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James Richard McIntyre

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. ABSTRACT

EPIC ELEMENTS IN THE DRAMAS
OF FRANK WEDEKIND

By

James Richard McIntyre

Frank Wedekind's enigmatic position in the history
of modern drama has long been disputed. While his contempo-
raries Hauptmann and Ibsen enjoyed continued recognition
and success, Wedekind suffered failure after failure. The
passing of time, however, has been favorable to Wedekind's
recognition. Especially since the epic theater has come of
vogue, Wedekind has been mentioned as a possible precursor
of this type of drama. In this dissertation an attempt
has been made to point out the distinctly epic qualities
of Wedekind's dramas.

Since the term epic theater is rather general in
and of itself, the study proceeds in chapter one with an
outline in schematic form of the basic characteristics of
this type of theater as described by Volker Koltz in his

work.Geschlossene und offene Form im Drama. This schematic

 

presentation of the major elements of dramatic action

James Richard McIntyre

("Handlung"), compoSition ("Komposition"), time and space
("Zeit und Raumf), and characters and language ("Personen
und Sprache") then serves as the working baSis for the
ensuing examination.

The second chapter centers on the problematic basis
of eight dramas, and clearly reveals that Wedekind chose as
the underlying basis of dramatic action the same type of
archetypal, irreconcilable conflicts which are found in
the works of Brecht and other authors of our own day. The
two basic conflicts which run throughout Wedekind's works,
those between the artist (outsider) and society (insider)
and between man (instinct) and system (bourgeois morality),
literally force a departure from the linear, closed form
of action found in the Aristotelian drama. Since the
problem itself cannot be solved, Wedekind, in typical

epic fashion, seeks to demonstrate its full complexity

 

through the use of contrastive exemplification (episodic
.reinforcement). .

The third and fourth chapters, which deal with
composition and the time-space relationship respectively,
show that Wedekind employs three distinct methods of
treatment with respect to these elements. The first
(Frfihlings Erwachen) exhibits the overriding importance
of the scene as the basic dramatic unit, and totally ignores

the unities of time and space. The second (Der Kammersanger)

 

employs definite epic techniques in an otherwise Aristotelian

James Richard McIntyre

framework. The third (Der Marquis von'Keith) adheres quite
‘ closely in all respects to the unities of time and space
and to the Aristotelian principle of architectural composi-
tion.
The fifth and final chapter deals With the characters

and language in two Specific dramas, Frfihlings Erwachen

 

and Der Marquis von Keith. The examination illustrates

 

that even in the latter drama, which follows for the most
part the Aristotelian approach, Wedekind introduces a
whole host of ambiguous and paradoxical characters who
are molded by the irreconcilable conflict inherent in the

modern society.

 

EPIC ELEMENTS IN THE DRAMAS

OF FRANK WEDEKIND

BY

James Richard McIntyre

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

1972

 

© Copyright by
JAMES RICHARD MCINTYRE

1973

aus, auBer, bei, mit, nach, seit, von, zu

immer mit Herrn Karp

Pr
P9

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to express my gratitude, first of all,
to Professor Mark O. Kistler for his kind assistance and
patience as chairman of my doctoral committee. A debt of
thanks is owed as well to the other members of the com-
mittee, Professor William N. Hughes, Chairman of the Depart-
ment, and Professors Stuart A. Gallacher and Raimund Belgart.

Special appreciation and thanks must be offered to
The Germanistic Society of America and the Fulbright—

Hays Commission, whose generous grants allowed me to do
preparatory research and study in Munich, Germany.

An ineffable amount of gratitude is due finally to
the one person who has stayed by my side throughout the

entire ride on the "Rutschbahn," my wife Jean.

iii

TABLE OF

DEDICATION . . . . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . .

INTRODUCTION . . . . .

Chapter
I. FRANK WEDEKIND AND THE
II. DRAMATIC ACTION '. .
III. COMPOSITION . . .

IV. TIME AND SPACE . .

CONTENTS

EPIC

V. CHARACTERS AND LANGUAGE. .

CONCLUSIONS . . . . . .
FOOTNOTES . . . . . .

A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY . .

iv

THEATER

Page
ii

iii

48
91
112

131

159
163

183

INTRODUCTION

Und wie noch immer eine neue Wahrheit
zunachst als Lu e empfunden worden ist,
so wird auch ein neuer We als Abweg,

ein neues Kunstbekenntnis als Unkunst
empfunden. Was von den geistigen Kraften
gesund ist, lebenerhaltend und fOrdernd
und was nicht, wer soll es entscheiden?1

 

Frank Wedekind has always been, to a certain extent,
considered to be an enigma. Almost every scholar who has
dealt with the man and his works mentions at some point
that it is finally time for Wedekind to be viewed in a "new
light." What should this "new light" be? Generallythis
question has been narrowed down to a position on one side
or the other of two mutually exclusive alternatives: either
the spotlight of long withstanding recognition, or the
yellow bug light which holds persistent, vexatious pests
at bay. The spotlight is bright but illusive; it seldom
shines directly on anyone for very long. The bug light
is stationary, but dull; its effectiveness is restricted
to an immediate area and the pests are never far away.
Neither light has done much to illuminate our understanding
of Frank Wedekind and his art..

The very fact that these arguments have persisted,
however, seems sufficient proof of the viability Of

Wedekind's works and of the continued need for a truly

"new light," a need which has begun to be answered in
recent years. Not, as in the past, with the futile goal
of placing Wedekind in some convenient niche in German
literary history by means of superficial comparison with
contemporaries such as Gerhart Hauptmann, or cramming him
into an artificial "ism" which, if at all, would best fit
like an undersized strait jacket. From the beginning
Wedekind has been recognized as a unique, highly indi-
vidualized author, an outsider with respect both to his
ideas and their expression in a personalized dramatic form.
Finally this uniqueness is coming to be fully appreciated
as a positive creative force. All of the accusations about
Wedekind being drastically out Of step with the times have
proven to be quite true--he was in numerous ways far ahead
of his time. Many of his ideas were or have been shown
to be not blatant lies, but, much harder to accept, blatant,
uncomfortable truths, often prophetic in nature.2 His
dramas, long considered unfit for production (in some cases
even for publication3) from a moral as well as an artistic
standpoint,4 have exerted a far greater influence on modern
theater than the isolated, lifeless style of literary
Naturalism. His a££_was trug_a£2. Finally, Wedekind's
"Egg? was an "Abygg," not in the sense of a wrong way, but
rather a byway, a shortcut to the twentieth century.

This path does not, however, find its starting

point with Frank Wedekind. It can be traced back to its

earliest manifestations in Greek drama, and forward to its
widest point in theory and practice in the person of
Bertolt Brecht, and even beyond Brecht to contemporary
theater, including the Theater of the Absurd. Along the
Vway it passes over other authors who, like Wedekind, have
been misunderstood or neglected during their lifetimes,
among others J. M. R. Lenz, Georg Bfichner and Christian
Dietrich Grabbe. Some of the more astute critics of the
time, men like Paul Fechter5 and Artur Kutscher6 who took
the time to gain the insight needed for true criticism,
saw certain similarities between these authors and Wedekind
from the very first. But it is only in recent years, with
the immense amount of research being done on Brecht, that
the direction of this path has clearly emerged and that
Wedekind has become recognized as one of the definite
landmarks on its course. It is the path toward epic
theater. Up to now, however, Wedekind's position in this
develOpment has been asserted primarily through external
association with the general trends leading to epic
theater, or through restricted examples from one or two

of his dramas.7 It is the purpose of this dissertation,
therefore, to examine Frank Wedekind's relationship to

the epic theater through an internal analysis of his

majOr dramas based upon the definition and structural-

characteristics of epic theater outlined below.

Before proceeding, however, it should bementioned
in passing that this "new" style of theater has had to
face many of the same accusations as were faced by the
men who formed it. Seen as a challenge to and a diversion
from the old established theater, many of its concepts
have been and some still are considered false. Inherent
in its very name is the mixture of two genres, seen by
some as a sacrifice of purity and consequently less
artistic. Is the new way the wrong way?

. . . wer soll es entscheiden? . . .
Fortschritt wie Rfickschritt besteht ja
eben in einer Anderung des Empfindens
von heute, das eben deshalb nie als
Ideal gesetzt werden darf. Ob Fort-
oder Rfickschritt vorliegt, darfiber laBt
sich Sicheres von keinem Zeitgenossen

sagen; die Nachkommen erst erkennen es
an seinenFruchten.8

CHAPTER I

FRANK WEDEKIND AND THE EPIC THEATER

Brecht once remarked: "Die Prinzipien des epischen
Theaters in wenigen Schlagworten zu entwickeln ist nicht
mOglich."9 He then spent years proving the truth of his
statement, creating a great deal of confusion while drawing
a minimum of definite conclusions, eventually deciding that
even the name epic theater was inapprOpriate and mislead-
ing.10 It is primarily a result of Brecht's own efforts
as a literary theorist, playwright and dramaturge,11 how-
ever, that this term has become a coined generic label for
a Specific theatrical phenomenon, and that Brecht has
frequently been designated as the rightful father of "his"
prodigy. This latter claim need not be debated here,
except to point out that epic theater will not and should
not be restricted to the works and theses of Bertolt Brecht
with his inherent emphasis on Marxist ideology. It is
doubtful whether Brecht would ever have approved or desired
such a severe limitation; it is fact that elements of epic

theater can be traced back to the earliest Greek drama,12

13

that Brecht was not the first to use the term (nor did

he invent the idea of "Verfremdungseffekt" so often

14

attributed to him ), and that his dramas and theatrical

innovations never enjoyed much success in Marxist oriented
areas other than Berlin.15 For Brecht and for the present
discussion the term epic theater represents a middle ground
between the earlier, overly inclusive Choice of "non-
Aristotelian theater," and the final, somewhat exclusive
(because of its obvious Marxist implications) transition

to the expression "dialectical theater." It also represents
a middle ground, because of its widespread application and
general comprehensibility, among the numerous, equally
inadequate alternatives such as Ziegler's "classical,

tectonic" versus the "realistic, atectonic" structure of

the drama,16 Crumbach's subtitle of Dramaturgy of Contrasts,17

 

or the Closed and Open Form in the Drama as Volker Koltz
entitled his work on the subject.18

What then is epic theater? Brecht frequently
referred to it as the "Theater des wissenschaftlichen

Zeitalters,"19

and it seems therefore only appropriate to
speak in terms of this age by creating a very basic analogy.
Every student has, at some point in his career, studied

the fundamental structure of the atom: the nucleus,
consisting of the positively charged proton(s) and the
aptly designated, chargeless neutron(s), and the outside
negative balancing force of the electron(s). Placed in

the terminology of the drama, this structure closely

approximates that of the classical (Aristotelian) drama

in its purest form as exhibited, for example, in Goethe's

7

Iphigenie auf Tauris. Characteristic of this form is, in

the words of Volker Klotz, "klares, zugespiztes Gegeneinander
feindlicher Parteien, die sich deutlich in Aktionen (Spiel
und Gegenspiel) und Personen (Protagonist--Antagonist)
verkOrpern . . ."20 In the center stands Iphigenie, the
proton protagonist, exerting her positive energies against
the tyranny of King Thoas, the electron antagonist. Each

of these figures is a representation of traits and ideas,

as clearly symbols of positive and negative as the signs +
and - for the proton and electron. They are what Klotz

calls "Personifikationen der Eigenschaften,"21

as much role
as person. Just as the movements of the atom are determined
by scientific laws, so also are the actions of Iphigenie
and Thoas fixed by the laws of social status and predeter-
mined personal traits. It is a battle of equals. "Duell,
nach festen, anerkannten Spielregeln, zwischen zwei
profilierten, gleichgearteten Gegnern"22--Iphigenie versus
Thoas. At the outset the two are stalemated, locked in
the stable equilibrium of opposing principles. One method
.Of upsetting the stability of an atom is to bombard the
nucleus with neutrons; Geothe achieves essentially the same
end with the arrival of Crest and Pylades. Like the
neutrons, they are catalysts for the ensuing action while
remaining, on the whole, ineffectual chargeless particles

in determining its final course. The instability created

by the neutrons is, however, in both cases shortlived.

Once the actions and reactions have been set in motion
they must move directly forward to a speedy and definite
conclusion; in the atom in the form of conversion or
disintegration, in the classical drama as dénouement'or
catastr0phe. A new stability, a catharsis, must be
reached. In the above examples the addition of two neutrons
merely converts the atom in question, the hydrogen atom,
to its isotope tritium, and in Goethe's drama Thoas, con-
verted by Iphigenie's model to a new humane view of life,
resigns himself to the free departure of his Greek captives.
The analogy could be carried out at length.23 To
do so here is not necessary. It should be stated, however,
that there is an inherent problem.with the analogy as it
now stands. The problem (and the point of uSing this
particular analogy) is, strangely enough, not that it is
difficult to construe the different elements in such a
manner that they fit a comparison, but rather the fact that
everything fits too well. The reason this creates a problem,
at least as far as the correspondence between science and
fact and drama and reality is concerned, is quite simple.
Neither atoms nor people exist in this isolated state.
Matter is to the atom what society is to the individual.
'The single atom, the single person: both are caught up
in a flux of actions and reactions which are as much
determined by their surroundings as by their own individual

characteristics. To pull either out of these surroundings,

to isolate a small, well defined elite minority within a
vacuum of time and space which is governed by predetermined
universal laws is to distort reality. Just as a lone atom
can only be seen as a flat projection on a sheet of paper,
(so also is the classical drama a flat, non-dimensional
projection on the stage. Both are like chosen textbook
illustrations, or better yet, laboratory exercises, where
it is already known that a given set of steps will lead to
a previously determined result. Everything is set up and
designated for you; you are told that a certain particle
‘is a proton and a proton is always a plus, that a certain
character is the "good guy" and he will always be good.'

By this method there is no chance for error, no possibility
that you will be led astray to reach an incorrect or even
alternate conclusion. There are no unknowns, no "x" quanti-
ties. But it is these unknowns, the exceptions to the rule
and the as yet unruled, which make science a never ending
challenge and life an incomprehensible puzzle. The "x"

in life represents the unknown quantity of reality itself,
and it is this total reality which the dramatists of the
epic theater seek to portray. "Kunst," according to

Brecht's View, "folgt der Wirklichkeit."24

Therefore the
.subject matter of art must become matter itself, a matter
comprised of atomized human beings colliding constantly
with each other in the vast cyclotron of modern society.

Quoting Brecht once again, ". . . die Katastrophen von

 

10

heute verlaufen nicht geradlinig, sondern in der Form von
Krisenzyklen, die 'Helden' wechseln mit den einzelnen
Phasen, sind auswechselbar und so weiter, die Kurve der
Handlungen wird durch Eehlhandlungen kompliziert, das
Schicksal ist keine einheitliche Macht mehr, eher sind
Kraftfelder mit entgegenwirkenden StrOmungen zu beobachten,
die Machtegruppen selber zeigen nicht nur Bewegungen
gegeneinander, sondern auch in sich selber und so weiter
und so weiter. Schon zur Dramatisierung einer simplen
Pressenotiz reicht die dramatische Technik der Hebbel und
Ibsen bei weitem nicht aus. Dies ist keine triumphierende,
sondern eine betrfibte Feststellung."25
Seen from this perspective, epic theater is not
merely an innovation for the sake of newness ("1' art pour
1' art"), like atonal music a stagnant step from a stagnant
traditional form, nor was it created specifically as an I
alternative to that form. Rather it was a necessity, one
answer to the "betrubte Feststellung" which modern society
presents to the concerned playwright. This society is, in
the mind of every dramatist akin to the epic technique from
Lenz to the present, horribly diseased, a fungus dying from
its own internal composition and growth. As Max Spalter

put it in the introduCtion to his work on the dramatists

of Brecht's Tradition, "They suggest . . . that the world

 

is such a cesspool that it must be changed and that the

world is such a cesspool that it cannot be changed."26

11

Despite Mr. Spalter's italics, however, the emphasis should
be placed only on the "must." For while the epic dramatists
are certainly pessimistic in their outlook and cynical in
their pronouncements, it is equally certain that they are
ngt_nihiliStic with respect to their goals. The possibility
of and desire for change are inherent elements of the epic
theater, are in fact its reason for existence. Change is
the only hope. Brecht himself summed up his many years of
theatrical experience with this view in mind when saying
that "die heutige Welt anch auf dem Theater wiedergegeben
werden kann, aber nur wenn sie als veranderbar aufgefaBt

wird."27

Since the possibility of an elixir, a cathartic
cure-all, has become totally unrealistic in our age, there
remains only one method to achieve this transformation: to
expose the symptoms of our diseased society in such a manner
that they are recognized, understood, and thereby perhaps
avoided. It is, without doubt, a risky method offering
no concrete solutions and seldom placing any blame. It
is the method of trial and error, the scientific method, the
method of the epic theater.

Epic theater is the theater of the scientific age.
Its method is the scientific method, and the first step in
this method is the posing of a question. "The essence of
all science, for Brecht," quoting John Willett, "was scep-

ticism: a refusal to take anything for granted: an active,

burrowing doubt. . . . For nothing must be taken for

12

granted, in order that nothing may seem unalterable."28

To effeCt a transformation it is necessary to question

what already exists. To effect this transformation in the
theater, to pose questions and expose symptoms rather than
present stated facts and offer cures, to show a world of
cross sections rather than just the top crust elite of the
classical drama or the sordid "bottom slice of life" offered
by naturalistic authors-—to do these things it was necessary
to first transform the theater itself. Brecht attempted to
outline his views of this transformation of the theater
(not, it should be mentioned, just the dramazg) in his

often quoted scheme of "Gewichtsverschiebungen vom
dramatischen zum epischen Theater." The scheme, found

in the notes to the opera Aufstieg und Fall der Stadt

 

Mahagonny,30 remains one of the most clarified statements

 

of the open differences between the two forms and as such
is worthy of repitition here. It reads:

Dramatische Form
des Theaters

Epische Form
des Theaters

 

 

 

 

Die Bfihne verkOrpert sie erzahlt ihn
einen Vorgang
verwickelt den Zuschau—
er in eine Aktion und Betrachter aber
verbraucht seine Akti- weckt seine Aktivi-
vitat tat

ermOglicht ihm Geffihle erzwingt von ihm

macht ihn_zum

 

Entscheidungen
vermittelt ihm vermittelt ihm
Erlebnisse Kenntnisse
der Zuschauer wird in er wird ihr
eine Handlung hinein- gegenfibergesetzt

versetzt
es wird mit
Suggestion gearbeitet

es wird mit
Argumenten gearbeitet

13

die Empfindungen bis zu Erkenntnissen

werden konserviert getrieben

der Mensch wird als der Mensch ist Gegen-

bekannt vorausgesetzt stand der Untersuchung

der unveranderliche der veranderliche und

Mensch verandernde Mensch

Spannung auf den Spannung auf den

Ausgang Gang

eine Szene ffir die jede Szene ffir sich

andere

die Geschehnisse in Kurven

verlaufen linear

natura non facit sal- facit saltus

tus

die Welt, wie sie ist die Welt, wie sie wird

was der Mensch soll was der Mensch muB

seine Triebe seine Beweggrfinde

das Denken bestimmt das gesellschaftliche

das Sein. Sein bestimmt das
Denken

This comparison thoroughly summarizes and complements every-
thing which has been said thus far concerning the external
aspects, the "what" and the "why" of epic theater. As can
easily be seen from this comparison, for Brecht "das
Wesentliche am epischen Theater ist es vielleicht, daB es
nicht so sehr an das Geffihl, sondern mehr an die Ratio des
Zuschauers appelliert. Nicht miterleben soll der Zuschauer,

31 The next step, then, is

sondern sich auseinandersetzen."
to turn to the internal aSpects of the epic theater to see
hgw_the desired results are achieved.

Before taking this step, however, it must be
remembered that the purpose here is not to discuss epic
theater as such at length, but rather to merely outline

a workable set of criteria for later use in the examination

of Wedekind's dramas. The general question of epic elements

14

in the drama has been dealt with by numerous authors in
various fashion. Its answer has filled entire books.
Therefore it is necessary to present just the core of
this material in some type of summarized form which is at
the same time both brief and inclusive. The single work
on the subject which best lends itself to this type of
presentation, because of its thorough and methodic treat—
ment of the primary structural elements of "Handlung"
(dramatic action), "Komposition" (composition), "Zeit"
(time), "Raum" (space), "Personen" (characters), and

"Sprache" (language), is that by Volker Klotz, Geschlossene

 

und offene Form im Drama. Klotz discusses each of these

 

different elements first in relation to the closed
(Aristotelian) drama and then in the open (epic) drama,
thereby facilitating the same type of clear, summarized
comparison as used above by Brecht. This method of
schematic comparison will present the basic points of
divergence, thus narrowing the actual discussion and
definition to a minimum of clarification and suppletion
of the separate lists and a more thorough treatment of
those factors in the epic theater for which there is
nothing comparable in the Aristotelian.

The first element to be considered is that of

"Handlung,' translated here as dramatic action, thus

incorporating the concepts of story ("Stoff"), plot

2

("Vorgang") and theme ("Fabel"),3 all of which are or

15

can be implied from the general German term "Handlung."
Retaining throughout Brecht's placement of dramatic

theater on the

33

(Aristotelian) left and epic on the right,

the first scheme reads:

Einheit--Ganzheit
Unersetzlichkeit der
Teile
Unversetzbarkeit der
Teile

Nebenhandlung dient
der Haupthandlung
linear und ’

kontinulierlich
Exposition--Anfang
und Ende

zielstrebige Handlung
Idee

HOhepunkt
Entstofflichung--
Objektivierung
Sublimatibn.und
Verinnerlichung
Rhetorik--h5ren
verdeckte Handlungen--
Resultat

Verzicht auf Charak—
teristisches--das
Allgemeine
destillierte Aktionen
Duell

offene Zusammenhange

Schein als Sein--
Illusion

Ausschnitt als Ganzes
Atom

Kaleidoskop von Aspekten
ersetzliche Teile

versetzbare Teile

Autonomie der
Handlungen
zyklisch und
sprunghaftig
Demonstration--

-Mitte

Ziel ist die Handlung
Kontrast
Integrationspunkte
Dinghaft--

Faktizitat

Konkretion und
Offenbarung .
Dynamik--sehen
gegenwartige Handlungen--
Ereignis

das Charakteristische--
das Spezifische,
Einmalige .

Ffille der Aktionen
Kampf

verborgene Zusammen-
hange

Sein als Schein--
Verfremdung

das Ganze in Ausschnitten
Materie

This particular scheme needs very little eXplanation in
and of itself.34 The primary differences between dramatic
action in the Aristotelian and epic theaters can quite

easily be reduced and clarified with the use of a few

basic geometric principles concerning the nature of lines.

35

16

Dramatic action in the Aristotelian theater, first of all,
was characterized above by its definite linear construction,
linear being defined here in its essential meaning as "of

a line or lines." A line, however, is defined in geometry
as a "moving point;" it has no beginning and no end as such,
and if carried to infinity it will eventually form a circle. I
Therefore it is quite clear that the term linear as used

by Brecht and Klotz to describe the action in Aristotelian f

 

theater falls into the very limited category of what is E

normally conceived of as a line, i.e. a straight line which

 

joins and is the shortest distance between two distinct,

interposed points, both lying on the same plane. Such a

 

figure is designated geometrically not as a line, but as

a line segment. A segment is, by definition, part of a
greater whole and in this sense of necessity incomplete.

At the same time, however, the mere fact that it is limited
in and of itself, that it has starting and end points which
are fully bridged, creates the illusion of totality, and
the segment thereby becomes representative of the whole.
Further, such a line segment has length only, since aline
is infinitely thin and therefore lacking in breadth, and
its motion, once begun, can only be forward in direction.
As a result of this forward motion anything which lies
beyond this particular segment, either vertically from

its course or horizontally from its end points, is no part

of the segment and therefore does not exist in relation

 

17

to it. For any point to be a part of the line it must
be in the line, otherwise it will, by definition as a
moving point, form a new line.

As limited by these geometric definitions, then,
it is meaningful to say not only that dramatic action in
the Aristotelian theater is linear, but that this type
of theater can, as a whole, be termed linear theater.
This latter assertion will be amply demonstrated once all
the structural elements outlined above have been discussed;
for the present, however, the underlying linear basis can
be clearly demonstrated by applying the above definitions
to the characteristics of dramatic action outlined in the
first scheme (p. 15). The first four entries can all be
discussed in relation to and as part of Aristotle's require—
ment of unity of action, the only unity which he actually
_prescribed in his Poetics (8), and the one from which all
others (unity of time, place and to a certain extent
Character) are derived of necessity. For an action to
have unity ("Einheit"), according to Aristotle, "the events
of which it is made up must be so plotted that if any Of
these elements is moved ["Unversetzbarkeit der Teile"] or
removed ["Unersetzlichkeit der Teile"] the whole is altered
and upset. For when a thing can be included or not included
without making any noticeable difference, that thing is no
part of the whole ["Ganzheit"].36 Unity of action in the

Aristotelian sense, then, implies not only strict cohesion

18

and concentration, but also completeness; the end product
must represent a unified whole constructed of inseparable,
immovable parts.

Human conflicts, however, seldom come in such con—
venient packages. For this reason the dramatists of the
Aristotelian theater are forced to work from the same
principles as those outlined above for the line segment.
The action presented is only a part or segment, usually
the final "dramatic" moments, of a broader and more extended
sequence of events. In Klotz' words it is an action, "die
einen Ausschnitt aus einem pragmatisch, zeitlich und

37 Aristotle

raumlich GrOBeren und Komplexeren darbietet."
requires that these events be plotted, i.e. that the various-
events (points) are determined and interposed in advance

in such a manner that any deviations are avoided, and that
nothing extra is added. Essentially this is the same as
saying that the shortest distance between two points is a
straight, unbroken line, and that nothing exists in relation
to the line (or line segment taken as a whole) which does
not lie within the line. Since the line moves in only

one direction and its starting point has been previously
plotted, everything of importance lying behind this point,
the necessary background information, must somehow be
brought into the line segment. This necessity is served

by the method of explanatory exposition. Emil Staiger

alludes to precisely the same idea in his Grundbegriffe der

 

19

Poetik if one merely substitutes the word line for his

term "Bewegung" in the statement: "Die Exposition soll
kunstgerecht, das heiBt, bereits in die groBe Bewegung
verflochten sein."38 Staiger goes on to say, "Ein Aufenthalt

ist nirgends gestattet,"39

the same point made by Klotz when
he uses the term "kontinuierlich" in combination with
linear. By the above definitions, however, the former

term becomes redundant, since a line is a moving point.
Staiger adds further, "Episoden sind vom Ubel."4O
Each episode represents, in essence, a new starting point

and will, once again by definition, form a new and independ-
ent line, exactly what the Aristotelian dramatists seek to
avoid. .For this reason subplots are totally subservient

to the main plot; they represent an extension of rather

than a deviation from the main line or course of events.

Other methods used to avoid such divergence are "Teichoskopie"
or "Mauerschau," messenger reports and letters, techniques
which conveniently supply condensed results of screened
actions without the necessity of portraying the actual

events, without moving off the line. While these methods

are Certainly epic in the sense or descriptive narrative,

it should be pointed out that their function is actually

quite different. It is not the "Verweilen mit Liebe bei

jedem Schritte" which Schiller designated as characteristic

Of the epic form, nor is it an independent action; instead

its function is to hurry the action along, to capsulize

20

and objectify necessary information in order to save time
and avoid distraction. Such a method also complies with
the general pattern of universal harmony in the aristocratic
world of Aristotelian theater; chaotic scenes and barbaric
actions are distilled into previously digested reports.

We are told rather than shown and we are told only as

much or as little as the author wants us to hear and in
the form he chooses. Everything is turned away from the
specific to the general, from dynamic outward actions to
rhetorical inner descriptions--everything is brought into
the line.

The end result of this "Ent--stofflichung" is the
replacement of reality by illusion; since the spectator
sees only the very limited world presented on the stage
he begins to accept and feel his way into this world. In
effecthe becomes a part of the line and thereby loses
his perspective as a spectator; feeling, then, takes over
from reason. As a part of the line the spectator also has
no breadth of vision and thought and he knows only what
has been given to him (which now lies behind him). Ahead
he sees the previously set end point, the culmination of
the idea and the solution to the conflict in which he is
now involved. Between lies a blank space. ‘Since what
lies behind is insufficient and meaningless until thisgap
has been bridged, his entire attention becomes focused on

this final goal. He is, in Brecht's words, "verwickelt in

21

die Aktion" and as an active participant "gespannt auf den
Ausgang." The impulse of forward movement as directed by
the author (or the inherent motion of the line) has
replaced all detached observation on the part of the
spectator. If the author has been successful with his
expOsition and careful in his generalizations, the spectator
has by this time lost sight of the fact that this little
world on the stage is only a partial world, a segment of

a long series of events. He has become so engrossed that
the "Ausschnitt" has taken on the appearance of a "Ganzes,"
the line segment has become representative of the entire
line. In the end he is relieved that things have reached

a definite conclusion, but in the meantime he has lost
sight of the parts in his desire to construct a whole,

lost interest in the how and the why in his all—consuming
desire to learn the what_and the when. In accordance with
our geometric analogy, one could say that the spectator

has "gotten the author's line" in the.truest sense of the
phrase.

Epic theater, on the other hand, works from the
same definition of the line as a moving point, but Without
the restrictions placed on the line segment. As mentioned
above, a line carried to infinity will eventually form a
circle. It is therefore justified to speak of the circular
tendency of dramatic action in the epic theater and to A

designate this figure as Open, since infinity can be

22

postulated but in reality never reached. This designation
is in complete accord with the type of cyclical and ap-
parently irreconcilable conflicts dealt with by the epic
dramatists. They are not interested in a particular war
or the sufferings of a single poverty struck family; they
want to get to the roots of war and poverty as such, to
pose the type of questions which force the spectator to
think about his own personal and collective existence.
Man is, after all, a collective animal and his knowledge
of himself is reflected and enlarged by his knowledge of
the world and vice versa. This interaction between the
individual and society, between personal ego and collective
nonego is what the epic dramatist seeks to stimulate, to
provoke. C. G. Jung summarizes this aim in the following
sentences which contain what Crumbach considers to be the
"Urelement des epischen Theaters:"

. . . die Menschheit steht immer an den Grenzen

jener Dinge, die sie selber tut und doch nicht

beherrscht.

. . . geheime Unruhe benagt die Wurzeln unseres

Seins. . . . Die Beschaftigung mit dem UnterbewuBten

ist uns eine Lebensfrage. Es handelt sich um geist-

iges Sein oder Nichtsein.

. . . man muB es sich schon zugestehen: es gibt

Probleme, die man mit den eigenen Mitteln nicht

lOsen kann. Ein solches Eingestandnis hat den

Vorteil der Ehrlichkeit, der Wahrheit und der

Wirklichkeit.41
These problems, "die man mit den eigenen Mitteln nicht
lOsen kann," are called archetypes by Jung; in essence

they are the existential questions inherent in the nature

of man. Such problems are infinite in sc0pe and cyclical

23

in motion, just as is the straight line as defined above.
They are certainly more adaptable to an epic than a dramatic
treatment and structure.

The epic poet, however chooses such material as the
underlying basis of action precisely because of the freedom
offered by its Openended breadth; as Staiger says, "Die
Haupthandlung scheint . . . hier nur ein Vorwand, um
mOglichst viel einzelnes anzubringen."42 The epic drama-
tist, on the other hand, considers the discussion of these
problems a necessity, and the poet's freedom becomes the
dramatist's form. Since he is limited by the very finite
conditions Of a stage presentation, the only way he can
deal with such infinite questions is "mOglichst viel einzelnes
anzubringen." Klotz speaks of a "Kaleidoskop von Aspekten"
and "das Ganze in Ausschnitten," both of which refer to the
epic dramatist's desire, even need, to present not an illu-
sive, mental totality, but a factual, empirical totality--

a more total picture. He has no choice but to depart from
the outer line or circle of formal plot in favor of a series
of linked but independent actions. The circle gives him

this breadth lacking in the line segment, and acts merely

as a connecting thread for a myriad of line segments or,
geometrically speaking, chords. The chords, as line segments,
still represent the shortest distance between two points on
the greater line (circle), but they are no longer on this

line, rather they just intersect it at various intervals.

24

Seen in this geometric manner, it is quite easy to under—
stand the function of the scene, defined here as a chord,
in the epic drama. Each scene is like an independent
line segment with meaning in and of itself and at the same
time a link in a larger, infinite circular problem.43
Dramatic action in the epic theater is thus divided
into two distinct levels. The outer level, the circle,
contains the central, broad problem with which the author
is concerned; the inner level, the chords, demonstrate
this problem in all its complexity in various concrete
instances. Klotz designates these levels as a "Kollektiv-"

44 and Crumbach refers to a "sinndeutendes

5

and a "Privatstrang"
Spiel" and a "Beispiel" ("bei--Spiel").4
While these terms express essentially the same
relationship as the circle and the chord, the use of the
geometric concepts offers one distinct advantage in under-
standing the function of these levels. The focal vantage
point, the point from which the action on both levels is
Observed, lies neither on the outer circle nor the inner
chords, but in the (geometric) center. This is the position
of the spectator. The intertwined actions of the circle
and the chord therefore function not only as a method of
unifying the independent scenes, but also to keep the
spectator from identifying with the action in either one,

to keep him at the distance necessary for critical

observation rather than emotional involvement. Every time

25

he starts being drawn into the chords of segmented action
his attention is forcibly moved to another segment or
pulled from the inner action to the external problem.
Since there is no goal in sight in the form of an inter—
posed conclusion, he is content to concentrate on the
motion rather than its direction, the parts rather than
the whole. There is no tension to move forward as was
so necessary in the Aristotelian drama. This in turn gives
the author the opportunity to present a totality of action
and meaning, to show the specifics and vitality of actions
rather than presenting them in a watered down rhetorical
report. Despite its epic means, however, this type of
drama allows for specifically that kind of action from
which the word drama was originally derived, namely from
the Greek verb "dran" meaning to do. The characters do
something which is EEEE.bY the spectator, thus also con-
forming tO the concept of theater in the truest sense of
the word, as taken from the Greek "theasthai" meaning to
see. This reduction of the theater to a "see and do" world
of realistic factuality was exactly what Brecht sought as
the new function of the stage, especially in relation to
its purpose as a place of learning through entertainment.
The epic dramatist, then, merely uses certain epic
imeans to achieve dramatic ends. These means are dictated
by the subject matter chosen as the basis of the dramatic

action. Having chosen this subject matter, it is clear

from what has been said above that the author must conse-

quently alter his principles of composition, the next

element of consideration.

The basic differences in

composition in the Aristotelian and epic theaters can

be seen in the following scheme:

Die Komposition geht
von oben nach unten
Betonung des Akts--
geringes Gewicht der
Szene

Analogie und
Proportion

Symmetrie (bilateral)
Konturen

Gliederung--

Division
architektonische Ein-
heit

Handlungslinie

Aufbau der Einzelteile
wie den des Ganzes
Unselbstandigkeit der
Teile

46

Sie geht von unten
nach oben

Szene als drama-
tische Urzelle

Wiederholung und
Dispersion
Asymmetrie
RiBrander
Montage--
Addition
architektonische
Vielfalt
Bildkurve
durchgeffihrte
Variation(en)
Unabhangigkeit der
Teile

Both methods result in a whole which is greater than the

sum of its parts. The Aristotelian dramatist, however,

begins with a whole and then divides it up into its

constituent parts or acts and then further subdivides

these acts into scenes. The result is a symmetrical whole

whose meaning can only be seen and understood when all of

the parts have been properly placed together once again.

The epic dramatist, on the other hand, works in the opposite

direction. Instead Of dividing a whole he adds parts. As

Staiger states: "Das wahrhaft epische Kompositionsprinzip

ist die einfache Addition.

Im Kleinen wie im GroBen werden

27

selbstandige Teile zusammengesetzt. Die Addition geht

I O 47
Immer weiter,"

and further, "In epischer Dichtung namlich
hauft sich ein Werk aus Einzelheiten zusammen. Im
problematischen [dramatischen] Stil muB das ganze klar
sein, bevor der Dichter Art und Umfang der Teile bestimmen
kann. Er stellt den Punkt fest, auf den es hinauswill,

und fiberlegt sodann, wie alles auf diesen Punkt hin zu

ordnen sei."48

The "Szene als Urzelle" as Klotz puts it
becomes the basic dramatic unit and the epic whole is then
constructed from the bottom up, from the addition of
scenes, rather than through division from the top down.
Klotz' choice of the word "cell" coincides with Staiger's

designation of the epic work as an organism; "Ein Organsimus

ist, nach der Deutung in Kant's Kritik der Urteilskraft,

 

ein Gebilde, dessen Teile Selbstzweck zugleich und Mittel

sind."49

As mentioned above, the whole is still greater
than the sum of its parts, but only because the parts add up
to a more inclusive empirical picture. Concern is not
placed on proportion in a qualitative, architectural sense,
but in a quantitative meaning only; larger amounts of
factual information are presented to the spectator.

It should be stressed before proceeding, however,
that the lack of symmetry in the epic drama does not
connotate a lack of structural unity when seen in its

total perspective. The fact that each scene (chord) has

meaning in and of itself does not negate, does in fact

28

strengthen, the meaning and structure of the greater whole
(circle). Each scene contains integral links which, when
seen and placed together from the central position of the
spectator, do have a relationship to each other and an
even greater significance in relation to the whole.’ As
Klotz puts it, "Es besteht mithin grOBere Affinitat zwischen
der kleinsten und der grOBten Einheit als zwischen den
kleineren Einheiten untereinander."50
The next two elements, time and space, are relative
to the aforementioned characteristics of the nature of the
problems dealt with in the dramatic action of the epic
theater. Margret Dietrich states: "Die neue Art der
epischen Dramatik, die antinomisch bedingte Seinsweisen
interpretieren will, lebt aus ontologisch eingestellten
Blickrichtungen intellektueller und geffihlsmaBiger Prégung.
Die Grenzsituation nicht nur als Raumbestimmung . . .
sondern auch als Zeitbestimmung ordnet sich dieser
ontOlogischen Blickrichtung unter," and continues, "Die
alten Regeln von Einheit der Zeit und des Raumes haben
ihre Gfiltigkeit verloren, wo Zeit und Raum als relative
GrOBen empfunden werden. Die Forderung nach Einheit der
Handlung wird durch die neue nach Einheit des Problems
ersetzt. Diesem einen Grundgesetz gehorcht auch das
epische Drama, das mit.Raum, Zeit und Handlung sehr frei
Operiert, ja, das 'provokatorisch' die Einheit von Raum,

Zeit und Handlung zerstdrt, um sich seinem eigentlichen

29

Anliegen, dem Sichtbarmachen des Problems, widmen zu

kannen."51

Thus the same factor which dictated the con-
densation of time and space for Aristotle can be seen in
an inverse relationship in the epic drama; the broad,
existential problems which the epic dramatist is forced
to treat require an equal breadth of time and space.

The parallels of time in the epic and dramatic

theaters show the following characteristics:52

Es gibt eine enge
Eingrenzung der Zeit

24 Stunden

gedachte Differenz der
Zeitqualitat

bestimmte, kurze
Zeiterstreckung
Sonderung von Gegen-
warts- und Vorgeschichte
Zeit als Rahmen

reine Sukzession
Zeitlinien

vorwartstreibend--
bewegte Zeit

Es gibt eine
grenzlose Zeit

? ? ?

empfundene Differenz
der Zeitqualitat
elastische, weite
Zeiterstreckung
stete, fortwahrende
Gegenwart

Zeit als Wirkungs-
macht

dramatischer Augen-
blick

Punkte und Kontra-
punkte
Schwebezustand--
reflektierte und
reflektierende Zeit

Correspondingly space, treated frequently in conjunction
with time because of their Obvious inherent relationships,

shows a similar pattern of necessary breadth and newly

I O O I O 53
acquired Significance as can be seen in the scheme:

Ortsffille--

die Welt

Raum als mitwirken-

der Teil der Handlung
Verwandlung des Ortes-
Verwandlung des Gesche-
hens=Verwandlung der
Personen

Einheit des Ortes--
hOfisch, arkadisch
Raum als Rahmen--.
unbewegt und leblos
keine "sprechende" Ver-
wandlung des Ortes--
statisch

3O

zeitloser Raum zeitbedingt- und
zeitbedingender Raum
Natur und AuBenwelt Totalitat der empiri-
abschirmend schen Welt
Bedeutungslandschaft deutende Landschaft
stilisiert-- echt--
Gesellschaftsraum Lebensraum
Dinge=Zfige Dinge=Funktionen
(Projektionen der (Gegenstande der
Eigenschaften oder des Dingwelt)
Problems)
Symbolwert der Dinge Eigenwert der Dinge

Here again it is quite simple to equate the basic differences
between time and Space in the Aristotelian and epic theaters
geometrically. The line, defined as a point moving forward
in time and space and limited to the concept of an enclosed
line segment, is incapable of allowing either spatial
breadth or terminal extension. Therefore Aristotle's
requirement of unity of dramatic action, based upon his
choice of a limited (segmented) problem, requires by its
very nature a corresponding limitation of both time and
space. Staiger says of the Aristotelian dramatists:

". . . diesen Dichtern ist es gemaB, die Zeit zu verkfirzen,
den Raum zu verengen, aus einem ausgedehnten Geschehen den
pragnanten Moment zu wahlen--einen Moment kurz vor dem
AbschluB--und nun von da aus das Viele zur sinnlich

faB baren Einheit zusammenzuziehen, damit nicht die Teile,
sondern die Fugen, nicht das Einzelne, sondern der ganze
Sinnzusammenhang deutlich werde und nichts in Vergessenheit
gerate, was der HOrer behalten muB. Sinnvoll schlieBt der
Rahmen der Bfihne eine solche Dichtung ein. Mit einem Wort:

sie konzentriert."54 Seen as the functional framework of

 

31

the Aristotelian drama, the requirements of a stage
production literally force the structural elements of
time and space to also function as framework. The
spectator can extend his imagination only so far before
the illusion of totality and the tense desire to reach
a conclusion are lost; time (in relation to both the

functional aspect of the dramatic work and the actual

 

time spent sitting in the theater) and space must there-
fore be coherently regulated within this artificial world
in the same manner as outlined above for the elements of

55 The end reSult of this regulation

dramatic action.
(concentration) is the total relativity of both elements
in relation to the action which they enclose. Changes in
time and space, if great enough to even deserve consider-
ation, do not actually change anything; neither is in and
Of itself active. .
The circular nature of the problems dealt with
‘in the epic theater, on the other hand, not only calls
for but also allows the expanse necessary to deal with
these problems in a meaningful context. Since unityof
action in the Aristotelian sense is impossible and there-
fore not attempted, the corresponding unities of time and
place are also ignored. QuOting Margret Dietrich once
again: "Der ZerstOrung der Handlungseinheit parallel

geht folgerichtig auch eine Durcthcherung der logischen

Kausalitat. Der Kausalitatsnexus wird direkt an den

 

 

 

32

'Vorgang' gebunden und laBt einem alogischen Handlungsgeffige
ebenso freien Spielraum wie er Raum- und Zeitbehandlung

56 Time and space

aperspektivische Gestaltung einraumt."
are, according to Einstein's theory of relativity, inter-
dependent and relative to each other and to the motion
with which they are associated. Together they form an
unbroken continuum of the same type discussed above for
the Aristotelian theater. The presence of matter, however,
results in what Einstein terms a "warping" of this continuum
(commonly known as gravitation) in such a fashion that the
motion now describes a ggryg. This is precisely the same
effect seen when "matter” is introduced as the subject of
dramatic literature. Time and space must therefore function
under the new categories introduced by the altered,1
circular nature of the motion; the new function of
dramatic action in the epic theater calls for equivalent
alterations of the time--space relationship and vice versa.
Changes in time and space bring about concurrent changes
in the motion and nature of the action relative to them;
they become active forces with respect to the various
structural elements.

Similarly, the objects placed within this expanded
world also take on a different role. A single object, a
clock for example, has or can have a totally different
function in the two types of theater. Placed in the normal

setting of the classical drama, this clock would more than

 

33

likely be merely another unnoticed "thing" among many
pointing out the social standing of the main characters.

It has no quality in and of itself, rather only in relation
to the general quality of all things in this aristocratic
world of high society. The same funCtion could be performed
by a candelabra, a jewelry box, etc., since its value is
only of a symbollic nature. Even if used in a more con-
crete fashion to show the specific passing of time, its
intrinsic value would still be overshadowed by its more
general function as a factor of dramatic tension and the
elapse of time as a factor of forward motion leading to a
conclusion. The same clock located in the everyday world
of the epic theater might also have nothing more than a
figurative value. It may, for instance, symbolize the

fact that a poor family once belonged to the upper class

if it stands out as the only expensive item in an otherwise
meager setting. Or it may have been stolen. Or it may

be merely a factor of "Verfremdung," a strange object
which is out of place and therefore conspicuous. But -

the very fact that it stands out, that for one reason or

 

another we take notice, already gives it greater individual
importance than had previously been the case. In addition,
its ticking noise or intermittent chiming (in the
Aristotelian theater it is seldom that we even realize
whether or not the clock actually works) may combine with

Spatial elements such as an overcrowded hut or an

34

expansive, empty room, to show the immediacy of both time

and space. The amount of sound generated is interdependent

with the amount of Space in which it resounds and vice

versa. The ticking of the clock forces this realization

on the person Situated within the bounds of these time--

space coordinates, and thereby has a direct and active

influence on his behavior. The moment this realization

reaches the mind of the character it is clear that the

clock, as a clock, has a distinct value in relation to

the elements of time, space and action, even if the end

result is nothing more than someone smashing it or

throwing it out the window.57
The possibility of exactly this type of spontaneous

reaction on the part of a character in the Aristotelian

drama is all but inconceivable, in the epic theater quite

feasible. The peOple in the epic theater are just that;

normal, everyday people whose behavioral patterns (if,

with all the variation involved,one can even speak

meaningfully of true patterns) are conditioned by the

reciprocal interchange between the individual and the

world around him. Therefore it is impossible to

"characterize" these people in advance into categories

of plus and minus. As Crumbach states: "Es fehlt

keineswegs an ethischen und psychologischen Motiven,

doch hat der Zuschauer sie aus den Handlungen der Personen

zu deduzieren; uanglich ist es, auf Grund der gegebenen

Beschaffenheit eines Charakters Reaktionen vorauszuberechnen."

58

The characters of the epic theater, then, must also be

viewed in light of the circular problematics of vital

reality, as can be seen in the scheme:

Die Charaktere gehOren
einem hohen-Stande
Elite
tragikwfirdig--kann von
oben fallen

einseitig und geformt
einfache Ganzheit

Typus--Rolle
Personifikation der
Eigenschaften
Protagonist--
Antagonist

Schuld und Unschuld

Ordnungder Emotionen
kalt

Ratio-~Bewu8tsein
selbstbewuBt--Sieht
daS Ganze
Reflexion--Abstand zur
Aktion und zu sich
selbst

Mfindigkeit

Entwicklung
allverbindliche Welt-
anschauung

geringe Zahl der
Figuren
Kommunikation-—
Sprache

Vertrauen
Vertikalbindung--
geistig, wOrtlich
Nebenfiguren als Ab-
Spaltungen der Helden--
keine Randfiguren

59

Die Charaktere haben
keinen Standesvorbehalt
Alltagsmensch
tragisch--sind schon
unten

plastisch und formend
komplexe Gespalten-
heit

typisch--Mensch
Eigen-schaften

Monagonist--
Antagonismus

jeder schuldig, jeder
schuldenfrei
Geffihlsumbrfiche
sensitiv
Geffihl--Dasein (So-sein)
unsicher--sieht das
Nachste
Ahnung--Spontanes
Agieren und Reagieren

unmfindig oder
beschrankte Mfindigkeit
Erstickung

schaut die unverbind-
liche Welt an
vielfigurige Welt

Verstummen--

Pantomime und Geste
Furcht
Horizontalbindung--
physisch, k6rperlich
atmospharische aber
gerundte Randfiguren--
keine Helden

Real people of the real world--nothing more need be said

except: look around, look in the mirror. The reality

36

which will be seen is reflected, even if with a certain
amount of functional (not, as in the Aristotelian theater,
purely artificial) artistic distortion, in the characters
of the epic theater. .

CorreSpondingly these people Speak (once again with
given functional exceptions) in a normal, everyday idiom.
Their language, the final structural element to be con-
sidered, is consistent and interdependent with all of .
the elements discussed previously. Exclamation, pause,
broken words and unfinished sentences, gesticulation in
the place of vocal expression, etc. all reflect the
increased difficulty Of trgg communication as Opposed to
the flowing rhetoric of stichomythic sentences in the
Aristotelian theater. In the latter the various unities
result also in a unified language framework ("Sprachraum");
the fact that all of the characters are from the same
class, for example, will condition speech patterns to a
very narrow point Of divergence. Therefore One should
keep in mind everything which has been said thus far con-
cerning the relationship between function and purpose as
the determining factors of structure when reading this

final comparison Of structural elements, namely that of

language. It reads:60
Die Sprache ist Die Sprache ist
einheitlich--Sprache pluralistisch--
des "hohen" Stils Stilmischungen
Versstil Prosastil

Herrschaft fiber die Beherrschtsein von

37

Sprache der Sprache
logische Argumente spontanes Aus-sagen
schluBig--Folgerung assoziativ--Reihung
Satzgeffige Satzgeschlinge
hypotaktisch parataktisch
deduktiv und explicit induktiv und implicit
einheitliche Perspektive polyperspektivisch
Konjunktion Von Addition von
Perioden Partikeln
homophones Sprechen polyphones Sprechen
Abhangigkeit der Teile Selbstandigkeit der
Teile
Beschreibung--urteilt Evokation--beschw5rt
Sentenz--begrfindet Sprichwort--deutet
Zielbewegung Bewegung als Ziel
Dialog als Duell-- Dialog als Selbstaussage--
Sprechen miteinander sprechen nebeneinander
. oder durcheinander
Austausch--Stichomythie Ausdruck—-monologartig
Monolog enthalt Ffir—und Monolog enthalt Geffihle
Gegenargumente und Gedanken
Entschlfisse fallen in Entschlfisse werden durch
der Sprache die Tat gezeigt
klare Wahl Symptomen
beschrankte Metaphorik-- offene Metaphorik--
Mythologie, Historie Bibel, Volkslied,
und Literatur Sprichwort und Marchen
gebundene Metapher-- ungebundene Metapher--
traditionell verkoppelt extemporierte Bilder
das Allgemeine das Augenblickliche

True to the nature of the characters and situations presented
in the Aristotelian theater, the language is characterized
above all by coherence and composure. The characters
recitate the progressive ligg which the author has formu-
lated andpolished in advance. -Logical thought, not im-
mediate action and reaction in verbal fOrm, dictates the

use of articulate Speech in even the most extreme circum-
stances. The same type of regulated "duel" which character-
ized the dramatic action is reflected in the dialogue. As

Klotz says, "Der DialOg in Sentenzen ist R e d e d u e l l.

38

Er hat mit der hOfischen Kunst des Fechtens vieles gemeinsam,
zusammen mit der dramatischen Grundfigur des Duells ent-
Spricht er dem hOfisch-aristokratischen Raum des geschloss-
enen Dramas. Duell wie Sentenzendialog werden nach festen

Regeln ausgefochten."61

The total lack of immediacy in
this studied phraseology is also evident in the use of
metaphor; the impression left is not that of the specific
object being described, but rather that of the more general
object to which it is compared. Further, the source of the
metaphors employed is directly related to the literate
aristocratic world pictured, and therefore not always
understandable to the common man.

Again one need only use his normal capacities of
sensory perception to discern the differences between this
language and that used in the epic theater. If one places
himself, for example, in the middle of the "street scene"
which Brecht designated as a model for the epic theater,62
the interaction of all the elements of time, Space, action
and personality on the speech of the person involved would
certainly be perceptible. The heat of anger, the feeling
of being trapped by the persistent inquiry of passers-by,
the realization that you are losing time, the misinterpre-
tation of your aCtions and/or motives, the wishful thought
that nothing had happened--all of these factors work together

to produce a chaotic mixture of exclamatory outburst,

frustrated stammering, inexpressable gesticulation or

39

total silence. The traits listed above are thus quite
self—explanatory in light of the breakdown Of communi-
cation in today's world. I

In summary, then the following statements can be
made concerning the general nature of the epic theater:

1. The epic dramatist is concerned with the Situation
of the world as it exists and has existed, and
therefore wishes to use the theater as a vehicle
of change.

2. If this change is to be relevant it must be
generally applicable. He therefore chooses as
the basic problem of his works one Of the broad,
irreconcilable conflicts which exist between
the individual and his, our world.

3. The breadth of such conflicts forces the dramatist
to spring the normal bounds of a unified dramatic
world through the employment of epic means; he
forsakes the artificial, illusive totality of
linear segmentation in favor of the freedom and
breadth offered by the empirical totality of a
circular structure.

4. Since these conflicts are infinite in nature,
the figure (circle) described must be
designated as Open.

5. This open structure, the fact that beginning
and end points are not imposed in advance, has
in turn as its most immediate effect the release
of tension ("Spannung") as a factor of the
inherent forward motion toward a goal so prominent
in the linear, Aristotelian theater. The
Spectator is therefore content to concentrate
on the motion (action) itself.

These five points form the general basis of the outer or
first level of Structure in the epic theater. The basic
factor in determining this structure was the breadth and
complexity of the prOblems which the modern dramatist mggt

deal with; purpose (viable change) determines problem

40

(existential archetypes) which in turn determines structure
(epic circularity). The epic dramatist is, however, still
bound by the requirements of the stage. He mggt therefore
introduce a second, inner level of structure in order to
make the presentation of the problem feasible for stage

production.

6. The outer level or circle therefore serves
primarily as the unifying, interpretive frame-
work for a series Of chord-like scenes (and/or
scenes Within sceneS) which demonStrate the
problem in various concrete instances or ex-
amples. In addition, the interaction between
circle and chord serves to keep the spectator
from identifying with the action on either
level.

 

7. These scenes are characterized above all by
their independence (meaning in and of them-
selves), their contrasting variety, their multi-
plicity and their specific reality.

 

8. Time, place and characters are correspondingly
freed from the bonds of artificial unity, and
take on an active, interdependent role in
determining Behavior.

 

 

9. Language as an element of behavioral expression
is now determined by the circumstances of time
and place as well as the inherent factors of
varied personalities.
10. Architectural, linear unity is thus replaced by
scientific, empirical totality in a stagable
form through the combination of circle and chord.
The epic dramatist, then, constructs a real world in which
he demonstrates real problems. To keep the spectator at
a distance from the reality which he presents he frequently

introduces elements (so-called "Verfremdungseffekte" [see

n. 34]) which make this very real world seem strange.

41

These elements distort without actually altering the given
object, person, etc., in such a manner that we are forced
to consider them in a new light, to reorient our previous
values. They combine with the interaction of the two

levels of structure and the lack of a pOSitive conclusion
to keep the Spectator in the position of a critical,
thinking Observer. He is provoked; he becomes mentally
active. This mental activity geared toward the reorien-
tation of values will (if the dramatist has been successful)

lead to the original goal of constructive change.

 

"Die Werke Wedekinds handeln wie die Jedes echten

Dichters nur von ihm."63

The truth and import of this
statement by Paul Fechter cannot be overstressed. It

is impossible, despite the current trend toward the study
of literary works as independent bodies,64 to gain a full
understanding and appreciation of Frank Wedekind the
dramatist without some insight into the man.' As Max
Spalter so convincingly points out, the authors designated
as the precursors of the epic theater share with Brecht
not only certain dramatic techniques, but also a common
temperament characterized above all by cynicism, frus-
tration, aggressiveness and a desire for radical change.
It is therefore no accident whatsoever that their dramas
have taken on a correspondingly radical form; the stage

is an outlet for and a visual confrontation with their

own inner conflicts. AS was demonstrated above, it is

42

this combination of purpose and problem which determines
the structure of the epic drama and theater.

For the sake of necessary brevity, Kutscher's
excellent three-volume biography of Wedekind, which in
itself reads like an epic drama with Wedekind as the lonely

"non-hero,‘ can be graphically summed up in one word:
estrangement. Wedekind lived his entire life as an out-
sider, estranged from his parents, his wife, his contempo-
raries and most basically from himself. He was living
testimony to the internal dualism so Often expressed in
the conflict between the artist and society in the works
of Thomas Mann. It is perhaps for this reason that Mann

considered the final scene between Scholz and Keith in

Wedekind's Der Marquis von Keith to be ". . . das

 

Schrecklichste, Rfihrendste und Tiefste, was dieser tiefe,

65 Scholz and Keith

gequalte Mensch geschrieben hat."
are not two enemies fighting each other in the form of
antagonist and protagonist; they are two antithetical

Sides of Wedekind's nature demonstrating his own inner

 

antagonism. The Scholz-Keith antithesis never reaches
synthesis, unless perhaps years later in Brecht's Bigl,
the central character of which is decidedly patterned
after Wedekind.

The same inherent personal traits which led the
dramatists of the epic tradition to the theater as an out-

let for existential conflicts also led them to the

43

conclusion that the existing theater was not prepared,
either physically or mentally, to satisfy their new
demands.' Thus they further shared a common personal
desire to bring about change not only through but also in
the theater, and a similar feeling of frustration in the
realization of the fact that the target of their attacks,
bourgeois society, controlled their only weapon, the
theater. Brecht was the first to successfully break
through this barrier, and as a result has received a great
deal of credit for innovation in the theater. That much
Of this credit is to a certain extent undeserved can be
easily proven by comparing, for instance, his "Neue Technik

der SchauSpielkunst"66

"67

with Wedekind's "Schauspielkunst:

Ein Glossarium. Both authors critize the naturalistic

style Of acting from the same basic premises and with many
of the same suggestions for change. One could, however,
go back even further. Compare for example the following
quotes:

Woher [hat Hans Sachs] das Zutrauen zu der
Einbildungskraft seines Publikums. Weil er sicher
‘war, daB Sie sich aus der namlichen Absicht dort
versammelt hatten, aus der er aufgetreten war,
ihnen einen Menschen zu zeigen, nicht eine
Viertelstunde.68

Kurz und gut, [ich erregte Kopfschfitteln und
Achselzucken], weil ich von der barbarischen
Voraussetzung ging, daB der Zuschauer fur sein
Geld etwas hOren und sehen will. Schlechter-
dings bin ich wirklich der Uberzeugung, daB ‘
unser literarisches Theater seit zwanzig Jahren
erstens zu wenig Theater und zweitens viel zu
.literarisch ist.69

44

Either statement could have come from Brecht in his
criticism of the "culinary" theater of our own day; in
fact, the latter was made by Wedekind at the turn of the
century and the former by J. M. R. Lenz in 1774.
Throughout his theoretical writings and personal
letters Wedekind made beseeching personal appeals to the
theatrical profession On all levels to at least attempt
a production of his dramas before writing them off as
morally and technically unstageable. When nothing resulted
from these challenges but rebuke, he resorted to the only
remaining solution; in l898 he accepted a position at the
Ibsen Theater in Leibzig as secretary, director and, most
importantly, as an actor. He was thus given his first
opportunity (followed by numerous others in similar
positions in theaters throughout Germany) to not only
direct his dramas in the manner in which he intended
them to be performed, but to literally ghgw his own inter-
pretation of the dramatic personages who were so much a
part of himself. Wedekind's career as an actor can best
be described as successfully unsuccessful. That is to
say his acting was extremely beneficial in relation to
the general understanding and acceptance of his works by
the theater and the audience, many Of whom came just to
see Wedekind himself, but his actual talent never prOgressed
beyond that of the common dilettante. Even this latter

fact, however, can be viewed from a positive aspect.

 

45

Because of his true lack of ability, Wedekind always
remained an actor playing a role; the audience was at
all times aware of the fact that they were seeing not
Scholz or Keith, but a pOOr aCtor, and more specifically
a poor actor who they knew to be Frank wedekind. He thus
unknowingly fulfilled to the utmost Brecht's basic concept
of "Verfremdung" as a technique of acting in that he
always kept the audience 229 himself at a distance from
his role. 1
One further personal factor which relates Wedekind
to the other dramatists leading to the epic theater, and
which is reflected directly therein, is that of Speech.
The characteristics outlined above for the language used
in the epic theater arean:least to a certain extent the
result of the author's own Speaking habits and the Obser—
vation (and corresponding influence) of his language
environment. For Wedekind this environment included the
majority of EurOpe, from the lowest class bordel to the
best hotels and restaurants. His own strange idiom,
developed during his isolated youth at the castle Lenzburg,
is therefore Combined with numerous others to form a
dramatic dialogue characterized primarily by its indi-
viduality, variety and precision. It is therefore not
at all surprising to find that most critics now consider
ifledekind to be one of Brecht's primary language sources.

Wmile numerous examples could be given either directly

46

or indirectly Showing this influence, one particular and
fully coincidental comparison comes to mind which illus-
trates excellently their similar views on the function of
language as precise expression. Kutscher relates the
following concerning Wedekind's speech: "Wedekind erstrebte
Einfachheit des Sprachlichen Ausdrucks. Eine Bemerkung

aus der Pariser Zeit wendet sich gegen Nietzsche, der
anstatt 'Ich argere mich, wenn ich das Kamel sehe,' sagt
'Meine Seele argert sich, wenn mein Auge das Bild des

Kamels sieht.'"7O

Martin Esslin uses a surprisingly
comparable example for Brecht: "To say 'pluck out the eye
that offends thee' is far less effective than 'If thine
eye Offend thee, pluck it out.‘ Here the language itself
implies and compels the corresponding action."71
There would be no difficulty in continuing to

relate Wedekind's personal life to those of the other
dramatists leading to the epic theater, and to Show that
these factors directly influenced the formation of that
theater. There is neither reason nor necessity to do so
here. One last illustration will serve as both summary
and conclusion. Consider the following as the final scene
of a Wedekind drama:

Eine groBe Trauergemeinde hatte sich eingefunden,

die Stadtvertretung, Manner der Wissenschaft und

Kunst, die Literatur und die Theater . . . ; dazu

Reste der Schwabinger Bohéme, Freudenmadchen und

Halbwfichsige, die dem [Herrn] 'so etwas wie die

letzte Ehre erwiesen oder doch wenigstens ihre

Neugier befriedigen wollten.‘ Schon in der
Leichenhalle gab es Gedrange und unwilliges

47

Gemurmel, weil alles noch einen Blick in den
Offenen, blumenfiberwuchteten Sarg tun wollte,

eine Malerin aber den Raum fur sich hatte ab-
Sperren lassen, bis das Publikum die Schranken
durchbrach. Auch in der Aussegnungshalle, um

den Katafalk, 'Schaute sich die bunte Schar

hinter den Herren im schwarzen Rock und Zylinder.
. . . Nun folgte ein groteskes Zwischenspiel.

Als der Zug sich in Bewegung setzte, 'geriet der
Knauel unwillkommener Zaungfiste in wellenfOrmige
BeWegung; und plOtzlich hasteten sie, einer den
anderen fiberholend, dem Sarge voran, nur ja die
ersten am Grabe zu sein und auch von dem Schauspiel
dort nichts zu versaumen. Wie die Wilden stfirmten
Sie im Galopp querfeldein . . . Heinrich
Lautensack, seiner geistigen AuflOsung nahe,
setzte mit einem Filmoperateur hinterher und rief
dauernd in das Gefolge, wie man sich zu halten

und wohin zu blicken habe. Am Grabe enstand ein
peinliches Durcheinander. Den Rednern, die sich
nur schwer Platz und GehOr schaffen konnten, wurden
die Hfite vom Kopf gestoBen und die Blumenspenden
zerdrfickt. Es kam zu mfihsam gedampften
Auseindersetzungen, zu lauten Weinkrampfen und
anderen unliebsamen Szenen.‘ . . . endlich

stfirzte Lautensack hervor, warf sich am Grabe
nieder und schrie, indem er seinen Kranz in daS
Grab schleuderte: 'Frank Wedekind dem geliebten
Meister, sein getreuster Schiilerl'l72 -

This final line tells you that the above scene, so full

of Brechtian estrangement, was in fact Wedekind's burial.

CHAPTER I I

DRAMATIC ACTION

Verzeihung, Exzellenz, wir stehen
hier auf der Buhne.--Auf einer
wirklichen Buhne--auf der wechsel-
vollen Bfihne des groBartigen
unberechenbaren Lebens . . . 73
Aristotle's requirement of a unified dramatic action,
a unity characterized not only by its linear progression
but also by its artificial totality, was Shown above to be
the dominant factor in determining the entire structure
of this particular form of drama. Dramatic action in the
epic theater, on the other hand, was characterized above
all by its circular freedom and open breadth. This freedom,
however, must be viewed as a freedom of necessity, Since
dramatic action was Shown to be the threefold result of:
(l) the author's original purpose, (2) the problems which
must be dealt with in order to serve and achieve that
purpose, and (3) the structure which he must choose in
order to deal with such problems. The epic tradition in
the theater therefore has as its origin the common desire
on the part of all its followers, without exception, to

change the world as it exists and has existed, and par-

ticularly the world which is reflected in their own

48

49

society. This common goal dictates, despite differences
of personal preference or historical emphasis, a choice
of broad, existential problems which in turn require a
circular, epic-like structure.

Frank Wedekind's position in this development is
quite clearly determined from the outset by the problematics
which he chose as the basis for his dramatic production.
Wedekind saw the primary function of his dramas in the
necessity to expose the hypocrisy of the reigning bourgeois
society and the corresponding need to attack the equally
hypocritical representation of this society in the con-
temporary realistic (naturalistiC) theater of Ibsen and
Hauptmann. He chose as the primary target for his dramatic
exposés a most sensitive area which this and every previous
society had wished and attempted to avoid: sexual morality.
Wedekind, like Freud, saw sex as a driving instinct in
most overt human behavior, an instinct which Should be
understood and appreciated rather than repressed and
degraded. For Wedekind, if money is the root of all
evil then sex is the root of all pleasure, and the two
are generally grafted together to grow into a weak and
withered little weed of the species Homo sapiens, who
is consciOuSly or unconsciously trapped in a constant
conflict between instinct and system. It is precisely
this innate conflict in modern man, that between instinct

and system, between the inalienable individual rights

50

and the demands of modern society, which forms the core
of the dramatic action in a Wedekind drama. Good and
evil, sex and material gain, reach a personified culmi-
nation in one of Wedekind's favorite and most frequently
employed figures, the prostitute or, far more Wedekindian,
"Freudenmadchen."

I It hardly seems necessary to point out that this
general subject matter far exceeds the bounds of a unified
and total dramatic presentation. The universality of the
sexual drive as a basic human instinct and the Singularity
of each particular personal reaction to this instinct are
not matters which can be limited to a given time or place
or a Specific social class. The desire for material
wealth is common to all mankind; the attempts to gain
wealth are as varied as the people employing them. Any
treatment of these questions which hOpes to be meaningful
and instructive enough to bring about fruitful change
must Show both their general nature and their Specific
implications, their universality and their Singularity.
Wedekind does exactly that by employing the two levels of
structure outlined above as typical Of and necessary for
the presentation of dramatic action in the epic theater;
the outer, circular level introduces the broad, irrecon-
cilable problem which is then demonstrated in all its
complexity in the inner chords or scenes.

Wedekind's dramatic works include twenty complete

dramas, a number of fragments and a variety of related

 

 

51

works such as pantomimes and dance pieces intended for
the theater. This production spans a period of forty
years, beginning in 1877 at the modest age of thirteen
with the fragmentary attempt Eine Szene aus dem Orient,
and ending in 1917 with his last complete drama, Herakles.
It is therefore quite obvious that it is necessary to
place some type of limitation on the present discussion
rather than proceeding at random. In line with what has
been said above concerning the two major conflicts which
Wedekind Selected as the basis of the action in the great
majority of his works, it is possible to designate two
groups of dramas which illustrate quite well his basic
structural techniques, the development of these techniques
throughout his career, and their relationship to the char-
acteristics of dramatic action in the epic theater outlined
above in the first scheme. The first group, consisting of
Frfihlings Erwachen (1891), the two "Lulu Plays," (Erdgeist

[1893] and Die Buchse der Pandora [1901]), and Franziska

 

 

(1911), has sexual vitalism in the foreground, with
bourgeois materialism playing an important but somewhat

secondary role. The second group, Der Schnellmaler Oder

 

Kunst und Mammon (1889), Der Kammersanger (1897), Der

 

 

Marquis von Keith (1900) and Die Zensur (1907), tends to

 

reverse this emphasis toward the material values, especially
as these values relate to the position of the artist in

conflict with middle class society.

HJPA. '1' ql‘V'Zl —_ . 'IVW
I)

 

52

The first group of dramas represents an excellent
illustration of what has been said concerning the unwilling-
ness and inability of the modern dramatist to fully resolve
the existential questions which he himself poses and of
the inherent open, circular nature of these problems. Each
of these works offers in essence a continuation of what
psychologists would refer to as the gyglg of sexual develOp-
ment, and each is therefore a continuation of the previous,
incomplete work.~ While it could hardly be argued that
Wedekind intentionally followed the "scientific method"
used by the psychologist to come to grips with the problems
arising from sexual aggression or repression, this is
approximately what he does. These dramas are actually
nothing more than a series of semi-factual episodes from
individual case histories which give the audience the
opportunity to sit by the proverbial couch and come to its
own conclusions about what they have seen and heard.
Despite the fact that many of the "facts" presented in
these cases have been altered or distorted out of pro-
portion in order to provoke the lethargic Spectator into
active concern, most nonetheless have, as a study of
Wedekind's biography proves, a certain amount of factual

authenticity. This is especially true of Frfihlings

 

Erwachen, Wedekind's first major drama and the structural

and thematic model for his entire dramatic production.74

53

Georg Bfichner made a tremendous step forward in the
develOpment of the modern theater when he centered the
dramatic action of an entire drama on the existential
agony of a Single pathetic creature by the name of Woyzeck.
Over fifty years later Wedekind went one step further by

peopling his Frfihlings Erwachen with a number of Such.

 

victimized innocents. AS Spalter states: "Action does

not revolve around a Single hero or protagonist but a
gallery of types such as Brecht would employ to demonstrate
individual variations of a basic human'dilemna."75 The
dilemna being faced is that of the internal anxiety which
accompanies the arousal of sexual awareness in the
adolescent entering puberty and the corresponding external
conflict resulting from the attempt of prudish adults to
morally degrade and mentally repress this completely natural
physical phenomenon. These problems are clearly age-old
and universal, while each individual's reaction to them

is unique and personal; thus the subject matter itself
leads quite independently to the two levels of action

commonly found in the epic theater.

The empirical scope of Frfihlings Erwachen becomes

 

extremely evident when one attempts to meaningfully
summarize the action in a brief form. Essentially three
fourteen year old children, Moritz Stiefel, Wendla Bergmann
and Melchior Gabor, emerge above the others as central

figures. Moritz, insecure and increasingly neurotic, is

54

driven by the pressures of school, family and sexual
anxiety to suicide.- Wendla, the personification of
naiveté, becomes pregnant with Melchior's child and
dies an unnecessary death resulting frOm an attempted
abortion arranged without her knowledge by her parents.
And Melchior, intelligent and overly worldly for his age, F“
‘is sent to reform school for having written a treatise
on human reproduction for Moritz and for "seducing"

Wendla, but manages to escape and in the final scene

 

“E:

is convinced of the need to continue living by a masked
apparition who appears in the cemetery where Moritz and
Wendla are buried. Suicide, seduction, an escape from
jail--thiS alone seems like more than enough action for
a Single drama and certainly provocative enough to incite
the average nineteenth century audience. This outline is,
however, at very best skeletal. Among other things it
does not include, in addition to the full depth and
implications of the above actions, the poignant scenes
involving some of the other children, such as Hanschen
Rilow's almost psychopathic flight of sexual phantasy
(II, 129-131) and his later experience of innocent homo-
sexuality with Ernst RObel (II, 165), or the fate of Ilse,
victim of a meager and undisciplined homelife which leads
her to the dubious freedom offered by life as a prostitute.
The bleak seriousness Of these scenes is countered by the

natural, humorously innocent manner in which the children

55

discuss their plight, and by the interSpersing Of bitingly
comical scenes, such as the brilliant teachers'conference
(II, 143-148), which caricature the dehumanized adult
world with an irony equal to that of Brecht or Dfirrenmatt.76
Wedekind makes no concentrated attempt to fully
develop any of these various facets of action. They are
thrust upon the Spectator one after the other without
expositional commentary and Often with no immediately
visible relationship to each other. Many, such as the
scenes devoted to Hanschen Rilow, do not move the main
action forward in the least--in fact it is difficult if
not impossible to discern a single line Of progressive
action even in relation to the three central characters--
and could seemingly be moved or removed at will. The
random appearance of this epic volume of events is,
however, quite superficial; they are neither unnecessary
nor unstructured. Their function is that of empirical
exemplification or episodic reinforcement, a function
which not only justifies and requires their inclusion in
relation to the author's purpose of attaCking a problem
by recognizing a maximum number of its potential symptoms,
but also lends a certain amount Of external unity through
their association with this greater problem or whole.
The vibrant immediacy and general implications of the
action contained in these scenesaue far more important

to Wedekind than their possible outcome (or lack thereof),

56

and the depth and independence of each keep the spectator
from concentrating on anything other than that which is
presently taking place. The release Of dramatic tension
which results from this stress on action rather than
artificial forward motion is achieved further by Wedekind's
technique of foreboding impending actions, a method also
used frequently by Brecht to control the Spectator's
interest. Wendla's eventual fate is prefigured in the
very first scene when, in answer to her mother's statement:
"Wer weiB, wie du sein wirst, wenn sich die anderen
entwickelt haben," She replies: "Wer weiB--vie11eicht
werde ich nicht mehr sein" (II, 98). Similarly, Moritz
alludes to his violent demise as early as the fourth scene
with the comment: "Wenn ich nicht promoviert worden ware,
hatte ich mich erschossen" (II, 113), and his references
to the story of the "KOnigin Ohne KOpf" (II, 121 and 137)
are personified in the final scene in the graveyard, when
Moritz himself appears with his head under his arm. TheSe
hints of what is to come serve not only to alleviate the
tension of baited eXpectancy by supplying the spectator
with advance notice; they also function as threads of
unification (Klotz' term "Integrationspunkte") woven
throughout the drama to assist the Spectator in relating
the various segments of action to the greater whole. All
of these threads are brought together in the masterful

graveyard scene which concludes the drama. As Klotz

57

states: "Die Szene zwischen Melchior, dem toten Moritz

und dem vermummten Herrn . . . fangt die Diffusion der

vielen Partikularerlebnisse, —1eiden und -tragOdien dieses

Stficksamrfund zeigt, daB es bei all den scheinbar isolierten

GesChehnissen um nichts anderes ging als um den Kampf

zwischen Lebens— und Todestendenzen."77
This final scene merits Special consideration as

a milestone in the development of modern drama. Action,

which has proceeded at a breakneck pace, is brought to a

resounding halt in order to present one last unifying

overview of what has taken place. This technique, later

employed quite frequently by Frisch and Dfirrenmatt, not

only allowed Wedekind to demonstrate the interrelation Of

the seemingly autonomous events of his drama, but also to

put them in the proper perspective through narrative

comment in the person of The Masked Man, no doubt the

author himself. Wedekind was certainly aware and desirous

Of the effect which this figure, Brechtian in its narrative

function and estranging being, would have on his audience.

"This mysterious intruder,” quoting Spalter, "is as blatant

a departure from realistic technique as the Sight of

Moritz carrying his head on his arm. 'Verfremdung' is

a pertinent concept here; Wedekind abruptly demolishes

an atmosphere with which we can identify and creates an

iatmosphere that can only startle us to wonder and reflection.

fie makes us realize by his grotesque antinaturalism that

58

in essence his play has been about Eros versus Thanatos
as much as it has been about adults versus adolescents."78
This latter statement, similar to the one above by Klrtz,
is born out by the coldly ironic and yet uncondemning
nature of the pronouncements made by The Masked Man con-
cerning the fates of the children. When he tells Melchior
that Wendla would have given birth to a normal, healthy
child had it not been for the attempted abortion (II, 171)
and assures Moritz that his parents would have survived
the shame of his not being promoted to the next class

(II, 173), he is not placing blame directly on the parents
in either case. They too have had to suffer the consequences
of their mistaken deeds. Like Brecht, Wedekind saw the
society which engendered these tragedies as the sole
culprit in a system which makes everyone losers. Also
like Brecht, he Offers no suggested means to beat this
system except to live, even if life means nothing more

than basic endurance, on the tenuous hope that things will
and must change. It is pertinent to note that this affir—
mation of life, consistent with Wedekind's desire for
impartiality in relation to the question of guilt, comes
from a member of the adult world, The Masked Man, at the
same time that Moritz is attempting to convince Melchior
Of the peace found in death. As Wedekind himself realized,
the plausibility of this affirmation would have been

greatly reduced had he reversed the two roles, would in

59

fact have bordered on the ridiculous considering Moritz'
escape frOm life through death. The following statement
from "Was ich mir dabei dachte" affirms his desire to leave
the door to the future part way Open: "ES widerstrebte

mir, das Stfick, Ohne Ausblick auf daS Leben der Erwachsenen,
unter Schulkindern zu schlieBen. Deshalb ffihrte ich in

der letzten Szene den Vermummten Herrn an" (IX, 424).

This "Ausblick auf das Leben der Erwachsenen" finds its
realization in the "Lulu Plays," which are peopled with

adult versions of the children presented in Fruhlings

 

Erwachen.

The brief scene between Ilse and Moritz in Fruhlings

 

Erwachen (II, 137-141) is a miniature prelude of what is

to come in Erdgeist and Die Bfichse der Pandora. In these

 

latter works Wedekind offers an epic overview of a world
very similar to that which Ilse refers to as "die Priapia,"
a bacchanalian labyrinth of sex, violence and greed inhab-
ited by strange types from all stations in life. The
Similarity ends, however, when Ilse invites Moritz to

join this communal existence. Caught in what Spalter so
succinctly connotes as the conflict of "innocent humanity
wedged in between instinct and system,"79 Moritz begrudgingly
yields to the latter. His suicide, an act of youthful
impulse, deprives him more than anything else of the chance
to come to the eventual realization that the powers behind,

this system, bourgeois adults, do not follow their own

60

rules. They are, in fact, the outgrowth of the "Priapia."

By refusing Ilse's invitation Moritz has, in Wedekind's
cynical View, refused life; in the confrontation between
innocent Sin (Moritz' suicide) and sinful innocence (Ilse's
sexual instinctualism) there is no choice between right and
wrong--the choice is that of life or death.80 Thus, while
the system appears to triumph in this instance, it is

Ilse, the representative of instinct, who claims the ultimate
victory, which is the simple ability to endure.

The action of Erdgeist resumes where this scene
ends. Ilse has come of age as Lulu, the embodiment of
sexual instinct, and the men around her, fully bereft of
the innocence and sense of Shame which held Moritz back,
can no longer control their own natural desires.81 The
cycle has merely progressed, or better regressed, to
adulthood, and the basic outer conflict between inStinct
and system is extented to a new plane. The irreconcilable
nature of this problem is well illustrated in the fact that
instinct, which now has the upper hand, produces no better
results than did bourgeois convention. Action in the "Lulu
Plays" consists of nothing more than the systematic
destruction of a series of men who come into contact

with Lulu until eventually, at the end of Die Bfichse der

 

Pandora, She meets her match in Jack the Ripper and is

82

herself destroyed. Spalter says of Lulu: "She serves

as the focus for activity which allows Wedekind once again

61

to stress the inextricable connections between Eros and
Thanatos. Her sexuality is the inevitable prelude to
masculine suicide, whether by deadly weapon or sheer

physical collapse."83

Lulu remains the central figure
unifying the two dramas, but her function is hardly that
of a heroine in any sense of the term. The subtlety of
her nature makes her at once both victim and victimizer
without actively or even consciously trying to be either.
She sums up her own paradox existence in the statement:
"Ich habe nie in der Welt etwas anderes scheinen wollen,
als woffir man mich genommen hat, und man hat mich nie in
der Welt ffir etwas anderes gehalten, als was ich bin"
(III, 95). Sex is her morality, which puts her in direct
conflict with the moral values of bourgeois society,
while She actually exists apart from that society; in
essence She is "beyond good and evil."

The entire structure Of the dramatic action sur-
rounding Lulu, whom Klotz would term the "zentrales Ich,"
is extremely reminiscent of Brecht. Erdgeist is introduced
with a tendentious prologue delivered by an animal trainer
who, in the manner of a barker, is attempting to entice an
audience into his arena.84 It is Obviously Wedekind him-
self Speaking when the trainer attributes the lack of
success which his Show has faced to the complaisant
artificiality of contemporary theater and the corresponding

inability of the acting profession to perform anything

62

more demanding than a common soap opera. Two successive
passages from this prologue will serve to illustrate
Wedekind's vindictive cynicism:

Schlecht sind die Zeiten!--All die Herrn und Damen,
Die einst vor meinem Kafig sich geschart,

Beehren Possen, Ibsen, Opern, Dramen

Mit ihrer hochgeschatzten Gegenwart.

An Futter fehlt es meinen Pensionaren,

So daB sie gegenseitig sich verzehren.

Wie gut hat's am Theater ein Akteur!

Des Fleischs auf seine Rippen ist er sicher,

Sei auch der Hunger ein ganz ffirchterlicher

Und deS Kollegen Magen noch so 1eer.--

Doch will man Groses in der Kunst erreichen,

Darf man verdienst nicht mit dem Lohn vergleichen.

Was seht ihr in den Lust- und Trauerspielen?!--

H a u S t i e r e, die so wohlgesittet ffihlen,

An blasser Pflanzenkost ihr Mfitchen kfihlen

Und schwelgen in behaglichem Geplarr,

Wie jene andern--unten im Paterre:

Der eine Held kann keinen Schnaps vertragen,

Der andre zweifelt, ob er richtig liebt,

Den dritten hOrt ihr an der Welt verzagen,

Ffinf Akte lang hOrt ihr ihn sich beklagen,

Und niemand, der den GnadenstoB ihm gibt.--

Das w a h r e Tier, das w i 1 d e, S c h 6 n e Tier,

Das--meine Damen!--sehn Sie nur bei mir. (III, 8)
Thus it is not only the prologue form and distancing effect
produced by this speech which bring Brecht to mind, but
the very content and intent of Wedekind's attack.

The action itself, once again characterized above
all by the dominant principle of demonstrative example, is
also constructed in Brechtian fashion. The repetitive
nature of the fates of Lulu's victims in Erdgeist, Dr. Goll,
the artist Schwarz and the newspaper magnate SchOn, robs

the action involved of any element of tense expectation;

in each case it is a matter of preconditioned fact. One

63

is reminded of the similar inevitable tragedies of the

 

three children in Brecht's Mutter Courage. Courage is
as much the personification of material possession as is
Lulu of sexual instinct; Lulu's body is in essence her
"Planwagen." Each is merely the central, unifying figure
in a series of separate actions which end in the demise
of those near to them as the inadvertent result of their'
very nature. Neither is in fact the demonstrable cause
of these tragedies, and neither learns enough from them
to avoid further tragedy. Their lives are as Open and
aimless as the circular problems which they represent,
and each of the separate actions which they unify is
nothing more than another station on this course.85
The exterior appearance of Erdgeist is thus actually
quite deceiving. Action does not progress through the four
acts into which it is divided; each act comprises its own
action, with its own time, place and climax. Once again
Wedekind makes no attempt at exposition, and at times he
seems to introduce characters only to get rid of them as
soon as possible. Dr. Goll, about whom we learn nothing
more than his lascivious desires and protective nature,
dies of a heart attack already in the fifth scene Of the
first act when he finds Lulu and Schwarz together on the
sofa in a compromising situation. The "wild beast" was

uncaged for only a brief moment, enough to wreak destruction.

Schwarz, the dominant male figure time-wise in the first

64

act, is eliminated in the second when he slits his throat
after finding out about Lulu's background from SchOn, most
of which the audience is also learning for the first time.
Two acts, two deaths--the pace of the action increases with
the increase of Lulu's freedom. Her part in the first two
deaths was more or less passive. Her marriages to G011
and SchOn were not her making and their fates were only
indirectly her responsibility. The man who made the
arrangements, Dr. SchOn, now becOmeS he: target and she

is literally on the prowl.86 By the end of the third act
she has him where She wants him, but the ultimate kill

is saved until the end of the fourth and final act when,
in a choice between his life or hers, she fells him with
five bullets in the chest.

The serious nature of these actions is constantly
put into Sharp, estranging contrast by the almost farcial
manner in which they are presented. Goll's death is
preceded by a wild scene with Schwarz chasing Lulu around
the room in'a madcap frenzy; Schwarz' death is followed
by a conversation which relates SchOn'S unfortunate concern
not for Schwarz, but for the implications the latter's
death will have on his own affairs. The entire last act
might well be labeled the final anticlimactic farce.
SchOn, the symbol of bourgeois mentality and power, must
face the devastating irony of seeing his house turned into

a living "Pripia," or, as 801 Gittleman so aptly terms it,

65

87 The door to Lulu's cage is

"a Marx Brother's madhouse."
now wide open, and human insects have invaded like ants

at a picnic. Hiding behind curtains, under tables or
wherever possible are Schigolch, Lulu's mysterious father—
follower, ROdrigO Quast, a brainless weight lifter, Alfred
Hugenberg, a high school student, the Countess Geschwitz,

a lesbian, and most important in a prominent position on the
couch with Lulu SchOn'S own son Alwa. All have come to

feast on the flesh.‘ What greater revenge could there be

for Moritz (Frfihlings Erwachen) than to have such a setting

 

for the death Of the system personified? The drama even
ends on this note, with Hugenberg's paradoxical remark:
"Ich werde von der Schule gejagt!" (III, 97).

The implicit contrast of tragedy and travesty in
the structure of Erdgeist is brought into even Sharper
[focus by the way Wedekind consistently alienates the stark
realism of the surroundings in which the action takes
place (Schwarz' studio, his elegant salon, a theater
dressing room and SchOn'S drawing room respectively). Lulu
herself functions in this bourgeois atmosphere as a basic,
living "Verfremdungseffekt." AS Wilhelm Emrich states:
"Auffallig an der Lulu-TragOdie ist zunachst die Tatsache,
daB hier inmitten einer klar gegliederten und begrenzten
modernen gesellschaftlichen Wirklichkeit ein Wesen auftaucht,
das in keiner Weise bestimmbar ist: Lulu besitzt keinen

Familiennamen, weiB nichts von Vater und Mutter, wird von

66

jedem Mann anders genannt: Lulu, Mignon, Nelly, Eva. . . .
Sie scheint also eine unbedingte Sphare zu reprasentieren,
die sich in keine bedingte Realitat und begrenzte, mensch-

88 Lulu is at once

liche Vorstellungswelt einfangen laBt."
both "real and unfamiliar," and her very presence forces
reorientation. Even when She is not there in person, the
picture which Schwarz painted of her in Pierrot custume,
the Significance of which will be discussed below, is ever-
present as a unifying intermediate of her powers. It is
interesting to note that in the only act where this picture
is not present, the third act of Edrgeist, Lulu herself
dominates the action and Wedekind resorts to more direct
methods of alienation. Nothing could be more Brechtian
than the manner in which Wedekind takes advantage Of the
theatrical setting of this act to discuss the drama which
is actually taking place in front of the spectator through
his personal mouthpiece, Alwa SchOn. Alwa, a dramatist by
profession, is asked by Lulu: "Warum schreiben Sie Ihre
Stficke denn nicht wenigstens SO interessant, wie das
Leben ist?"; his (Wedekind's) answer: "Weil uns das kein
Mensch glauben wfirde" (III, 64). When Lulu returns to
the stage Alwa goes on to say:

Uber die [Lulu] lieBe sich freilich ein interessanteres

Stuck schreiben. . . . Erster Akt: Dr. Goll. Schon

faull Ich kann den Dr. Goll auS dem Fegefeuer zitie-

ren, Oder wo er seine Orgien bfiBt, man wird m i c h

fur seine Sunden verantwortlich machen. . . . Zweiter

Akt: Walter Schwarz. Noch uanglicher! .Wie die
Seelen die letzte Hfille abstreifen im Licht solcher

67
BlitZschlage!--Dritter Akt?—-Sollte es wirklich so
fortgehen?! (III, 65).

The question is, of course, rhetorical; Alwa knows as well
as the audience to whom this supposed monologue is clearly
directed that it will and must continue as long as Lulu is
alive.

The victory of instinct over system in Erdgeist,
Lulu's dominance over and murder of SchOn, proves as impotent
as the reverse Situation symbolized by the death of Moritz
in Frfihlings Erwachen. Lulu's active part in the killing
of SChOn, despite the fact that it was virtually self-
defense, has involved her in the rggl_world, with tangible
implications. Die Buchse der Pandora finds her not on the
prowl, but on the run. She is hunted like a rabid wolf,
complete with the pack she had assembled in the last act
of Erdgeist. Like wolves they are held tOgether only by
the instinct which is centered in their common desires,
and they are willing to devour each other at the moment
Of a first Sign of weakness. Lulu must face the ironic
truth that the "Priapia" is nothing more than a lower class
hell, and not the paradise to which Wedekind had alluded
in the grevious work.

The prologue and first act of Pandora directly
refleCt the fact that Wedekind was forced, for one reason
or another, to divide his original "MonstretragOdie" into

89

two separate dramas. The "Prolog in der Buchhandlung"

68

is extremely dull and constrained compared to that of
Erdgeist, and its full import is clear only if the spectator
or reader is familiar with the latter drama and its public

history.90

The same can be said of the first act, which
artificially unites the two dramas through a series of
brief conversations. This attempted exposition, never
Wedekind's forte, is distinctly different from that of

the average Aristotelian drama. First of all, it comes

at a point which is undeniably the center of one drama and
not the actual beginning of another. It is more like an
"Integrationspunkt," to use Klotz' term, than an exposition.
Wedekind fills us in on what has happened since SchOn's
death, but this information is little more than confusing
without the background of Erdgeist. The plot which he con-

ceived to free Lulu from the jail sentence she received

for SchOn'S murder is reminiscent of Mission Impossible,

 

with an equal number of omissions and inconsistencies.91
Further, Alwa SchOn, to whom the authorship of Erdgeist
is now directly attributed, makes comments which function
much more as aristic justification than as dramatic
exposition. The entire conversation is actually a series
of personal narratives directed to the audience and not
to one another.92
It is significant that Lulu herself does not appear

until the final scene of this first act. Her presence is

catalytic. Instantly artificial rhetoric is replaced with

69

dynamism, and the act closes with Lulu seducing Alwa on
the very couch where his father had bled to death in the
previous Scene, the symbolism Of which can be understood
once again only in the context of Erdgeist. While perishing
on this same sofa SchOn had uttered to his son the prophetic
words: "Du bist der Nachste . . . " (III, 96).

The action of Pandora once again belies the classi-
cal appearance Of its division into three acts. Unities
of time and place are ignored even more than in Erdgeist;
the first act takes place in SchOn's home in Germany
approximately one year after his death, the second and
third are separated by an indefinite number of years and
are set in Paris and London respectively. Both introduce
a variety of new characters, whose function and background
become clear only as the action continues. With SchOn'S
death the drama reached its "peripetia," but neither Lulu
nor the action fall gracefully from this point. The
second act finds the wolves in their den of iniquity.
Wedekind does not spare the bourgeois in his genre painting
of the underworld. To the original pack of Schigolch,
Geschwitz, Rodrigo and Alwa SchOn he adds a variety of

"upper class villains,‘ including the bankerbbroker
Puntschu, the journalist Heilmann, Marquis Casti-Piani
and the society favorites Mageleone and Bianetta Gazil.

The action unfolds the following facts: Puntschu has

involved the entire group in a fraudulent stock deal which

70

leaves everyone except himself bankrupt; Heilmann is
prepared to use his writing talents to expose the group
and thereby create a lucrative sensation; Casti-Piani

has dual professions as a police spy and a white Slave
trader, and is attempting to extort Lulu into accepting

a position in an African bordel; Magelone has infected

all the males with syphilis and, having lost all her charm
and money, concedes to allow her twelve year Old daughter
to take up where She left Off; Bianetta is Simply a high
class whore out for fun. The "Old friends," however, are
not to be ignored in this interplay: Rodrigo is threatening
to turn Lulu over to the police if she does not give him
money, and is subsequently murdered by Schigolch; Geschwitz
is made an accomplice to the murder when She makes the
ultimate sacrifice of Sleeping with Rodrigo in order to
set him up for the kill; Alwa has devised a gambling
scheme, only to find that the stock he has won from every-
one is worthless; Lulu herself devised the plan to get

rid of Rodrigo and barely misses a return trip to prison
by escaping at the last moment to London. Certainly one
cannot speak of the falling of a tightly knit, unified
line of dramatic action in this context. The variety and
hectic pace of these actions relate directly to the
characteriscs of epic theater, and the autonomy of each

is well illustrated by the fact that not only certain

scenes could be moved or eliminated, but also the entire

71

act itself could be dropped. Its function is purely
empirical, and Wedekind could logically have proceeded
to the final act.

. Wedekind concludes his drama with open-ended
paradox. Lulu, penniless and weary, must totally violate
her nature by selling her body, which is her soul and
being, on the streets. This act represents not only the
sacrifice of what little freedom and innocence she had
managed to retain since SchOn's death; it also places her

93 She

directly in the realm of common, vulgar reality.
is no longer "das wahre Tier," a fact which is beSt
illustrated in the final scene with Jack the Ripper. It
is she, the living symbol of the irresistable sexual urge,
who must beg her murderer to come to bed, even if it

94 Lulu's death in the hands

meant doing so for free.
of a sex-murderer Spares her the degradation of succumbing
fully to the powers of the system, but leaves the Spectator
with a perplexing problem of interpretation. The problem-
atics of the "Lulu Plays" offer in many reSpects an
antithetical presentation of the conflict dealt with in
Frfihlings Erwachen; the lack of a synthesis stands out
clearly in Moritz' view of Ilse as "Dieses Glfickskind,
dieses Sonnenkind--dieses Freudenmadchen auf meinem
iJammerweg!" (II, 141) and Lulu's startlingly contrastive

words: "Gibt es etwas Traurigeres auf dieser Welt als

ein Freudenmadchen!" (III, 175).

72

Lulu's death merely illustrates the eternal con-
flict inherent in the antinomy of two value systems,
neither of which is absolute. Emrich explains the results
of this conflict in a purely Brechtian context: "Da diese
Wertsphare kfinstlerisch nicht mehr positiv objektiviert
werden kann, sondern nur noch indirekt durch Negation
alles Gestalteten geahnt zu werden vermag, verweist sie
den Zuschauer zurfick auf sich selbst, zwingt ihn, das
Unaussagbare selber zu finden, selber zu 'leben.‘ Die
TragOdie springt hinein in den Zuschauerraum, hebt ihre

95 The

in sich geschlossene asthetische Seinsweise auf."
impossibility of solving such problems on the stage itself
is shown through the fate of Alwa (Wedekind): "Seine

' quoting Emrich once again, "ist die TragOdie

TragOdie,‘
der Tragddie: Er will eine Sphare bewuBt machen, die
durch das BewuBtsein aufgehoben wird. Er will etwas
kfinstlerisch zum Verstandnis erheben, was durch Verstehen

96 This problem is the basis of

Mtierstehen erzeugt."
and reason for the existence of the epic theater. It is
interesting to note that the only one to understand and
accept both value systems is a person who belongs to
neither: ‘Geschwitz. AS an outsider she is able to see
through the illusion which others accept as reality. As
she says: "Die Menschen kennen sich nicht--Sie wissen

nicht, wie sie sind. Nur wer selber kein Mensch ist,

der kennt sie" (III, 187).97 The realization of this

73

Simple truth on the part of the spectator is presumably
the ray of unreleased hOpe which lies at the bottom of

Pandora's Box.

 

Franziska, the final drama to be treated extensively

 

in Wedekind's sex cycle, is an extremely interesting vari-
ation of the same basic problem. Whereas Frfihlings Erwachen
and the "Lulu Plays" merely Show the consequences of blind

societal principles, Franziska is centered around a girl

 

who wants to learn the rules of the game before it is
already lost. She therefore tells her first suitor, whom
shg has already seduced: "Aber ich mOchte doch gerne
erfahren, wer ich denn eigentlich bin. Wenn wir uns heute
heiraten, dann erfahre ich in den nachsten zehn Jahren nur,
‘wer du bist" (VI, 114). Unlike Lulu and to a certain
extent her predecessor Ilse, both of whom are Object
examples of the collective being "Weib," Franziska deSires

to be a person.

The action of Franziska is an intended play on

 

that of Geothe's {3253, with a number of Specifically
Wedekindian twists. First of all he creates a "female
Faust" only to turn full circle and have her make a deal
whereby She will have two years of supposed freedom and
fulfillment--as a man. Veit Kunz, Wedekind's modern
Mephisto, is an insurance agent, a bourgeois profession
which aligns him with the likes Of SchOn and Casti-Piani

and, for Wedekind, certainly puts him in league with the

74

devil. The first three acts center on Franziska's (now
knOWn as Franz) bizarre Faustian existence. An "Auerbach's
Keller" scene in a wild nightclub, which ends in typical
Wedekind fashion with a murder, is followed by a grotesque
version of the Gretchen story. Franziska is married, as
Franz, to a simple girl by the name of Sophie, who commits
suicide when she learns from her brother (enter Valentine)
that Franz is a woman, a fact which is quite undeniable

at this stage since Franziska is pregnant with Kunz' child.98
The next station.finds Franziska and Kunz at the court of
the Duke of Rothenburg, apparently Wedekind's equivalent
of the Grecian world of Faust II, where both become involved
in the domestic problems Of the Duke, who is about to lose
his kingdom. The stark modernity of this act is culminated
in the final scene, where wedekind directly foreshadows
Pirandello by totally destroying the illusion of reality

on the stage through the use of a play within a play.

The confusion Of "Sein und Schein" results, as in
Priandello's Sei Personaggi in Cerca d'Autore (Six
Characters in Search of an Author), in the actual death

of one of the actresses.99

Her final words are pure,
provocative Wedekind: "Wer bedauert mich? Gibt es ein
hOhereS Glfick--als auf Offener Bfihne--vor'versammelten
Volk--nath zu sterben!" (VI, 184).

The phantasy world of the first three acts is left

in the fourth, and the action literally begins again from

75

the beginning and runs a separate course. Franziska and
Kunz are now married, and what looks like a union Of bliss
in the first scene, set at the castle where the action
began at the outset of the drama, is quickly dissolved.
Franziska's contentment with Kunz is abandoned as she
becomes involved in an affair with the actor Breitenbach,

100 The

who is acting with her in a play written by Kunz.
latter, disillusioned with the institution of marriage
which he had come to accept as sacred, attempts to commit
suicide, but is saved at the last moment in order to
witness the perplexing scene with which Wedekind concludes
not only this drama, but the entire sex cycle. A number
of years have elapsed between the fourth and fifth acts
when Breitenbach and Kunz decided to look up Franziska,
with whom they have lost contact. What they find is
startling to say the least. Franziska, the last of the
"Freudenmadchen," has become totally "domesticated." As
a mother and soon to be wife she has found peace with the
world and with herself.

Wedekind could not have conceived of a more
violent, estranging contrast with which to conclude his

cycle. It is all but impossible to uncategorically

assert what he intended with this final act of Franziska.

 

Certain critics.have argued that Wedekind had come to the
realization that there was no sense fighting a useless

battle and that Franziska's final contentment is symbolic

76

Of his resignation to the system. Others view it as an
intended mockery of that same system. Perhaps the best
explanation, however, comes in the final words of the

drama itself. Wedekind has come full circle to return

 

to his point of departure in Frfihlings Erwachen. He ends
his cycle with the hope of better things to come for the
children of the future when he says of Franziska's child:

In der mag ein Befreier wiederkehren. Gedeihen
wirst du, denn du bist geliebt! (VI, 217)

This apparent conclusion is thus nothing more than the
departure point for the repetition of the cycle with the
addition of one new element--the hOpe for change.

It is pertinent at this point, before proceeding
to the second group of dramas, to merely list those addi-
tional works which thematically and structurally relate

.to the sex cycle: Elins Erweckung (1886), Fritz

 

Schwigerling: Der Liebestrank (1891/92), the four

pantomimes Die Fthe, Oder Der Schmerzentanz, Der

 

 

Mfickenprinz, Die Kaiserin von Neufundland and Bethel,

 

 

all of which appeared in 1897, Das Sonnenspektrum (1894),

 

Totentanz later renamed Tod und Teufel (1905), Musik

 

 

(1906) and SchloB Wetterstein (1910). Each Of these

 

works could appear as a separate chapter in Wedekind's
"novel" on sexual development. They are integrated not
only by their relationship to the greater problem with

which they deal, but also through various-threads of unity

77

such as the reintroduction of characters, parallel situ-
ations and hidden links of contrast.

The second set of dramas was selected not only
because of the Shift Of emphasis from the "homo sexualis"
to the "homo economicus," but also to illustrate Wedekind's
use of epic techniques in an essentially Aristotelian
framework. The free expanse of time and Space which was
found in the dramas of the sex cycle is lacking here;
each of the present works takes place over a very limited
period Of time, with little or no change of location.

The estranging phantasy which had progressively become
more functionally apparent in the former works has been
tempered here to an occasional grotesque or comical scene,
and on the whole stark realism prevails throughout. The
number of characters introduced has been drastically

reduced (Die Zensur has only four, Der Kammersanger eight),

 

and in many cases the role of minor characters is purely
functional, without direct bearing on the action or the
central figures. The total amount of action itself has
been comparatively lessened and it is far more concentrated.
Despite these factors, however, it is still possible to
Show a definite underlying relationship between these
works and the epic theater.

Der Schnellmaler oder Kunst und Mammon, Wedekind's
first complete drama and consequently one of his weakest,

will be treated only briefly. The purpose of including it

78

is twofold: it introduces the central problem dealt with
in the works of this group ("Kunst und Mammon") and it
illustrates the earliest manifestation of epic tendencies
in Wedekind's most outwardly Aristotelian work. The
problem of the outsider, and the artist-aesthete in par-
ticular, attempting to relate to and find a place in a
society whose religion is economics was unfortunately all
too real for Wedekind. It was a conflict which he was
never able to solve either in his dramas or in real life,
and it is not surprising to find that the light comedy of
Der Schnellmaler is totally lacking in the bitter irony

and self-caricature Of Der Kammersanger and Die Zensur.

 

 

Thomas Mann, whose success aided him in becoming an
"insider," still felt that he was different in some way
fromthe remainder of society; Wedekind's consistent
failures and Open strife made him kggg he was different.

The first factor which separates Der Schnellmaler

 

from traditional drama is the relationship of the adver-
saries. Fridolin Wald, a striving young artist, and

Dr. Steiner, a wheeler-dealer extortionist, are not really
locked in a protagonist-antagonist dual over the hand of
Johanna, daughter of rich businessman Pankratius Knapp.
Each is actually fighting the system, Fridolin on the

side of art, Steiner as the representative of mammon.
Fridolin wins, but only because Steiner is exposed as a

fraud and even more so because one of Fridolin's paintings

79

has been a success and art has therefore become lucrative.
He sells his painting and, as Spalter puts it: "The
moment he does so, he is quick to exploit the power of
materialistic success; aesthetic idealism goes right out
the window. Shrewdly, he knows that the girl he wants

can no longer be kept from him by a family.whose values

lOl Wedekind's conclusion

are entirely materialistic."
is thus facetious, since the fusion of art and money does
not actually solve the individual conflict.

The action of Der Schnellmaler is very Similar to

 

the comedy of Raimund and Nestroy, whose works are full

of elements later employed by Brecht for their distancing
effect. Wedekind frequently has the characters, especially
Steiner, Speak directly to the audience in asides.
Dramatic irony, inherently "verfremdend," is used effec—
tively in a scene which has both Fridolin and Johanna
pathetically waiting to die after taking what the audience
knows to be Simple sugar water and not poison. The com-
bination of serious intent in Fridolin's desire to die
rather than give up his art and the humorous way he
arranges his wake only to find out that he is free of

the necessity to die could presumably have been the model
for the scene where Jussup conveniently pops up from his

deathbed in Brecht's Kreidekreis. A number of scenes,

 

such as the one where Steiner is teaching Johanna how to

write poetry by counting her fingers to make "feet" and-

80

another which pictures Fridolin burning with jealousy as
Steiner flirts with Johanna while he is painting a picture
to the constantly changing beat Of a piano, are inserted
purely for their comic effect and have little to do with
the basic action, which they halt rather than move fOrward.
One could argue that all of these techniques are

merely inherent to the fact that Der Schnellmaler is and

 

was intended to be a comedy, and that Wedekind was there-
fore totally unaware Of the relationship being contended
here. While this may be true at this stage of his develop-
ment, it does not negate the future implications, nor does
it alter the fact that comedy dggs have the same tension
breaking function as Brecht's techniques of estrangement.
It could be presumed, in fact, that Wedekind learned from
his own drama the same art of attention-getting which
Brecht learned only years later from the films made by
Charlie Chaplin. It has already been amply illustrated

above, for example, that Wedekind consciously_employed

 

many of these same techniques to release the tension Of

the action of Frfihlings Erwachen, a serious tragedy written

 

only two years after Der Schnellmaler.

 

The lighthearted, superficial treatment of the

artist-society conflict in Der Schnellmacher tends to

 

overshadow the underlying sardonic tone, and the specious
conclusion gives the drama at least the appearance of

closed unity. The next drama to be discussed, Der

81

Kammersanger, clearly imparts the full import of this

 

seemingly irreconcilable conflict as well as Wedekind's

cynical, anti-idealistic approach to it. Der Kammersanger

 

might well be termed a one act drama of epic prOportion;
few authors have concentrated such a wealth of powerful
and complex action into such a small work. As one would
expect in a one act drama, the expanse of time and Space
is extremely limited. The entire drama takes place in

one hotel room within a Span of time which would best be
measured in minutes, confining limitations for the resolu-
tion of the fates of three separate individuals. Tension
is totally replaced by a matter-of—fact complacency which
gives the action the appearance of static dynamism. There
is, in fact, no line of action as such, but rather a series
of scenes which unfold the nature of the central figure,
the royal court tenor Gerardo.

I In "Was ich mir dabei dachte" Wedekind character-
izes Gerardo as "eine durch den Erfolg aufgeblasene
Philisterseele, die sich des Erfolges wegen fur einen
Kfinstler halt und von allen Erfolgsanbetern daffir gehalten
wird. Nicht ein grOBer Mensch, wie er selber zu sein
glaubt, sondern eine Mficke in ffinftausendfacher VergrOBerung"
(IX, 428-429). He is personified ego, a descendant of the
cold realism of Melchior, SchOn and Casti-Piani. Three
people come to seek salvation from their public god, and

all three are dismissed. The first, Miss [Sic.] Coeurne,

82

is an "opera star groupie,‘ a teenager who feels she is

in love with her hero and is willing to sacrifice everything

 

to serve his desires. She is Spared a regretable existence
when Gerardo sends her on her way with a warning that
others may be more willing to take advantage of such a
provocative Situation. Even the apparent kindness of

this act, however, is based on selfish motives. He tells
her flatly: "Rechnen Sie einfach mit meiner Z e i t! . . .
Wenn nun jedes . . . Madchen dieselben Ansprfiche stellen
wollte wie Sie?--Was in aller Welt wfirde dann aus meinem
Gesang?--Was wfirde aus meiner Stimme?-—Wohin kame ich denn
mit meiner Kunst?" (III, 210). The next, the unsuccessful
composer Dfihring, does not get Off so lightly. AS a lover
of pure art he wishes to gain Gerardo's backing for an
Opera which represents his life's work and which he feels
is a great contribution. Instead of support he is given

a lecture on the hard realities of the economics of the
aesthetic world ("Wir Kfinstler sind ein L u x u S a r t i k e l
der Bourgeoisie, zu dessen Bezahlung man sich gegenseitig
fiberbietet." [III, 244]), and finally departs crushed when
Gerardo offers him money just to get rid of him. The final
visitor does not depart; She is left in a chair with a
bullet in the head when Gerardo rushes off to meet the train
that will take him to his all-important next engagement.
Helene Marowa, wife, mother and lady of society, had come

to beg Gerardo, with whom she had had a steady affair, to

83

marry her. He must refuse her on the Simple basis Of the
fact that his contract does not allow him to travel with
ladies or to marry. She remarks dumfounded: "Ich begreife
nicht, wie ein--anstandiger Mensch einen solchen Kontrakt
unterschreiben kann"; his Simple answer: "Ich bin in
erster Linie Kfinstler, und dann bin ich Mensch!" (III, 230).
He attempts to convince her Of the fullness of her life and
the responsibilities she has toward her family and has
apparently succeeded until he makes the false move of
asking for one last kiss. She has reached her limit, and
when she gets up to leave she calmly takes out a revolver
’and Shoots herself.

Quite Obviously this action does not fall into the
category of linear totality. Each of these visitors
represents a separate dramatic situation, and each enters
and departs without introduction or further reference.

They are merely three examples from hundreds Of Similar
events in Gerardo's life. Following Helene's death the
hotel manager placidly remarks: "Beunruhigen Sie sich

nicht, Herr Kammersanger. SO was kommt Ofters bei unS

vor" (III, 240). Neither the action nor the characters,
except for the potential hOpe for Miss Coeurne, develOp,
and there is nothing which resembles a solution to the

problem itself. Dramatic intensity is the sole guide to
the placement of scenes; as far as the events themselves
are concerned they could come at any place, be left out,

or increased with further examples.

84

The scene with Dfihring is one of Wedekind's most
. potent and cynical presentations of the two Sides of his
own artistic career, as well as a reflection Of his un-
sucCeSSful battle (Dfihring) with Hauptmann (Gerardo).102
The length of the individual comments frequently puts them
much more in the category of programmatic narrative than
actual dialogue. One of Dfihring's extended harangues,
however, is masterfully interrupted with the following
stage direction:

GERARDO hat sich schlieBlich an den Kamin gelehnt

und scheint, wahrend er mit der Rechten auf der

Mamorplatte trommelt, etwas hinter dem Paravent

zu bemerken. Nachdem er sich neugierig orientiert,

reckt er plOtzlich die Hand aus und zieht eine

Klavierlehrerin in grauer Toilette hervor, die

er, mit vorgestreckter Faust am Kragen haltend,

vor dem Flfigel durch zur Mitteltfir ffihrt. Nachdem

er die Tfir hinter ihr geschlossen, zu Dfihring

'Bitte, sprechen Sie ruhig weiter!‘ (III, 216).
Seldom has a "Verfremdungseffekt" been more timely employed.
This one simple action serves multifold purposes; it breaks
Dfihrings Speech, which had become overly serious and
almost boring, lends a comic effect to the entire scene,
and clearly demonstrates the fact that Gerardo wasn't even
listening to what he had to say. Equally Brechtian but
somewhat more subtle are the frequent repetitions of situ—
ations and phrases, as for example when Gerardo tells Helene
that he could not have turned her away originally because

it would have hurt his image as a romantic figure, despite

the fact that he had just refused Miss Coeurne on Similar

85

grounds. His entire conversation with Helene is actually,
a contrastive repeat of the scene with Miss Coeurne, only
from a different standpoint.

Gerardo survives the conflict between art and society
because his life is his profession, his dubious pleasure
is his work. His successor, Keith, survives because he
makes all work a form of pleasure, he makes living well
his profession. Both have the necessary elasticity to
snap back from disaster because of their egocentric
attachment to life, even if this means nothing more than
a hellish existence.

Wedekind himself summarized the basic content of

Der Marquis von Keith as: "Das Wechselspiel zwischen

 

einem Don Quichotte des Lebensgenusses (Keith) und einem
Don Quichotte der Moral (Scholz)" (IX, 429). While this
sufficiently describes the juxtaposition of these two
contrasting figures, representative once again Of two
sides of the author himself, it hardly does justice to
the entire scope Of this work. While Keith emerges
immediately as the definite protagonist for the ensuing
action, Scholz could by no means be considered the
antagonist. His role is essentially that of a passive
alter ego to Keith, and action involves him only indirectly
through its final implications. The actual antagonist is
bourgeois society, primarily as embodied in the figure of

Consul Casimir. Keith's cynical realism and gift for

86

manipulation of both money and peOple are matched step

for step by Casimir, who is eventually able to gain the
upper hand from his position as an insider in the system.
Keith climbs to the top of the economic ladder only to
find that Casimir has cut Off the steps behind him, and
when he falls he is all alone. The fall, however, does
not break him. He has been up and down before; his final
words in the drama: "Das Leben ist eine Rutschbahn . . ."
(IV, 98).

Der Marquis von Keith is one of Wedekind's few

 

dramas which has a definite plot, a line Of action which
runs forward throughout the work. Keith has devised a
fanciful, adventurous scheme to build an entertainment
center, his "Feenpalast." AS usual his entire plan is
based purely on speculation, and the action basically
revolves around his attempt to get the monetary and
social backing of the three main "caryatids" of the Munich
economy, and finally of the one man who will insure the
COOperation of the others, Casimir. This plot, however,
merely serves to introduce a number of subplots which
illustrate contrasting examples of the outsider-insider
conflict in bourgeois society.’ The individual actions
and reactions are of more importance than the underlying
basis of the action itself. The central contrasts are
of cOurse those between Keith and Scholz, and between

Keith and Casimir. The next outstanding set is the

87

polarity of Molly Griesinger and Anna, Countess of
’Werdenfels. The former is a simple girl who has stayed
at Keith's side through thick and thin and loves him for
himself; the latter, a divorcee, is having a combined sex
and business affair with Keith, and is using him while he
is abusing her. Anna has learned the harsh rules of the
game and ends up engaged to Casimir when she sees that
Keith has lost out and is no longer necessary; Molly
retains her Simplicity and finally commits suicide when
She thinks that Keith has won and that she is therefore
not necessary. Further, there are the individual and
collective contrasts among the various members of Keith's
IcollectiOn of parasitic artists, most of whom hardly reach
the class of a reSpectable dilettante, and the members of
high society who are supposed to lend legitimacy to Keith's
project. Finally, the last act powerfully illustrates
Keith's basic antipathy to everyone else as the epitomy
of an outsider. The "Tatmensch" who Showed everyone else
the way must literally crawl at the feet of those over
whom he had felt superior.103
Contrast is also the basic structural principle
in the presentation of the action. The hectic pace Of
certain action packed scenes is alternated with others,
primarily between Scholz and Keith, which Slow almost to
a static narrative. Hermann Casimir, a pompous little

creep and a worshiper of Keith to his father's chagrin,

88

weaves in and out of the action adding a comic effect
-through his over-seriousness.i Keith's artists also lend
comedy in their realistic impossibility, and they generally
appear following a conversation of a serious nature.

Scholz himself is pathetically humOrouS at times, and
serves even in this function as a contrast to Keith.
Keith's own speeches also contain a great deal of repeti-
tive contrast depending on his conversation partner, and,
as was true with Gerardo, he is quite ready to use the

104

same basic argument for different purposes.

The final drama, Die Zensur, encompasses only three

 

scenes in one act. The only action as such comes in the
final scene when Kadidja, mistress of the author Burdian,
realizes that her lover has tired of her and she commits
suicide by jumping from his balcony. The remainder of the
work consists of conversations between Burdian and Kadidja
in the first and third scenes and between Burdian and the
private secretary of the Emperor, Dr. Cajetan Prantl, in
the second. Wedekind has literally gone to the case study
method of psychology, and it is now Obviously himself who
is being examined. The audience cannot help but come to
the distancing realization that Burdian, the figurative

author of Die Bfichse der Pandora, is a poorly disguised

 

Wedekind. Burdian argues with Prantl over the artistic
and moral values presented in Pandora from a purely

Wedekindian standpoint, and is extremely convincing until

89

Kadidja enters. She is wearing a new costume which is
extremely revealing, which seems ample proof to Prantl
that everything Burdian had said was facetious and that
the author is just as debauched in his personal life as

he appears in his dramas. Burdian, despite the fact that
he has never been anything but constructive in his works,
is concerned with the fact that he may never be understood
and accepted in society, and sees Kadidja as the nearest
scapegoat. He feels that if he can get away from her for
‘a short period Of time he might be able to work things out
in his mind. She sees his more basic motives, however,
and takes her life on the basis of her better instincts.

Die Zensur is in essence not an epic drama, and,

 

despite the fact that the outline above Shows certain
epic elements, the point will not be debated on that basis.

Die Zensur is included here primarily because it defends

 

the novel ideas which Wedekind presented in his works and
the methods and actions which he used to illustrate these
ideas or problems. Essentially this work defends those
very factors which have been shown above to relate wedekind
to the epic theater. One sentence will serve to justify
the relationship between this work and the ideas Of
Bertolt Brecht:

In keiner meiner Arbeiten habe ich das Gute als

schlecht Oder das Schlechte als gut hingestellt.

Ich habe die Folgen, die dem Menschen aus seinen

Handlungen erwachsen, nirgends gefalscht. Ich habe

diese Folgen fiberall immer nur in ihrer unerbittlichen
Notwendigkeit zur Anschauung gebracht (V, 125).

9O

Wedekind stood on this truth throughout his life; he was
never sure if he was ever heard or understood.
Other works which belong thematically to this

group are Die Junge Welt, later renamed Kinder und Narren,

 

 

(1889), So ist das Leben (KOnig Nicolo) (1901), Hidalla,

 

oder Karl Hetmann, der Zwergriese (1903-04), Oaha, Die

 

 

Satire der Satire (1908) and to a certain extent his two

 

works based on classical sources, Simsgg (1913) and EEEEKEZS
(1917).

The next chapter, Composition, will eXpand on and
fill in many of the aspects presented here in very summary
form. The purpose of illustrating the basic relationship
of the above dramas to the characteristics of action in
the epic theater has been accomplished. This material will
now serve as an outline basis of reference for the ensuing

examination of the more Specific topic areas.

CHAPTER III

COMPOSITION

Ich begann zu schreiben Ohne
irgendeinen Plan, mit der Ab-
sicht zu schreiben was mir
Vergnfigen macht.lOé
Wedekind on Frfihlings Erwachen
The basic principle of composition in the Aristo-
telian theater was Shown above to be division; the dramatist
begins with a unified whole, which is then divided and
subdivided into acts and scenes. The end result of this
process is the total subservience Of each of the parts to
the greater whole. AS Staiger says: "Kein einziger Teil
ist sich selber Oder dem Leser genung. Er bedarf der
Erganzung. Der folgende Teil genfigt wieder nicht, er
wirft eine neue Frage auf oder fordert ein neues Supplement.
Erst am SchluB steht nichts mehr aus und wird die Ungeduld

106 Everything is geared toward the all-important

befriedigt."

conclusion, and the action itself is more a factor of for—

ward motion than of singular events. Further, the symmetri-

cal geometric figure described by the line of action is,

as Klotz points out, bilateral; "das Wichtigste steht auf

kleinstem Raum in der Mitte."107
The dramatist of the epic theater, on the other

hand, adds. The scene, whose importance in the Aristotelian

91

92

drama is minimal and segmented in relation to the entire
line of events, becomes the basic unit of meaning and
function in the epic. Each scene represents an indi-
vidual chord-like example of a greater circular problem
which, because of its Lreadth and scope, cannot be arti-
ficially limited to a Single unified line of action.
Within the scenes repetition and variation take the place
of pure forward progression, and frequently the relation-
ship of the scenes to each other is less than their meaning
.to the outer problem. Attention is therefore focused on
the action itself rather than its motion, since the epic
dramatist is out to demonstrate and not to "reach" a
point.

The great majority Of Wedekind's dramas are

patterned to a certain extent after the basic model which

 

he established in Frfihlings Erwachen. Frequently compared
with respect to composition to the works of Lenz and

Buchner, even this early drama exhibits a very well

developed episodic technique. It is clear from the
epigrammatic quote which introduces this chapter that
Wedekind proceeded from the bottom up; he had no preimposed
points of departure and destination, he had nothing to divide.
The entire drama consists of nothing more than a series of
episodes from Wedekind's own past, episodes which are added

together in such a fashion that their individual import is

93

relavant to but not lost in the meaning of the total
picture.

As has been mentioned above Frfihlings Erwachen,

 

as with most of Wedekind's dramas, has no apparent expoSition.
It is only after the drama is well under way that the
spectator realizes in retrospect that the essential con-
flict is set in the very first scene. In a brief and
seemingly unimportant conversation concerning the length
of a dress, Wendla Bergmann and her mother demonstrate the
basic generation and communication gaps which will later
have such devastating consequences. Wendla's inadvertent
comment that she may not be alive when the other children
grOw up hardly seems portentous at this point, and it is
impossible to surmise that Mrs. Bergmann's motherly concern
will eventually make her an accomplice to what is in
essence the double murder of her daughter and unborn
grandchild. This harmless introduction to the central
conflict between youthful impulse and adult repression

is not, however, the only function of this apparently
isolated scene. Wedekind's use of heightened repetition
becomes clear when this same basic scene is repeated in
the second and fifth scenes of the second act;* Mrs.
Bergmann's prudish approach to her daughter's maturation
becomes more serious when the topic of conversation turns
from dresses to making babies, both of which she discusses

from the same ignorant standpoint. Her inability to tell.

94

Wendla the truth about reproduction in the second conver-
sation leads to the unfortunate circumstance that Wendla,
despite the fact that she is fully pregnant, still does,
not know what it is all about in the third. Further,
Mrs. Bergmann serves throughout as an implicit vehicle of
unifying contrast with respect to her ideas on the raising
of children as exhibited in her own comments, as well as
in those of Wendla. The most Obvious antithesis is
Mrs. Gabor, whose enlightened treatment of Melchior puts
her in a class by herself in wedekind's world of bourgeois
boors. In addition, there are the implied contrasts with
parents who are met only through their children, as for
example Martha, who receives frequent beatings and Ilse,
whose parents' lack of concern is certainly comparable to
Mrs. Bergmann's over-concern. Finally, there is the central
contrast between her childish approach to sex as compared
to the adult manner in which the children discuss the
same topics.

The deceiving importance of this first scene thus
becomes clear through the various threads which link it
to the remainder of the work. Wedekind develops his
drama almost totally from within and, as Spalter points
out, the spectator " . . . can pick up a great deal merely
by the way scenes alternate." Thus, Wedekind concludes one
episode with the smug know-nothingness of petty professors

and begins another with a chance meeting between Melchior

95

and Wendla in the course of which these two young people
reveal a complexity unsurmised by their elders; indicates
in one scene that adolescents are all too aware how
obsessed with sex the adult world is, and in the next
scene shows how adamantly sex information is denied those
on the threshold of adulthood; proceeds to comment on
Mrs. Bergmann's puritanism with a scene of histrionic
onamism; footnotes a scene in which Melchior seduces
Wendla with a scene in which the former's mother cautions
Moritz against impulsive behavior that will not stand to

his credit later."108

Spalter could, however, have gone
both further and deeper. His outline does not include,
for instance, the masterful placement of the teachers’
conference scene, the most humorous and sardonic in the
entire drama, between the scenes which depict Moritz'
final mental depravation and his funeral. Nor does it
mention the contrasts contained in the scenes themselves,
such as the funeral scene just mentioned, which first
shows the callous, selfish attitude of the adults before
ending with a tender and sensitive note as two of the
children, Martha and Ilse, vow to keep Moritz' memory
alive with flowers. And between these two Wedekind places
yet another contrastive element when one Of the boys,
Otto, remembers that Moritz has gotten out of a five Mark

bet, because his suicide proves that he could not make

the grade.

96

Frfihlings Erwachen consists of nineteen scenes,

 

none of which begins where the previous scene ended. In
fact only four of these scenes, the first scene of the
drama and the second scene of the second act, both of
which take place in the Bergmann living room, and the
second and seventh scenes of the third act, both in the
graveyard7have the same setting. The lack of a smooth
transition between scenes is well illustrated in the jump]
from the first to the second scene. Not only are we

introduced to a new set of characters in a different setting

but, as Klotz also points out,109 the scene begins on a
note of irrelevance with Melchior's blank remark: "Das ist
mir zu langweilig. Ich mache nicht mehr mit" (II, 99).

The conversation then proceeds nonchalantly from this.
point without any reference to the-first scene, to the
game or whatever it was that just ended when Melchior quit
and with no hint as to the importance or background of the
group of boys who are new before us. 'The third scene then
repeats this same break, only this time we are introduced'
to a group Of girls, one of whom is Wendla, who serves as
a link to the first scene by her presence and whose mention_i
Of Melchior Shows the first tie among the three. '
The introduction Of the three central figures in‘
a group situation serves two purposes. First of all it
allows Wedekind to introduce characters whose individual

appearances later are linked by these brief encounters to

97

the fates of the three main characters. Secondly, the
unobtrusive manner in which the main characters eventually
emerge from their peers lends them realistic validity as
children among children. None of the three is weird or
an outcast whose tragedy stems from the fact that they
did not fit in the normal pattern of youth. Wedekind
does not allow the parents such a nice excuse. Melchior,
Moritz and Wendla do not stand out as anything other than
the children of their respective parents, and their
normalcy is not negated by their inherent differences

of personality.

The division of Frfihlings Erwachen into three acts

 

is purely mechanical, and has little in common with the
pyramidal structure of the classical drama. There is
literally no traditional exposition. The characters and
actions develop themselves from within, and new characters
are introduced throughout bringing new strands of action.
‘Each scene contains its own unity, and the greater unity
comes not from the progression through the acts, but from
the relation of the scenes to the outer problem. The acts
actually function more as sum totals of the implications
of the various strands of action than as divisional units.
Not only is there no central climax in the middle Of the
drama, but it would be difficult to ascertain what might,
even be considered a true climax or turning point. Nor~

is there a cathartic conclusion at the end. Two of the

98

main characters, whose importance is essentially equal,
have already died meaningless deaths, and the third has
nothing more at the end than mere existence.110

As Klotz states, the proximity and natural relation-
ship between the elements of dramatic action and composition
is extremely close. Both are the inherent result of

Wedekind's choice of the broad problem of sexual repression

as the basis of action in Frfihlings Erwachen, and once

 

this problem was established most questions concerning the
relationship between action and its final compositional
form take on the rhetorical validity of the chicken and

the egg. The majority of what has been said above in the
first chapter concerning the autonomy of the scenes, the
lack of a unified line of action, the various methods by
which the action is held together, the lack of a Specific
conclusion, etc., is all information which pertains to both
elements, and it is therefore not necessary to repeat it

here. Suffice it to say that Frfihlings Erwachen has been

 

Shown to exhibit every one of the characteristics of compo-

sitional technique found in the dramas of the epic theater.lll

While Frfihlings Erwachen serves as the underlying

 

pattern for most of the dramas which followed, Wedekind
does make certain interesting and pertinent alterations.
Following the order used in the first chapter, Erdgeist
exhibits a number of basic differences in composition.

The scenes, first of all, take on the traditional form

99

of "Auftritte," beginning and ending with the entrance or
departure of one of the characters. This technique is
facilitated by the fact that each act has a Single setting.
Despite the fact that this limitation does not prevent
Wedekind from introducing new characters at random or
from filling a large volume Of scenes (nine in the first
act, seven in the second, ten in the third, eight in the
fourth) with a variety of individual, dynamic actions,
it does place the scene in a somewhat subservient role
with respect to the act. The acts, however, also take
on a new function. Unlike the classical line of action
which builds throughout the acts, Wedekind starts a new
action in each act which is expanded within the act itself.
Lulu destroys Goll'and conquers Schwarz in the first act,
destroys Schwarz in the second, conquers and then destroys
SchOn in the third and fourth. The contrastive singularity
of these separate and Singular tragedies is overshadowed
by the basic element of repetition. The acts, in essence,
take over the basic function of the scene in Wedekind's
'compositional breakdown; each act is an autonomous episode
in the saga of Lulu}12
The total artificiality Of this type Of scenic
division, well illustrated by a scene in the fourth act
which cOnsists of nothing more than Geschwitz poking her
head thrOugh a door and then disappearing after saying to

herself:- "O Gott, da ist jemand . . . " (III, 82), is

100

totally departed in Die Bfichse der Pandora, which has no
individual breakdown into scenes whatsoever. It is not,
however, difficult to presume where the divisions would
be placed, and the fact that they are not specifically
marked does not alter the basic form of composition. The
acts still function as superimposed scenes, and Wedekind
could have conveniently concluded the action with either
of the escape scenes which come at the end of the first
two acts. Certain differences are, on the other hand,
detectable. The second act introduces a number of action
strands in the persons of Casti-Piani, Puntschu, etc.,
which are left incomplete and come much closer to the
type of autonomous actions presented in the scenes of

Frfihlings Erwachen. Similary, each of Lulu‘s clients in

 

the third act has a primarily episodic function. Each.‘
enters and exits without introduction or follow-up, and
the action contained in each visit is separate and certainly
singular. Despite the fact that Lulu's fall is inevitable,
at this stage, Wedekind avoids the final tragedy through
the employment of this series of retarding momentswhich,
unlike the single ray Of hope or change evident in such
scenes in the classical drama, merely give Wedekind the
opportunity to Show one more set of human parasites.* The
action itself actually builds at this point rather than
falling off. The first customer, a pathetic mute by the

name of Hunidei, is harmlessly comical and grotesque in

101

his Speechless gesticulation. The second, Kungu Poti,
heir to the throne of Uahubee, becomes violent when Lulu
asks to see his money in advance, and takes out his wrath
by killing Alwa, after which time he departs without ever
reaching the bedroom. The third, the academician Dr. Hilti,
who has come to Lulu to learn what his life as a student
had not permitted him either time-wise or monetarily,
stands as a comic and helpless creature between the
previous violent scene with Kungu Poti and the concluding
scene with Jack. Wedekind could clearly have constructed
a meaningful and intense drama from the action presented
in this act alone, and the jagged contours and independent
variety presented in these repetitive visits or scenes are
certainly comparable to those of Brecht and the other
authors of his tradition.

As was mentioned above, Wedekind was forced to
divide his original composition into two separate dramas.
While this division was shown to account for a number Of
the weaker points in the structure, it does not negate
the fact that even the original drama was decidedly and
consciously asymmetrical. The potential turning point,
Lulu's murder of SchOn,would have come approximately in
the middle, but the basic passivity of Lulu's role in the
action to this point and the autonomy of the separate
’fates Of Goll, Schwarz and SchOn still belie a true

bilateral division. Further, it must be stressed that

102

Lulu's position as the "zentrales Ich" is primarily a
function of unification, and Wedekind is as much interested
in the various actions and individuals who revolve around
her as in Lulu herself. With few exceptions, Lulu's
actions are expended in her role as an innocent catalyst
for the actions and reactions of others. Finally, the
inconsistent length, import and function of the various
scenes is as much evident in the original as in the final
versions.

Franziska exhibits another technique of composi-

 

tional subdivision, one which illustrates not only
wedekind's reliance on the basic functional unit of the
scene, but also his totally inconsistent and mechanical
use of the act. The lack of a set pattern of division
is clear from the outset. The first act consists of

two "Bilder," the first of which is further divided into
three scenes, which apparently function once again as
"Auftritte," while the second introduces characters and
separate conversations with no internal divisions what-
soever. The gap between the two "Bilder" or tableaux,
which are separated by an indefinite period Of time and
totally different setting (from a common living room to
a wild Berlin nightclub), is accentuated by the fact that
the second breaks in on the middle of two conversations,
neither of which has anything to do with anything. The

spectator is merely thrown into the middle of this new

103

situation and is left on his own until the entrance of
Kunz and Franziska, whose manly transformation is immedi—
ately startling. The gap is widened even further by the
fact that the prose dialogue of the first act has been
replaced by rhymed verse, and the poet Laurus Bein,
estrangingly introduced by an invisible chorus, intensifies
the use of verse in his poetic monologues and the balladesque
songs which he and Kunz inadvertently insert. The direct
line from Wedekind to Brecht was seldom more evident than
in this tumultuously vivid scene.113
Quite obviously the only factor which necessitates
the placement Of these tableau-scenes in one act is the
question of length as a function of time; the first simply
does not last long enough to require a pause for the
spectator, so Wedekind EQSE another segment to it purely
for the sake of a theatrical production. The abrupt
transition between the two and the total autonomy of each
certainly rules out the possibility that they were divided
from a previously constructed whole characterized by a
single, unified line Of action.
The "Bild"-tableau divisions are thus equal to
what has been shown above to be the essential function of

the scene in Frfihlings Erwachen and the acts in the "Lulu

 

Plays." The seven remaining tableaux are unequally spread
throughout the last four acts, a fact which stresses their

autonomical function within the larger act designations.

104

The fourth act, like the first, contains two such tableaux
scenes, neither of which has further internal divisions.
The first Shows Kunz and Franziska alone in a brief scene
of promising bliss; the second_finds Franziska in a similar
state of passion, but now her partner is Breitenbach, who
appears for the first time in the drama. The scene then
proceeds to Show the tOtal destruction of the marriage
which had seemed so promising only moments, but now years,
before. The second and fifth acts in turn contain only
one such tableau each. The former is entirely devoted to
Wedekind's genre painting of the grotesque and unhappy
marriage of Franz(iska) and SOphie, the latter depicts
Franziska in her setting of idyllic domestication, and
serves somewhat as a last refuge for the various strands
of action. Each exhibits the same basic characteristics
Of autonomy (and especially the second) and lack of
immediate relevance as were illustrated above with the
first two tableaux. The third (second act), however,
continues in verse while the final act combines its
realistic setting and action with the corresponding use

of the normal proSe idiom, which is also used throughout
the fourth act and in the majority of the third.0 The
third act itself, finally, consists of three tableaux
which differ Slightly from the others. While each has

its own setting, the time Span is quite progressive through

the three, and the jumps between each are attenuated by

105

the fact that characters and themes are for the most part
common to each of them.
The chaotic appearance of the composition of

Franziska is due primarily to Wedekind's concentration on

 

stations of action rather than linear progression. It

is once again only in retrospect that the Spectator

realizes that the autonomous events presented actually

trace the circular rotation of Franziska's life, from her
total repungance toward marriage in the first scene to its
full acceptance in the last. The hell of bourgeois marriage
becomes essentially her promise of a heaven on earth. The
circular problem quite naturally runs an equally Circular
course.

Der Schnellmaler Oder Kunst und Mammon departs very

 

little from the basic compositional principles of the
traditional three-act drama. Its relationship to the epic
theater, as was mentioned in the first chapter, is not a
factor of its essential structure, and it is therefore not
necessary to include it here. The same can be said of

Wedekind's "Schwank," Fritz Schwigerling: Der Liebestrank,

 

and each of his four pantomimes, all of which adhere quite
closely to the principles of division and symmetrical
prOportion in their respective composition. And despite
the stark modernity of language and existential conflict,
this is also true of the basig_composition of Der Marquis

114

von Keith. There is a definite line of action which is

 

106

followed from beginning to end, and the climax and turning
point lie in the third act, with the party celebrating the
opening of the "Feenpalast" and Keith's first mistake, the
forgery of the telegram of congratulations in Casimir's
name. The unities of time and place are followed quite
closely, and it is fully clear that Keith, in his function
of a picaresque, Krull-like non-hero, is the main character.
Action does not revolve around him, as was the case with
Lulu, it is developed along with him. The subservience of
the action to its outer division is accentuated by the
fact that there are no demarcations for scenes. The sub-
plots which develOp clearly have their own validity with
respect to their function as examples of the outsider-
insider conflict, but this validity is relative to the
figure Of Keith. Even the final scene between Scholz and
Keith, singled out by Thomas Mann for its powerful
modernity and contrast, functions as an element Of tradi-
tional composition, since Scholz' refusal to give Keith
the resources which would have allowed the latter to
retain control of his enterprise releases the final
retarding possibility which might have saved Keith from
the ensuing catastrophe.

Der Kammersanger, on the other hand, returns to

 

the techniques of epic composition and excellently illus-
trates the point made above concerning the relationship

between the acts and scenes of Erdgeist. Each drama

107

depicts the singular fates of three Specific individuals,
but Erdgeist places these individual actions in act units,

whereas Der Kammersanger inserts them in three scenes of

 

a drama which consists of only one act. The autonomy of
these events in the latter drama is, however, more pro-
nounced. Goll, Schwarz and SchOn are all introduced to
the audience within the first two scenes of the drama, and
their initial contact is linked to previous mutual
associations. Miss Coeurne, Dfihring and Helene Marowa,

on the other hand, have not met each other and do not

meet in the drama, and only the latter has had any
previous contact with Gerardo. The lack of expositional
commentary to introduce these figures is equally true with
respect to Gerardo himself; the entire drama, in fact,
functions primarily as a continued exposition of Gerardo's
character.

The autonomy of the scenes in Der Kammersanger is

 

further illustrated by the fact that Gerardo makes no
direct reference to any of the events from one scene in
any other scene. The elements Of contrast and repetition
are purely implicit, and the spectator must find the
threads of unity himself. In addition, the remaining
seven scenes merely Serve to ironically point out the

fact that Gerardo, who is "not in" for any visitors, is
never left alone to practice for his next engagement. All

of these factors finally add up to the sum total of

108

Gerardo, K. K. Kammersanger, . and nothing else, for, as
he readily would admit, there is nothing else.

Die Zensur, the final drama treated above, stands

 

in a class alone. It is totally clear from the content
of the drama that Wedekind wrote it primarily for the pur-
pose Of defending his ideas on stage. His principles of
composition are therefore geared to this purpose. The
artificial action, or better lack of action, between
Buridan and Kadidja in the first and third scenes is
introduced primarily to give Wedekind a frame of dramatic
meaning in which to introduce the all-important center
scene between Buridan and Prantl. AS a result of this
over emphasis on his own pronouncements, Wedekind does
not sufficiently develop the motivation for such a serious
conclusion, with Kadidja's suicide. The entire work is
extremely weak, and its composition is hardly comparable
to that of either the Aristotelian or the epic drama.
Wedekind totally departs from his normal principle of
demonstration of a general problem for the sake of almost
pure discussion of a personal conflict, and the spectator
quickly reaches the unfortunate realization that the author
'is merely talking to and with himself.115
Three additional dramas merit Special comment with
respect to certain unique elements of composition. 93s

Sonnenspektrum, termed by Wedekind "Ein Idyll aus dem

 

modernen Leben," contains no act or scene divisions

whatsoever, and consists of nothing more than a series

of introspective looks at a "spectrum" of girls of joy

and their respective clientele. Eros, for once in
Wedekind's dramas, is not contrasted with Thanatos; the
mutual joy of both sexes is displayed in an atmOSphere

and setting which seems more like a Sunday picnic in the
park than a bordello. There is no real action and the
drama merely progresses through a series of separate,
contrasting conversations. Wedekind's enlightened approach
to prostitution is streSsed by the fact that many of these
light but educationally provocative chats are between the
house madam and a doctor who constantly attends to the
mental and physical problems which might arise from the
profession. These two, as well as all of the girls, Show
their basic sensitivity to one of the weird questions of
their existence when Elsie, a Shy young virgin, wishes to
join them. She is treated not with coarse remarks or harsh
realities, but more like a toy doll who can be looked at
but not touched by anyone, a strange and touching reaction
considering what she had come here for and what one would
expect. The drama ends with a ballad from the poet-Singer
Eoban, and the content of his song depicts a hope that is
seemingly shared by all, the hOpe that Elsie may be

Spared her virginity.

KOnig_Nicolo oder SO ist das Leben, like Franziska,

 

 

is divided into acts which are once again superimposed

110

over the basic units in the form Of tableaux-"Blider."

The first line of the drama immediately places the work in
a Brechtain context; Nicolo's words "Nur kein Gelachter!"
(IV, 105) bring to mind at once Brecht's famous "Glotzt
nicht so romantisch" placard. The action of the drama
revolves around the episodes in Nicolo's life following
his being deposed and replaced as king by a common butcher.
The fact that there is a central basis of action does not,
however, prevent Wedekind from employing epic techniques
of composition as it did in dramas like Der Marquis von
Kgith, The drama reads, in fact, like a modern version

of Simplicismus as we follow Nicolo through his varied and

 

various adventures. Scenes repeat each other frequently
as Nicolo constantly returns to the court from which he
has been banned and then banned once again. Dramatic
irony is employed throughout, as for example when Nicolo
is hired to serve as the court jester for King Folchi, his
replacement. Nicolo, whose similarity to Brecht's Azdak
is at times striking, does not go through life without
learning from his previous errors. The entire drama is
based, in fact, on the juxtaposition of comical scenes
of light content and scenes which ironically depict the
Shad and bitter lot which Nicolo has come to realize as
his own.

H3325! finally, introduces Wedekind's most well

de‘neloped drama based on documentary materials. The entire

111

plot is based on a factual story which Wedekind had read
in the newspapers, and he developed his line of action
on facts. More important, however, is his use of Specific
titles which, if placed on placards as one would assume,
serve to distance the audience from the drama, as well
as to summarize in Brechtian fashion the ensuing action.
The introduction of each scene in this manner thus takes
the melodramatic aspects of tension away, so that the
spectator can fully concentrate on the actions themselves,
and it hardly seems necessary to point out Brecht's
frequent use of exactly the same method.

Two factors should be perfectly clear at this point.
First of all, it has been amply demonstrated that a number
of Wedekind's dramas do in fact follow the characteristics
outlined above as typical for the composition of the epic
drama. Secondly, the remaining dramas, which follow the
traditional principles of composition as found in the
Aristotelian drama with few major alterations, still contain
elements which link them directly to the epic theater.' This
latter assertion will be clarified in the next chapter,
which discusses the function of time and Space in Wedekind's
dramas, and even more so in the final chapter on characters

and language.

CHAPTER IV

TIME AND SPACE

Was schiert mich das Theater! Unsere kfihne
Tagtaglichkeit erreicht's bekanntlich nie.
Das menschliche Gehirn sei meine Bfihne,
Mein Lieblingsregisseur die Phantasie.
From the prologue to Die Bfichse der Pandora
(III, 120)

 

The function of time and space in the Aristotelian
drama was shown above to be directly relative to the type
of artificially segmented dramatic action which they
enclose. Aristotle's requirement of a unified dramatic
action, a unity characterized by its linear totality,
dictates a corresponding limitation of both time and Space.
Each functions primarily as a framework or hollow container
into which the action is artificially compressed, and neither
has an ascertainable effect on the action itself. The
Aristotelian dramatist's attempt to create an illusive,
credible totality within the inherent boundaries Of a
stage presentation literally forces the narrow restrictions
which he places on time and space.

The epic dramatist, on the other hand, cannot abide
such severe limitations. He must have free reign over time
and space in order to demonstrate the empirical complexity

and vast implications of the archetypal problem which serves

112

113

as the basis of the action presented. Time and space
therefore fluctuate freely from scene.to scene without
regard to consequential linear progression of events or
stylized unity of location. Frequently such Shifts reflect
or actively influence corresponding changes in the behavior
and/or mental state of the characters involved and thus
work directly upon the action itself. The autonomy of

the scenes or episodes is therefore accentuated by the

fact that each contains its own "here and now" co-ordinates
of time and Space which interact with each other and with
the action, with the result that what is taking place is
Often a factor of when and where it is taking place and
vice verSa.

Fluctuations in time and space thus function in
combination with the concurrent changes in action to Show
the basic repetitive nature of the archetypal, irrecon-
cilable problems being dealt with in the epic drama. Such
conflicts can and do occur anytime and any place. Frequently
the exact same series of events takes place despite great
Shifts in location or time period; man, caught between
system and instinct, is in essentially the same trap. The
various stations of time and sapce merely reinforce the
underlying existential complexity of man's constant battle
with himself and his environment. The active influence of
temporal and Spatial factors changes the Situation and the

specific reaction to the general problem, but the

114

circumstances which brought about the conflict in the
first place remain essentially the same.

Frfihlings Erwachen serves as an excellent example

 

of Wedekind's use of epic techniques with respect to his
treatment of the elements of time and space. A general
overview clearly illustrates from the outset a very
marked departure from the Aristotelian unities. AS
mentioned above, seventeen of the nineteen scenes which
comprise the drama have different locational settings,116
none of which has a Specific Spatial or temporal relation-
ship to the scene which preceds or follows. The action
jumps from station to station, and each shift of location

has a corollary effect on the movement of time. As Klotz
states: "Der szenische Raum, der sich mit nahezu jedem
Szenenwechsel andert, wirkt beim Zustandekommen unmittelbarer
Zeiteindrficke negativ: er macht die Zeitbewegung, den
Verlauf, vergessen. Indem er die Zeit bewaltigt, lenkt

er von ihr ab. Fortwahrend Gegenwart bescthrend--Voraus-
und Rfickblicke entfallen, da alles mittelbar dargeboten
wird--, entrechnet, tilgt er fast den Eindruck ihrer

117 Further, the indefinite

vorwartsflieBenden Bewegung."
and rather lengthy extension of the time period covered
is determined of necessity by the problem with which the
drama is concerned. Quoting Klotz once again, "In

Wedekinds Stfick ist es . . . die private biologische

Zeitphase der Pubertat, mit der sich die Akteure

115

auseinanderzusetzen haben. Die Zeit ruft hier eine
Zustandlichkeit hervor, die ihrerseits, um sich zu
aktualisieren, einer gewissen Zeitspanne bedarf."118
The specific, limited movement of time is replaced with

an uneven chronology of temporal events whose relationship
to the general time period covered, the age of pubertal
awakening, is greater than to that of the specific time

of each scene. The actual time span covered is slightly
more than six months, a fact which is essentially irrele-
vant for each separate scene, and basically worth mention
only because it represents a sufficiently realistic amount
of time to cover the various events and developments
portrayed.119

The majority of the scenes in Frfihlings Erwachen,

 

unlike the Aristotelian drama, take place not in large,
aristocratic rooms, but in the Open expanse of nature.

The freedom of such surroundings is a direct reflection

Of the free and natural demeanor of the children. The
indoor world, the world of artificial trappings and walled
isolation, belongs to the adults, whose narrow-minded
attitudes correspond totally with theirrestricted‘environ-
ment. The effective use of spatial effects to accentuate
the basic conflict and contrast between the children and
their elders is well illustrated by comparing the first
scene of the second act with the first Scene of the third.

The former begins: "Abend auf Melchiors Studierzimmer.

116

Das Fenster steht Offen, die Lampe brennt auf dem Tisch"
(II, 119). Both the evening mood and the Open contact
with the out—Of-doors have a direct influence on the
conversation between Melchior and Moritz. The pensive tone
of their speech is reflected in the serious serenity of

the sounds of nature which creep in through the Open window.
"Dem wirren, dunklen Treiben in ihrem Innern," quoting
Klotz, "entSprechen die huschenden und verschwommenen
Bewegungen drauBen in der mondbeschienenen Natur, den

halb nur geahnten Vorgangen ihres KOrperS und ihrer Seele
das nachtliche Weben im Garten. Innen- und AuBenraum,

die Knaben und die Natur befinden sich im Zustand

verbundener GefaBe."120

Moritz Slowly becomes aware of
this contact and says to Melchior:

Ich ffihle mich so eigentfimlich vergeistert.‘ Betaste

mich bitte mal. Ich sehe--ich hOre--ich ffihle viel

deutlicher--und doch alles so traumhaft--Oh,

stimmungsvoll.--Wie sich dort im Mondschein der

Garten dehnt, so still, so tief, als ging er ins

Unendliche.--Unter den Bfischen treten umflorte

Gestalten hervor, huschen in atemloser Geschaftigkeit

fiber die Lichtungen und verschwinden im Halbdunkel.

. . . Wollen wir nicht hinunter, Melchior? (II, 120).
The children are thus drawn by the power of nature by the
contact, or to use Klotz' term, "Raumverbindung" which
Wedekind establishes through the Open window. The confer-
ence room scene which begins the third act, on the other
hand, shows the attempt Of the adults to close Off the out-
side world. The majority of the discussion among the

teachers revolves around the simple question of whether

117

or not a window should be Opened in order to allow some
fresh air (almost symbolic for fresh ideas or attitudes)
into the stuffy, isolated room. A window is finally Opened
only to be immediately closed because of the draft which
it created. When it is suggested that the other window
then be Opened, only one person has noticed or remembered
that it has been walled over for a number of months. The
lack of contact with the outside world has not even been
recognized. Therefore the solution to the problem is made
quite simple; as long as the remaining window is to remain
shut, it might as well be bricked up also. The conference
room itself thus becomes a spatial representation for the
isolated pedants who are enclosed by its four walls. The
symbolic value of this spatial isolationism is emphasized
by the fact that Melchior is totally stifled in his
attempts to communicate rationally in such an artificial
atmosphere.

This scene also illustrates Wedekind's use of
Specific objects which function not only in the Aristotelian
manner as simple projections of the characters, but also
as elements with inherent, meaningful value. It is by no
means accidental that two portraits, specifically designated
by Wedekind himself as Pestalozzi and Rousseau (stage
directions, II, 143), hang conspicuously behind the confer-
ence table. Any number of pictures could have been chosen

to symbolize the basic environment of a conference room

118

setting, but as the conversation progresses it becomes
clear why Wedekind chose these particular portraits.
Pestalozzi's vast educational reforms, based on the idea
of first trying to understand children before attempting
to teach them, are totally lost in the phoney pedantry
and false morality of the theachers, whose concern for
artificial prOpriety blots out even a partial consideration
for Melchior's Situation and welfare. Similarly, Rousseau's
writings on the influence of societal customs and habits
on personal behavior and moral codes go totally unheeded;
his call back to nature is answered with windows that are
walls. These portraits thus serve to bring into sharp
contrast what one would expect in such a setting, and
what actually transpires.

That Wedekind was conscious and desirous of the
effect produced by the Open window in Melchior's study
and the portraits in the conference room is testified in
their specific mention in the respective captions to
these scenes. They are, in fact, the only objects singled
out by Wedekind as requesite stage effects. The majority
of the stage direction headings, in contrast, state only
the general Spatial atmosphere or situation and make no
mention whatsoever of descriptive scenic details. The
first scene of the drama, for example, has the simple
heading: "Wohnzimmer." The second caption doesn't even

state a definite place or setting and reads merely:

119

"Sonntag abend." The realistic simplicity Of each episode
is consequently reflected in the very basic and commonplace
settings in which they take place, and it was therefore not
necessary for Wedekind to list elaborate directions on how
and what to place on the stage.

At the same time, however, these general settings
have a greater effect on and relationship to the action
which they enclose than do the more embellished rooms of
the Aristotelian drama. Space is not merely a hollow
framework or "Sprachgebaude" in which lines are exchanged
between characters. There is constant physical and mental
contact between the characters and their surroundings, and
the Open breadth of nature excludes no one from its bounds.
The children smell and pick the flowers, are affected by
the rustling of leaves and the bubbling brook, and walk
aimlessly through the fields just to be out-of—doors.
Following her seduction Wendla is drawn out of her room
to combine the pleasure of her new natural state with
the natural surroundings of the garden (II, 134); when
her pregnancy confines her to her room she longs to get
out, ". . . im Abendschein fiber die Wiesen gehen, Himmels-
schlfissel suchen den FluB entlang und mich ans Ufer setzen
und traumen . . . " (II, 161). Previous to his suicide
Moritz contrasts his own inner turmoil with the serenity
of nature: "Es herrscht eine seltene Ruhe in der Natur.

Nirgends etwas Grelles, Aufreizendes. Himmel und Erde

120

sind wie durchsichtiges Spinnewebe. Und dabei scheint
sich alles so wohl zu ffihlen. Die Landschaft ist lieb-
lich wie eine Schlummermelodie--'schlafe, mein Prinzchen,
schlaf ein' . . . ” (II, 135). Nature is quite Obviously
singing Moritz' death song; even in tragedy Moritz can
harmonize with personified nature even though he could
seldom communicate with real persons. It is thus not
surprising to find that he equates his death with the
simple departure from the spatial isolation of a lifeless,
crowded room: "Besser ist besser.—-Ich passe nicht hinein.
MOgen sie einander auf die KOpfe steigen.--Ich ziehe die
Tfir hinter mir zu und trete ins Freie" (II, 135).

Finally, the last scene of Frfihlings Erwachen

 

clearly illustrates Wedekind's use of spatial effects to
denote the passage of time and to integrate the various
strands of action. The previous scene found Hanschen

Rilow and Ernst Rbbel basking in the warmth of an early
autumn evening. Now, as Melchior stumbles madly through
the graveyard he remarks: "Die Blumchen waren heut' noch
erfroren!--Ringsum ist die Erde kahl .‘. . Im Totenreich!--
(II, 166). The situation, the time of year and Moritz'
inner desolation are all reflected in this simple statement
on the general setting. In his haste Melchior tOpples a
tombstone, which turns out to be that of Moritz, thus
relating back to the former scene in the graveyard and,

when the latter appears with his head in hand, linking

121

the action as far back as the first scene of the second
act when Moritz first relates the story of the "KOnigin
Ohne Kopf." Melchior then notices the grave of a young
girl and learns from the inscription that it is Wendla.

At the same time, the spectator gets his first definite
impression Of how much total time has passed since the
beginning of the drama by subtracting the dates on the
tombstone, May 5, 1878 to October 27, 1892, from the first
mention of specific time in the drama, Wendla's fourteenth
birthday in the first scene. The graveyard setting there-
fore serves as a final meeting place for the three main
characters, whose separate fates are interrelated here
through the introduction of people through "things."121

Frfihlings Erwachen, it should be mentioned, stands

 

out not only in Wedekind's dramas as fulfilling an
exceptional number Of the characteristics of time and
space found in the epic theater, but in the entire history

122

Of world drama. Wedekind himself approaches this total

correspondence in only one other work, KOnig Nicolo, but

 

even here the full impact of time and Space as direct
determinants or implicit factors in the actions and
reactions of the characters is not as strong, especially
with respect to the immediate power of nature as a working
force in the drama. This is not to say, however, that the
remaining dramas do not exhibit a distinct departure from

the normal Aristotelian unities of time and space; on the

122

contrary, the majority of Wedekind's works employ a suf-
ficient number of epic characteristics in the treatment
of time and space, primarily as a result of their broad
basis of problematics, to include them as examples of
epic theater.

The "Lulu Plays," for instance, Span an indefinite
period of years, and time as a factor of tension building
motion is totally lacking. Within the acts, which were
shown above to have the same function as the scenes in

Frfihlings Erwachen, time progression as such is totally ir-

 

relevant, and between each act there are indeterminable

gaps of months and/or years. Once again the action consists
of various episodic stations of development, each of which
contains its own constellation of time and space.‘ Each

act of Erdgeist takes place in a different room; each act

 

of Die Bfichse der Pandora also takes place in a different

 

room, but each of these rooms is also in a different country.

These shifts in space serve, as in Frfihlings Erwachen, to

 

reflect corresponding shifts in time, as Lulu's rise and
fall can be traced from her entrance in Schwarz' simple
studio, to her pinnacle of freedom and power in Schfin's
luxurious salon, to her final degradation and corruption
in the meager attic in London.

While the intimate contact with nature which played

such an important role in the Spatial technique of Frfihlings

 

Erwachen is totally absent here, the essential symbolism of

 

123

these walled rooms as barriers is still quite evident.
Wedekind himself, through the person of the animal trainer
in the prologue, sets up the equatiOn between peOple and
animals and rooms and cages. Lulu, "das wahre Tier, das
wilde, schfine Tier" (III, 8), stands out in this atmosphere
of bourgeois domestication as a vital, restless force of.
nature, much like the powerful young panther in Kafka's

Ein Hungerkfinstler, whose instinct to devour flesh was at

 

once both revolting and magnetic and who, like Lulu,
radiated freedom through his body even when caged. The
analogy reaches its peak in the fourth act of Erdgeist
when Lulu turns SchOn's bourgeois home into a living
managerie comparable to the circus world setting estab-
lished in the prologue. The elaborate scenic detail,
which at first seems to function merely in the Aristotelian
fashion as a reflection of social status and upper middle
class atmosphere, serves as a direct contrast to the base
animals who have come to inhabit the premises. In fact,
it even stands in direct contrast to Schfin himself, whose
contempt for all things bourgeois is sardonically mocked
by this setting of materialistic possessions as a reflection
of his desire for social prOpriety.

Further, Wedekind's use of contrastive settings
'to denote a different basis of action can be seen by

(comparing the luxury of this scene with the total poverty

123

(bf the final scene of Die Bfichse der Pandora. The

Stage is set as follows:

124

Eine Dachkammer Ohne Mansarden. Zwei groBe Scheiben

in der Flucht des Daches fiffnen sich nach oben.

Rechts und links vorn je eine schlechtschlieBende

Tfir. Im linken Prozenium eine zerrissene graue

Matratze. Rechts vorn ein wackliger Blumentisch,

auf dem eine Flasche und eine qualmende Petroleumlampe

stehen. Rechts hinten in der Ecke eine alte Chaise-

longue; neben der Mitteltfir ein durchsessener

Strohsessel. Man hOrt den Regen aufs Dach schlagen;

unter der Dachluke steht eine mit Wasser geffillte

Schale. (III, 172)
Even before the scene Opens the spectator is struck by the
stark divergence from the previous settings. Space is
used here not only to symbolize Lulu's progressive demise,
but also as a form of Brechtian anticipation for the action
which is to follow. Wedekind's masterful choice of stage
effects tell the Spectator as clearly as the words Of a
placard that Lulu has reached the lowest of all possible
depths, and that the end is therefore inevitably near.
More than in any other act of either drama, the characters
are mentally and physically aware Of the influence Of
their surroundings; they are trapped together in a modicum
of time and Space, and they react overtly to both by
constantly bickering and orally expressing their past
freedom and present confinement. Even Jack, one of the
lowest Species of all humanity, is revolted by the poverty
of Lulu's quarters: "Nicht einmal ein Handtuch haben die
Leute hier!--Eine furchtbar armliche HOhle!" (III, 193).

Lulu's portrait in Pierrot costume deserves special

mention as perhaps the single most outstanding example of

Wedekind's use of objects in space whose inherent value

125

far exceeds their simple symbolic function as mere things
among other things. Emrich explains the basic meaning of
the Pierrot custume itself as follows:

Ihre [Lulu's] Verkleidung als Pierrot . . . bezeichnet
exakt ihre tatsachliche Rolle in der Gesellschaft.
Pierrot ist seinem Ursprung nach der scheinbar '
einfaltigste, niedrigste, von allen geschlagene
Diener, der aber gerade auf Grund seiner ungetrfibten
Einfalt und Unschuld unausgesetzt seine Herren
entlarvt, blOBstellt und fiberlistet, die Herrschenden
beherrscht und an der Nase herumffihrt. . . . Dazu
kommt, daB die Pierrot—Figur stets-—schon in dem
berfihmten Bild Watteaus--mit einem undefinierbar
traurigen Ausdruck dargestellt wurde und zumeist
sowohl in ihrer Kleidung wie in ihren Gesichtszfigen
eine verwirrende Mischung von trfigerischem Schein

und scheinloser Natur, von Verstellung und Offenheit
zeigt. Das trifft auch auf Lulu zu: Lulu erscheint
einerseits immer natfirlich und offen . . .
Andererseits scheint ihr ganzes Wesen fiberhaupt

nur auf Verstellung angelegt zu sein. Jedem zeigt
Sie sich anders.12

As with the pictures of Rousseau and Pestalozzi in the
conference room, Wedekind was Obviously intent to place
more meaning than simple decoration in this particular
Object. The function of this picture is summed up
perfectly in the dual meaning in the compound German noun
"Sinnbild" ("Sinn"/"Bild"); on the one hand it stands as
a symbol for Lulu herself, and on the other contains its
own inherent.descriptive meaning as a picture. Throughout
the drama it serves to integrate the action, especially
when Lulu is not present in person, and at the same time
functions to Show both what Lulu was and to a certain
extent always must be, and what she actually is during

each of the temporal stations Of action. The fact that

126

the picture already exists before the drama Opens and even
precedes Lulu onto the stage clearly illustrates the fact
that Wedekind begins the action in the middle of an extended
period of time and action; that the picture is still hanging
conspicuously on the wall in the final scene is symbolic of
the fact that Lulu's person is survived by her principle,
and that the problem itself does not end with the drama.
Finally, it is interesting to note that the only time the

picture is missing, the third act of Erdgeist, Lulu herself

 

is in costume for her theater performance and the same
double image attained through the use of the picture is
achieved even here by the fact that Lulu is constantly
positioned in front of a mirror, and the real person is
still confronted with an image which combines illusion
and reality. I

The same general non-Aristotelian approach to the
elements of time and space found in the "Lulu Plays" are
also evident in a number of Wedekind's other dramas,

including Die junge Welt, the pantomimes Die Fthe Oder

 

Der Schmerzentanz and Die Ffirstin Russalka, Hidalla,

 

Musik, Oaha and Franziska. Each of these dramas spans a

 

 

number of years, reflecting once again various stations

Of existence in the lives Of the main characters, and
while the variety and number of spatial settings vary, each
does employ a series of different or altered locations

which function essentially like those outlined above in

127

the "Lulu Plays." The one-act dramas (Der Kammersapger,

 

Tod und Teufel and Die Zensur), on the other hand, neces-

 

sarily take a totally different approach to the time-space
relationship which, despite the fact that a type of Unity
is maintained throughout, is also distinctly different
from that found in the Aristotelian drama.

Der Kammersanger serves as perhaps the most distinct

 

example of Wedekind's use of a completely contrastive
technique of time and space as Opposed to that of the dramas

discussed above, and especially Frfihlings Erwachen. The

 

entire drama covers a period Of forty five exactly measured
minutes and never moves from the original setting in a
common hotel room. Unlike the Aristotelian dramatist, how-
ever, Wedekind does not use these restrictions to create

an artificial Situation. The amount Of time, first of all,
is derived solely from the fact that Gerardo has only three
quarters of an hour before his train departs for Brussels.
Time therefore has nothing to do with the "final dramatic
moments" of an extended, momentous series of events. There
is no need to present an exposition in order to bring the
spectator up to date, Since everything which takes place

in the drama evolves from within and is essentially relevant
only to this period of forty five minutes.' Further, the
specific motion of time does not reflect a corresponding
build-up in the action, since each of the three visitors

represents a totally autonomous and unrelated event. The

128

almost total lack of action as such, combined with the fact
that there is no real end point which must be reached,
results in an almost total lack of tension on the part of
the spectator. Gerardo is the only one who is concerned
and tense about the fleet passing of his precious seconds.
His constant refrain: "Ich muB morgen abend in Brfissel
den 'Tristan' singen!" adds tempo without a corresponding
tension (except in himself), and reflects more than any-
thing else the arrangement Of his life around false
priorities. Wedekind clearly uses this restricted time
basis to mock the import of Gerardo's existence and not,
as in the Aristotelian drama, to build up to a fateful
moment Of great implications. Wallenstein, for example,
contemplates for hours the final decision which will
eventually prove his fate, and the spectator becomes
tensely impatient for the great moment which in fact never
comes; Gerardo, on the other hand, decides his fate on

the following basis: "Wenn ich abreise, bin ich ein
Unmensch, und wenn ich hier bleibe, bin ich ruiniert,

bin ich kontraktbrfichig! Ich habe noch (auf die Uhr
sehend) eine Minute und zehn Sekunden. Rasch, ich muB
verhaftet sein!" (III, 240). This ridiculously exact

and short amount of time, accentuated by the mention of
the precise number Of seconds, is Obviously nothing more

than a complete mockery of Gerardo's unheroic nature.

129

Wedekind's choice of location also reflects a
certain amount of divergence from the normal pattern found
in the Aristotelian drama. First of all, there is an
inherent and Obvious relationship between time and Space.
The temporal nature of the action is directly reflected
in the transient nature of the hotel room setting; the
significance of the room is limited by the amount of time
covered by the drama. Except for the conspicuous place-
ment of the piano and the number of bouquets strewn around
in various places, there is nothing particularly character-
istic about the room itself. Instead of placing the action
in Gerardo's dressing room or some other more Obviously
related setting, Wedekind chose a location which is
essentially neutral to all of the characters, thus allowing
each to emerge on equal ground through their own actions
and words. This is especially true of Gerardo who, trapped
alone in this neutral situation, must fend for himself
not only as a star but also as a person. He is forced
into showing a certain amount of true emotion when placed
in face to face contact; he cannot "play the role" as he
would be able to do if he were in his own theatrical
element.

As in Frfihlings Erwachen, the four walls of this

 

hotel room represent isolation and lack of communication.
Gerardo must Speak to these people because he cannot

escape from them, but at the same time he is not able to

130

communicate with them. Gerardo Simply does not have "room"
for these people; they merely walk in and out of his

life, just as he enters and leaves his hotel room. Every-
thing is based on transience--his living quarters, his
acquaintances, his career, even his own basic existence.
The vacuum of time and space which surrounds Wedekind's
drama is, unlike that of the Aristotelian drama, not at
all artificial. For Gerardo it is unfortunately all too
real. His life as a public idol brings with it a com-
bination Of the real and the artificial which must be sus-
tained if success is to continue, and which can exist only
in the isolation of a vacuum. Walls are Gerardo's defense
from the outside world, and an invasion of his privacy

is equal to an attack on his inner self.

Wedekind's remaining dramas adhere quite closely
to the normal unities of time and space, and therefore
need not be discussed here. The final chapter will deal
with Characters and Language, both of which demonstrate
a very positive relationship to the epic theater in almost

every one of Wedekind's works.

CHAPTER V

CHARACTERS AND LANGUAGE

A u f s c h r e i e n!--A u f s c h r e i e n!--
D u s e i n, I l S e!--P r i a p i a l!--

B e s i n n u n g s l o S i g k e i t!--D a S

n i m m t d i e K r a f t m i r!--D i e s e s

G 1 fi c k S k i n d, d i e S e s S O n n e n-

k i n d--d i e S e s F r e u d e n m a d c h e n
a u f m e i n e m J a m m e r w e g!-- --O!--O!

—- -- -- -— -- -- -- -- -— -- -— -- -- -- -- --
. (

Moritz in Frfihlings Erwachen (II, 141)

 

The unities of time, place and action which have
been Shown to characterize the Aristotelian drama (in the
Brechtian sense) can only be maintained by placing cor—
responding limitations On the characters who people this
uniform world. Consequently, the characters are not only
limited in number and importance, but also in their Singular
social standing as members of the aristocratic elite or as
burghers following the strict standards of the middle class.
The unilateral nature of these characters, reflected in
their common idiom, mode of behavior and system of values,
is determined by the fact that they are all variations of
one and the same type. The conflict, which Klotz so aptly
compares to the formality of a duel, is fought between two

Specific characters who emerge above the others almost

131

132

immediately as protagonist and antagonist. The contest

is regulated by the rules of society, whose predetermined
values also dictate the eventual outcome, Since clear
lines exist between right and wrong, guilty and innocent.
Further, the conflict is not fought with actions, but
with words. Decisions are weighed carefully in advance
through verbal debate or reflective monologues, both of
which closely follow a pattern of stichomythic logic which
directly reflects the characters' mastery of the language
and their ability to stand at a distance from any given
situation. The general principle of linear unity is thus
maintained all the way down to the level Of the consequential
flow of the hypotactic sentence structure.

Characters and language in the epic drama, on the
other hand, constitute what might well be termed a melting
pot Of humanity, which also readily includes species of
the inhumane. Each character represents an autonomous
unit of personality and function, and each Speaks his own
personal idiom which, like his basic traits, is frequently
determined by his situation and environment, and liable to
change at any moment. Communication, the basis of contact
between the characters of the Aristotelian drama, is almost
totally lacking in a pure form, and Often words are replaced
with Spontaneous actions, frustrated gestures or a total
dumfounded nothingness, all of which reflect the existential

isolation of modern man. Despite the fact that their Speech

133

is that of the common man, they seldom understand each
other because most of what they say is merely a form of
self-evocation. Each is caught up in his own battle for
survival against each other and against the world; there
are no heroes and no sinners, instead there are only those
who continue to struggle and those who succumb to forces
which are beyond their control.

Wedekind's general relationship to the epic theater
with respect to the elements of both characters and lan-
guage is seemingly incontestable. Few authors in the
history Of world drama have created such a wide variety
of distinct human types or so effectively employed such
a confluence of characteristic Speech patterns. Despite
his frequent use Of denigrating caricature and sardonic
distortion, Wedekind always combines enough of the real
with the fictional to leave the impresSion of potent
viability. As has been mentioned above, there is hardly
a single character in a Wedekind drama who does not have
a realistic counterpart, and the majority of the language
used by these figures is patterned either after his own
strange idiom or reflects that of some specific person or
group. Wedekind himself, it must be stressed, plumbed
even the lowest depths of human society, and like Brecht
he had a constant ear for the unusual and yet characteristic
phrase, and an eye for the atypical types who frequent the

establishments Of the underworld. He lived between this

134

world and that of the normal bourgeoisie, and as a true
member of neither was able to study and appreciate both
from the position of an outsider. His characters reflect
not only the distinct contrasts between these levels of
society, but also their inherent and all too frequently
ignored similarities. The two basic factors which separate
the classes are money and power; the one thing which they
both have in common is an instinctual desire for sex. While
Wedekind's sympathies clearly lie with the outsider and the
adventurer, his negative picture of the average bourgeois
Oppressor is never able to fully belie his begrudging
respect for the security and influence which the insider
enjoys. His characters fight the same basic conflict
between instinct and order, man and society, the outsider
and the insider, which was, from the beginning and at the
end, his own.

The full variety of characters and language tech-
niques employed by Wedekind in his various dramas clearly
represents a volume of material which is beyond the scope
of the present study. Therefore, since the nature of the
material demands a certain amount Of specific exemplifi-

cation, only two dramas, Frfihlings Erwachen and Der Marquis

 

 

von Keith, will be treated in detail. This choice is based

 

not only on expediency, but also on the fact that these
dramas illustrate the majority of Wedekind's basic

language patterns and introduce most of the general types

135

of characters who frequently reappear in the remaining

dramas. In addition, Der Marquis von Keith was specifically

 

chosen to Show the definite correspondence between charac—
ters and language in this drama and the elements outlined
above as Characteristic of the epic theater, despite the
fact that time, space, composition and, to a certain
extent, dramatic action, adhere quite closely to the
characteristics of the Aristotelian drama.

Wedekind does not precede Frfihlings Erwachen with

 

an annotated list of dramatis personae and, as has been
mentioned above, the majority of the caption-headings for
each individual scene Offer little or no information about
the characters themselves. Instead each of the characters
(who number thirty four by specific count) enters the
stage as an unknown entity, and is introduced and developed
totally from within through the action itself. Further,
the Simple neutrality of the various settings does not
immediately reflect, as in the Aristotelian drama, the
situation, social standing and personal traits of the
people enclosed therein. Settings such as the conference
room and the corridor of the reform school stand, in fact,
in direct contrast to the people found there; the former
is filled with ignorant pedants, the latter with innocent
children, including Melchior, who are being corrupted
rather than reformed. Changes in location frequently

introduce not only new characters, but also, because of

136

the Spontaneous interaction between Space and characters,
new and altered traits of characters who have been previ-
ously introduced. Wedekind's book of characters, Simply
stated, has no cover, and there is much which must be read
in between the lines.

The Aristotelian drama is dominated by unilateral
variations of two types of characters and language, that
of the aristocratic nobleman and the average bourgeois.

Frfihlings Erwachen, in distinct contrast, is peopled with

 

a wide variety of characters and character types (primarily
from the middle class) each of whom, despite the fact that
they fall into three basic classifications, exhibits a
Singular individuality in personality and speech, and none
of whom transcends the bounds of common everyday reality.
Wedekind's drastic and total departure from the
world of the Aristotelian drama is clearly established
from the outset by the simple fact that the first and most
important grouping of characters consists of ordinary
children between the ages of fourteen and fifteen. Moritz,
Melchior and Wendla have nothing in common with the educated,
experienced, self-confident maturity of a Wallenstein or
Maria Stuart, nor have they reached any heroic heights
of power, influence or social standing from.which they
might tragically fall. Their tragic Significance results
from their total, isolated insignificance; instead of

falling, they are unceremoniously stepped on while they

137

are still down. What happens to Wallenstein and Maria
Stuart could happen to no one else because of what they
represent and who they are. What happens to Moritz and
Wendla could and might happen to any of the other children
in the drama, because they are nothing more than examples
of an archetypal problem of human existence. The classi-
cal hero also has the distinct advantage of knowing the
rules of the game and the nature of his specific enemy,
whereas Moritz, Melchior, Wendla and the other children
are blindly fighting an uncontrolled and uncontrollable
battle against forces which never become personified in
the form of a single, definite antagonist.

The pathetic adults who make up the second general
group of characters represent much more a contrastive foil
to the children than a truly hostile foe. It would be
totally unjust and inapprOpriate to assert, for example,
that Mrs. Bergmann or Mr. Stiefel are actively and knowingly
working to bring about the demise of Wendla and Moritz.
They are instead merely doing what they 22323.13 right in
a world where right and wrong have become relative, unde-
finable terms. As representatives of a system over which
they have no control and whose rules and values they them-
selves do not fully understand or follow, these adults are
to a great extent as helpless and isolated as their off-
spring. Certainly Mrs. Bergmann is as guilty as Wendla

if one is to determine guilt by association, but each is

138

equally innocent if the question is to be decided on the
basis of malicious intent. The communication and generation
gaps represent solid barriers between the children and all
of those who might come to their assistance; parents,
teachers, even the pastor, are characterized by a total
inability to eXpress meaningful values or viable alternatives.
Mrs. Gabor and The Masked Man stand out distinctly
in a separate classification between the children and the
other adults. Their rational, mature approach to life and
its problems, clearly reflected in the clarity and conse-
quential nature of their Speech, constitutes the only
positive affirmation of existence. The totally irrecon-
cilable nature of the conflict is, however, stressed by
the fact that even Mrs. Gabor must eventually give in with
despair and begrudgingly agree that Melchior must be sent
to the reform school. This negative concession on the part
of the only adult in the entire drama who represented the
sole positive hope for change caused, in turn, Wedekind's

125 whose estranging

decision to introduce The Masked Man,
appearance in the final scene is purely Brechtian in both
nature and function. While still unable to explain the
complexities of life, he is at least able to convince
Melchior that existence is something and therefore better

than nothing, and the latter sums up the total Obscurity

Of today's world with the words: "WO dieser Mensch mich

139

hinffihrt, weiB ich nicht. Aber er ist ein Mensch . . . "
(II, 173).

Wedekind introduces the characters in these group
Situations not only to stress the everyday normality of
all the people involved, but also to accentuate the
contrasts which lie both between and within each group.

The general divisions are further subdivided on the basis
of function and personality and not, as in the Aristotelian
drama, according to their roles as major and minor figures.
Wedekind's primary vehicle of characterization and personal
contrast is most definitely the full variety of speech
patterns used by the different figures, the function and
efficacy of which are best illustrated through specific
examples.

The children, first of all, Speak in an idiom which
for the most part corresponds to their general age group
and commonplace interests. Frequently, however, their
mundane conversations are infused with a type of worldly
wisdom and philOSOphical seriousness wholly unbefitting a
fourteen year old. Take for example the realistically
simple manner with whiCh Moritz and Martha view the
raising of children:

Moritz: Ich habe mir schon gedacht, wenn ich Kinder
habe, Knaben und Madchen, so lasse ich sie von frfih
auf im namlichen Gemach, wenn mOglich auf ein und
demselben Lager, zusammenschlafen, lasse ich sie

morgens und abends beim An- und Auskleiden einander
behilflich sein und in der heiBen Jahreszeit, die

140

Knaben sowohl wie die Madchen, tagsfiber nichts als

eine kurze, mit einem Lederriemen gégurtete Tunika

aus weiBem Wollstoff tragen.--Mir ist sie mfiBten,

wenn sie so heranwachsen, Spater ruhiger sein, als

wir in der Regel sind (II, 100-101).

Martha: Wenn ich einmal Kinder habe, ich lasse Sie

aufwachsen wie das Unkraut in unserem Blumengarten.

Um das kfimmert sich niemand, und es steht so hoch,

so dicht--wahrend die Rosen in den Beeten an ihren

StOcken mit jedem Sommer kfimmerlich erblfihn (II, 108).
The natural simplicity of both the basic ideas and their
expression, especially Martha's masterful analogy, stand
in distinct contrast to the striking truth of what is being
suggested. The full import of the contrast, however, comes
in both cases in what follows. Moritz' mature philOSOphy
on the raising of children is placed in total juxtaposition
to his lack of knowledge about where they even come from;
Melchior replies to Moritz' theory: "Die Frage ist nur,
wenn die Madchen Kinder bekommen, was dann?", to which
Moritz asks astonished: "Wieso Kinder bekommen?" (II, 101).
Similarly, Martha's further statement that her aunt
Euphemia for some reason has no children, is answered by
Thea's sarcastic reply: "Ganschenl--weil sie nicht
V e r h e i r a t e t ist" (II, 108).

Contrast, which has been Shown throughout to be the
overriding structural principle in the epic drama, is not
only evident in the exchange of dialogue, but even within
Single passages. Melchior follows his coldly harsh state—

ment: "Das Leben ist von einer ungeahnten Gemeinheit. Ich

hatte nicht fibel Lust, mich in die Zweige zu hangen.", with

141

the simple reaction Of'a little boy who has been kept
waiting for his treat: "--WO Mama mit dem Tee nur bleibt!"
(II, 120). Moritz' prosaic description of nature on the
evening of his death, which was quoted above (p. 116):
continues: "'. . . schlafe, mein Prinzchen, schlaf ein,‘
wie Frafilein Snandulia sang. Schade, daB sie die Ellbogen
ungrazifis halt!" (II, 136). Further below in the same
fatalistic monologue he clearly demonstrates an astonishing
mixture of heroic resignation and naive sentiment with the
words:

Ich brauchte wohl ein Jahr, um in Gedanken von allen

Abschied zu nehmen. Ich will nicht wieder weinen.

Ich bin froh, Ohne Bitterkeit zurfickblicken zu

dfirfen. Wie manchen schOnen Abend ich mit Melchior

verlebt habe!--unter den Uferweiden; beim Forsthaus;

am Heerweg drauBen wo die ffinf Linden stehen; auf

dem ScthBberg, zwischen den lauschigen Trfimmern

der Runenberg. -— -- --Wenn die Stunde gekommen,

will ich aus Leibeskraften an Schlagsahne denken.

Schlagsahne halt nicht auf. Sie stopft und hinterlaBt

dabei doch einen angenehmen Nachgeschmack . . . [Sic.]

Auch die Menschen hatte ich mir unendlich schlimmer

gedacht. Ich habe keinen gefunden, der nicht sein

Bestes gewollt hatte. Ich habe manchen bemitleidet

um meinetwillen (II, 136-137).
The almost incoherent juxtaposition of Spontaneous thoughts
and verbal reactions contained in each of thesepassages
illustrates not only the emotive thought process of these
children, but also their pathetically honest approach to
the complexities of existence. Unlike the Aristotelian
adult, they are totally caught up in a flux Of time, space
and inner emotion, and their words directly reflect a very

muddy labyrinthine stream of consciousness. As Spalter

 

142

states:, "Even when Wedekind gives us ostensibly natural
dialogue, he has his characters ruminate in such a way that
we get the equivalent Of short monologues interspersed
throughout the play; he is less concerned with doing justice
to the texture Of real—life Speech than with extending the
scope Of dialogue to define the nature of the world in which
his characters function."126

The abrupt, paratactic nature of the above quotes
(coordinating conjunctions are almost totally absent),
characterized by the frequent use of ellipsis to accentuate
the difficulty of putting thoughts into coherent words, is
taken to the full extreme in the quote from Moritz which
serves as a caption to this chapter. Sentence structure
is completely ignored in a series of frustrated outcries
containing nothing but pure emotion. Moritz literally“
vomits the inner agony of his soul onto the stage and,
having cleared his system of life's disgusting bile, calmly
goes to his death: "Jetzt ist es dunkel geworden. Jetzt
gehe ich nicht mehr nach Hause" (II, 142).

Wedekind could hardly have chosen a more potently
contrastive follow-up to this scene of violent emotion
than the teachers'conference. Having just seen and heard
a child being driven to death by his incapacity to adjust
to life, we are now confronted by a group Of ridiculous
pedants who are in essence total anti-life. Professors

Affenschmalz, Knfippeldick, Hungergurt, Zungenschlag and

143

Fliegentod are, under the direction of rector Sonnenstich,
discussing the implications of Moritz' suicide and
Melchior's treatise on sexual reproduction. Their names
characterize not only their personalities, but also, in
the case of Zungenschlag, his speech. His comment: "Es
he-herrscht hier eine A-A-Atmosphare wie in unterirdischen
Kata-Katakomben, wie in den A-Aktensalen des weiland
Wetzlarer Ka-Ka-Ka-Ka Kammergerichtes" (II, 144), illus-
trates both his stuttering Speech and also, despite the
fact that he is actually referring to the air in the room,
an unconsciously apt depiction of the outmoded intellectual
basis of the ensuing discussion. The debate, most of which
revolves around the Opening of a window and not Moritz

and Melchior, is carried on in a type of stilted
"Kanzleideutsch" reminiscent of the introductions to
letters written in the period of Early New High German.
Melchior's constant attempts at rational discussion are
totally suffocated in this atmosphere of artificial
rhetoric; generally he never gets beyond the words "Ich
habe . . . " before he is stifled by rector "Sunstroke."
The grotesque Satire which runs through this entire scene
is frequently interrupted by pure slapstick comedy in

the form Of Habebald, who functions almost like a page to
this group of medieval academic knights. His mimical line:
"Befehlen, Herr Rektorl", is also his only line through—

out the scene, and his "habebald" reactions to every

 

144

command clearly Show that Wedekind was aware Of the effects
of gestural, non-verbal theater.

The entire scene at Moritz' grave could be quoted
from beginning to end as a masterpiece of instant character-
ization and human contrast. Wedekind presents three
distinct levels of emotion expressed in words, beginning
with the harsh condemnation of the adults, passing over
the boyish curiosity of Moritz' male friends, and ending
with the tender and deep sentiment of the girls. Pastor
Kahlbauch, whose name and meaninglessly wordy service
clearly align him with his cohorts in the academic
profession, is more concerned with clarifying Moritz'
sinfulness than with praying for his innocent soul.

Mr. Stiefel's constant refrain: "Der Junge war nicht

von mir!" (II, 149—150) shows not only his own unfeeling
reaction, but also the lack of love and understanding
which drove Moritz to his death in the first place.
Gesture once again accompanies words as each adult utters
his lines while throwing dirt into the grave, an act
which seems to symbolize the burying of their own Sins.
They are followed to the grave by Ernst, Hanschen, Georg,
Robert and Otto, whose eager desire to learn the gory
details (Georg: "Hat sich die Pistole gefunden?" Robert:
"Man braucht keine Pistole zu suchen!" Ernst: "Hast du
ihn gesehen, Robert?" [11, 151]) continues only until the

topic of the next day's lesson enters the conversation,

 

145

and the mundane realities of existence extinguish any
further interest in the former topic. Martha and Ilse

are the last to leave the cemetery and, after placing
flowers on the grave and vowing to keep Moritz' memory
alive forever, Wedekind cannot close the scene without

one last, violent contrast, and the scene ends with Ilse's

graphically simple depiction of what she saw after Moritz

shot himself.127

The mature, rational clarity of Mrs. Gabor and The
Masked Man represents, as do their total personalities, a
middle position between the extreme polarity of a Mr. Stiefel
and a Moritz or Melchior. One passage from Mrs. Gabor serves
to illustrate a totally different basis of language and
character. Mr. Gabor has just suggested that Melchior be
sent to reform school for having written his sex documentary
(his seduction of Wendla is as yet unbeknownst to Mrs. Gabor),
to which she replies:

Ich vertrete dir den Weg, solange ein Tropfen warmen
Blutes in mir wallt! In der Korrektionsanstalt ist
mein Kind verloren. Eine Verbrechernatur mag sich

in solchen Instituten bessern lassen. Ich weiB es
nicht. Ein gutgearteter Mensch wird so gewiB zum
Verbrecher darin, wie die Pflanze verkommt, der du
Luft und Sonne entziehst. Ich bin mir keines Unrechtes
bewuBt. Ich danke heute wie immer dem Himmel daB er
mir den Weg gezeigt, in meinem Kinde einen rechtlichen
Charakter und eine edle Denkungsweise zu wecken. Was
hat er denn so Schreckliches getan? ES soll mir nicht
einfallen, ihn entschuldigen zu wollen--daran, daB

man ihn aus der Schule gejagt, tragt er keine Schuld.
Und ware es sein Verschulden, so hat er es ja gebfiBt.
Du magst das alles besser wissen. Du magst
theoretisch vollkommen im Rechte sein. Aber ich kann
mir mein einziges Kind nicht gewaltsam in den Tod
jagen lassen! (II, 153-154).

 

146

The basic difference between this mode of expression and
that of everyone else in the drama can be seen in the fact
that every sentence contains logical, positive content.
Unlike the children She has a mastery over the language
which is reflected in consequential verbal thoughts; unlike
the other adults, and especially the teachers, she uses

this maturity of speech to communicate and not just spew

 

out meaningless phrases. Unfortunately, however, com-
munication was not enough to counteract the instinctual
drive which arose in her own son, nor did it break through
the existential barriers in which Moritz had enclosed

128

himself.

Frfihlings Erwachen, as has been frequently mentioned

 

above, is Wedekind's clearest contribution to the epic
theater with respect to its correspondence to each and
every one of the basic elements of structure and form.
These few examples of the various characters and language
techniques, which constitute the rule and not carefully
chosen exceptions, clearly illustrate his complete and
total departure from the characteristics of characters and

language in the Aristotelian drama. Der Marquis von Keith,

 

on the other hand, has thus far been related to the epic
drama only on the basis of it underlying problematics.
The discussion which follows, however, Will clearly
demonstrate that the characters and speech patterns
employed in Kgiph are also positively related to those

of Brecht and his tradition.

147

The total polarity of the two main characters,
Keith and Ernst Scholz, illustrates from the outset the
lack of unilateral traits based on social class and a
common "Weltanschauung." Keith, first of all, is the
product of a strange background, which he describes in
the words: "Ich bin Bastard. Mein Vater war ein geistig
sehr hochstehender Mensch, besonders was Mathematik und
so exakte Dinge betrifft, und meine Mutter war Zigeunerin"
(IV, lO-ll). As a result of this mismatch in marriage,
which immediately brings to mind Thomas Mann's Similar
heritage, Keith aptly sees himself as a "Kreuzung von
Philosoph und Pferdedieb" (II, 11), and has lived his life
accordingly as a picaresque adventurer. His brutally
realistic philOSOphy, based on the amorality Of a used
car dealer, has always allowed him to climb ever higher
on the social ladder, but in the end his minor violations
of the business rules force him to flee like a gypsy.

Scholz, on the other hand, comes from the upper
crust, and as a result of his altruistic morality has
attempted to work his way down to the level of common
people. Formerly Count Trautenau, he has assumed a new
name to reflect his desire for commonplace anonymity, just
as his counterpart has taken on the title the Marquis von
Keith to assist in his pretentious aspirations for influence
.and power. Even compared to that of Keith, however,

Scholz' life has been a disaster. AS an overly ambitious

 

148

railroad official he had indirectly caused the death of
fourteen people; as a form of repentance he then married
the poorest girl who first crossed his path, which resulted
in a totally impossible fiasco from which he eventually

had to literally buy himself out. Money, unfortunately,

had not been able to solve his own personal problems, FE:

,.
‘ si-‘g , a?

and he has now come to Keith to try the life of a "GenuB-
mensch" (pleasure seeker). The basic contrast between

the two philosophies Of Keith and Scholz can be seen in :«

 

pa;

the following simple exchange:
Scholz: Ich habe mich schon allen Ernstes gefragt,
Ob nicht mein ungeheuerer Reichtum der einzige
Grund meines Unglficks ist.
Keith empfirt: Das ist Gotteslasterung!
Scholz: . . . Hatte ich von Jugend auf um meinen
Unterhalt kampfen mfissen, dann stande ich bei
meinem sittlichen Ernst und meinem FleiB, statt
ein ausgestoBener zu sein, heute wahrscheinlich
mitten in der glanzendsten Karriere.
Keith: Oder du schwelgtest mit deinem Madchen
aus niedrigstem Stande im allergethnlichsten
Liebesquark und putzest dabei deiner Mitwelt die
Stiefel.

Scholz: Das nehme ich jeden Augenblick mit Freuden
gegen mein Los in Tausch (IV, 24-25).

Keith and Scholz are both outsiders because one has the
ruthless guts and the other has the money, and without
both neither one is of much intrinsic value.
Unfortunately for Keith, however, Consul Casimir
does have both, and he uses them to defeat Keith in his

Ipotential moment Of glory. Casimir and Keith are in many

149

ways quite similar; both are ruthless, ambitious, intelligent
and cunning. From his position as a moneyed insider, how-
ever, Casimir has the distinct advantage of security and
established power, and from this aspect stands in contrast

to Keith's wheeler-dealer recklessness. Keith, as was true

of the children in Frfihlings Erwachen, was not defeated as

 

much by a person as by a system. Casimir does not contrive
over a long period of time to bring about Keith's down-
fall; he merely steps in at the propitious moment when
Keith has transgressed the rules of the game (he didn't
keep any books and had no capital of his own) and crushes
his now helpless foe with legalities.

The female counterparts to the action, Molly
Griesinger and Anna, Countess of Werdenfels, also exhibit
a variety of contrasts to each other and to the remaining
characters. Molly, first of all, is a simple girl from
a very modest environment. She loves Keith for who he is
and not what he might become, and has stood by his side
as he went up and down the roller coaster of his life.

Like the children of Frfihlings Erwachen, however, her

 

Simplicity belies a power of common sense wisdom which
contains far more insight than Keith's grandiose
"Wunschtraume." She realizes the futility of Keith's
struggle and sees in advance that he is not fighting in
his own class. AS She says: "Wir beide sind eben nun

(einmal zu einfaltig ffir die groBe Welt!" (IV, 19); and

 

150

earlier in the same conversation she diagnoses his full
sickness with the simple words: "Du leidest eben einfach
an GrOBenwahn" (IV, 18). All such warnings, however, go
totally unheeded. Keith is so wrapped up in his plans
that he is not even concerned with the necessities of

everyday existence, and Molly's imploring statement: "Wir

{—1.1 “UL-1‘

haben morgen kein Brot auf dem Tisch" is answered in typical
Keith nonchalance with the solution: "Dann speisen wir im

Hotel Continental" (IV, 15). Molly's suicide at the end

 

of the drama does not result from her concern for the basic
needs; it is caused in fact by Keith's having come too
close to being able to eat in the Hotel Continental, at
which point she saw her usefulness in life extinguished.

Anna, in distinct contrast, is best characterized
by the German term "Machtweib." She knows what she is
after, and She goes out to get it with all the powers at
her disposal, which consist primarily of her inherited
wealth (through divorce) and her body. She Sides with
Keith only as long as it is advantageous, and his fall
brings with it her rise in the form of a proposal of marriage
from Casimir. She cannot be condemned too harshly, however,
Since it can be presumed that Keith would have taken the
same course had the situation been reversed.

While all of the above characters employ the same
loasic middle class idiom, Keith clearly stands out from

‘the others not only in Speech but also in his gestural

151

Spontaneity. His terse, chopped sentences and his almOst
total inability to sit down and remain seated set the
entire tone for the impatient dialogue. Throughout the
entire drama Keith ranges over the stage, touching or
grasping everything in his path. The following passages
from the final scene, for example, clearly illustrate

the combination of gesture and language to Show Keith's
disjointed state of mind:

Keith (kriescht suchend umher): --Molly!--Molly!--
Es ist das erste Mal in meinem Leben, daB ich vor
einem Wieb auf den Knien wimmere!--(P16tzlich nach
dem Wohnzimmer aufhorchend): Da . . .1 Da . . .1
(Nachdem er die Wohnzimmer gefiffnet): . . . Ach,
das sind Sie? (IV, 96)

Keith: HOren Sie . . . Der Larm! Das GetOse!--
Das bedeutet nichts Gutes . . . (IV, 96)

Keith: Ich kann es nicht!--Ich kann es nicht!--
Das ist sie . . .1 (IV, 96)

Keith: (sich wie ein Verzweifelter wehrend, ruft):
Polizei!--Polizei! (Bemerkt Casimir und klammert
sich an ihn an.) Retten Sie mich, um Gottes willen!
Ich werde gelyncht! (IV, 97)

Keith (immer noch den Revolver in der Linken
haltend): Ich--ich habe dieses Unglfick--
nicht zu verantworten . . . (IV, 98)

Keith (in der Linken den.Revolver, in der Rechten
das Geld, tut einige Schritte nach dem Diwan,
bebt aber entsetzt zfiruck. Darauf betrachtet

er unschlfissig abwechselnd den Revolver und das
Geld.--Indem er den Revolver grinsend hinter

sich auf den Mitteltisch legt): Das Leben

ist eine Rutschbahn . . .

His walk, complicated by a severe limp, is as jerky as his
sentences, and at times it almost seems that his motion

literally bounces out the words. He doesn't sit down,

 

152

he throws himself into a chair; almost immediately he
stands up again. He accompanies almost every visitor
in and out, like a dog sniffing out potential friends
and enemies. Thus, in a Wedekind world which is out of
joint, where man no longer knows where to turn, the pro-
tagonist's speech has become fragmentary and halting. AS
demonstrated above, on occasion it fails entirely and it
then gives way to frustrated gestures and emotional outcry.
Keith's maturity and worldly experience frequently
compensate for the fact that his mind clearly runs faster
than either his words or his legs. He is always ready
with a witty phrase or potent aphorism, whose number and
general applicability not only could, but did fill an

entire book, published under the title Also sprach der
129

 

Marquis von Keith. A few examples Of these phrases Of

 

"gesunder Menschenverstand," any one of which could just
as likely have been spoken by Courage or Azdak, will serve
to show the Brechtian nature of their content and impli-
cations:

Es gibt keine Ideen, seien Sie sozialer,
wissenschaftlicher Oder kfinStlischer Art, die
irgend etwas anderes als Hab und Gut zum
Gegenstand hatten (IV, 8).

Meine Begabung beschrankt sich auf die leidige
Tatsache, daB ich in bfirgerlicher Atmosphare
nicht atmen kann (IV, 10).

Je hOher ich gelange, desto vertrauensvoller
kommt man mir entgegen. Ich warte auch
tatsachlich nur noch auf diejenige Region, in
der die Kreuzung von PhilOSOph und Pferdedieb
ihrem vollen Wert entsprechend gewfirdigt wird
(IV, 11).

 

153

Man kann weinen Mitmenschen nicht mehr in
dieser Welt nfitzen, als wenn man in der
umfassendsten Weise auf seinen eigenen Vorteil
ausgeht (IV, 21).

Was ist Sfindeli (IV, 29)

Sfinde ist eine mythologische Bezeichnung ffir
schlechte Geschafte. Gute Geschafte lassen sich
nun einmal nur innerhalb der bestehenden
Gesellschaftsordnung machen (IV, 30).

Die Wahrheit ist unser kostbarstes Lebensgut, und
man kann nicht sparsam genug damit umgehen (IV,
31).

Dem richtigen Komponisten ist sein Verstand nur
ein Hindernis (IV, p. 32).

Mit Feuerwerk blendet man keinen Hund, aber der
vernunftigste Mensch fuhlt sich beleidigt, wenn
man ihm keines vormacht (IV, 32).
The frequency of such maxims is illustrated by the close
or identical page numbers, and they continue right up to
the final line of the drama, when Keith, with a sardonic
.grin, makes his all-encompassing pronouncement on existence:
"Das Leben ist eine Rutschbahn . . .“ (IV, 98).

Keith is surrounded by an entourage of purely
Wedekindian types, whose clear delineation and atmospheric
function totally separate them from the lesser importance
of the minor characters of the Aristotelian drama. Hermann
Casimir, whose effeminate nature is accentuated through the
portrayal of the role by a girl, is a rich, rebellious
brat who pumps money from Keith while the latter is
attempting to use the prodigy as an inroad to the father.

His desire to flee to Paris or London is hardly more than

talk, since he is tied to the security of his father's

 

154

moneybelt, and Keith, his hero, constantly advises him to
take advantage of his propitious Situation and, of all
things, to steer clear of confidence men. Hermann flits
in and out of the drama like a pesky insect which is
harmless, and yet irritable, and his sole redeeming quality
is that he is pathetically comical.

Keith's potential "great" artists represent a

collection Of dilettantes who are as useless as their

"'1' A.“ “film?! Y

respective works. Saranieff paints forged pictures by the

 

dozen which don't sell any better than did his originals,

ll

Zamrjaki composes something which is only remotely remi-
niscent of music, and Sommersberg's career as an author
came to an unfortunate termination when he went without
food for two days and had to go out and beg. Their
parasitic, Bohemian existence is characterized by a
corollary lack of true partisanship and, while idolizing
Keith in his presence, they would probably be more than
willing to stab him in the back if it meant continuing their
life in this modern "Schlaraffenland." Keith even gives
Sommersberg the Opportunity to start a new career, as a
forger, but as the outcome of the drama illustrates, his
ability with simple handwriting was no better than with
creative writing.

One of the most interesting characters in the
drama is Raspe, the Commissioner of detectives. His career

as a student of theology resulted ("durch zu vieles

155

Studieren" [IV, 30]) in his total departure from religion,
and a corresponding drop to the lowest depths of society,
ending with two years in prison. His boyishly pretty fea-
tures make him a real ladies' man, and temptation was his
constant downfall. Following his prison stint, he reformed
his nature and joined the Side Of his former foe. As a
detective Spy, however, he is not above using his infor-
mation to his own advantage, including the betrayal of
his apparent friend Keith. His profession is implicitly
reflected in his speech, as he constantly uses conversation
to questioningly seek out information.

Seppi and Kathi, expressively renamed Sascha and
Simba by Keith, are the loyal servants who, at the first
Sign of danger, are the first to switch sides. Their
lower class origins are illustrated in the use of the
same Bavarian dialect as spoken by the group of Hofbrau-
haus patrons who carry in Molly's body in the final scene.
Further, Simba's name reflects her natural animalism,
and her function as a carefree bedmate for everyone and
anyone clearly relates her to Wedekind's line Of "Freuden-
madchen." Keith explains the significance of her mundane
position in his household on the same basis as his own
struggle for upward recognition: "Das GeschOpf rechnet
das [ihre Stelle als Aufwarterin] zur Ehre an, weil es
dabei Gelegenheit findet, die unbegrenzte Verachtung zu

bekampfen, mit der sie von der gesamten bfirgerlichen

 

156

Gesellschaft behandelt wird" (IV, 29). Saranieff calls
her "eine geborene Dirne" (IV, 55); Wedekind himself
introduces her as "ein echtes Mfinchener Madel, mit frischen
Farben, leichtem Schritt, fippigem roten Haar . . . " (IV,
52). The full impact of her personality, however, comes
out best when she characterizes herself in the befitting
Bavarian dialect, as in the passage:

Sozialdemokratin hatt i kOnnen werden.

Weltverbesserung, Menschheitsbeglfickung, das

san so dem sein Spezialitaten. Noa, woaBt,

ich bin fein net ffir die Sozialdemokraten.

Die san mir z'moralisch! Wann die amal

z'regieren anfangen, nachher da is aus mit

die Champagnersoupers (IV, 54).
What good is there in saving the world if in doing so you
eliminate all the fun?

The remaining characters can be considered in their
group functions. The first is constituted of the "cary-
atids," the solid businessmen of Munich, and their wives.
These three couples are sarcastically presented as
successful, but somewhat meaningless puppets. The men
are totally submerged under the power of Casimir and,
despite their own influence and finances, they would not
dagg to do anything in which ppg_man did not take part.
The women are a "typical" group Of upper class social
climbers, and their primary concern in life at the present
moment is whether or not Keith will be able to develop

them into performers of one sort or another for his enter-

tainment center. The group Of tradesmen who enter with

 

157

Molly's body in the final scene stands in distinct con-
trast to these inconsequential busybodies. The righteous
indignation, human compassion and violent demand for
recourse eXpressed in the words Of the butcher's apprentice,
baker's wife and the porter Show a feeling for human life
which is totally divorced from the amoral atmosphere of
the business world which reigns throughout the remainder
of the drama. Keith's function as a non—hero is almost
extended to that of an anti-hero, Since his overriding
concern for money and power not only drove Molly to her
death, but also kept him so absorbed that he had not even
taken the time to look for her. The body, it turned out,
had been lying in the water for eight day_.

Wedekind could easily have left a great number of

these characters out of Der Marquis von Keith; the fact

 

that he did not illustrates his principal basis of tech-
nique, that of demonstrative contrast. He illuminates

his main character not only through self-characterization,
but also through the reflections which come from a wide
variety of surrounding characters. Keith's conflict with
the basic questions of existence, especially that between
the established member of society and the aSpiring outsider,
can be viably presented only if we are given a picture of
the world from which these problems arise. The inherent
relationship between problematics and their exemplification

through visible and realistic contrasts literally forces,

 

158

even in a drama which adheres otherwise to the classical
unities, a total departure from the Aristotelian approach

to characters and language.

 

CONCLUSIONS

Frank Wedekind's consistent failures in life can be
seen to a great extent as the ultimate source for his 5
posthumous success and recognition. His literary career
consisted primarily of a series of conflicts with the

censor, with everyone involved in dramatic production,

 

from the directors to the actors, and with his contempor-

‘2‘

aries, especially Hauptmann. His personal life revolved
around his constant attempts to become accepted into the
secure normalcy of bourgeois society, the same society
which he so ardently despised and attacked. At the same
time, however, there was always an Obvious desire to retain
the freedom of the Bohemian parasite, but he never really
fit in this class either. Even his marriage, so vividly
described by his wife Tilly in her aptly titled auto-

biography Lulu--die Rolle meines Lebens, contained far

 

more conflict than actual love. Wedekind was, simply
stated, an outsider. Throughout his life his undeserved
reputation was one of infamy and not of fame.

As a result of these experiences, however, Wedekind
certainly knew what life is all about. His dramas reflect
a potent reality which can only come from having lived such

Situations himself. The stage was for Wedekind, as it was

159

160

for Brecht and all those related to the epic theater, an
outlet for aggression and criticism. He chose as the

basis of dramatic action in his dramas the type Of irreCOn-
cilable conflicts which seemingly belie solution, and which
can only be presented on the stage in the form of demon-
stration. This problematic basis, more than any other ‘*
Single factor, forces in turn a complete departure from
the linear structure of the Aristotelian drama.

The preceding examination has clearly shown that,

 

having chosen this existential basis of conflict, Wedekind

it

works from the principle Of demonstrative exemplification
which serves as the structural groundwork of the epic
theater. While the employment of epic techniques varies
from work to work, there is not a Single Wedekind drama
which does not diSplay epic treatment with respect to the
elements of dramatic action and characters and language.

This is true even of dramas such as Der Marquis von Keith

 

and Der Schnellmaler Oder Kunst und Mammon, both of which

 

otherwise adhere quite closely to the characteristics of

the Aristotelian drama. Frfihlings Erwachen and the "Lulu

 

Plays," on the other hand, exhibit a total correspondence
to the characteristics of the epic drama, and deserve full
recognition as examples of this particular literary phe-
nomenon. It can be safely stated, in fact, that there is
not a single technique employed by Brecht which is not

found someplace in Wedekind's dramas.

161

The avenues of further and more intensified research
which result from this examination are numerous. Each of
the general topic areas represented in the chapter
divisions deserves further expansion, a fact which has
become more and more evident as this study progressed.
Further, a number of the dramas not Specifically discussed,

such as So ist das Leben (Kfinig Nicolo) and ScthB Wetter-

 

gpgip, could and should be treated at length as individual
studies in and of themselves. Finally, Wedekind's influence
on other areas of modern drama, particularly the Theater of
the Absurd and the drama of Luigi Pirandello, is worthy of
specific examination.

The purpose of this dissertation, to illustrate
Wedekind's positive relationship to the epic theater, has,
however, been served. The following quote from Max Spalter
will suffice as a last example of the inherent relationship
between Wedekind and Brecht. It reads: " . . . cynical
nihilism seems to be the message when it is bluntly stated
that morality is only possible on a full belly and that
one man's full belly means someone else has been fed on;
that no matter what values men say they live by, they live
hypocritically; that most men cannot possibly be cunning
or evil enough to make a go of things; that even outstanding
men are not immune to pure instinct; and, to top it all
Off, that the worst fools are those who sacrifice personal

130

comfort to make a better world." The tone and content

162

of these words sound like something from Keith, or Schon
or any number Of others through whom Wedekind speaks; the

reference is in fact, however, to Brecht's Die

Dreigroschenoper.

 

FOOTNOTES

1. From the commentary of Ferdinand Avenarius in
the court case Dehmel versus Munchhausen, quoted by Artfir
Kutscher in Frank Wedekind: Sein Leben und seine Werke,
III (Munich, 1931), p. 64. KutsCher cites as his sources
Kunstwart 15. XI. 97 and H. H. Houben, Vgrbotene Literatur,
121 f. Underlining added.

 

2. e.g., the necessity of sex education for adoles-
cents before Or during the stage of puberty and corresponding
clarification for adults to prepare them to give such
training; the necessity to question the entire institution
of censorship (especially in its vague position as guardian
of middle class moral values); and his general opinions,
Similar to those Of his contemporary Freud, of sex as a
driving human instinct. Like Brecht, Wedekind also
challenged the "culinary" theater of his own day and saw
the need for revision in and of the theater if it was to
accommodate the reality of modern society.

3. Frfihlings Erwachen, for example, considered by
many to be Wedekind's greatest contribution to German
literature, was originally published at the author's own
expense in 1891 (going almost totally unnoticed at that
time) and was not performed until 1906.

 

4. After repeated attempts to free his drama
Totentanz (later renamed Tod und Teufel) from a censorial
production ban, Wedekind finally made a personal appeal
to two of the board members, the literature professors
Franz Mucker and Emil Sulger-Gebing, with the hOpe Of
receiving their educated backing. It was apparently
Wedekind's Opinion that these men of letters would be able
to discern artistic from moral values. Much to his chagrin
that is precisely what they did. AS Kutscher relates:

"Die Herren auBerten sich aber ganz anders als er [Wedekind]
gehofft hatte, Sie beffirworteten die Aufffihrung, welcher
keine sittlichen Bedenken im Wege stfinden, verneinten aber
den dramatischen Charakter, ja stellten fiberhaupt die
Mfiglichkeit einer kfinstlerischen Wirkung in Abrede."

See Kutscher, III (1931), p. 56.

 

 

5. Paul Fechter, Frank Wedekind: Der Mensch und
das Werk (Jena, 1920), see esp. pp. 35, 42 and 168-169.

163

164

6. See Kutscher, I (1922), pp. 171, 177, 249-254 et
passim; II (1927), pp. 33, 86, 96, 254, 261 et passim;
III (1931), pp. 25, 278 et passim.

7. One notable exception is Max Spalter, who
includes an entire chapter on Wedekind and discusses a
number Of his dramas in relation to epic aspects in Max
Spalter, Brecht's Tradition (Baltimore, 1967), pp. 112-135.

 

8. .Kutscher, III (1931), p. 64.

CHAPTER I

9. Bertolt Brecht, "Betrachtung fiber die
Schwierigkeiten des epischen Theaters," in Bertolt Brecht,
Gesammelte Werke in 20 Banden [Werkausgabe Edition
Suhrkamp] (Frankfurt a. M., 1967), XV ("Schriften zum
Theater I"), p. 132--hereafter cited as Brecht, Gesammelte
Werke, with the appropriate volume title and number.

 

10. The final collection of Brecht's theoretical
writings, entitled "Die Dialektik auf dem Theater" (Brecht,
Gesammelte Werke, XVI "Schriften zum Theater II," pp. 868-
941)’begins, "Die nachfolgenden Arbeiten . . . legen die
Vermutung nahe, daB die Bezeichnung 'episches Theater'
ffir das gemeinte (und zum Teil praktizierte) Theater zu
formal ist. Episches Theater ist ffir diese Darbietungen
wohl die Voraussetzung, jedogh erschlieBt es allein noch
nicht die Produktivitat und Anderbarkeit der Gesellschaft,
aus welchen Quellen Sie das Hauptvergnfigen schOpfen mfissen.
Die Bezeichnung muB daher als unzureichend bezeichnet werden,
Ohne daB eine neue angeboten werden kann" (869). Brecht
was thus careful not to outwardly suggest a replacement
for his original term epic, but it had been clear for a
number of years that the idea of a "dialectical theater"
was utmost on his mind. See also the "Nachtrage zum 'Kleinen
Organon'" in Brecht, Gesammelte Werke, XVI "Schriften zum
Theater II," p. 701, wherein Brecht clearly states that one
reason for dropping the term epic is its static appearance
as Opposed to the word dramatic.

 

11. The German word "Dramaturg," used in connection
with people such as Wedekind and Brecht, implies much more
than its English counterpart, which means simply playwright
or dramatist. The German "Dramaturg" may be a dramatist,
director, critic, producer, etc., or any combination of
these. For a brief but inclusive discussion of the German
use Of the words "Dramaturg" and "Dramaturgie" see Gero
von Wilpert, Sacthrterbuch der Literatur (Stuttgart,

1964): pp. 145-147.

 

12. The narrative function of the chorus in the
Greek drama is certainly epic in nature and serves, even
if without the eXpress purpose of doing so, to keep the

165

audience from total identification with the action, much
like Brecht's concept of "Verfremdung," especially as seen
in the person of the narrator. Brecht himself was quick

to admit that "in stilistischer Hinsicht ist das epische
Theater nichts besonders Neues. Mit seinem
Ausstellungscharakter und seiner Betonung des Artistischen
ist es dem uralten asiatischen Theater verwandt. Lehrhafte
Tendenzen zeigte sowohl das mittelalterliche Mysterienspiel
als auch das klassische spanische und das Jesuitentheater."
Brecht, Gesammelte Werke, XV "Schriften zum Theater I,"

p. 272.

 

13. Maria Ley- Piscator, for example, prefaces her
work The Piscator Experiment (New York, 1967), p. v, with
the comment from Kenneth Tynan that "epic theater is a
phrase which Brecht borrowed from Piscator in the twenties
and went on defining until the end of his life." Whether
or not this statement is accurate is merely a question of
idle curiosity, but it is certain that Brecht learned and
borrowed a great deal from Piscator in the early years of
their association. Neither, however, was the first to use
the phrase epic theater, nor will it ever be certain (or
for that matter of great importance) who was.

 

14. Here again the question of who actually
initiated the use of the term "Verfremdung" is of little
importance other than to Show that it was not totally
novel with Brecht as some critics assert. Rheinhold Grimm
has found a number of instances where Berthold Auerbach,

a close friend of Spielhagen, used the concept of
"Verfremdung," in a manner Similar to the later ideas

Of Brecht, as early as 1875. See Rheinhold Grimm,
"Naturalismus und episches Drama," in Episches Theater,
ed. Rheinhold Grimm (Cologne and Berlin, 1966), pp. 27-28
and 34, n. 106. John Willet on the other hand, traces
Brecht's specific use Of the term to the Russian "Priem
Ostrannenija" or "device for making strange," a phrase
used frequently by the Russian critic Viktor Shklovskij.
Willet's claim seems quite logical, since Brecht first
began using the term after a visit to Moscow in the spring
of 1935. See John Willet, The Theater of Bertolt Brecht:
A Study from Eight Aspects (London, 1959), pp. 177:179 and
208-209; also Brecht on Theater, ed. and trans. John
Willet (New York, 1964), p. 99.

 

 

 

 

15. See Willet, The Theater of Bertolt Brecht,
pp. 190-212, esp. p. 209. Willet makes it clear that
Brecht had at least three strikes against him before his
dramas even came to bat in the Soviet Union and the other
Eastern Block countries: his aversion to the accepted
naturalistic style of Stanislavsky, his refusal to .

 

 

166

sacrifice experimentation in favor of a standard (party
designated) method of writing and production, and the
very simple fact that his Marxism and communism were
self-styled and, in the eyes of the party, Somewhat
unorthodox.

16. Klaus Ziegler, "Das deutsche Drama der
Neuzeit," in Deutsche Philologie im AufriB, II (Berlin,
Bielefeld, Munich, 1960), COIS. 1997-2350.

 

l7. Franz Hubert Crumbach, Die Struktur des
Epischen Theaters: Dramaturgie der Kontraste (Braunschweig,
1960).

 

 

. um?
. “Hid;

. 18. Volker Klotz, Geschlossene und offene Form
im Drama (Munich, 1969).

 

.....A..‘

 

one of the dominant themes in the "Kleines Organon fur das
Theater." Brecht, Gesammelte Werke, XVI "Schriften zum
Theater I," pp. 661-707.

19. e.g., the "theater of the scientific age" is ' -J

 

20. Klotz, p. 29.
21. Ibid., p. 62.
22. Ibid., p. 90.

23. It is interesting to note, however, that this
analogy applies not only to the Aristotelian and, as will
be seen, epic theaters, but also to the so-called Theater
of the Absurd. Estragon and Vladimir, central figures in
Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot, represent the perfect
example. In essence these two figures demonstrate the
reduction of the drama (compared here to the atom) to a
study of two isolated neutrons suspended in a vague world
devoid of our normal conceptions of time and space. One
could say that matter is reduced here to the immaterial
in order that it may once again be recognized and under-
stood as matter.

 

24._ Brecht, "Uber Stoffe und Form," in Gesammelte
Werke, XV "Schriften zum Theater I," p. 196.

25. Ibid., p. 197.
26. Spalter, p. xii.
27. Brecht, "Kann die heutige Welt durch Theater

wiedergegeben werden?", in Gesammelte Werke, XVI "Schriften
zum Theater II," p. 931.

 

167

28. Willet, The Theater Of Bertolt Brecht, pp. 76-

 

77.

29. Brecht's theater is inclusive and can only be
understood as theater; it begins with the first moment of
conception of an idea in the mind of the dramatist and
isn't completed until the eventual moment of cognition in
the mind Of the Spectator following the performance. As
he says in his "Betrachtung fiber die Schwierigkeiten des
epischen Theaters" (see n. 5 above), it includes the
"Darstellung durch den Schauspieler, Bfihnentechnik, Drama- r
turgie, Theatermusik, Filmverwendung und SO weiter." It
iS thus much more than the introduction of certain epic
elements into the drama, as for instance is the case
in Goethe's GOtz von Berlichingen, which might be considered
by some to fall into a limited category of epic drama, but
which certainly could not be considered epic theater as
conceived by Brecht.

 

 

30. Brecht, Gesammelte Werke, XVIII "Schriften =
zum Theater III," pp. 100991010.

 

31. See n. 9 above.

32. Since these terms are all quite flexible and
somewhat confusing in both languages, an attempt was made
to match the German terms as closely as possible to the
English definitions given in A Dictionary of Literary Terms,
ed. Sylvan Barnet, Morton Berman and William Burto IBoston
and Toronto, 1960), pp. 67-68. While Opinions may vary
as to the validity of the correspondences, they will at
least aid in clarifying the way the terms will be used in
the present study and should be viewed as such.

 

33. See Klotz, pp. 25-38 and 99-112.

34. Two terms, however, deserve some attention.
Klotz (p. 112) defines "Integrationspunkt" as ". . . der
Fluchtpunkt, in dem die vielerlei Perspektiven des Dramas
koordinieren. IntegrationSpunkt in den Soldaten [Lenz] ist
die programmatische SchluBszene, im Woyzeck [Bfichner] das
Marchen der GrOBmutter, in Frfihlings Erwachen [Wedekind]
die Friedhofszene mit dem vermummten Herrn, im Baal [Brecht]
der vorausgestellte 'Choral vom groBen Baal'."

"Verfremdung" is a central concept (and possibly
the single most important) in Brecht's theoretical writings
and therefore, Since Klotz (and also Crumbach) treats it only
briefly, worthy of expansion in a rather lengthy but neces-
sary footnote. "Verfremdung" is normally translated into
English as alienation, estrangement, disillusion or dis-
tancing. While each Of the words gives a general impression

 

168

Of the idea of strangeness desired by Brecht, they also
imply other factors which detract from their use as equiva-
lents. Estrangement and alienation contain an element of
hostility, disillusion normally has the side effect of
sadness and distancing implies remoteness, none of which
relates directly u>the meaning and use of "Verfremdung."
Perhaps the best suggestion so far is John Willet's choice
of the word reorientation (Willet, The Theater of Bertolt
Brecht, p. 179). Reorientation seems to be precisely

what Brecht desired when saying that "der V-Effekt besteht
darin, daB das Ding, das zum verstandnis gebracht, auf
welches das Augenmerk gelenkt werden soll, aus einem
gethnlichen, bekannten, unmittelbar vorliegenden Ding zu
einem besonderen, auffalligen, unerwarteten Ding gemacht
wird. Das Selbstverstandliche wird in gewisser Weise
unverstandlich gemacht, das geschieht aber nur, um es

dann um so verstandlicher zu machen. Damit aus dem
Bekannten etwas erkanntes werden kann, muB es aus seiner
Unauffalligkeit herauskommen, es muB mit der Gewohnheit
gebrochen werden, das betreffende Ding bedfirfe keiner
Erlauterung." From Brecht, "Kurze Beschreibung einer neuen
Technik der Schauspielkunst, die einen Verfremdungseffekt
hervorbringt," in Gesammelte Werke, XV "Schriften zum
Theater I," p. 355.

' This same paragraph (p. 356) contains two excellent
examples offered by Brecht to aid in the understanding of
"Verfremdung" or reorientation. Brecht says: "Damit ein
Mann seine Mutter als Weib eines Mannes sieht, ist ein
V—Effekt nOtig, er tritt zum Beispiel ein, wenn er einen
Stiefvater bekommt. Wenn einer seinen Lehrer vom Gerichts-
vollzieher bedrangt sieht, entsteht ein V-Effekt; aus
einem Zusammenhang gerissen worden, wo der Lehrer groB
erscheint, ist er in einem Zusammenhang gerissen worden,
wo er klein erscheint." From these examples and the above
definition, it is clear that strangeness or alienation
is only the first step in a process Of true (re)cognition.
The Spectator is forced to reorient his ideas in such a
manner that meanings exceed words or perceived values,
that reality ("Sein") breaks through the barrier of cus-
tomary appearance ("Schein"). When looking in the mirror
you see the image Of what you have come to accept as your-
self and nothing more; a blind man, given the same Oppor-
tunity, would experience somewhat of a revelation, especially
if the image didn't correspond to the previously projected
features in his mind. Brecht wants us to look at every-
thing as if for the first time because so much now passes
blindly before our eyes and minds.

"Verfremdung" is normally used, as above, in com-
bination with the word "Effekt." This combination can be
misleading, however, if "Verfremdungseffekt" is taken to
mean only the end result or effect produced in the

 

 

 

 

169

Spectator. Crumbach states, for instance, that "die Form

eines Werkes an sich keinen 'Effekt' enthalten kann. Indem

der schaffende Kfinstler die Wirkung bestimmter Szenen

seines Werkes auf das Publikum in Rechnung stellt, wird

er folgerichtig bei diesem den gewfinschten 'Effekt'

verursachen. Uns Obliegt es also, die Ursache selbst zu

~ergrfinden." Crumbach, pp. 105-106. As used by Brecht,

however, this interpretation seems to be quite one-sided.

"Verfremdungseffekt" in Brecht's dramas and theoretical

writings im lies not only the end effect, but also its

inherent cause (in a sense similar to that Of a stage i

effect). Thus the famous "Glotzt nicht so romantisch!" :

placard from Trommeln in der Nacht is the scenic stage

effect which in turn produces a causal effect of reorien-

tation in the mind of the spectator. Both come under the

classification of"Verfremdungseffekt" as discussed and

desired by Brecht himself. The former, the idea of effect

as stage effect, also complies with Willet's theory that

Brecht derived the term from the Russian "Priem

Ostrannenija" or device for making strange (see n. 14 above).
For a more thorough and extensive discussion of

Brecht's use of the term in the theater in general and the

drama in particular, see Rheinhold Grimm, Bertolt Brecht:

Die Struktur seines Werkes (Nfirnberg, 1968). Grimm views

the total concept of "Verfremdung" as the basis of all

Brecht's writings and ideas on the drama, and deals with

it in its various structural aspects.

 

 

 

 

35. The use of geometric terminology in the
following discussion of structural elements in the Aristo-
telian and epic theaters is not intended as a "new"
approach to this problem, nor should it be viewed as a
theory in its own right. Its sole purpose is to relate
the basic contrasts between the two types of theater in
a manner which simplifies explanation and clarification
for the average student or theater viewer who is not
familiar with the normal terminology and/or theories
involved in such a discussion.

The method has been tested on two unrelated groups,
one consisting primarily of literature students and the
other composed of a heterogeneous group from the general
university community. The discussion was used as a basic
introduction to a film version of Schiller's Wallenstein
and a stage production of Brecht's Der kaukasische Kreide-
kreis. Following the presentations each group was able to
point out, with an equally high degree of accuracy, the
primary points of divergence in the productions, as well
as being able to locate elements Of the Aristotelian
theater in the epic production and vice versa.

The original conception Of this method, and further
justification for its use, stems from the philOSOphically

 

 

170

problematic conflicts dealt with in the epic theater. The
epic dramatist is concerned with the challenge of our
basic existence and the inherent questions arising from
this challenge. Such ontological problems find their
original roots in the philosophy of Descartes, whose basic
thesis "I think, therefore I am" (cogito ergo sum) leads
automatically to the antithetical question "What am I?"
Descartes, considered to be the father Of both modern
philOSOphy and modern math (based on the principles Of
geometry), attempted to find the synthesis in this dia-
lectical problem in the same empirical manner as outlined
above for Brecht, namely through Observation and measure-
ment of subjective values.

36. Quoted from Barnet, et a1., A_Dictionary of
Literary Terms, p. 68.

 

 

37. Klotz, p. 216.

38. Emil Staiger, Grundbegriffe der Poetik (Zurich,
1963), p. 165.

39. Staiger, p. 165.
40. Ibid., p. 165.

41. C. G. Jung, "BewuBtes und UnbewuBtes," in
Beitrage zur Psychologie, ed. E. BOhler (Frankfurt a. M.
and Hamburg, 1957), pp. 32, 33 and 30 (as listed), quoted
in Crumbach, p. 222.

42. Staiger, p. 140.

43. Staiger defines problem in its original meaning
as "das Vorgeworfene, das der Werfende in der Bewegung
einhOlen muB" (p. 160), by geometric definition the moving
point which must be limited by a beginning and end in the
form of a line segment. The epic dramatist cannot limit
the problem in the same fashion, cannot halt the moving
point. Nor in fact does he want to, Since it is precisely
this "Bewegung" or in Brecht's terms the "Gang der Hand-
lung" which he wishes to demonstrate and not its goal.

44. Klotz, pp. 101-104.

45. Crumbach, pp. 20-21, 33, et passim.
46. Klotz, pp. 67-71 and 149-156.

47. Staiger, pp. 117-118.

48. Ibid., p. 162.

 

171

49. Staiger, p. 139. Staiger remarks in another
instance, however, "Ein solcher Organismus ist zweifellos
Goethe's Hermann und Dorothea, die Odysee und die Ilias '
aber nicht. Aus einem Organismus kann man nicht grOBe
Stficke ausschneiden, Ohne das Leben des Ganzen zu gefahrden.
Die Ilias aber kfinnte man auf die Halfte, ja auf ein
Drittel verkfirzen, Ohne daB jemand, der den Rest nicht
kennte, etwas vermissen wfirde" (p. 116). Therefore while
he is actually using this designation to prove the Opposite
point of that Shown in the present text, this does not
actually represent a distortion of usage when applied to
the combined form of epic and dramatic found in the epic
theater. Despite the opinion of many critics, there are
actually very few scenes in the majority of the more well
constructed dramas which could be cut without missing
something. This is especially true of the relationship
between the scene and the greater whole or circle; the
scenes are independent in and of themselves, but they are
neither random nor superfluous.

 

 

50. Klotz, p. 221.

51. Margret Dietrich, "Episches Theater?", in
Grimm, Episches Theater, p. 108.

 

52. Klotz, pp. 38-45 and 113-120.
53. Ibid., PP. 45-59 and 120-136.
54. Staiger, p. 165.

55. The same methods used to unify the dramatic
action in the Aristotelian theater (exposition, messenger
reports, etc.) also serve to unify the elements of time
and space. The messenger report, for example, avoids
the necessity to Shift locations in order to illustrate
essential background material, and brings completed
actions from the past and the potential results of future
plans into the unified framework of the given forward
motion of the action or line. This explicit deliniation
of large time units gives us the illusion of different
time phases or qualities, when in fact there is never a
true deviation from the very abbreviated time segment
presented on the stage.

56. Dietrich, "Episches Theater?", in Grimm,
Episches Theater, p. 108.

 

57. Friedrich Dfirrenmatt is a master in the use
of stage effects (Objects) as functional units with
intrinsic value. The reader is therefore referred

 

172

especially to his Ein Engel kommt nach Babylon (Zurich,
1957), where a maximum of such objects is empIOyed, and
Play Strindberg (Zurich, 1969) where, in contrast, the

utmost is achieved from the very minimum Of well chosen
effects.

58. Crumbach, p. 28.
59. Klotz, pp. 59-66 and 136-148.
60. Ibid., pp. 72-89 and 156-214.

61. Ibid., p. 77. Stressing the unity of Speech
as a reflection of the total unified world of the Aristo-
telian theater, Klotz goes on to say: "Die Partner
schlagen nicht unbedacht und regellos aufeinander ein,
sie verffigen sich fiber ein bestimmtes Reservoir an Figuren,
die sie nicht selbst wahrend des Kampfes erfinden, sondern
allein hOfischen und tragOdienwfirdigen Personen
selbstverstandlicher Besitz sind."

 

62. Brecht, "Die StraBenszene," in Gesammelte
Werke, XVI "Schriften zum Theater II," pp. 546-558.

 

63. Fechter, Frank Wedekind, p. 27.

 

64. That this Opinion is not purely personal is
Shown in the following quote from the eminent German
professor Egon Schwarz, taken from his article "Hesse,
the American Youth Movement, and Problems of Literary
Evaluation," PMLA, 85 (1970). pp- 986-987: "I am tired
of the abused word 'relevance' in inappropriate contexts;
and I am deeply convinced that literature, be it contemporary
or Of the Spanish Golden Age or the Periclean period, is
not irrelevant. What is irrelevant is a literary
scholarship that artificially isolates its subject from
the world and refuses to study its connections with the
life around it; or in the case of a work of the past, a
scholarship that ignores the conditions Of life which
produced it and to which it addressed itself; a scholar-
ship that fails to relate to the milieu from which it is
perceived and into which it is being absorbed by the very
fact of dealing with it."

65. Contribution by Thomas Mann to Das Wedekindbuch,
ed. Joachim Friedenthal (Munich and Leibzig, 1914)] p. 224.

 

66. Brecht, Gesammelte Werke, XV "Schriften zum
Theater 1," pp. 337-388.

 

67. Frank Wedekind, Gesammelte Werke, ed. Artur
Kutscher and Richard Friedenthal (Munich, 1924), VII,

 

173

pp. 299-324. Citations from Wedekind are all to this
definitive nine-volume edition--hereafter cited as Werke.
Wherever possible citations will be placed parenthetically
in the text itself, with reference given to the appro-
priate volume and page.

68. Jakob Michael Reinhold Lenz, Werke und
Schriften, ed. Britta Titel and Helmut Haug (Stuttgart,
1966), I, p. 360.

 

69. Wedekind, Werke, VII, p. 317.
70. Kutscher, III (1931), p. 273.

71. Martin Esslin, Brecht: The Man and His Work,
2nd ed., rev. (New York, 1971), p. 120.

 

72. Kutscher, III (1931), pp. 236-238. Kutscher
cites as the source for his quoted material Kurt Martens,
II, 168 f., which apparentiy_refers to the letter's
(title?) Schonungslose Lebenschronik (Vienna, 1924),
cited earlier in—Kutschér, II (1927), p. 6.

 

lu—

 

 

CHAPTER II

73. Spoken by Fridolin Wald in the final scene of
Wedekind's first complete drama, Der Schnellmaler oder
Kunst und Mammon in Werke, VII, p. 77.

 

 

74. In "Was ich mir dabei dachte," a series of
personal comments on his own works, Wedekind makes the
following statement on Frfihlings Erwachen: "Ich begann
zu schreiben, Ohne irgendeinen Plan, mit der Absicht zu
schreiben, was mir Vergnfigen macht. Der Plan entstand nach
der dritten Szene und setzte sich aus persOnlichen
Erlebnissen Oder Erlebnissen meiner Schulkameraden
zusammen. Fast jede Szene entspricht einem wirklichen
Vorgang. Sogar die Worte: 'Der Junge war nicht von mir,‘
die man mir als krasse Ubertreibung vorgeworfen, fielen
in Wirklichkeit" (Werke, IX, p. 424).

 

75. Spalter, p. 116.

76. Wedekind, like Brecht, found it extremely
difficult to stimulate the prOper reception of his humor,
primarily because it frequently went unnoticed or was
understressed in the various interpretations of the
directors. Frfihlings Erwachen, like Brecht's Mutter
Courage and Der kaukasische Kreidekreis, cannot he produced

 

 

174

effectively unless the basic mood Of tragedy is balanced
with an equal accent on the humorous elements. The
following excerpt from a letter to Fritz Basil dated

3. I. 1907 (Frank Wedekind, Gesammelte Briefe, ed. Fritz
Strich [Munich, 1924], II, p. 170) Openly vents Wedekind's
frustration and desires on this subject: "Ich wurde hier
in Berlin erst zur 10. Probe [of Frfihlings Erwachen]
zugelassen und fand da eine leibhaftige wirkliche

TragOdie mit den hOchsten dramatischen TOnen vor, in der
Humor ganzlich fehlte. Ich tat mein mOglichstes, um den
Humor zur Geltung zu bringen, ganz besonders in der Figur
der Wendla, in allen Szenen mit ihrer Mutter, auch in der
letzten, das Intellektuelle, das Spielerische zu heben und
das Leidenschaftliche zu dampfen, auch in der SchluBszene
auf dem Kirchhof. Ich glaube, daB das Stfick um so ergreif-
ender wirkt, je harmloser, je sonniger, je lachender es
gespielt wird. So vor allem der Monolog von Moritz, SchluB
vom 2. Akt, den ich bis auf den SchluB durchaus lustig
sprechen lieB. Ich glaube, daB das Stfick, wenn die Tragik
und Leidenschaftlichkeit betont wird, leicht abstoBend
wirken kann." Eric Bentley, in a public discussion
following a performance of Brecht's Kreidekreis at Illinois
Wesleyan University, Bloomington, Illinois, March 16, 1972,
mentioned that in a number of personal interviews Brecht
had made similar demands for the production of his pieces,
and particularly Kreidekreis.

 

 

 

 

77. Klotz, p. 112.
78. Spalter, p. 119.
79. Ibid., p. 119.

80. The fatalistic consequences of this alternative
are clearly underscored in the final scene when The Masked
Man tells Moritz: "Sie standen doch wahrlich im letzten
Augenblick noch zwischen T 0 d und L e b e n" (II, p. 173).

81. Actually Lulu's heritage can be traced back

yet another step to Ella, Wedekind's first portraiture of

a "Freudenmadchen" in the dramatic fragment Elins Erweckung
(1887). Also present in this piece, important because of
its function as a place of infant experimentation with the
artistic forms and thematic ideas which found their reali-
zation in Frfihlings Erwachen, is Schigolch, the intention-
ally vague personage who constantly pops up out of nowhere
in the "Lulu Plays," and is the reputed father of both Lulu
and her counterpart Ella. His apparitional nature in both
works combines with the fact that he first appears in Elins
Erweckung in a graveyard scene Similar to that in Frfihlings
Erwachen to link him also to the mysterious Masked Man.

 

 

 

 

175

82. Lulu's death is prefigured in'Frfihlings Erwachen,
when Ilse relates her satanic episode with HeinriCh, whiCh
she ends with his threatening prediction: "Wenn du
schlafst, bist du zum Morden schOn!" (II, 140).

 

83. Spalter, p. 124.

84. Wedekind's circus analogy immediately calls to
mind Brecht's parallel desire to exchange the boring
atmosphere of the theater with that of the active
participation found in the common sports arena. See
Brecht's "Mehr guten Sport" in Gesammelte'Werke, XV"
"Schriften zum Theater I," pp. 81-84.

 

85. While Wedekind's use of anticipation
("Vorausdeutung") is not quite as Obvious as that in the
first scene of Coura e, where each of her children draws
the black cross of death far in advance of their separate
tragedies, a careful reading of the "Lulu Plays" yields
the finding that every death, including that of Lulu her-
self, is anticipated previous to the actual event, quite
frequently by the victim himself.

86. Schfin, the outgrowth of the supreme egoism
and cold realism exhibited already in Melchior Gabor, is
the direct descendant of a line of Similar characters who
find their culmination in the person of Keith, the epitomy
of pure, selfish ego.

87. Sol Gittleman, Frank Wedekind (New York, 1969),

 

p. 72.

88. Wilhelm Emrich, "Wedekind: Die Lulu-TragOdie,"
in Das deutsche Drama, ed. Benno von Wiese (Dfisseldorf,
1964), II, pp. 209-210.

 

89. The original manuscript, of which only one COpy
dated 1895 has been retained, called for a five act drama
entitled Die Bfichse der Pandora: Eine MonstretragOdie.
According to Kutscher it was impossibléito determine whether
Wedekind divided his original drama for artistic or other
personal reasons, or if it was merely a question of public
reaction to the original content. Wedekind apparently
went along with the changes quite willingly, because the
first publication of Erd eist in the same year already
reflects the major changes, including the addition of an
extra act between the original second and third. For more
information see Kutscher, I (1922), pp. 338-356.

 

90. The prologue, a conversation in a bookstore
among a "normaler Leser," a "ruhriger Verleger," a

 

176

"verschamter Autor" and a "hoher Staatsanwalt" is nothing
more than a weak reflection of the challenges which Wedekind
had to face on the part Of the general public, his publisher
Albert Langen, and the board of censors following the
publication of Erd eist. It is worthy of mention only as

an example Of Wedekind's use of the prologue form, but

its general lack of importance is underscored by the fact
that critics such as Spalter, Emrich and Gittleman make

no mention of it whatsoever.

91. The implausible phantasy of this escape is ;
sufficiently illustrated in the following summary from '
Gittleman (p. 74): "[Geschwitz] volunteers as a nurse
for cholera victims, steals their undergarments and,
wearing the infected clothing, visits Lulu in prison.

They exchange underwear, and when both become ill, they

are placed together in the isolation ward of the hospital.
There Geschwitz masterfully disguises herself as Lulu,

thus enabling her friend to escape." The spectator is
Obviously not expected to question why neither was killed

by the disease or to wonder how Geschwitz herself eventually
got free. The intended seriousness of this plot becomes
clear, however, when Hugenberg, who has himself just escaped
from a reform school, comes up with an equally adventurous
plan (in an apparent play on the figure of Mortimer in
Schiller's Maria Stuart), but only gets laughed at or
ignored.

 

 

92. Rodrigo, for example, is Obviously speaking
only to the audience when he makes the provocative state-
ment: "Hier [in Germany] haben sie eine Angst vor der
bloBen Haut wie im Auslande vor den Dynamitbomben. Vor
zwei Jahren wurde ich im Alhambra—Theater zu ffinfzig Mark
Strafe verknallt, wie man sah, daB ich ein paar Haare auf
der Brust habe, nicht so viel wie zu einer anstandigen
Zahnbfirste nOtig sind. Aber der Kulturminister meinte,
die kleinen Schulmadchen kOnnten darfiber die Freude am
Strfimpfstricken verlieren" (III, 125). Alwa, more than
ever Wedekind's voice in the drama as the author of
Erdgeist, has a purely Brechtian function in this act.
The rather lengthy quote which follows is an example of
his narrative commentary geared toward definite distancing
between audience and actor and between role and reality:

Das ist der Fluch, der auf unserer jungen Literatur
lastet, daB wir viel zu literarisch sind. Wir
kennen keine anderen Fragen und Probleme als solche,
die unter Schriftstellern und Gelehrten auftauchen.
Unser Gesichtskreis reicht fiber die Grenzen unserer
Zunftinteressen nicht hinaus. Um wieder auf die
Fahrte einer groBen gewaltigen Kunst zu gelangen,

177

mfiBten wir uns mOglichst viel unter Menschen bewegen,
die in ihrem Leben nie ein Buch gelesen haben, denen
die einfachsten animalischen Instinkte bei ihren
Handlungen maBgebend sind. In meinem 'Erdgeist'

habe ich schon aus voller Kraft nach diesen Prinzipien
zu arbeiten gesucht. Das Weib, das mir zu der
Hauptfigur des Stfickes Modell stehen muBte, atmet
heute seit einem Jahr hinter vergitterten Fenstern.
Daffir wurde das Drama sonderbarerweise allerdings
auch nur von der freien literarischen Gesellschaft
zur Aufffihrung gebracht (III, 125-126).

Clearly Alwa has stepped out of his role at this point to
eXpress Wedekind's subjective view of the crisis in con-
temporary literature, and it would be all but impossible
for the spectator to totally identify with Alwa as a
dramatic personage without seeing the real person Wedekind
at the same time.

93. Emrich (p. 225) states this situation quite
clearly: "Die Vernichtung ist nicht mehr Erffillung, ist
kein Sieg mehr einer Idee Oder wahren Natur wie im
klassischen Drama. Lulu geht unter als 'Schlachtvieh',
nicht mehr als tragisch sfihnendes Opfer. Denn ihre Natur
war schon geschlachtet ehe der LustmOrder Jack auftrat,
war bereits 'verkauft' trotz Lulus verzweifeltem Strauben."
Lulu's actions have thus already perverted the principle
which She was to represent, and her death is therefore
merely a negation of the person and not of the principle
itself.

94. This scene fully illustrates not only Lulu's
total lack of comprehension of her situation, but for the
first time we also realize that her actions are also ego
based. Despite the fact that she had envisioned this
entire scene while still in prison ("Mir traumte alle
paar Nachte, ich sei einem LustmOrder unter die Hande
geraten." [III, 142]), she cannot refuse Jack; she must
have him to satisfy her pwp_personal desires. She does
not understand Jack's intentions because she has never
understood her own nature. He is essentially a represen—
tation of her alter ego, and Lulu virtually becomes the
helpless victim of her own self.

95. Emrich, p. 229.

96. Ibid., p. 226. Alwa is killed by Kungu Poti,
Lulu's second of three "customers" who enter before Jack.
Shortly before his death he himself realizes the futility
of his own existence: "Ich suchte mit klarstem
ZielbewuBtsein den Verkehr mit Menschen, die nie in

 

 

178

ihrem Leben ein Buch gelesen haben. Ich klammerte mich

mit aller Selbstverleugnung und Begeisterung an diese
Elemente, um zu den hOchsten HOhen dichterischen Ruhmes
emporgetragen zu werden. Die Rechnung war falsch. Ich bin
der Martyrer meines Berufes" (III, 184).

97. In the foreword to Die Bfichse der Pandora,
which was usually printed in the theater program, Wedekind
defends his drama on the basis of the fact that it is
Geschwitz and not Lulu who is the tragic figure.

Geschwitz suffers because she is different and cannot
help it, and despite the fact that she knows she is
nothing to Lulu, She continues to make superhuman
sacrifices. While this argument has a great deal of
validity, it does not alter the fact that Lulu is equally
a figure of tragedy for essentially the same reason. In
the "Scheinwelt" Of bourgeois society her naturalness is
more drastically unnatural than Geschwitz' abnormalcy.
Geschwitz is in a number of ways more pathetic than tragic,
as exhibited for example in her attempted suicide which
pitifully fails when the ties break.

 

98. Wedekind was Openly aware Of the estranged
Situation which he presents in this act, and in the program
he forewarns his audience: "Das Thema dieses zweiten Aktes
ist die Ehe, speziell die Investition von Aufopferungen,
durch die auch unter den ungfinstigsten Verhaltnissen zwei
Menschen noch aneinander gefesselt werden. Um dies
drastisch zu schildern, konstruierteixflieine so unglfickliche
Ehe, wie sie in Wirklichkeit gar nicht vorkommt, die
Karikatur einer unglficklichen Ehe. Daher ersuche ich, daS
Stoffliche nicht allzu ernst zu nehmen, um so ernster die
logischen Zusammenhange achten zu wollen, auf deren
Ergrfidung und ErOrterung es mir in diesem Akte ankam"

(VI, 135).

99. The Obvious parallels between Wedekind and
Pirandello are worthy of an individual study and can there-
fore not be dealt with at length in the present examination.

100. Kunz takes on the function of a Wedekind
portrait in the last two acts of Franziska, and much of what
he says is illustrative Of WedekindTS constant self-
criticism.

 

lOl. Spalter, p. 115.

102. For a discussion of this relationship see "
Klaus Wolfram Thomas, "Gerardo-Dfihring: Ein Selbstgesprach
Wedekinds," The German Quarterly, XLIV (1971), pp. 185-
190.

 

 

 

179

103. Keith, like Brecht's Courage and Azdak, goes
through life Spouting words of sound wisdom, but is never
able to follow his own advice in a constructive manner.

104. Despite the fact that the Scholz-Keith
relationship is the central issue not only in the drama,
but also in relation to its autobiographical basis, it
has little to do with the purpose of this section. There-
fore, while it is an extremely interesting topic which
demands the majority of the Space in most discussions of
this drama, it need not and will not be treated here,
except for what has already been said concerning its
problem basis.

CHAPTER III

105. See n. 74 above.

 

“1r .. -..

106. Staiger, p. 161.

107. Klotz, p. 69.

108. Spalter, pp. 122-123.
109. Klotz, p. 151.

110. It is also interesting to point out that
Wedekind ends his drama with a scene whose action is by
no means expended. The Masked Man's invitiation to
Melchior is merely the potential departure point for a
new cycle of action, which is then taken up in the "Lulu
Plays."

111. The remainder of the dramas treated in the
first chapter also exhibitstflfis inherent relationship
between composition and dramatic action. The present
discussion will therefore center on those elements of
composition which do not result as a direct reflection
of dramatic action, and on the basic differences in
composition among the various dramas. The reader should
therefore be referred.in each instance back to the first
chapter for additional information.

112. This same basic method of compositional
division is also employed in SchloB Wetterstein. The first
act is devoted to the seduction of Leonore von Gystrow by
Rfidiger, Freiherr von Wetterstein, the murderer Of her
husband. The second then repeats this action, only this
time it is Effie, Leonore's daughter, who conquers Rfidiger.

 

180

The third and final act then ends in a scene similar to
the final act of Pandora, with Effie.confronting a sadist
who mentally destroys women by playing on their emotions
until they kill themselves before his eyes. Each of these
actions is basically autonomous, and the drama has very
little in common with the traditional form of composition.
That Wedekind operated purely from the principle Of
exemplary demonstration is Obvious from the following
quote which precedes the drama: "Das Schauspiel 'SchloB
Wetterstein' enthalt meine Anschauungen fiber die inneren
Notwendigkeiten, auf denen Ehe und Familie beruhen. Das
Stoffliche, die Geschehnisse, der Gang der Handlung sind
dabei vollkommen Nabensache. In ihrer Abenteuerlichkeit
waren sie durch die weiten Grenzen und die Bewegungsfreiheit
bedingt, die ich nOtig hatte, um meinen Anschauungen Platz
zu machen. Wichtiger waren mir dramatische Steigerungen
und Bfihnenwirksamkeit" (VI, 5). Essentially Wedekind has
defined here the basic problematic approach and consequent
structure Of the epic drama.

113. Not only Wedekind's use of songs is important,
but also the type of song employed. They belong to the
genre Of the "Moritat," a form which has very little history
previous to Wedekind, but employed frequently by Brecht,
especially in his dramatic Operas. Brecht had seen Wedekind
perform in the cabarets of Munich, and it is not presump-
tuous to assume that Brecht learned the effective use of
such songs directly from Wedekind.

114. Hidalla, Oder Karl Hetmann, der Zwergriese and
Oaha, Die Satire—Her Satire, two additional dramas which
center on male portraits of Wedekind's own inner conflict
are also, despite a number of modern elements which link
them to the contemporary documentary theater, composed
almost totally on the traditional principles of the
Aristotelian drama.

 

 

115. The fact that the weakness of this drama stems
from the premise on which it was written and not its
composition is evident when it is compared with Tod und
Teufel, which is composed in exactly the same fashion.
The first scene and the third, discussions between the
bordel owner Casti—Piani (who appeared in the same
function in Pandora) and Elfriede von Malchus, a flag—
waving fighter of decent causes, are once again set on
either side of a central center scene, which depicts the
prostitute Lisiska with her client Mr. KOnig. There is
once again no action as such in any of the first two
scenes, and there is the same ending on a death note when
Casti-Piani has a heart attack. This time, however, the
discussion is motivated from within and Wedekind

 

181

sufficiently demonstrates his point. Briefly, Casti-Piani
attempts to convince Elfriede of the beauty and freedom of
pure "SinnengenuB" and the ultimate freedom of the prosti-
tute compared to the housewife, learns from Lisiska's con-
versation with KOnig that these basic premises were in fact
false and dies from the Shock brought about by the reali-
zation Of the fact that he has based his entire life on
false principles. Elfriede, on the other hand, becomes
convinced of Casti—Piani's sincerity and beliefs, sees in
the sacrificial servitude of prostitution a meaningful and
worthy service to mankind, and in the end wants to become

a prostitute herself for the exact same reasons which drove E
Casti-Piani to a death Of despair. The potent contrasts,
wide implications, viable motivations, etc. Of this drama
are quite obviously absent in Die Zensur.

 

 

CHAPTER IV

 

116. Klotz (p. 247, n. 217) counts fifteen settings
for the nineteen scenes. He must therefore consider
certain locations to be essentially the same, but this
seems to be in fact pure presumption. While there are
similarities between some baSic locations, Wedekind does
not give enough positive information to make such a definite
equation.

117. Ibid., p. 116.
118. Ibid., p. 115.

119. For the basic factors establishing the amount
of time covered, see below in the text, p. 121.

120. Klotz, p. 130.

121. For a further discussion of the effect of
space on the characters and action in this final scene
see Klotz, pp. 132-133.

122. Klotz, for example, takes the majority of
his examples illustrating the characteristics of time and
space in the epic theater from Frfihlings Erwachen and
Bfichner's Woyzeck.

 

123. Once again the reader should be reminded that
Wedekind did in fact intend to write only one drama, and
both of these settings would have been included in the
original plan.

124. Emrich, p. 216.

182
CHAPTER V

125. This decision is stated verbally in "Was ich
mir dabei dachte" (IX, 424): "Es widerstrebte mir, das
Stfick, Ohne Ausblick auf das Leben der Erwachsenen zu
schlieBen. Deshalb ffihrte ich in der letzten Szene den
Vermummten Herrn an."

126. Spalter, p. 122.

127. For more examples from and discussion of this
and the previous scene see Gittleman, pp. 45—51.

128. Mrs. Gabor answers Moritz' plea for help with
an understanding and clearly expressed letter, wherein
she attempts, among other things, to convince the youth
of the temporal nature Of his present confusion. The
letter itself constitutes the entire fifth scene Of the
second act (II, 132—134).

129. Published by Die Jugend, 1902.

 

CONCLUSIONS

130. Spalter, p. 175.

 

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