalt prosaic existence in Wallenstein‘s eyes (11.7205—09), i.e., he inspired Wallenstein, making existence dream-like (1.7203), as he did for Thekla. The foundation of this existential form described by Wallenstein is friendship (11.7212-13) which throughtout Schiller's works is based on the principle of brotherhood, i.e., altruistic love. h. . 7 See BBCkmann, Schillers Geisteshaltung, pp. 50, 68, 70—71, for similar conclusions. 75- )4 6 Humboldt, 21 March 1796; Jonas, IV, p. 3 . 76. _ May, Schiller, p. 135. 77' Goethe, 25 April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 181. Cf. Goethe, XX, p. 333. 8. Y Goethe, 26 December 1797; Jonas, V, p. 310. 79. The increased use of epic style might be attributed to Schiller's study of Sophocles' Oedipus 33x; the overriding influence of Shakes- Peare diminished with Schiller's increased interest in the Greeks. One could, in Schiller's terms, make a case for Shakespeare's major trage- dies being more dramatic, Sophocles‘ more epic, as Brecht did also. Schiller‘s renewed interest in the Greek tragedians might also explain the decreased use of monologues: Shakespeare utilized monologues extensively, Sophocles only rarely because of the chorus which comments On. and interprets the action, thus eliminating the need for monologues. Wilhelm gel; 1. Prader, pp. 8—9. Since my investigation deals only indirectly with the comprehensive IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlll---_______i (( . m i 0 (K6, 5' See Don Horton, 19 6' See G. I 1932). p- 1| “Willi- ( 1' See Kni (l ' Ifflam 9' Kitto , technical 1-.. °m hell: 11' K'orr . 253 form of Schiller‘s plays, I will limit my remarks to several observa- tions about the structure of Tell. 3' Jonas, VII, pp. 80—81. h' Goethe, 7 April 1797; Jonas, V, p. 173. 5' See Donald A. Stauffer, Shakespeare's World 9: Images (New York: Norton, 19h0), p. 115. 6' See G. Wilson Knight, The Shakespearian Tempest (London: Methuen, 1932), p. 185. Hereafter Knight, Shakes earian Tempest. T. S. Dorsch, ed., The Arden Edition of Julius Caesar (London: Methuen, 1955), p. lxvi. mmmflw 7. See Knight, Shakespearian Tempest, p. 18h. 8. Iffland, 12 July 1803; Jonas, VII, p. 57. 9' Kitto, pp. 155—67, especially 157—58 for a discussion of Sophocles' technical use of the chorus. ibid., pp. 139 ff., lhh. Also Richmond Lattimore, The Poetgy of Greek Tragedy (Baltimore. John Hopkins, 1958), p. 100. 11. " Korner, 15 November 1802; Jonas, VI, pp. h27—28. l2. . . See Garland, pp. 278—80; Staiger, Schiller, pp. 83—8h. 13. u Korner, 9 September 1802; Jonas, V1, p. h15. 1h. For further citations of epicism in Wilhelm Tell see Walter A. Berendson, "Schillers 'Wilhelm Tell' als Kunstwerk. Struktur— und Stilstudien," Studier i_Modern Sprakvetenskap, N.s. l (1960), p. 12. Hereafter Berendson. Berendson discusses epic "Einschlage" on pp. 7, 9, 35. Also refer to Garland, pp. 261, 281—83; Storz, p. h12; Wiese, P 776; and Fritz Martini, "Wilhelm Tell, der asthetische Staat und der asthetische Mensch, " Worte und Werte: Bruno Markwardt zum 60. Geburts— Egg, ed. 5 Gustav Erdmann and Alfons Eichstaedt (Berlin: de~ Gruyter, 1961), pp 259, 272. Hereafter Martini, "Tell. " 0f the critics cited above only Berendson, and to a certain extent Garland, do more than make passing comments about the use of epic style in Tell. A detailed analysis of the play would demonstrate that Schiller incorporated forms similar to those found in a national epic, specifically forms found in the Iliad, into the dramatic structure. Jean B. Jofen ("Elements of Homer and the Bible in Schiller' s 'Wilhelm Tell, '" Canadian ModernL mgpage Review, 16, h [1959], pp. 27— 28) does list several parallel passages between Tell and the Iliad, but these remarks only skim the artistic use of the epic in Schiller' 5 play. Such an analysis in my study would, however, lead the discussion too far afield. 15. 11. 32h, 1951, 2367, 2577, 2632, 3188. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllln...-......______, he incorree proverbial tion, givi! sentence "j uttered at" sentences‘ close purs‘ lake in t‘. verbial s relexatic 20 ' Garl: 2 . 1 See fitment since I Ill-TS. 22. See 25h 16‘ 11. 1616, 1701, 2367, 2793. f 17' Many of his proverbs have become part of the accepted colloquialisms in modern German. For a list of some of these aphorisms see Berendson, PP- 50-51. 18' Backmann, "Gedanke, Wort und Tat," p. 37. 19' Garland observes correctly that the proverbial style of Tell‘s language corresponds to his independence and self—reliance. But I think he incorrectly analyzes the use of this style when he writes that "The proverbial style is. . .confined to periods of relaxation and reflec— tion, giving ground at once at the onset of tension" (p. 271). The sentence "Wo's not tut, Fahrmann, lafit sich alles wagen" (1.136) is uttered at a moment of maximum tension, as are the several terse sentenCes that follow it (11.139—h0, 1&8, 156) when the Fogt is in close pursuit of Baumgarten and someone needs to forage him across the lake in the storm. By way of contrast, one is not conscious of pro— verbial sayings in Tell's monologue which represents a moment of relaxation. 20 ' Garland, p. 27h. 21. . . . See Wiese, p. 775. In the follow1ng d1scuss1on I often base my argument on Wiese's discussion of the function of the family in Tell, since I feel his analysis is lucid and penetrating. See Wiese, pp. 771—75. 22. . , See ibid., p. 773- 2 . 3 See ibid., p. 77h. 2h. Martini, "Tell," p. 269. 2 . . . 5 ibid., pp. 269-70. 26. Bachthold—Staubli, III, c. 1797. 27' In Schiller’s plays war symbolizes the extreme expression of barbar— ism. Stauffacher tells his wife "Es schont der Krieg / Auch nicht das zarte Kindlein in der Wiege" (11.322-23). Most of Schiller's plays have war as a setting in one form or another. In war rules of moral conduct abate, resulting in moral chaos. And in Schiller's plays such chaos contradicts what should be: namely, an order exists which men must preserve. If such an order does not exist, despair for the future sets 1n. An effect of Gefiler's tyranny is the bondage he places the Swiss under, symbolized by the word "Joch" (11.280, 371, 63h). A dynamic representation of enslavement appears in the scene wherein GeBler forces Tell to shoot at the apple on his son's head. GeBler orders Walter bound to the tree, but Walter answers "ich will nicht gebunden sein . . . . . .Wenn ihr mich bindet, nein, so kann ich's nicht, / So werd' ich toben gegen meine Bande" (11.1955—58). He likewise rejects having IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE::::1_______________ I» .- 28. B'éc an : I 29' See Ma} 30' Backin' 31' Naive) daB sie es' selbst an man sie n‘ I 255 ' his eyes bound. Tell represents the broad spectrum of the Swiss personality in this play; his son resembles their nascent state. Like Walter the Swiss do not tolerate being bound, restricted, enslaved. The relationship between Walter Tell and the Swiss is brought closer to— gether in that Tell, in protecting his children and wife, protects the Swiss also. 28' Backmann, "Gedanke, Wort und Tat," p. 38. 2 . . . 9 See Martini, "Tell," p. 270. 30' Backmenn, "Gedanke, Wort und Tat," p. M1. 31' Naive individuals "vergessen aus eigener schdner Menschlichkeit, dafi sie es mit einer verderbten Welt zu tun haben, und betragen sich selbst an den Hbfen der Kénige mit einer Ingenuitat und Unschuld, wie man sie nur in einer Schaferwelt findet" (V11:u52,7-11). 32. Martini, "Tell," p. 27h. 33' KBrner, 23 February 1793; Jonas, III, p. 268. 3h‘ Cf. ibid., p. 266; VII:360,33-3h; Martini, "Tell," p. 266 ff. The intellectual freedom which Tell attains to manifests the qual— ity "beauty," and offers an explanation for Schiller's use of rhymed couplets to terminate stanzas three through seven. On March 21, 1796, Schiller wrote K6rner that "es [der Reim] sich mit dem h6chsten Grade poetischer Schbnheit (in welche naive und sentimentale Gattung zusam— menflieBen) sehr gut vertrfigt" (Jonas, IV, p. M35). In the stanzas under consideration Tell considers the ideal of the naive past and looks forward to the re-establishment of that ideal, in the manner of a sentimentalisch individual. But, in contrast to the sentimentalisch ideal which cannot be attained, Tell considers the appropriate action to make that ideal a reality again. He, therefore, synthesizes the activity of naiveness and the contemplation of "das Sentimentalische" in his being. And in synthesizing the naive and sentimentalisch, as well as being a symbol of beauty, he becomes a representative of Schiller's Classical ideal of humanity. The concept of beauty is the basis for another of Schiller’s aesthetic concepts relevant to Wilhelm Tell: the aesthetic state. For a comprehensive discussion of the relationship of the aesthetic state and Wilhelm Tell refer to Martini, "Tell," pp. 253—75. Conclusion 1. See Wolfgang Clemen, Shakespeares Monologe, Kleine Vandenhoeck—Reihe, 198/100 (Géttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 196%), pp. 5—6. 2. BeiBner, "Sturm und Drang," p- D23. Gerhard Storz terms this same phenomenon the synthesis of poetic and historical drama (Storz, p. #02 ff.). IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllln...-......______, BIBLIOGRAPHY -i ”'.‘. This ‘ desert at ‘ regard to! Bibliogra‘ mesa Dre Schiller Ari IQ Adel Bi BIBLIOGRAPHY This bibliography includes only those works which I cite in my dissertation, or which I have consulted and found informative with regard to my topic, but do not cite. For the most complete Schiller Bibliography the reader should consult the following sources: Goedeke, Karl. Grundrifl zur Geschichte der deutschen Dichtung. 2nd ed. —___.——._———_____——.—__ Dresden: Ehlermann, 1893. V, pp. 97—237- Schiller-Bibliographie, 1823-1258. Ed. Wolfgang Vulpius. Weimar: Arion, 1959. " , 1959—61." Ed.s Paul Raabe and Ingrid Bode. Jahrbuch der Deutschen Schiller—Gesellschaft, 6 (1962), pp. h67-553. H , 1962—65." Ed. Ingrid Bode. Jahrbuch der Deutschen Schiller— Gesellschaft, 10 (1966), pp. h65-505. " , 1966-69." Ed. Ingrid Bode. Jahrbuch der Deutschen Schiller- Gesellschaft, ID (1970), pp. SSH-636. Works Cited Adelung, Johann Christoph. Grammatisch—kritisches WBrterbuch der Hochdeutschen Mundart E V0181793 1801’ rpt.Hildeshe1m, New York: Olms, 1970 Anton, Herbert. Der Raub der Prosegpina. Literarische Tradition eines erotischen Sinnbildes und mythischen Symbols. Heidelberg: Winter, 1967 Appelbaum—Graham, Ilse. "Reflection as a FUnction of Form in Schiller's Tragic Poetry." Publications g£_the English Goethe Society, EH (1955); pp. 1—32. BeiBner, Friedrich. "Studien zur Sprache des Sturms und Drangs. Eine stilistische Untersuchung der Klingerschen Jugenddramen." Germa- nisch-romanische Monatsschrift, 22 (193k), pp. h17-29. 256 Bradle Brech1 Busse Cass: Clen gel Di 257 Beit, Hedwig von. Symbolik des Marchens. 2 vols. 3rd ed. Bern: Francke, 1967. Bellermann, Ludwig. Schillers Dramen. Beitrage 53 ihrem Verstandnis. 3 vols. Berlin: Weidmann, 1905. Berendson, Walter A. "Schillers 'Wilhelm Tell' als Kunstwerk. Struktur— und Stilstudien." Studier i_Modern Sprakvetenskap, N.s. l (1960), PP- 5-78- Binder, Wolfgang. "Asthetik und Dichtung in Schillers Werk." Schiller. Reden im Gedenkjahr 1959. Ed. Bernhard Zeller. Veraffentlichung der Deutschen Schiller—Gesellschaft, 2h. Stuttgart: Klett, 1959. "Schillers 'Kabale und Liebe.'" Das deutsche Drama. Ed. Benno von Wiese. Dusseldorf: Bagel, 1962. I, pp. 258-68. Bockmann, Paul. "Gedanke, Wort und Tat in Schillers Dramen." Jahrbuch der Deutschen Schiller-Gesellschaft, h (1960), pp. 2—hl. Schillers Geisteshaltung als Bedingung seines dramatischen Schaffens. 1925; rpt. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesell— schaft, 1965. Bradley, A. C. Shakespearean Tragedy. 2nd ed. London: Macmillan, 1963. Brecht, Bertolt. Schriften zur Literatur und Kunst. Ed. Werner Hecht. 7 vols. Frankfurt a/M.: Suhrkamp, 1963. Busse, Adolf. "Der Monolog in Schillers Trauerspielen." Zeitschrift ffir den deutschen Unterricht, 26 (1912), pp. 606—20, 683—96. Cassirer, Ernst. Philosophie der symbolischen Formen. 3 vols. 2nd ed. 1953; rpt. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 196M. Clemen, Wolfgang. The Development of Shakespeare's Imagery. London: Methuen, 1959. Shakespeares Monologe. Kleine Vandenhoeck—Reihe, 198/199. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 196k. Der groBe Duden. Ed. Paul Grebe. 9 vols. Mannheim: Bibliographisches Institut, 1959—65. Dilthey, Wilhelm. Das Erlebnis und die Dichtung. 8th ed. Leipzig, Berlin: Teubner, 1922. Ermatinger, Emil. Das dichterische Kunstwerk. Grundbegriffe der Urteilsbildung in_der Literaturgeschichte. Leipzig, Berlin: Teubner, 1921. Garland, H. B. Schiller. The Dramatic Writer. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969. E“ Herder ,1 32. l Refine: 5 Hiirsck I Ibers‘ J ank1 Jofl Kat Kr 258 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von. Gedenkausgabe der Werke, BrLefe und Gesprache. Ed. Ernst Beutler et_§;. 2E vols. Zurich, _Stuttgart: Artemis, 19h9. Granville-Barker, Harley. Prefaces tg_Shakespeare. h vols. London: Batsford, 1963. Hamburger, Kate. 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