THE SCHWARMER IN THE 1
NOVELISTIC WRITINGS 0F
CHRISTOPH MARTIN 'WIELAND

Thesis for the Degree of Ph. D. ' I
MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY

GERHARD I. REIMER
1968

 

Ln “!

 

LIBRARY
Michigan State
University ’

      
   

This is to certify that the
thesis entitled

The Schwgrmer In the Novelistic Writings
of ChristOph Martin Wieland.

presented by

Gerhard J. Reimer

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

Ph.D. degree in German and Russian

M 0-K'mtéu

Major professor

Date AUQUSt 9l 1968

0-169

 

ABSTRACT

THE scawnnmsn IN THE NOVELISTIC WRITINGS
or CHRISTOPH MARTIN NIELAND

 

by Gerhard J? Reimer

This study attempts to show how Wieland portrays

the Schwarmer to evaluate and compare the solutions he
9

 

proposes to the problem of Schwarmerei, and to determine
if there is progress in his approach to the problem. A
representative selection of eight of Wieland's novels
written between 1760 and 1800 are analyzed in chrono-
logical order.

The study interprets the Schwarmer as an individual

 

who bases his action and thought on that which is
irrational, subjective or unfounded. It uses the terms
fanatic, enthusiast and Schwarmer interchangeably. The
author recognizes that Wieland's preoccupation with
Schwarmerei derives from his own experience with Pietism
and that his approaches in overcoming it were strongly
influenced by the Greeks and Laurence Sterne. The Greeks
in general appealed to Wieland in his own search for a
personally satisfying religion and, more specifically,
he was attracted by Lucian's use of satire to resolve the
conflict between rationalism and irrationalism; Sterne
influenced Wieland in the use of synthesis.

In six of the novels analyzed the major (or a major)

Gerhard J. Beimer

character is a Schwarmer because of a basic conflict
within himself, which he must resolve. (The exceptions
are Der goldene Spiegel and Die Abderiten, which both
portray groups of people who behave as fanatics and
essentially fail to progress in the resolution of their
problem.) Araspes of Araspes und Panthea overcomes his
conflict between Platonic and erotic love but ends as a
sort of moral—religious Schwarmer. Don Sylvie overcomes
the conflict between fantasy and reality as the result
of his friendship with a sincere and frank young woman.
Agathon is cast from moral-religious to erotic to poli-
tical Schwarmerei and finally achieves an equilibrium
through the appropriation of Archytas' teaching of
eudaemonia, a philosophy with the synthesis of the
animal and the spiritual natures of man at its core.
Contrary to what one would expect in a Bildungsroman,
Peregrin does not resolve his basic problems, those of
establishing a satisfying relationship with the opposite
sex and finding a satisfactory religion. Schwarmeggi is
here, however, described as beautiful and creative, and
thus almost a solution. In Agathodamon the conflict
between calculating rationalism and pietistic faith which
allows no hypocrisy is solved by a form of pantheism,
according to which the hero is led to an identification

with the god of the universe and achieves a level of

Gerhard J. Reimer

self-realization and equilibrium new for Wieland. In
Aristipp there is, surprisingly, strong emphasis on
eudaemonia again, while the more passive trust of
Agathodamon is not neglected. There is indication that
in this fragment Wieland was trying to synthesize the
solutions of Agathon and Agathodamon.

Wieland's attitude and approach towards Schwarmerei
changed greatly during the period in which these novels
were written. This is especially evident when comparing
Der_goldene Spiegel (1772) with Peregrinus Proteus (1791).
In the former, naive, sincere Schwarmerei is portrayed as
much worse than the outright attempt to deceive; the
situation is directly reversed in the latter. In his
early novel, Don Sylvie, as well as in Aqathon, Schwar-
mgrgi is a stage that must be overcome at all cost; in
Peregrinus Proteus and Aristipp (as demonstrated especial-
ly by Lais), Schwarmerei is a quality which keeps the
individual from being less than human and, is thus, a
stage that need not necessarily be overcome. That
Schwarmerei may be a creative force is already alluded to
in Don Sylvio but this emphasis increases in his succeed-
ing novels.

Although Wieland's progress in the solution of his
problem is sporadic, this analysis demonstrates that,

contrary to some criticism, he did approach a solution,

Gerhard J? Reimer

especially through synthesis, which is increasingly more

satisfying to himself and to the reader.

THE SCHWKRMER IN THE NOVELISTIC WRITINGS

OF CHRISTOPH MARTIN wIELAND
By

Gerhard J. heimer

A THESIS

submitted to
Michiaan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the dearee of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Department of German and Russian

1969

5333 73
/—27«é7

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to express my sincerest appreciation to the
following persons: To Professor Mark O. Kistler, chair-
man of my doctoral committee and dissertation director,
for the guidance and encouraqement received throughout
the writing of this paper; to Professors William N.
Hughes, Stuart A. Gallacher and George w. Radimersky,
additional members of the doctoral committee, for their
contributions; and to Miss Edna Beiler for stylistic
suggestions and proofreading. If these have given of
their talents to make this study more meaningful and

accurate, any obscurities and errors are my own.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter

I ARASPES UND PANTHEA . . . . .
IIDONSILVIO..........
III AGATHON . . . . . . . . . . .
IV DER GOLDENE SPIEGEL . . . . .

V DIE ABDERITEN . . . . . . . .

VI PEREGRINUS PROTEUS . . . . . .
VII AGATHODAMON . . . . . . . . .
VIII ARISTIPP . . . . . . . . . . .

IX CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . .

BI BLIOGR-Apfl O O O C O O 0 O O I O 0

19
26
#3
65
76
9h
110
123
136

um

INTRODUCTION

A significant number of the books, dissertations and
essays on Christoph Martin Wieland (1773-1813) make
reference to the subject of the Schwarmer in his works.
To my knowledge, however, there is no study that concerns
itself specifically with this phenomenon and attempts to
view it within the perspective of his total work or a
representative selection thereof.

In this study on the theme of the Schwarmer in the
writings of Wieland I confine myself to his novelistic
writings. The works analyzed were written between the
years 1760 and 1800, a period of forty years, and thus
supply sufficient material for tracing the development
and possible changes in the author's treatment of this
theme.

To Wieland a Schwarmer is an individual who generates
an excess of emotional-feeling or indulges in an undue
amount of sentimental day-dreaming. This enthusiastic
musing is brought on by an inherent dualism in Wieland's
characters, which they seek to resolve. If and when they
are successful in restoring harmony to their inner being,
they shed their Schwarmer nature. It is obvious that a
Schwarmer is a direct opposite of a sober rationalist.
3y main goal in this dissertation is then, to pursue
Wieland's treatment of Schwarmerei from work to work,
especially in light of the solutions (if any) he proposes.

1

In this investigation I also treat such questions as:
How does Wieland actually portray the Schwarmer? Is it
possible to discern specific types when comparing the
Schwarmer heroes of the different novels? In the intro-
duction I also deal with the sources of the Schwarmer
figure. This will include Wieland's background in and
acquaintance with Schwarmerei and a brief reference to
two writers who strongly influenced Wieland in the theme
at hand.

At this juncture it will be interesting to trace the
meaning of the word Schwarmeggi down to Wieland to show
how his concept of the term evolved. It is a word that
was originally used to describe the flying of a whole
swarm of bees as they follow the queen bee leaving the
hive. According to Grimm this word developed early into
a concept used to describe human behaviour and thought.
Beginning in the sixteenth century, Schwarme; is used to
designate a heretic. Kant used Schwarmerei to describe
the ideas (das Gedankenleben) of those who do not con-
fine themselves to the limits set by experience. After
about 1770 (Grimm, 9, 2289) Schwarmerei acquired a milder
literary connotation and was used "zur beschreibung einer
fiberwiegenden phantasie und begeisterung."

In his short article entitled "Enthusiasmus und
3chwérmerei" Wieland says the following: "Ich nenne

Schwirmerei eine Erhitzun; der Seele von Gcgenstanden,

die entweder gar nicht in der Natur sind, oder wenigstens
das nicht sind, wofflr die berauschte Seele sie ansieht

. . . Dem Worte Schwarmerei . . . entspricht das Wort
Panatismus ziemlich genau."1 Wieland then goes on to
describe the difference between Schwarmerei and Enthu-
siasmus, which is actually the purpose of his article,
and states that the latter is inspired by the gods, the
former by a fetish. Wieland admits that it is often
difficult to distinzuish between the two. Nor has he
himself always made this distinction clear in his novels.
The Abderites, for instance, who showed such enthusiasm
for many things durinr the course of the novel by that

name, are referred to as both Schwarmer and Enthusiasten,

 

apparently interchangeably.2 It would seem that for a
large part of his writings at least, Wieland did not
clearly make the distinction he outlined here in this
article written in 1775. Lessing (e.g., in his Ehilg—
sophen und Schwarmer) and others, as Wieland realized,
did not make this distinction either.

A Schwfirmer, then, is an individual who bases his

 

hopes, attitudes or actions on that which is irrational,

subjective or unfounded. The opposite of Schwarmerei is

 

1Christoph Rartin Wieland, Sammtlich Werke, ed.
3. J. Goschen (Leipzig, 1855ff.), XXXV, 135-136. (Further
reference to this work will occur within parentheses in
the text itself.)

23.g., Die Abderiten, Book I, Chapters 1 and 2.

cold rationalism. The mean, which our author attempts to
find between these two, will sometimes be referred to as
Eatur or nature, a term which Wieland included in the
title of his novel Der Sieg der Natur fiber die Schwar-
merei oder die Abenteuer des Don Sylvio von Rosalva.
This mean, Qatar, is characterized by genuiness,
spontaneity and common sense. Schwarmerei implies an
excessive enthusiasm or exuberance, i.e., an enthusiasm
which is out of sensible proportion to the actual cause
of it.

Schwarmerei may take on very different forms. It
may have as its basis belief in fairy tales, the love
of an ideal imagined lover, an irrational religion, etc.
Likewise Schwarmerei may manifest itself in many different
ways; there is, for instance, the Platonic or moral, the
religious or the erotic Schwarmer.

In the absence of a satisfactory cognate translation
of Schwarmerei (and its related words Schwarmer and

schwarmen) the word is frequently used untranslated and

 

interchangeably with such expressions as fanaticism,
hyper-sentimentalism and excessive enthusiasm.

Also the word "disenchant" is used in this disserta-
tion in a somewhat special sense. It describes the
fanatic's loss of fantasies and seraphic enthusiasm. The
connotation of despair or loss of hope, often associated

with this word, is not applicable here.

Concerning my hopes and ambitions with regard to this
dissertation, they would be fulfilled if this study would
arouse a greater interest in Wieland. I have become con-
vinced that Wieland, who is sometimes accused of being
tedious because he repeats the same theme over and over
without noteworthy variations, can become alive and
relevant if one patiently pursues and analyzes the con-
flicts he deals with in his novels.

The Germany of Wieland's time was dominated by the
spirit of Enlightenment but under the surface an ex-
cessive sentimentality and irrationalism began to assert
itself in the thought of many intellectuals and poets as
a type of opposition to the prevailing philosophy of the
age. This current, running counter to Rationalistic
thinking is often termed "Pietism," especially in a
religious connotation. Wieland felt himself caught
between these two streams. In his writings one strongly
senses a struggle between heart and mind or between
Schwarmerei and Vernunft, which doubtless had its roots
in his own background and in the time in which he lived.
During the course of his struggles with this problem
Wieland became acquainted with the writings of Lucian,
the Greek satirist. This acquaintanceship helped him to
analyze and, to some extent, to overcome his own
situation, for Lucian reconciled the rationalism and

the irrationalism of the Greeks with satire. The English

writer, Laurence Sterne, influenced Wieland to employ
another solution of which our author made constant use
as he tried to bring Schwarmerei and Vernunft together,
namely synthesis.

Wieland's family roots in Pietism go back to his
grandfather, who in 1710 wrote a pamphlet in which he
wanted to testify to his own Piety or Rechtglaubigkeit.
Consequently the family was in close contact with Halle,
the center of early German Pietism. This connection to
Halle became even more personal when a young lady, a
good friend of the Nieland family, was married to August
Hermann Francke (1663-1727), at that time in Halle.
Wieland's father, who had studied theology, is generally
considered to have been a devoutly pious man, although
there are some conflicting reports about this; he was
also partly open to the influence of the Enlightenment.
It is possible that he already felt something of the
conflict between narrow-mindedness and open-mindedness,
between Schwarmerei and skepticism, which was later to
become so obvious in his son.

Christoph Martin wieland's education or training,
which began at an extremely early age, was strongly
influenced by Pietism. Before he was three years old his
father had already begun his formal education. He was
soon assisted by a teacher who taught according to the

methods of the Halle Orphanage, an orphanage founded by

the Pietists. At the are of ten Nieland is reported to
have read Forace and Virgil and, as a par of his up-
brinjing, he probably also memorized most of the Bible
and the hymn book. By the time he was fourteen he had
made such progress that the father could not help but
realize that he had outgrown his teachers in Biberach and
that it would be necessary to send him elsewhere to re-
ceive further training. he was sent to the famous school
at Klosterberge, a school built on the model of Francke's
preparatory school in Halle. Here Abt Jteinmetz, a strong
Pietist, whom Nieland later called "bis zur Schwarmerei
devot," was the director.3

Bettiger describes Wieland while in Klosterberg as
follows:

9v.
.

Peim Abt Steinmetz in Krosterbergen war wieland an-
fangs einer der erwecktesten und frommsten Beter, und
wenn Steinmetz (der seiner Anstalt auch den Hal-
lischen Pietismus einzuimpfen wusste) in seiner
Salbung zwei Stunden lane in den Betstunden seinen
Unsinn herplauderte, wurde nienand so sehr davon
gerfihrt als der Knabe Wieland.

It seems as thoujh wicland had for a while come completely
under the sway of Steinmetz, for he, too, could not
occupy himself too much with pious practices. Soon,

however, he began to turn away from his pious attitude

 

3Biographical data to this point concerning Wieland
based on Friedrich Sengle, Christoph Martin Wieland
(Stuttgart, 1949), pp. 1h-18 (Hereafter: Sengle, Wieland.)

“c. w. Bottiger, ed., "Christoph Nartin Wieland,”
Historisches Taschenbuch (Leipzig, 1339), X, 381.

and when he succeeded in obtaining a copy of anle's
dictionary from Pastor Rather (the only teacher on the
staff who was not a Pietist), a new world opened up for
him. This first introduced him to French skepticism.5
The immediate result was that he wrote and published an
essay in which he tried to show that this world could
have come into existence without God, This marks the
beginning of his reaction against irrationalism and the
ensuing conflict between reason and Schwarmerei.

The Pietism of Nicland's experience was a religion
which constantly emphasized the inner personal contact
with God. It demanded of the believer that he g ve his
life over to Christ to the extent where he could say:
"I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." (Gala-
tians 2,30)6 The struggles of those seeking to achieve
this union with Christ were often accompanied by great
spiritual fears and depressions (Seelenangst) but the joy
of achieving this union was characterized by an extreme
exuberance. The Pietists could pursue their convictions
with complete abandon because this world was largely
considered a transitory stage on the way to another

better world, as Zinzendorf states somewhat banally in

 

5Sengle, Wieland, p. 19-

0As quoted by the editor and translator in his intro-
duction to Philip Jakob Spener, Pia Desideria, ed. and
transl. Theodore Tappert (Philadelphia, 196M).

one of his hymns:
Man hofft, wie David einst, mit denen die auf Erden
verachtetes Geschmeiss in hichals Auden sind,
zum rechten Ehren-Schmuck hinauf :erfikt zu werden.7
Pietism was not the only movement reactinm against
the rationalism of the day. There were spiritualists,
deviant Pietists and Charlatans f various kinds. some
of these started from a Christian premise, othe s made
no pretense to be motivated by Christianity. An example
of the latter would be Cagliostro (17h3-1795), an Italian
and a contemporary of Hieland's. He travelled widely and
in the 17903 he made his influence felt in rather wide
circles in Germany, especially among the ladies, because
of his supposed rejuvenatin: elixirs and other mysterious
remedies. Starting from a Christian premise and thus
more closely related was the Swedenbormian movement. Its
founder, Emanuel Swedenborg (1668-1772), a Swedish
scientist, had tried to resolve the problem of the re-
lation between body and soul empirically; when he failed,

he lost faith in the scientific method. He then turned to

Christianity and the world of the spirits and the final

 

7Ludwig; Nikolaus von Zinzendorf, Teutsche Gedichte,
number 23, as quoted in Gerhard Kaiser, Pietismus und
Patriotismus im literarischen Deutschland (Wiesbaden,
1961), p. 87.

0Several of these Charlatans and their movements are
discussed in Eugen Sierke, Schwarmer und Schwindler zu
Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig, 187M).

10

judgement appeared to him in distinct visions. Belief in
Swedenborg's claims to have witnessed the events of the
end times became the basis for Swedenborgianism.9

While Nieland portrays numerous Charlatans that re-
mind of Cagliostro and his kind, I have not found that
he occupied himself in any distinct way with this speci-
fic charlatan. we have a record, however, of his encoun-
ter with Swedenborgianism. In the late 17808, when wie-
land was beginning to be considered by some as a defender
of religious faith, he tegan to write a series of
articles in which he attempted to expose Schwarmerei in
the hope of helping to exterminate it. Shortly after his
article entitled "Swedenborgs Offenbarunren und der
tierische Magnetismus" appeared in Merkur in 1787, he
received a Swedenborgian circular letter in which every
form of natural explanation for hypnotism was attacked,
while it enthusiastically lauded Swedenborg's "Christian
philosophy," claiming that in this new age of grace we
again have the power to rule over the spirits as did
Christ's criminal disciples. To Wieland, this proclama-
tion meant that the age of barbarism was making a re-
appearance. His reply to this circular, which appeared

in the Merkur amain, almost has overtones of Pietistic

 

9Alexander James Grieve, "Swedenbo~:," Encyclgpaedia
Eritannica (1956), XXI, 65M.

 

11

polemics: "Swedenbor: lehrt eine Zauberphilosophie welche
weder Philosophie noch Christentum mehr ist, sondern ein
Hercocervus, der zu nichts taunt, als sie und ihre
Anhanmer in SUmpfe und Abgrfinde zu fiihren."10

Wieland thus attacks irrational thought systems not
so much because they are irrational; he rather attacks
those systems that wilfully attemptto blind and to keep
mannind ignorant. He senses a responsibility to warn his
fellowmen amainst a false enthusiasm for programs that
seek to delude mankind. It is in this connection that
Wieland is drawn to Lucian (ca. 125-190 A.D.) who, in his
supposed age of Greek enlightenment, was also confronted
with spiritual darkness and e static religions which he
tried to combat. Eoth attempted to enlimhten those super-
stitious people (who considered themselves intelligent
and enlightened) by exposing the "theelo:ical lies of
poets and the inventions of visionaries and magicians
. . . and above all . . . the hypocrisy, ignorance, and
vulgarity of those who had deb sed philosophy to the
stature of a money making enterprise."11

Because of the parallel Wieland saw between himself

and Lucian and his age and that of Lucian, this poet had

 

10

(

Sengle, Wieland, p. H7L.

ill-Jilliam H. Clark, "Christoph I-lartin I‘Iieland and. the
Legacy of Greece"(dissertation, Columbia Unive~sity,

12

a stronger influence on Wieland than any other Greek
writer. Although Wieland did have some criticism of
Lucian, Lucian had a sustaininx influence and made an
enduring impression on Nieland. Senrle12 refers to
Lucian as Wieland's Bruder in ggisg and wieland himself
has called him Trdster _Q‘Q2£ Egg. His translation of
Lucian-~he translated almost all of Lucian's works--is not
only a prominent achievement which bespeaks Wieland's
learning and ‘ndustry, but also testifies to his devotion
to the Greek writer. For three years Wieland devoted
himself almost exclusively to the translation, which is,
of course, not merely a translation but also a commentary.
Three works of Lucian discussed by Kersten13 which
are especially related to Wieland's own experience and
attitudes as well as to the theme and contents of several
of Nieland's works are Der Lugenfreund, Der Lugenprophet
Alexander and Peregrinus Proteus.1u In all of these
Lucian basically demonstrates his dislike and contempt for
the Schwarmer, the Charlatans and false prophets of his
time. He is inspired by reason and a desire for the truth

and he wants to destroy these false characters by removing

 

12Sengle, Wieland, p. 397.

13Kersten, Wielands Verhaltnis zu Lukian (Cuxhaven,
1900), pp.6-10. (Hereafter: Kersten, Lukian.)

1“Titles cited are the German titles as translated
by Wieland.

13

them from their destructive darkne s and placins them in
broad daylight, thus exposing them as a laughing stock.
Wieland's Ueher den Vang der Fenschen, an hggie und Seis-
tererscheinungen zu glauben (XXX, 89ff.) is written in
entirely the same spirit, althourh with less satire.
Wieland here, too, exposes the reasons for supe*stition,
hoping that reason will overcome ignorance.

Also important to the study at hand is Kersten's
comparison of Lucian's and Wieland's attitudes towards
the irrational in crrelir;ion..1:3 He states tlat it was
Nie and's desire to free the Christ'anity of his day from
everything that had distorted its true original intent
and had become associated with it during the course of the
centuries. Unlike Lucian, he do‘s not ridicule religious
dogma but he does what he can to brinq reason to bear on
faith.16 Dogma to him is valid only if it stands the test
of reason. He would attribute to Christ not the desire to
found a new religion but the desire-awhich was also
Wieland's--to purify the religion of his day. Inasmuch as
he attempts to free his time of error and ignorance he

bears a very close resemblance to Lucian. But, continues

Kersten, Lucian did not have that respect for religion

 

15Kersten, Lukian, pp. 15-17.

16Cf. Wieland, "Ueber den iebrauch der Vernunft in
in Glaubenssaehen" (YYX, 11f}.

1n

and dogma which Wieland never abandoned. Lucian was called
to destroy or give a death blow to that which was already
superseded; he was not called to rebuild. It must be
remembered, according to Kersten, that Lucian was an
atheist, not merely pagan, and Wieland defended himself

as a deist.

Thus, although Wieland did not accept everything
from Lucian, his practical philosophy, which concerned
itself little with the origin and goal of the world and
man, but which accepted life as it comes and tried to
gain the most out of life, had a profound influence on
Wieland, beginning approximately 1763, when he abandoned
his enthusiasm for Christian and Platonic idealism.

While Wieland had become especially interested in the
Greeks by way of his identification with Lucian, there
was still another reason for this interest. Wieland was
also probing into Greek antiquity, especially into their
clandestine religions, in search of a personally satis-
fying religion. This is pointed out by Mark O. Kistler in
his study of the Dionysian elements in Wieland.17
Wieland had early turned away from Pietism, to which he
had given himself so whole-heartedly as a youth. His
search for meaning was now directed especially towards

the Greeks, where, according to Kistler, he finally found

 

17Mark O. Kistler, "Dionysian Elements in Wieland,"
Germanic Review, XXXV, 2, p. 83.

15

a personally satisfying philosophy in a sort of Dionysian
pantheism.

The other writer who influenced Wieland profoundly
concerning the problem of reason versus enthusiasm was his
contemporary, Laurence Sterne (1713-1768). Sterne's great
contribution to literature was probably that he combined
humor and sentimentality. While there was an abundance of
sentimental literature at that time, this combination was
new.

When Wieland became acquainted with Sterne in the
1760s through a reading of Tristram Shandy, he was
strongly drawn to him. In a letter of 1767 he said the
following: "Ich gestehe Ihnen, mein Freund, dass Sterne
beinahe der einzige Autor in der Welt ist, den ich mit
einer Art von ehrfurchtsvoller Bewunderung ansehe. Ich
werde sein Euch studieren so lang ich 1ebe, und es doch

nicht genug studiert haben."18 One is inclined to ask

 

18Christoph Martin Wieland, Ausgewahlte Briefe an
verschiedene Freunde in den Jahren 1751 bis 1810 geschrie-
ben und nach der Zeitfolge_geordnet (Zfirich, 18157, II,
287.—THereafter: AB?) Note also that C. A. Behmer,
"Laurence Sterne und Wieland," Forschungen und Funde,
IX, 15 and Sengle, Wieland, P. 215, both place Wieland's
first acquaintance with Sterne and Tristram Shandy as
1767, using the argument in the case of Behmer (pp. 16f.),
that the letter here cited must mark his first reading of
this novel, for he would not have waited long to mention
anything that moved him so profoundly as this. Peter
Michelsen (pp. 181-186, see footnote 20), however, argues
convincingly for the fact that Wieland must have been
acquainted with Sterne as early as 1763, using textual
evidence in Wieland's writings for the basis of his

16

whence this sudden affinity for this English author.
Richardson, with his sentimentally moralistic novels, had
been the idol of Wieland's youthful ascetic-mystical
period. Already in 1764 Wieland had begun to make fun of
the time of his youthful enthusiasm when he passionately
declaimed against certain gens d'esprits forts, such as
Ovid, Rousseau and La Fontaine, tw'referring to this
period as the "Don Quichoterien seiner ersten Jugend."19
In Sterne's parodying of Richardson, Wieland sensed a
parallel to the attitude he himself now held towards his
own sentimental youth.

In a recent study on Sterne's influence on Wieland,
Peter Michelsen points out some aspects of this relation-
ship, which have a very direct bearing on the intent of
this study. Michelsen demonstrates that both Wieland and
Sterne believed that the responsibility of training or
development (Bildung) was basically to concern itself with
reconciling the discord of reason (522;) and heart
(Eggg).20 In Wieland, for instance, this is illustrated

by Agathon being driven from one extreme to the other.

 

argument. In this case his first reading of Tristram
Shandy would have coincided with the time during which
Wie and made his first plans for Don Sylvio.

19%, II, 21m.
20Peter Michelsen, "Laurence Sterne und der Roman des

achtzehnten Jahrhunderts,” Palaestra, CCXXXII, p. 178,
(Hereafter: Michelsen, Sterne.7'

17

The difference between Wieland and Sterne, with respect to
this duality, according to Michelsen, lies in the fact
that Wieland felt these to be two contradictory poles,
which are in constant struggle with each other, whereas
Sterne considered this polarity necessary for the consti-
tution of the world. Sterne, therefore, never did seek a
solution—~for his characters it is only a matter of
following their instincts and personal dictates (gin
Nasefolgen), whereas Wieland's characters are much more
moralistic. Yet despite the fact that Sterne did not es-
pecially need to look for a solution, Wieland found in him
a synthesis which offered at least a partial solution. And
it is precisely synthesis which Wieland uses most effec-
tively as a solution. Especially in the character of
Yorick in Tristram Shandy Wieland found embodied his two
favorite characters,21 Socrates and Harlequin, represent-
ing the two extremes: wisdom and foolishness. Michelsen
then describes the solution Wieland saw in Yorick and his
application of it to his own problem as follows:

In der in Yorick sich verkorpernden Haltung, die

Weisheit und Narrentum in freiester Weise vereinigen,

schien Wieland die Mdglichkeit zu sehen, eine Art
Ersatz fur die gesuchte Kommunikation und wenn auch

 

21Christoph Martin Wieland, Auswahl denkwurdiger
Briefe, ed. Ludwig Wieland (Vienna, 1815), I, 23h:‘115.
Dez. 1768) "Sokrates und Harlequin sind meine Lieblings-
charaktere, und Yorick ist es mehr als Einer von diesen
Beyden, weil er Sokrates und Harlequin zugleich ist."

18

nicht den Frieden, so doch wenigsten eine diplo-
matische Absprache zwischen Ideal und Leben herzu-
stellen.2

 

22Michelsen, "Sterne," p. 204.

CHAPTER I

ARASPES UND PANTHEA

The problem of two souls within one person and the
struggle it involves is an important theme in Araspes
und Panthea. Araspes is torn between spiritual love and
sensual love for Panthea; to Araspes these two poles
represent the opposites of morality and immorality or of
good and evil. As such, they are not and can not be
synthesized within the framework of this novel.

Araspes und Panthea, based on an episode from
Xenophon's Cyropedia, tells in dialog-form the story of
Araspes, a young Greek soldier, who is given the task of
guarding Panthea, a captured Persian queen. Araspes
becomes a Schwarmer because of a basic conflict within
him. He would like to love the queen on a spiritual
plane, only to lapse into a sensual feeling for her.

This entire work is steeped in sentimentality and
enthusiasm, and, even though the hero changes course
concerning his conflict between spiritual and sensual

love, there is no abatement in his expression of

19

20

Schwarmerei, because he cannot resolve his problem.
Still holding to his Platonic ideals in the beginning of

the novel, Araspes speaks elatedly of his noble aspira-

tions thus: "Wie verlangt mich nach den goldenen Stunden!

Eine Seele, die von Ruhmseligkeiten gluhet, kann nichts
Lieblicher's horen, als die Thaten der Helden." (XXVII,
23) After he has given in to his erotic desires as a
result of secretly having observed Panthea at her bath-
ing place and becoming convinced, as he sees the beauty
of her unclothed body, that he must love her as a human
being, he continues with the same fervour: "Der Mensch
ist nicht zur atherischen Liebe gemacht! . . . Eine
Entzuckung wie die meinige war, hdtte die Lippen eines
Stummen gesprangt!" (XXVII, 107) Nor has the rapture in
his tone abated after having regained his virtue: "Mein
Herz schwillt von dem Gedanken auf, dass du mich nicht
unwflrdig haltst, an dem glorwurdigen Werke zu arbeiten,
wozu der Himmel dich gerufen hat." (XXVII, 139)
Araspes' sentimentality is accompanied by an overly
zealous concern for his fellowmen. He supports and
praises Cyrus because of his beneficent attitude towards
all mankind. Any battle Cyrus fights is simply fought,
so Araspes reports, to deliver peoples from oppression.
In his own way, Araspes shows his love and concern even
for the supposed enemy by finding great plasure in an-

nouncing to his prisoner, Panthea, that her husband is

21

alive and in showing her his strong desire to help them
be reunited.

His zeal to comfort and help his beautiful prisoner,
however, suddenly turns into hot erotic desire. He is
now, as much as ever, a true Schwarmer, pursuing an
extreme which is certainly equal to his earlier extreme
of trying to help her. Where he formerly did his utmost
to help Panthea and her husband to be reunited, he now
dreads nothing more than that Panthea's husband might
arrive on the scene. Araspes is being driven to the brink
of disgrace and there seems to be nothing that can stop
him. The well-meant warnings of his friend Arasambes
serve only to strengthen his intentions of possessing
Panthea. He answers Arasambes' warnings as follows: "Wie
schandlich lasterst du meine Liebe! . . . Der musste
meine Seele versteinern konnen, der mir verbieten wollte
fur diese gottliche Schone zu brennen." (XXVII, 110)

While in this state of rebellion, Araspes suddenly
receives an insight into his own perversion. This is
brought about through the return of Cyrus, the general.
To Araspes Cyrus represents the sum of all the worthwhile
and noble qualities. As soon as Cyrus' pending arrival
is announced, Araspes becomes aware of his condition. He
falls into a deep spiritual depression, which is accom-
panied by physical sickness. He feels tortured and con-

demned by his own conscience: "Rein furchtbarster

22

Anklager ist in meiner eigenen Brust! . . . Ich bin
verloren! . . . du selbst hast dein Verderben beschleu-
nigt." (XXVII, 129, 132)

Then Cyrus arrives and brings deliverance. "Gleich
einer gegenwartigen Gottheit hauchest du neues Leben
in meine Seele," (XXVII, 137) Araspes confesses to Cyrus.
It is actually through the presence and the association
with one who is so genuinely human and forgiving that
Araspes regains the spiritual vitality he needs to face
life. Having experienced grace through this association,
Araspes is now eager to pursue the divine task which
Cyrus lays before him: "an dem glorwurdigen Werke zu
arbeiten, wozu der Himmel dich gerufen hat." (XXVII, 137)1

Araspes has suddenly changed in his whole outlook.
This change, however, was not brought about through
reason or any metaphysical arguments he is exposed to.
The reasoning of Arasambes, who repeatedly warns him,
does not bring him any closer to finding his way back. At
one point AraSpes seems to have some remorse about his
actions; Arasambes forthrightly tells him that reason is

now appealing to him and advises him to take advantage

 

1Wieland, still very much a Schwarmer himself when
he wrote Araspes und Panthea, may have been thinking of
Pietistic conversion when he describes how Araspes finds
his way back to virtue. The three stages of Pietistic
conversion are clearly delineated: 1) Araspes is unaware
of his vile condition, 2) he becomes concerned over his
lost state and then 3) there comes a breakthrough for him,
the joyful experience of finding his sins forgiven.

23

of this opportunity to reorient himself and to follow a
new course. This, however, only hardens Araspes'
heart. (XXVII, 116)

As in Wieland's succeeding novels, the Schwarmer

 

hero finally experiences regeneration or disenchantment
through association with a sympathetic congenial human
being. Cyrus has understanding for the young hero and
assumes the blame for his downfall. He admits that he
should have known better than to expose Araspes to such
temptation and even confesses that he would not have
stood the test himself.

In this novel the hero, in retrospect, interprets
his whole experience in terms of having two opposing
souls in his own breast. After his rescue from disgrace,
Araspes says: "Ach, in diesem Augenblick erfahr ich die
Wahrheit, dass ich zwei ganz verschiedene Seelen in mir
habe. Denn es ist unmoglich zu glauben, dass wenn ich
nur Eine Seele hfitte, sie zu gleicher Zeit gut und
schlimm . . . seyn kennte." (XXVII, 1&0) The idea of
arriving at a harmonious synthesis, which is so marked
in Wieland's more mature writings, is still lacking.
The two spirits are regarded as diametrically opposed
to each other: "Wenn die gute die Oberhand hat, dann
handeln wir edel, wenn die bose niedertrdchtir und
schandlich." (XXVII, 140) The only satisfactory solution,

then, is for the good spirit to be victorious over the

24

evil one: "Die schandliche Seele weicht . . . sie
taumelt mit gelahmten FlUQeln zu Boden--die bessere
Seele hat mesieqt!" (XXVII, 141)

While the solution here is different than it is,
for instance, in Aqathon, the issues are different too.

What later turns out to be a conflict between reason

and feeling, i.e., between Kopf und Herz or Vernunft und

 

Schwarmerei, is here but a conflict between sensual and

 

spiritual love. The hero began as an enthusiast and
ends as such, if anythinfi even more enthusiastic in his
pursuit of spiritual love in the end than at the outset.
He has simply gone through a stame of erotic enthusiasm
and overcome it again. His basic orientation to life

has remained unchanfied and his problem continues to be
that which Arasambes analyz‘d it to be earlier: he
attaches all his attention to one object at one time
instead of realizing that all of nature, dieses
grenzenlose Ganze, (XXVII, 55) is worthy of his attention.
With this unnatural orientation he will immediately
focus all his efforts on a new object as soon as he
loses sight of the former one. Thus it is not difficult
to understand why he can change course so suddenly and
completely. As lona as he remains a Schwarmer he will

go on to a new excess each time he abandons another
aspect of Schwarmerei.

The solution and the issues may be different here

25

than they are in his more mature novels, but a pattern
used later in Wieland's resolution of the reason and
feeling problem is already evident, and this is signifi-
cant. The pendulum, which for the more mature Wieland
moves between the extremes of reason and feeling, is in

a position now where it is ready to move from the extreme

of feelinq or Schwarmerei--in Araspes und Panthea the

 

problem is still solved within a total framework of

Schwarmerei--towards a position where reason or Vernunft

 

will enter the picture in terms of findinr a solution

to the problet.

CHAPTER II

DON SYLVIO

The basic dualism in Wieland's first major novel,

Der Sieg der Natur fiber die Schwarmerei, oder die

 

Abenteuer des Don Sylvie von Rosalva, is between fantasy
and reality. Before the young hero, Don Sylvio, can

overcome Schwarmerei, he has to transcend his world of

 

illusion and face the real world.

When considering the background of Don Sylvie and
comparing this with that of the other characters in the
novel, it quickly becomes evident why Don Sylvio is the
only one who became a Schwarmer. He is the child of the
nobility, who has much leisure time, lives a secluded life
and receives an overly refined education. Pedrillo and
Laura, the attendants of Don Sylvio and Donna Felicia
respectively, are extremely realistic and practical in
their approach to life. When Don Sylvio, living in his
dream world, is in a daze over his butterfly-princess and
gives Laura an animated account of how Fanferluche

turned his princess into her present insect-state, Laur

26

27

very matter-of-factly says this: "Ich wette gleich,
diese Prinzessin ist weder mehr noch weniger als ein
hflbsches Bauermadchen, das ihm in die Augen gestochen
hat." (I, 184) Also Jacinte, who turns out to be Don
Sylvio's sister in the end, lives in a rational world,
for she was early compelled to face reality. At the age
of three she had been snatched away from the sheltered
family environment by a gypsy woman. This gypsy brought
her up and tried to force her to become a prostitute.
Jacinte's constant struggle with her coarse environment
was not conducive to day-dreaming and Schwégmerei.

Don Sylvio's up-bringin: was vastly different from
that of his kidnapped sister. As a young Spanish noble-
man, he was orphaned at a very young age and was conse-
quently reared by his eccentric aunt, Mencia. His up-
bringing, as Senmle points out, "ist ein Spott auf die
'romanhafte Erziehung' der Zeit welche . . . Leben und
Dichtung phantastisch durcheinander mischte."1 At first
he is sent to the barber to learn some music and to the
local pastor to learn the rudiments of Greek. Then
Kencia takes over, determined to mould the impressionable
young hero into a perfect nobleman. She attempts to do
this mainly by prescribing carefully chosen readings

for him, which are confined to such books as chronicles,

 

1Senfjle, Nieland, p. 1%}

28

histories, travel journals and especially tales of the
heroes. Beiig emotionally delicate and very sentimental
by nature, he is strongly influenced by the noble
examples found in these books and declares, "es wfirde
ihm nicht mehr mfihe kosten, sie (i.e., the heroic deeds)
auszuflben, als er brauchte, sich eine Vorstellung davon
au machen." (I, 7)

In a chapter entitled Psychologische Betrachtunaen
(I, 7-10) Wieland discourses on the stases which led to
Don Sylvio's final inability to distinguish between
reality and fantasy. The explanation given partly
approaches the idea of environmental conditioning,
although the hero's free will plays a strong role in
bringing about his condition--he namely strongly desires
to have the kind of experiences he read about. (I, 15)
Because the hero is by nature endowed with such a
penchant for the sentimental (Empfindsamkeit), any
impressions he received aroused strong passions in his
heart. Furthermore, living in an environment where he was
withdrawn from the world and having no responsibility to
work, fantasies and imaginations fill the idle hours
and gain pre-eminence over actual life. As the mind
becomes as intimately acquainted with vain fancies as
with actual objects and happenings, it weaves imagination
and feeling, the supernatural and the natural and right

and wrong into one whole. while being acquainted with the

29

laws of nature, such as gravity, the force of attraction,
elasticity, etc., Don Sylvie is just as sure that witches,
fairies and other elementary spirits are in control of
his environment. Giving himself over to the imaginary to
such a degree and, having the weakness that he is unable
to tell when he is beinw fooled, (I, 8) he finds the
step into the dream world, which he is replacing for the
physical world, a short and easy one. The hero receives
the impetus to take this step when he secretly begins to
read the fairy-tales, which his aunt had attempted to
keep concealed from him by placing them behind the other
books in the library. In these fairy-tales he finds a
satisfactory explanation for all the things in life he
had formerly not understood. He is now ready to go into
the world as a complete Schwarmer!2

Soon, indeed, circumstances arise in the household

at Rosalva which provide Don Sylvie with the impulse to

 

2It should here be pointed out that in this novel
it is complete abandonment or complete Schwdrmerei that
is held up as a state that must at all cost be overcome.
Donna Felicia and Jacinte, for example, are enthusiasts
or Schwarmer to a certain degree too; they are, however,
not blinded by it but rather find simple enjoyment in
fantasy, for it makes their lot in life more interesting
and bearable. Nor does Wieland deny that any good can
proceed from Schwarmerei. After all, when Alexander
left Athens he pursued a chimera which made no more sense
than did the idea of Don Sylvio's butterfly, yet he became
the conqueror of Asia. (I, 56) It was also Don Sylvio's
own Schwarmerei that caused him to leave Rosalva, and
without leaving Rosalva he would not have been cured of
Schwarmerei.

3o

venture out into the world. Hencia, his calculating aunt,
approaches him one day and fairly demands that he marry
an ugly creature called Eergelina. Such a marriage is
completely out of question in the mind of Don Sylvie for
thereby--not even considering Mergelina's ugliness--he
would prove unfaithful to his true love, the butterfly-
princess. In order to escape from this dire fate, Den
Sylvie, together with his attendant Pedrillo, secretly
leaves the castle at Besalva. On the short trip which
takes the two to the neighbouring castle--eur here
mistakes playing truant for going to a far distant
exotic p1ace!--Don Sylvie has many adventures which give

the reader a keen insight into his state of Schwarmergi.

 

Once Don Sylvie has left Resalva he ascribes what-
ever image his fancy dictates to the objects and persons
around him. When he sees a frog he links this with a
story he had just imagined and is confident that he is
dealing with a fairy. (I, 21) Later on, when encountering
a goose-girl his fantasy dictates to him that at this
point he should meet a nymph and a nymph she is to him,
regardless of her attire or manners. (I, 241) The novel
is filled with incidents of this kind. Biribinker, the
hero of Don Gabriel's story and the intended counterpart
of Don Sylvie, also has the same quality. Because of his
ecstasy he believes on one occasion to have found the

beautiful salamandrine. He holds her in his arms and

31

passionately declares his love. Instead of the salaman-
drine, however, he has been holding some misshapen gnome!
In the same way that Don Sylvie is unable to perceive
an actual object as it really is, so he is also unable to
relate an incident or happening to actual causes or cir-
cumstances. His predilections and passions bar him from
differentiating between reality and unreality, causing
him to draw completely unfounded conclusions. He has no
reason, for instance, to believe that the little image of
the beautiful girl he has found has anything whatsoever
to do with the blue butterfly, yet he is completely
convinced that this is the picture of the princess who
has been changed into a butterfly by Fanferluche. (I, 25)
Or, when a blue butterfly is caught by a goose-mirl and
she won't give him to Don Sylvie, he suddenly sees that
a dream he had yesterday was inspired by the good fairy
to warn him of this catastrophic incident, (I, 2%1) yet
any rational connection between the dream and the
actual incident is lacking. His inability to re ate cause
and effect would also seem to be the reason that he is
continually convinced that there is divine intervention
in his life. When he awakes from a dream, in which the
picture of his princess is about to be stolen, he is
confident that a mood fairy intervened by awakening him
just before the thief actually approached; again the

circumstances are purely imagined or dreamed and he has

32

no reason to be thankful to divine intervention.

His belief in divine intervention fills him with
confidence and courage to pursue and undertake anything,
regardless of the difficulty entailed. There is an ether-
werldliness about him which makes him immune to the
buffetings of the unfriendly physical world. Den Sylvie
also attempts to instill confidence in his chosen course
in Pedrillo. When the latter hesitates to follow Don
Sylvie in pursuit of the salamander, Don Sylvie promptly
assures him that there is nothing to fear; they must
simply follow the divine call, "das Uebrige wird sich
von selbst :eben." (I, 105)

Coupled with the inability to cope with reality is
an overt emotionalism. This emotionalism is expressed in
iany different ways. When Don Sylvie finally locates,
what he considers to be the blue butterfly he set out to
find, he responds with sighs of longing. (I, 239) Or
when the gypsy tells him, for instance, that his butter-
fly is in love with som‘one else, he promptly sweens.
(I, 1&6) when the male butterfly, his imagined competitor
for the princess-butterfly, appears and drives the blue
butterfly away, Don Sylvie becomes very excited and
{ills the male butterfly. Meanwhile the blue butterfly
disappears!

Again referring to Don Sylvio's counterpart in

Don Gabriel's story, i.e., Biribinker, one sees a similar

33

behaviour on the part of the latter on several occasions,
notably when Galaktine, the beautiful milk maid Biri-
binher is pursui 3, curses him because the very mention
of his name is a threat to her. He is described as
follows: "Biribinker zitterte an allen Nerven, er
verfluchte im Uebermass seines Schmerzes den Namen
Biribinker . . . und er wurde vielleicht . . . mit dem
Kopfe wieder die nachste Eiche angerennt seyn . . ."

(II, 164)

Don Sylvio's most violent emotional (i.e., schwar-
merisch) outbursts are reactions to the threat of
reality breaking into his self-created dream-world. The
best illustration of this is the incident when his aunt
wants him to marry Kergelina. That Mergelina was not
beautiiul can hardly be doubted but that she was so
hideous that he was justified in saying about her:
"dessen blessen Anblick zu vermeiden ich bereit ware in
den offenen Rachcn eines Lowen zu springen," (I, 70) is
improbable. He was at this point unable to love a human
being because he was bound by the Spell of his world of
fantasy; loving another human being would cause the
explosion of this self-created world and thus threaten
his illusory existence. He then reacts so violently to
his aunt's proposal that in h‘s raving condition the
servants are ordered to tie his hands and feet and

carry him bodily to his bed. (I, 93)

3h

he incongruity one sees between the ordinariness of
the actual happeninms surrounding Den Sylvie and their
significance for him as he interprets them in his dream
state is also borne out in his actual physical state and
the idea he holds of himself. He seems but a child-~he is
actually seventeen--and is very effeminate, (I, 183) yet
he seems to think he is playing an important knightly
role, such as one would expect of a physically strenj
nan. The fight, in which he attempts to come to the
rescue of Don Eugenio and his fellow travele~s, is
motivated by his imagination; there is no reasoning
involved when he flies out of the bushes to fall upon
the stranqer in an effort to help those whom he believes
to be attached. (I, 208) This was merely the heroic type
of experience he had been dreaming about.

How does Don Sylvie, this young fantast, who lives
in an unnatural state of isolation, find his way to a
natural state? How does he overcome his excessive
fanatical enthusiasm? According to the title of the

novel (Der Siqg der Natur fiber die Schwarmerei . . .)

 

its theme should give an answer to this question, and so

indeed it does. In the first part of the novel Wieland

occupies himself with Don Sylvie, the complete Schwarmer.
In the second part the author portrays the difficult path
which leads Don Sylvie to reality and to contact with

his environment. Hie and explains how Natur, namely the

35

genuine and harmonious, overcomes the artificial or the
discordant element represented by imagination and fantasy.

In tracing the path which leads Don Sylvie fr m his
entrenchment in Schwarmerei to his disenchantment, the
reader does well to pay attention to the small image in
Don Sylvio's possession, which to him represents his
princess.3 This image becomes a sort of leitmetiv during
the course of the novel and indicates the state of the
hero's Schwarmerei.

Natur or nature, the force characterized by
genuiness, spontaneity and common sense, begins to
instigate the change, that is to chance Don Sylvie,
through the person of Jacinte, an untrained NaturkindL
This comes about when Jacinte for the first time arouses
a human sentiment in his heart. At that point it suddenly
occurs to Don Sylvie that there is a marked similarity
between Jacinte and his cherished image. This frightens
him. He had sought an escape into the dream world, partly
unconsciously, because he was dissatisfied with the
status quo of the real world. If the person represented

by his image should now be a flesh and blood human

 

3Regina Schindler-Hurlimann, Wielands Menschenbild,
eine Interpretation des Agathon (Zhrich, 1963), p. 100,
basing her statement on Leonhard heister, says that many
of Wieland's heroes base their erotic Schwarmerei on
some image. (Referred to hereafter as: Schindler-Hurli-
mann, Kenschenbild.)

 

36

being, that would shatter his dream of finding the blue
butterfly, whose wings he himself would have to pull off
before it could change nto the beautiful princess. His
mmediate impulse upon suspecting this similarity is to
run away, est the image of his princess be forced out of
his heart. (II, M7) Don Sylvie had sealed himself off
from the real world and, cost what may, he seems deter—
mined to preserve this seal.

Then one day, to Don Sylvio's great dismay, he loses
the image. Immediately he becomes more vulnerable to the
attacks of nature. For the first time there benins to be
some doubt in his own mind about the validity of his
fantasy, (II, 15) There is noth‘nm he did nor any inner

reserve he possesses that has broumht about these doubts.

"v
3’
{.13

in a dream that night, for the first tine, he sees

vv

his princess without wings. :a nature not bequn its
work, he would not have been able to forget everything
else and think only of Donna Felicia upon his ensuing
encounter with her. Heretofore she had he eld no special
attraction for him. He is still far from cur‘d but the
process has beg;

At this point Don Sylvie is ready to meet the other
inhabitants of the castle of Lirias. It .es by coincidence
that he had lost the little ima ;e at the appropriate time
to permit him to benefit from his encounter with Donna

Felicia; it is also ey coincidence that he should only

37

now, when he is ready to benefit from it, meet this group
of well-adjusted individuals at Lirias who are to play
such an important role in his further recuperation.
Felicia, who has already been mentioned, has no trouble
discerning reality. She is indeed enthusiastic and some—
what fanatical about various writers, (I, 169) but this
is only a form of diversion for her. She immediately
diagnoses Don Sylvie as being in love with an idea in-
stead of a person. Don Gabriel, her brother, is marked
by a special Ruhe seines Herzens (composure) which jives
him the power to observe as a friend of humanity. And
Don Eugenio, the lover of Jacinte, had immediately had
an outgoing interest in Don Sylvie. These people feel
that Don Sylvie is a promising young man and that it is
only a problem of "sein Gehirn wieder in seine natfir-
lichen Falten zu legen." (II, d1) Somewhat like the
Gesellschaft vom 233m in Goethe's Wilhelm Meister,
although perhaps in a more obvious way, these individuals
set to work to bring about the recuperation of Don
Sylvie: ". . . in dem Schlosse zu Lirias (wird) alles
angewandt, unsern Holden von der Bezauberunj seines
Gehirns je eher 3e lieber zu befreien." (II, 221)

Don Gabriel, a wise enlightened mentor, has no plans
to change Don Sylvie by force; he is not goin? to deny
Don Sylvio's ideas but through kindness he hopes to

bring him to the point where he will come to the correct

38

conclusions on his own. When Don Sylvie, thereupon,

makes his appearance w th a book on the subject of natural
science, he uses this as a point of contact for engaqing
in conversation with him. He prefaces this conversation
by expressing his high respect for those who, like Don
Sylvie, believe in elementary spirits along with the

laws of nature. (II, #8) his arguments, however, so
convincingly exclude the supernatural that Don Sylvie,

in his discomfiture, and not yet ready to forsake his
belief in the supernatural, begins to argue from the
standpoint of his own experience; he has felt the guidance
of fairies in his own life and anything that fails to
agree with his experience can not be true. He does not
disregard natural science per se, but he considers only
that part of it which does not conflict with experience

as valid.

Despite Don Sylvio's resistance to Don Eugenio, the
latter feels that Don Sylvie has made some progress.
Jacinte is thereupon invited to tell her story. It is a
truly amazing and adventurous tale of how she was stolen
by the gypsy woman who tried to force her to become a
prostitute, yet she was protected from falling into any
immorality. Don Sylvie is amazed at this story and ex-
presses the idea that the fairies must surely have played
an important role in it. He only wonders why she was so

careful to omit any reference to them. Jacinte assures

39

him that she encountered no fairies whatsoever. If we do
not believe in fairies, Den Sylvie argues, we would have
to give up all belief in history, which then gives rise

to Don Gabriel's story of Prince Biribinher.

Since Jacinte's story (which does not mention
fairies despite the many stranxe and marvellous instances
it contains) has not effected any marked change in Don
Sylvie, Don Gabriel new tells a story steeped entirely
in the supernatural. The here of this tale, Prince
Biribinker, is the counterpart of Don Sylvie, inasmuch
as they are identical in their submission to fantasy.
The whole story takes place in the belly of a whale,
which is here a universe unto itself.

Upon completion of this tale, Don Gabriel teasingly
comments that this story was intended to cause Jacinte
to believe in fairies. (II, 20M) Jacinte immediately
recognizes that Don Gabriel tried to "treib das Unse-
reimte so weit wie nur neglich," (II, 20%) but Don
Sylvie says he sees nothing absurd or impossible in it
and again defends his position on the basis of his
personal experience. Although these arguments have an
effect on Don Sylvie, it is imp ssible to free him from
his Schwarmerci by any verbal argument, whether it be a
metaphysical argument, an illustration of how the
amazing is possible without fairies er a story that would

seem to put an end to all speculation about fairies.

1L0

The author then reports that Don Sylvie spent much of
the next night in deliberations which were not very
favorable towards the fairies. He begins to thing that
maybe, after all, it is only fantasy that is the mother
of the supernatural; perhaps it was because of iner-
perience that he had hitherto considered the supernatural
a part of nature. It is, however, not because he befiins
to doubt his fantasies that the change from Schwarmerei
to Natur is effected; it has, however, prepared him for
his next and decisive encounter with Donna Felicia, for
he is now ready to become enamored by her and to forget
himself.

Shortly after the two have come together this time,
word is received that the lost image has been recovered.
This report, however, leaves Den Sylvie completely un-
moved at this peint--he has new broken with the world
of fantasy. Time stands still for the two as they declare
their love and make love to each other. Don Sylvie
maintains that the only kind of enchantment that exists
is love: "Er gestand auch, dass das, was in ihm vergehe,
seitdem er sie kenne, ihn beina.e ganzlich uberzeuge,
lass es keine andere Bezauberun: gebc, als die Liebe

‘-
I

.." (II, 233) It was thus not a convincing argument

(‘5‘

sel s
(although this played a part) that cured him; it was
rather the displacement of fantasy by unselfish love for

another person which breurnt about a synthesis between

#1

fantasy and reality.
The change that has overcome Don Sylvie is a very

obvious and drastic one; it can not escape Don Eugenie

p.)

when he sees the two lovers. He had prepared limself wita
numerous arguments he was going to employ in another
effort to disenchant Don Sylvie. when he now sees him,
he finds all his philosophy put to shame and can only
utter to himself, "dass ein Paar schone Auden in etlichen
Minuten starker fiberzeugen und schneller behehren, als
die Akademie, das Lyceum und die Stoa mit vereinimten
Kraften haum in eben so viel Jahren :1 thun ve~m6chten."
(II, 2M1)

This disenchantment of Don Sylvie, first revealed

n his relationship to his redemptress, Donna Felicia,

He

also becomes visible in his relationship to other people.

V

The gypsy, when He considered to be a wicked fairy in

his former state, 's nothin: but a jypsy to him when he
meets her new. (II, 2%?) And when his aunz, Donna hencia,

comes to Lirias, he is happy to see her, even though he

*4.“

ran away from her but a few days ago. (II, 2&1) The hero

I],

is cured and thus the story can end. His excessive

 

uThe conclusion arrived at here is certainly much
more optimistic than hat of Hermann Hettner, who says
of both Don Sylvie and A athen: ". . . die Losung ist
keine gluckliche. Es ist lediglich eine frcchc Sinnlich-
heit, welche obsiegt . . . Kopf uni Hers sellen in Ein-
klanm gebracht werden . . . dass der hechste Trumpf,
welchen Wieland gegen die Schwarmerei auss,ielt, nichts

 

42

fantasies having left him, he is ready to benefit from an
education, for which Don Gabriel and Don Eugenio take
responsibility; the three of them set out an educational
tour of the continent to fill Den Sylvio's mind-~"den
leeren Baum, den die Feen darin gelassen, mit Ideen

wirklicher Dinge." (II, 252)

 

ist als das Erliegen eines unerfahrenen traumerischen
Junglings unter den Verffihrungskfinsten einer geistvollen
Buhlerin." (Hermann Hettner, Geschichte der deutschen
Literatur im 18. JahrhunderttLeipzig, 1928], II, 28H.
HCttner is probably still in the tradition Seiffert
ascribes to a faulty reading of J. G. Gruber's biography
of Wieland and, although dutifully including Wieland in
his history of eighteenth century German literature, he
seems too much influenced by the tradition that considers
Wieland depraved and immoral when passing Judgment on his
writings. Seiffert says the following: "Von Grubers
Biographie nimmt man (die deutsche Literaturgeschichts-
schreibung) wohlwollend Kenntnis, schliesst sich aber
selten seinen Ausffihrungen an. Seine Feststellung, die
fur die Jahre um 1830 gilt, dass man bei den herrschenden
Urteilen glauben kenne, dass 'Wieland seine Nation an den
Abgrund des ungeheuerlichensten sittlichen Verderbens
geffihrt habe und gleichgflltig fflr die Wahrheit und Tugend
mit seinen Schriften die Grundpfeiler und hauslichen
Glfickseligkeit untergraben habe,‘ wird man in abgewandel-
ter Form bis zu unseren Tagen fiberall da finden kennen,
we man pflichtgemass in eine Abhandlung fiber deutsche
Literatur auch Wieland einbezog." (Hans Werner Seiffert,
"Wieland und Wielandforschung," Vier Biberacher Vortrage
CW1esbaden, 1954], p. 86)

CHAPTER III
AGATHON

Agathen, the here of Die Geschichte des Agathon,
goes through various phases of Schwarmerei. As a young
child he is already a moral-religious Schwarmer. Later
he turns to political and erotic Schwarmerei.1 Each time
he channels his Schwarmerei in a new direction he does so
without actually having resolved the preceding phase,
although each experience may represent a certain stage in
his development. With his fanatical orientation to life
he can not but exargerate; he only ceases to so from an
extreme in one aspect of life to another as he overcomes

his Schwarmerei per se. It is throuah his encounter with

 

Archytas that he finally achieves an enduring equilibrium.
The background of this novel is classical. The

setting is the age of Plato, Socrates, Hippias of Elis

 

1Schindler-Hurlimann, Menschenbild, basinq her
approach on the Zflrich scholar, Leonhard heister (born
1858), also differentiates between moral-relisious, erotic
and political Schwarmerei in her interpretation of

Agathon.

43

1w

and Archytas, all of whom lived during the latter part

of the fifth and the first half of the fourth century B.C.
Historically Agathon is an Athenian poet who was banished
from his native city.

Don Sylvie and Agathon are basically similar charac-
ters as far as their fanatical enthusiasm is concerned.
There is, however, a vast difference in the way they are
portrayed; Don Sylvie is essentially a caricature where-
as Agathon is a plausibly realistic character. In Don
Sylvie we saw to what extremes Schwarmerei can go in a
fairy tale setting whereas Agathon is continually cen-
fronted with real life situations to which he reacts in
a very idealistic manner.2

Agathon probably did not possess an innate penchant
for Schwarmerei, although little is said about his charac-
ter prior to his training. Danae points to the reason for
his Schwarmerei when she says that under other circum-
stances she too could have become what Agathon and his
sister Psyche are: "wie du siehest, Agathon, hatte die
junme hyrtis (i.e., Danae) einen feinen Ansatz zu dieser
schenen Schwarmerei. welche in den Hallen und Lorbeer-

hainen von Delphi deiner Seele die erste Bildung gab.

 

2Wieland says that in Agathon he attempted to per-
tray himself as he had been or imagined himself to have
been in situations similar to those of Agathon (C.M.
Wieland, Auswahl denkwurdiger Briefe, ed. Ludwig Wieland

[Vienna, 1815], II, 163).

#5

Die Umstande machten den ganzen Unterschied." (VI, 196)
Like Don Sylvie, Agathen must then be considered largely
a product of his training and environment. At an early
age Agathon's father had given him over to the priests in
the temple of Delphi, where he received special training
in recounting "wunderbare Begebenheiten," (V, M) and
where he is encouraged and trained by his superior,
Theogiton, to develop the capability to believe and
suffer everything.3 This upbringing in relizieus enthu-
siasm, which, accerdin: to this novel, has the greatest

‘

effect when the child is still incapable of askinw
probing questions, (V, 5) is portrayed as the source of
all Aberglaube (superstition) and Schwarmerei. Agathon,
when later talking about his travels and observations,
says that the result of Aberglaube is everywhere much
less obvious among these peoples where the young are not
encouraced in and taught irrational thinkinf.

In followini our here, the Jchw7rxer destined for
«renékgnl Self-realizefiie , we unceuuier a variety of

t~v‘ I 1' 'w , ~yq - \I .1 an ~20 -<- ' ‘H ‘ a" a — ‘ p
elperienCes--ne is a Geneiai at one bi e, than deposed or

his position, captured by pirates, sold as a slave, etc.

 

3Scheidl (Josef Jcheidl,"Personliche VerhEltnisse und

Deziehunien zu den antihen Quellen in Hielands Arathen"
Erissertatien, HUnchen, iGCbJ) su rests that Nie and '3
here likely thinking of his own Piet stic up—brinfiinf,

perhaps especially his trainin? at Klesterberje, where his
own ecstatic enthusiasm ran extremely hijh.

#6

The five different locations or scenes in Arathen each
give the reader a particula~ insight into the life of the
here. These scenes are chronologically Delphi, Athens,
Smyrna, Syracuse and Tarent, althOUfh they are not en-
countered in this order in the novel. The Delphi experi-
ence shows the here as a religious-moral Schwarmer, the
Athens and Syracuse experiences as a political Schwarmer
and the Smyrna experience (which is dealt with in the
greatest detail, 300 pages out of a total of about 800
pages) climaxes in erotic Schwarmerei. The Tarent experi-
ence then brings about his cure. During the course of
each of these experiences Ajathon is exposed to circum-
stances which ceuld make him inclined to and finally
cause him to move away from the enthusiasm which he ac-
quired in the temple of Apollo. Yet as lens as his basic
orientation is schwarmerisch, his path to self-fulfillment
is erratic.

Agathen begins his course as a religious-moral
Schwarmer at Delphi. For a while his training has such a
strong influence that it is impossible to dissuade him
from his devout abandon. He has two experiences there
which illustrate his abandon to his faith and his final
disillusionment with the morality and religion taught
there.

The first of these two experiences shows our here

as, in his ecstatic enthusiasm, he tries to approach the

gods directly. As he then
faith, Theoeiten attenpte

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Agathon has become disillusioned, however, with only one
individual and as such his basic orientation to life has
not been altered.

The spiritual relationship which Psyche and Agathon
cultivated at Delphi (the question can be asked, of
course, to what extent it was unconsciously erotic!), has
left an image in his heart, which is to sustain him in
his idealism for a long time to come. This image, like
Don Sylvio's butterfly, may chanfe from bright to dim
or even disappear trans torily, depending on the state
of his idealism. It is, of course, the image of somethinq
unattainable either as a spiritual or as an erotic lever,
for Psyche later turns out to be his sister.

Agathon's moral-religious Schwarmerei is charac-
terized by a selfishness. The divine experiences he
desires are an end in themselves. He seems only concerned
about feelinr flood and happy himself. His enthusiasm for
religion arouses no desire in him to share the happiness
to which he (spires with others. The desire to help
manifests itself later, however, when he becomes a
political Schwarner, especially at Syracuse.

Asathon's political involvement begins at Athens,
after fleeing from Delphi. At Athens he finds his father,
who informs him that he is by birth a citizen of Athens.
This fills the hero with a great sense of pride and en-

thusiasm. He is soon a passionately enthus'astic student

and follower of Socrates. The step to political success
is a short one for him with all the enthusiastic support
he receives from the Athenians--"das Volk fin: an, ihn
zu verrottern." (V, 75) The Republic is having difficul-

ties because a number of the Greek islands are rebellinfi

U]

a result of the oppression they suffer from the main-
land government. Afiathon idealistically advocates gene-
rosity, for Gree 3, he arrues, can only be great if she
behaves in a way that will please and attract other
peoples. He implements his plan for the islands and in
two years he is able to subdue the islanders completely--
a task which the Republic had been unable to achieve.
With his idealism and implicit faith in his compatriots,
his fall from public approval is, however, as rapid as
was his rise to fame: a few jealous men success ully
manage to arous: opposition to him. He has been too naive
and did not realize that his success would arouse envy.
He is accused of bein: haushty and todless and havin:
plotted against the .epublic. (V, 92) His sentence is
banishment from Greece. Like his experiences at Delphi,
this second experience fails to brinr him to trips with

.

reality and consequently does lot enable him to outfrow

his Schwarner condition. When he finds himself d'vested of
his powers and his dreams for Athens shattered, he
longinfily thin“s of his days in Delph arain. (V, 96)

This seeninsly futile experience is, however, a necessary

50

step to his political ex erience at Syracuse.

Arethon becomes involved politically a second tine
after he flees from Bnyrna and his Danae exierience. The
perplexin: political situation in Syracuse had come to
his attention and when he feels forced to choose between
returning to Danae or leaving for Syracuse, his recently
developed altruistic idealism wins out. He takes the first
ship departing from Smyrna and sets sail for Sicily.

In some ways the incident in Syracuse seems to be a
quick repetition of the Athens incident but there are
some noteworthy differences. Here, in contrast to Athens,
his initial motivating factor for becoming involved is
the desire to help a nation in difficulty. This would
indicate that he learned from the Athens experience, in-
asmuch as he is now capable of coins out beyond himself.
His activism is, however, still greatly influenced by
his naive, emotional enthusiasm and his decisions, as in
Athens, are still based largely on ideas rather than on
experience. Coupled with his desire to help is also a
spark of selfishness. Plato, who had been brought to the
court by Dionysius, had failed to acconplish what Ajathon
sets out to do in Sicily and now the idea occurs to his,
"wie schbn es ware, wenn Ajathon dasjenige zu stand;
bringen kennte, was Plato verjebens unternonnen hatte."
(VI, 9) His background for taking over the responsible

position given to him thus la ks soundness.

51

At the court of Dionysius Anathon again is quicPly
highly successful. The young ruler is as enthusiastic

about Agathon as Afathon is about helpin: him. Unlike the

Athens experience, our hero is now willins to be a poli
tical realist and compromise to a certain extent if this
will expedite the achievement of his goal; he even begins
to talk in defense of the monarchy (VI, 25) and, as it
were, condones some of the lustful practices of the prince,
both very much opposed to his idealism and undertaken
merely to gain the confidence of royalty. He thus seems
to have become inclined towards pragmatism.

As in Athens, Afiathon's success here is short lived.
It is difficult for him to face this defeat; he feels
that he had a divine call to his position and conse-

7‘1
If

quently he can say: "Ich k nnte keine andre einde als
Feinde des suten haben." (VI, 121) His defeat has actually
been brought about throufih the intrizue of a jealous
woman, Kleonissa. Asathon's fanaticism is still very
evident in his consequent reaction to the prince; like

the swing of a pendulum, his zeal for helpin? him turns
quickly to hatred for the tyrant. At this point, the
author evaluates the hero as follows: "Man sieht . . .

wie weit er noch davon entfernt war, sich von diesem
enthusiastischen Schwuns der Seele Heister genacht an
haben, der bisher die Quelle seiner Fehler sowohl als

seiner schonsten Thaten jewesen ist." (VI, 91)

52

Agathon's erotic experience at dmyrna follows his
disillusionment in the political arena of Athens and
serves as a type of escapism for the emotionally im-
balanced young man. Fleein: Athens he takes to the sea.
After an adventurous voyase, during which Amathon meets
Psyche briefly and is shipwrecked and captured by pirates,
our hero lands in Smyrna, where he is sold as a slave to
a Sophist, the wealthy Hippias of Elis. Agathon is at
first as Platonic and as much a moral Schwarmer as he
ever was. Although he is at first strenrthened in his
moral Schwarmerei as a result of his reaction against the
Sophisn of Hippias, he soon becomes, in his frustrated
attempts to attain clarity, an erotic Schwarmer as he
becomes acquainted with Danae.

Initially Agathon shows concern because his master,
Hippias, makes no effort to cortrol his sensual nature.
The whole environment with which Hippias surrounds him-
self is geared to arouse rather than to subdue the
passions. Avathon, who has developed an appreciation for
the arts while at Delphi, reacts a ainst and very strongly
disapproves of the paintinjs on the walls as well as of
the music, all of which combine to fern an intentions

spell to arous: the passions of those present. As one who

J

ria

r4
Ho

holds to idealisr ether than to pate

(

sn, this means
dander, for Aqathon can maintain his idealism only as

lon: as he nunbs any feelins or sensation borne of sensual

53

materialism. Enthusiastic idealism and sensuality, or, in
other words, Platonis m and Sophism, are incompatible.

It is the hero's ilealis m which prevents him from
communicatin3 with others as well as with himself. His
idealism makes him blind to visible reality. It is ob-
vious to everyone else, for instance, that he s really
in love with Danae lon: before he himself realizes it.
Hippias says that A3athon belon3s to those idealists,
"die man nirgends fUr einheimisch erhennen kann, weil
ihre floral eine Geset23ebun3 voraus setzt, welche nir3ends

vorhanden ist." (IV 113) A3athon enses that he is a
’

U)
{N

misfit in this world and actually 3lori es in this other-
worldliness attr buted to him. Se is not insulted by
nippial s, for from his su I erior va.nta 3e point (as he would
consid1er it) he can honestly say: "Die Weltleute sind
nicht zu verdenken, wenn sie 11s .21:h re fUr ein weniq
monds Uchti3 ha ten." (IV, 7%)

Durin3 his Smyrna experience there are two forces
attempting to effect a chanfie towards sensualisn and

Y

eroticism in A3athon--these are represented by hippies
and Danae. Hippias' attempts are apparently futile where-
as Danae can be considered successful.

Althou3h Hippias appears as the antipode of Asathon,
there is one thini they have in conson--hoth are looking

for personal enjoyment. Here the similarity ends, for

where Ajathon attempts to achieve pleasure in the

spiritual-moral realm, hippias spa res no scans to find it

in this world. The

{-1-
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’71
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ws of hatll he attempts
to live by are the following:

1) Befriedige deine Dedflrfnisse,

2) ver3nU3e alle deine Sinnen,

3) ersparw dir so viel du kannst alle schnerzhaften
Empfindun3en.

These are the direct denial of everything Ajathon held
dear and worthwhile. when Hipp as thei presents a care-
fully calculated arjument attemptinj to show A3athon

that the pleasures of the heart, above all, are sensuous--
for in brin3in? relief to another, one experiences at
least in part the same sensuous relief-brin3in3 feelin3--
it mahgs no impression whatsoever on the hero. hueh is at
stake for Hippias, however, for if Ajathon successfully

continues as a octhrier he is a livine denial of lmi

 

ophisn. Finally he states that what he has said so far
is S‘ .icie*t evid nee: "Ieh hate fenuf gesajt, um den
Zauher zu vernichten, den die Jchxarnerei auf deine Jeele
teworfen hat." (IV, 122) Lite Don leio, A athen new

I \p ‘ Q- s . -~ 7“ u or ‘. J. - ‘ -~r
re1ers to his eiperieace w;en con ron ed ti,h an arflunent

 

intended to dissuade Win fret his fishy?“ 'rai: hr u. go:
accept what Hippias has said, "weil reine Erfahrunten

uni Erpfinlunfien leine “11"?“T widersprecnen." (I’ 1)
’I‘.-np1;._.r: than gao‘rras 9rye?ig:w(.>:1ts to expose Amathon to an

-'

experience 01 a this-worldly natuie ry sendinv his to

55

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“implies Tt‘wt 0111‘ hel‘u JV’V-n 003.10.”. "x, L 21‘ 1.) V'l’lwlu

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tor stlni, he QJCCLMJA) to .,1A
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.1

r , ' VJ. ‘- -“ ‘ , ‘ r" A n A~ ‘/\ , ‘
AOqucly Liwe sci that he ioes not even guess 1cr pro-

fession. (IV, 153) Danae tells him that she reefis him to

SUI)Ol“flSC the ggardeners, slthou JA- she is actually looking

0

_ ‘ - .2 a, (‘ . ~~ _- I ‘ .2: ‘2 5 I“ ‘ -. ‘
for a new lover after dis is in, Iyacintnus. lencath eel

1 3

'jiise sne has ifluz:finn convictior2ifirit she will
to transforx Unis spiritual loree into a pnysical lever,
for "so ist ein ¥eis:, dem ein artijes Kidchen von acht-
zehn nicht seinen Leis jehen kennte?" (V, 1&1)

Afiathon's experience with reality is now swift in
corin . A transformation begins to become evident
immediately when he sees Danae on the dance floor:

’5

"(er war) auf einnal so beredt, als er vorher tielsinnit
und stillschweigend gewesen war. Eine l chel nde Reiter-
keit schimmerte um sein Gesich '(IV,159) The irate of
Psyche he has been carrying in his heart, that symbol of
vir ina l purity and wholesome innocence is beginninj to
fade in favor of his new love. (IV, 160) That night,

however, he regains the image of Psyche. When Danae then

xives another per ornance (”cared to approachinfi A'athon

J

56

through} is appreciation for the artistic by a spectacle
of true Rococco splendour) he is so strongly a tract e«1 to
this irate of ties uty the he wanders to her quarters after

the performance and s ends all night with her. Now the

n'

imafie of Psyche has disappeared entirely and th s begins

a 1m ssionate love relationship between Danae ane Atathon.

The nature of this relationship, however, is not crassly
insual in the manner Hippias had predicted it, but a

tender and e110tional eVperienoe as befits a Schwarmer;

as such this relationship Chan es .sathon and Danae and

freatly perplexes Hippies.

The point has been reached where Asathon gives the
impression of hein: disenchanted, of havin: overcome his
excessive idealisx; the inaye of Psyche seems to have
teen succes s ully icplbc<l with a fleshly human being.

In Don Sylvio ,he novel ends at this point, that is, the
hero is merely dis-w1ched on a journey which will success-
fully fill the crevices in his mind left em ty by the
disappeafance of his idealism. In the case of A,athon, it

i

(i)

not so simple. The experience with Danae represents

an important stage in Afathon's life but it was insuf’i-
cient in helping him to achieve the state of intellifent
disenchantment he is destined ior. while he loves Danae
sincerely, he soon feels that this re ele tio - whip is not an
end in itself. Before lon: he begins to question whether

his new life--it is vastly different from his former life:

57

"Afiathon war jetst ffihii ”shre Jtnnien, vanse Tar“ in
sartlicher Trnnienheit werzutandeln" (IV, n07)-—is
actually worthy of manhood. (V, 117) Then Hippies, per-
haps out o? jealousy or perhaps tryinx to turn Atathon
into a hardened sensralist, now that as has erperiencei
the love of a woman, tells A athon ahont Derae's past.
This is too much For Atathon. He had still heen as such
in love with an ideal or unreal Danae as with a flesh an?
tloofl Danae and when he is foreei to face the reel

‘ Q C . . fa _-\ ‘ r J. ‘ t '1 ‘- ,_ I ,3 ' '
hetaera, me is untillinu to vecept ner pest. 4e xQSplSUS

her anfi "sohald er sich :eswnnmen sah, sie zu verachten,

H.)

horte sie auf Danae fur ihn 8n Seyn; n” dnrch eine “ans

er nfinliehen Anfentlicfie

accompanied ty 8 return of the imete o? Psyche in his
heart.

Afte~ his defeatin" experiences at Delphi, Athens,
Sryrna and Syracuse, our hero's implicit faith in rankind
is badly shattered. The experiences w th Pythia and
Danae disillusioned him only with two specific irdivi-
duals and with what they represented. He has also suf-
fgred defeat twice when worfiinr in a political situation.
Now he is ready to hecone a n-santhrope. As he sits in

jail in Syracuse the ideas of Hippies slwost make sense

U.

3 .‘ ,f . J- ' . ‘— L‘A .‘.. ’\-_ . ‘ ’.-J ‘nr Qr‘ ' ‘L n ~A' J-‘,\ ~
93 t3@ JOflHlS\ V181 S JLO l_pf SDlua h9,fi, fiat" ntJ .33

 

58

realizes that he can never accept this answer of complete-
ly selfish livinr. He closes the door on SophiSh forever.
He has lost his idealism and enthusiasm. If it can be
replaced with somethint constructive he will be cured;

if not he will fall bach.

When disillusioned at Syracuse, Atathon is diverted
to Tarent, on the Italian mainland. It was Archytas who
had requested the release of Asathon and it is with this
wise mentor that Asathon is to have a decisive encounter:
"Archytas oder sonst niemand, konnte ihn van een leidi—
Ken Zweifeln befreien, flie ihn seit jenen Zeitraume die
erhahenen Grundlehren der Orphischen Theosophie, in
welchen er erzoren worden war, und mit ihnen cie selis—
sten Geffihle seiner Jurenfl verdachtit :emacht hatten."

(VI, 290) His experience in Tarent is inieed portrayed

SD
0)

the fulfillment of his childhood aspirations in
Delphi. In Archytas he fines the friend of the sane sex
he had loneed for ani throurh an understandint of Or-
phism, now at a different level, he achieves a peace of
mini and soul.

When Afathon meets Yippias in prison his faith in
his own species has been shatterei, yet he is still
clinring to the image of his ideal, Psyche. This too is
shattered when he discovers that she is the dauthter-
in—law of Archytas and his own sister ans as such must

cease to he an ideal. Thus, he becones disillusioned with

59

the real and unreal. It is in this state of mind where,
through the congenial association (VI, 326) with one who
understands and appreciates him, that Agathon can start
from scratch, pick up the pieces, and finally arrive at
peace with himself by achieving the harmony of heart and
mind advocated by Archytas. Archytas, although he dis-
approves of Agathon's skepticism when he first meets
him, has dedicated himself to help him because he sees
here an individual with potential, who is worthy of
help:

. . . zu diesem hoffte Archytas ihm selbst um so

gewisser verhelfen zu kennen, da er noch nie einen

Sterblichen gefunden zu haben glaubte, der einen

hellern Sinn fur Wahrheit, mit einer so reinen Liebe

zum Guten und mit einem so herzlichen WiederWillen
gegen Sophisterei und Selbsttauschung in sich

vereinigt hatte, als Agathon. (VI, 284)

The harmony of heart and mind, as advocated by
Archytas, proceeds from the statement of the Delphic
Apollo: Know thyself! The first step is the realization
that one consists of two natures, the animal and the
spiritual. Neither must be allowed to stand by itself:
Hippias would be the personification of the animal reign-
ing, the early Agathon the personification of the spirit
reigning alone. Man has the fortitude within himself to
bring the two natures into the proper relationship with
each other, although most individuals do not succeed in

the long battle which this involves. The animal nature,

destined to serve, becomes elevated as the spirit fulfills

60

its obligation by ruling over it. The spirit, by aligning
itself in this way with the animal, in turn loses those
tendencies which could lead to excesses. This understand-
ing of self will lead the individual to a new view of
himself as a person within creation and will fill him
with a sense of diqnity--"die WUrde eines Burgers der
Stadt Gottes, die mich zum Genossen einer hohern Ordnung
der Dinse macht." (VI, 315) Ascribing such supremacy to
the spirit in pantheistic religion, Archytas is quick to
point out, could again result in degenerating into
irrationalism and Schwarmerei; the pantheist, however,
has two maxims to live by, both based on activism,

which would prevent any unhealthy schwarmerisch out-

 

growth:

1) bei jeder Aufforderung der Pflicht eben so zu
handeln und meiner selbst so wenig zu schonen,
als ob alles bloss auf meine eigenen Krafte
ankame, und nur nach gewissenhafter Erfullung
dieser Bedingung mich eines hohern Beistandes
gewiss zu halten

2) unqeachtet meines Glaubens an den Zusammenhanq
unsers gegenwartipen Lebens mit einem zukflnf-
tigen, welches den Schlflssel zu allem, was uns
in jenem unerklarbar ist, enthalt--mein degen-
wartiges Leben als ein Ganzes zu betrachten, ihm
eine eben so grosse Wichtigkeit beizulegen . . .
als ob mein qanzes Daseyn auf die Dauer dieses
Erdenlebens eingeschrfinkt ware. (VI, 322, 3)”

 

4This solution to the problem of Schwarmerei, as
advocated here by Archytas, is a solution which is in
sound agreement with the philosophy of the Enlightenment.
Cassirer points out that the period of the Enlightenment
seems to be "an era of pure intellectualism, that it

61

Agathon experiences the conviction that the example
set by the congenial Archytas, as he practises his own
philosophy, is worthy of emulation. The hero sheds his
naive idealism, his misanthropic tendencies, and conse-
quently his Schwarmerei. He soon becomes the image of
Archytas in his whole attitude.

While the ending is somewhat idyllic, it is very
clear that Agathon has achieved an equilibrium through
the synthesis prescribed by Archytas. Where he felt com-
pelled to act politically before, even though he had
neither the experience nor the insight, but acted rather
out of idealism, he is now willing to retreat into a
certain intellectual passivity. This does not indicate a

lack of involvement, for he is ever aware of Archytas'

 

unconditionally upholds the primacy of thought and pure
theory. In the formation and development of its religious
ideals, however, this view is by no means confirmed."
(Ernst Cassirer, The Philoso of the Enli htenment
[Princeton, 1951]. P. 1 5.CThe remaining citations in
this footnote are from the same source.3) He then con-
tinues: ". . . the critical literature of the eighteenth
century strives for the freedom of an all-comprehensive,
a truly universal awareness of God." (p. 166) With the
acceptance of natural religion the tolerant man of the
eighteenth century could accept other religions, for
behind these he saw natural religion; Archytas is able
to advocate Orphism and Pythagorism, therefore, because
he sees natural religion behind it. Also "religion is
not to be a matter of receptivity; it is to originate
from, and to be chiefly characterized by, activity . . .
It is not supernatural power nor divine grace which
produces religious conviction in man; he himself must
rise to it and maintain it." (p. 16h) And "there can be
and must be no radical difference between morality and
religion." (p. 167)

62

prescription against Schwarmerei: "Gegen diese Krankheit
der Seele ist Erfflllung unsrer Pflichten im bdrgerlichen
und hauslichen Leben das sicherste Verwahrungsmittel."
(VI, 321) He is marked with sincerity, honesty and
objectivity, and, like Archytas, is an individual "der
nichts scheinen wollte als er war, und an welchem das
scharfsichtige Auge nichts entdecken konnte, das man
anders hatte wunschen kennen." (VI, 1&7)

Whether Archytas' synthesis is entirely successful
is open to question. Ernst Rose states that this is a
solution which "is more philosophic than poetic."5 Indeed,
one might ask if Archytas is not possessed with a some-
what too high idealism. As P.A. Graber6 suggests, he
seems more like a "paper hero" in whom the presence of
the flesh is almost absent because of the dominance of
the spirit. One also wonders why the hero can not work
out any other arrangement with Danae than to consider her
his sister, if he has achieved the desired synthesis of
the two natures.

In retrOSpect, Schwarmeggi is portrayed as the

enemy of man in this novel. It is a stage that must be

 

5Ernst Rose, A History of German Literature, (New
York, 1960), p. 152.

6P.A. Graber,"Religious Types in Some Representative
German Novels of the Age of the Enlightenment'(disserta-
tion, University of Iowa, 1953), p. 234.

63

overcome. The Schwarmer is incompatible with the well-
trained man who possesses an equilibrium, for where the
latter must make a contribution to society (even if only
in a small sphere of influence, as in the case of Ar-
chytas) whereas the former can only withdraw into him-
self and become a hermit. Even though excessive enthusiasm
is an enemy, it is, however, not portrayed as the worst
enemy of man. The most ardent antagonist of Agathon's
enthusiasm is Hippias, yet, as Wieland says in the
Vorbericht to his 1794 revision, the whole novel is to be
considered a denial of Hippias' thesis. (IV, XII) Agathon
deliberates as follows concerning Orphic theosophy and
Sophism: "Aus diesem Gesichtspunkt dauchte ihn der
Enthusiasmus des Theosophen zwar unschadlicher als das
System des Wollfistlings." (V, 172-3)

As in Dong§ylvio, it is not denied that good can
come out of Schwarmerei, for Wieland says of Agathon,
that it has been "die Quelle seiner Fehler sowohl seiner
schonsten Thaten." (VI, 91) What Nieland means here is
that Schwarmerei serves a beneficial role as a creative
force which unleashes fantasy and the imaginative element
in the artist. What is rejected is, of course, not an
unqualified Schwarmergi or enthusiasm but rather a
digressive or unbridled enthusiasm; Wieland rejects this
kind of enthusiasm in the same way that he rejects patent

rationalism. The answer given by Archytas consists of a

6M

synthesis of the rational and the emotional. The irra-
tional element tempered by reason need not create any
fear concerning deterioration into religious or demonic
Schwarmerei for, "es hangt ja bloss von uns selbst ab,
dem Hange zum Wunderbaren die Vernunft zur Granze zu

setzen." (VI, 319)

CHAPTER IV

DER GOLDENE SPIEGEL

In 22; goldene Spiegel Wieland concerns himself
basically with the political problem. He also deals with
religion but mainly insofar as it relates to the welfare
of the state. While this novel is a frametale, in which
Danischmend and Sultaness Nurmahal tell bed-time stories
to Shah Gebal, it is essentially a dialogue between
Danischmend, who has an idealistic or theoretical politi-
cal orientation, and Gebal, a somewhat slovenly and
selfish yet pragmatic ruler. Unlike many of Wieland's
other novels, Schwarmerei as such is not the main and
sustaining theme in this novel; the word Schwarmere;
seldom occurs. Wieland writes as an enlightened educator
of mankind and as he attempts to portray how the ideal
state could be achieved, it becomes amply clear that he
is concerning himself with the problem of overcoming
irrationalism and those qualities associated with
Schwarmerei. It is somewhat perplexing, however, that

Danischmend is in the end imprisoned by Gebal.

65

66

The first of the two political utopias described is
the idyllic small nation, composed of 500 families who
live by the nature teachings of Psammis. They are called
die Kinder der Natur. The emir of Danischmend's story,

a man, who at thirty-two is senile because of unnatural
living, stumbles upon this nation quite by accident one
day when he is lost. There he learns about a way of life
which is very different from his own. There moderation
and voluntary abstinence are the rule. (VII, 72) This
form of living, namely obedience to the laws of nature,
is the only preventative for becoming a sick and ailing
person, whom Wieland elsewhere would call a Schwarmer and
and who is here described as follows:

Ein kranker oder krankelnder Mensch ist in jeder

Betrachtung ein ungluckliches Geschopf. Alle Krafte

seines Wesens leiden dadurch; ihr natUrliches

Verhaltnis und Gleichgewicht wird gestbrt, ihre

Lebhaftigkeit geschwacht, ihre Richtung verandert.

Seine Sinne stellen ihm verfalschte Abdrflcke der

Gegenstande dar; das Licht seines Geistes wird

trflbe; und sein Urtheil von dem Werthe der Dinge

verhalt sich zum Urtheil eines Gesunden, wie

Sonnenschein zum dustern Schein der sterbenden

Todtengruft. ( VII, #3)

This is a nation concerned about the harmonious
life of each individual. Cooperation with nature is the
basis for its constitution. The physical beauty of the
citizens of this nation has not been improved only by
selective mating, in that the beautiful girls of a

neighboring nation have been attracted as wives for

their own young men, but also by followinj the teachings

67

of Psammis. Strong passions are to be avoided, for these
leave an indelible imprint on the human figure. The ear
is to be attuned to "kunstlose, aber seelenvolle Melo-
dien, aus welchen schone Gefuhle athmen, die das Herz in
sanfte Bebungen stellen." (VII, 76) Every individual
must learn to do something useful and the products of
his labors must reflect the laborer's relationship to
nature. And among the most pleasurable experiences of
the citizens of this nation is the joy of hard-earned
rest after labour.

The second political state, Scheschian, is dealt
with in much greater detail than the first. Scheschian
has not always been a utopia; it has had its political
and religious problems, which are very severe under
certain rulers and are solved only under Tifan. Under
this well brought up ruler this state reaches a very
ideal level. This nation does not live by the nature
teachings of Psammis; it is rather a monarchy with a
benevolent ruler. This monarch wavers between absolutism
and the freedom that goes with republicanism. He also
believes in a form of cooperation with nature; the
constitution he sets up is reported to contain the laws
which nature itself had written in Tifan's soul. (VIII, 85)
Here, however, there is compulsion. Everyone in his

kingdom, for instance, who has reached physical maturity,

is required to marry, for the king's primary purpose is

68

to encourage the multiplication of his subjects. This not
only produces the desired population explosion but also
completely removes the problem of illegitimate births.
This monarch has also introduced an income tax in an
effort to distribute the national wealth more evenly and
required equality of professions. Tifan keeps a frugal
household, has the good of his subjects constantly at
heart, respects everyone who can do any task whatsoever
better than he can do it himself and receives and de-
serves the loyalty and love of all of his subjects, whom
he has filled with a new sense of self-confidence and
given a new belief in their country again.

While the author has been describing these political
utopias, he leaves the question open in the end and does
not say that one of these is superior to the other; he
does not even say that either of these is actually good.
The former portrays a highly idealistic, indeed an almost
schwarmerisch concept of the state. It is unrealistic,
since this small nation has to depend on at least twenty
other larger nations to enable it to live as it does.
This makes it appear in an unnatural light. The question
must be asked whether the initiation of this type of
political set-up would be possible on a larger scale; if
it is not, it is not the satisfactory answer to the
problem of helping mankind in general to achieve a

greater degree of harmony.

69

Nor is the Scheschian of Tifan an entirely satis-
factory solution to this problem. Through his political
system Tifan had hoped to establish in his subjects an
enduring self-perpetuating loyalty to the noble prin-
ciples he taught, yet all this collapsed the moment
Akbar, unsympathetic towards the goals of his predeces-
sors, became king. As later in Die Abderiten, Wieland
here expresses serious doubt about the possibility of
educating mankind. Danischmend finally says about Tifan's
constitution that it was a "gar zu schone, gar zu gute,
gar zu vernfinftige . . . fur so alberne Tiere als die
Menschen sind." (VIII, 252) Later he says half-heartedly
at one point that "die schlechteste Remierungsform . . .
immer besser ist als gar keine." (VII, 158)

Turning now to the religious elements in this
novel, Wieland's concern for bringing the rational and
the irrational together again becomes very obvious. In
the brief portrayal of die Kinder d2; flatur there is no
reference to traditional religion. Their religion is the
pursuit of and compliance with nature and consequently
they sense no division between religion and life, for it
is indeed one. There is, thus, no need for separate
religious contemplation.

In sharp contrast to these Kinder der Natur is the
emir who stumbled upon them. He is at odds with nature;

he cannot integrate pleasure and religion with life.

70

After he has seen this community he believes that no one
should be permitted to hear about it, for he believes
that the portrayal of such an ideal would lead to a
general loosening of morals. He becomes a dervish, a
priest who tries to control his subjects by keeping them
ignorant and attempting to force his moralistic teachings
on them. He has made the mistake of confusing his feel-
ings and emotions with those of the creator (VII, 86)
and sets himself up as a demi-god. The more he preaches
his morality, the more he becomes convinced of his own
righteousness.

This emir of Danischmend's story then provides the
occasion for a discourse on moralistic teachers or
priests. Danischmend sees two categories of these, both
of whom he considers dangerous and calls Giftmischer.
There is the arrogant moralist, whose soul, he says,
lies only in his blood. Secondly there is the bastard
who is bred by fanaticism and hypocrisy ("Zwitter von
Schwarmerei und Heuchelei.") (VII, 103) The emir would
probably fall into the second category, which is con-
sidered possibly the worse of the two. After this ex-
pression of dislike for the priesthood, the novel
continues with the story of Scheschian, where the
portrayal of the decaying inroads produced by a schwar-
merisch and hypocritical religion is not lacking.

The citizens of Scheschian, long before Tifan comes

71

to the throne, are said to be highly superstitious and
to have a bad religion. Their religion is based on the
worship of a monkey. On the basis of his study of old
monuments, the priest, Ya-Faou Gargarix, extablishes
that the name of this monkey was originally written
Tsao-Faou (which means blue monkey) instead of Tsai-
Faou (red monkey), as was the then current practise.
(VII, 189) A deep rift consequently develops between the
so-called Blauen, those who agree with Gargarix, and the
orthodox believers, die Feuerfarbnen. It is a division
and a situation which is very reminiscent of the rift,
which Wieland later describes in.2;2 Abderiten, between
the parties of the donkey and the shadow. As did the
Abderites, so the citizens of Scheschian declare them-
selves in the manner of true Schwarmer for one or the
other party: "Eine Henge von Leuten erklarten sich mit
grosster Hitze fflr die eine oder die andere Partei, ohne
untersucht zu haben, wer Recht habe, oder zu einer
solchen Untersuchung gesohickt zu sein." (VII, 191)

This division results in a rivalry which begins to
corrode the very fabric of Scheschian. One ruler tries to
force his subjects to worship one monkey, the next ruler
the other one. When Lili, the mother of King Azor, builds
a blue porcelain temple for the worship of Tsao-Faou, a
blue monkey--obviously contrived by Lili--makes its

appearance in a cloud of smoke at the dedication service.

72

It becomes illegal to worship anything but the blue
monkey. Now those who still possessed reason were among
the first to laud the blue monkey, simply out of a desire
for self-preservation. This incident demonstrates well
how weak the effect of reason becomes when threatened by
Schwgrmerei and superstition. The tide reverses quickly,
however, and when the rebellious Isfandiar ascends to the
throne the worship of the red monley becomes compulsory
ajain, and this for no other reason than that his father
had favored the blue monkey.

The relationship between the Blauen and the Feuer-
farbnen comes to a climax under the reign of Isfandiar.
The most serious Schwdrmer portrayed in this novel are
the Blauen of this period. Tifan's unfriendliness towards
the Blauen seems to fill them with a feeling of self-

righteousness. They become religious Schwarner who fight

 

for an otheraworldly unselfish cause. In sharp contrast

to these are the promoters of religion at Isfandiar's

court. The attitude of the latter towards religion is as

follows:
Die Religion . . . ist eine nfitzliche Erfindung der
altesten Gesetzeeber, um unbfindiae volker an ein
unqewohntes Joch anzugewohnen. Sie ist ein Zaum fur
das Volk; die Beherrscher desselben mussten dem
ZUgel in ihrer Hand hahen: aber den Zaum sich
selbst anleéen zu lassen, ware lécherlich.

when comparing the two, the fanatical naive Blauen are

of greater danger to the state than the king and his

73

court, who are actually exploiting their subjects under
the suise of religion. The effect of the Blauen is
devastating, for they have become the rallying point for
various factions who feel persecuted by Isfandiar. This
leads to a fanatical revolt, a kind of holy war, which
harms everyone in the country. The Feuerfarbnen lacked
the divine Zeal and consequently could not pose the same
threat to society. Selfish action is portrayed as indeed
preferable to action resulting from fanatical, albeit
religious, motives.

Although the enthusiasm for religion has subsided
to a certain extent when Tifan becomes king, he inherits
a tradition according to which a large part of the pop-
ulation still believes in the monkeys. Tifan immediately
sets about to remove this condition and attempts to
achieve this in an intelligent and genuine manner. The
first step in this direction is to get the priests on
his side. He succeeds in this. He then continues by
attempting U0 bring the opposing factions together, for
it is the rivalry which keeps the interest in religion
alive, he realizes. (VIII, 200) Tifan requests his
subjects to refrain from this rivalry and the appeal is
successful simply because he explains to them to what
grief and misery this has led in the past. It was not
enough merely to subjugate the priests--they were com-

pletely useless to the kingdom and consequently had to

74

be removed. Many of them quickly realized their useless-
ness and voluntarily agreed to enter some respectable
profession. Their consequent examples of doing good make
it unnecessary for them to preach anymore. There is then
some reference to Tifan initiating a new kind of worship
service for all who desired to participate in it. The
core of this new religion was "vermittelst einer Art von
feierlicher Verpflichtunx auf die Grundwahrheit der
naturlichen Religion, zu besserer Crffillung ihrer
menschlichen und bdrjerlichen Pflichten verbindlich zu
machen." (VIII, 205)

By the natural relimion advocated here, Wieland
attempts to bring reason to religion. Nature is con-
sidered a reasonable element which, if pursued, will
bring man to his desired goal: "Lasst uns also der Natur
folgen; einer Fuhrerin, die uns unmomlich irreffihren
kann--unsere Ungeduld, unsre Gierigkeit in Geniessen,
unsre Unachtsamkeit auf ihre Narnungen, ist es, was uns
auf Abwege verleitet." (VII, #6) It is this obedience to
nature which brings a happiness that a political system
alone can not bring: "Zwar ist die Gluckseligkeit bei
dieser (i.e., a small nation, dependent on twenty other
nations) sowohl als bei jenem (i.e., a big independent
nation) das Resultat eines der Natur gemassen Lebens."
(VII, 96)

Natural relimion, which synthesizes Kopf and Herz,

75

is thus the answer to Schwarmerei and the party spirit,
rifts and superstitions which Wieland laments and
satirizes. In the same way that the author considers
mankind too immature to benefit from Tifan's political
constitution, so he expresses grave doubt about his
ability to accommodate nature. Nhile the pursuit of such
an ideal is beautiful and desirable, those who attempt
to promote it may well suffer the same fate that
Danischmend suffered. Practical society has no place for
such idealism. Danischmend and Gebal represent the
dichotomy in Wieland himself; it has been impossible to
synthesize these opposing elements.

In the final analysis, thoufih, dongle is probably
right when he says that Wieland should not be taken
too seriously in this novel.1 He considers this a
non-committal salon discourse written in the spirit of
the enlightenment. As such, however, it presents

alternatives worthy of analysis and discussion.

 

1
Senjle, Wieland, p. 260.

CHAPTER V
DIE ABDERITEN

In gig Abderiten Wieland portrays satirically a
community of people with all their foibles and follies.
They are Schwarmer because they tolerate and indulge in
all kinds of madness, superstition, and foolishness,
while living in a rationalistic age. One almost wonders
whether this is merely a community of fools and naive
citizens--Sengle calls this novel a Komedie deg
Narrentum81--or whether one can apply to them the terms

Schwarmer, fanatics or enthusiasts. The Schwarmer, as

 

Lange also points out, is structurally naivez, that is

to say, in the final alalysis the Schwarmer owes his

 

condition to his own choice. The fool, on the other hand,

is naive and is not aware of his own foolishness. Both

 

1Sengle, Wieland, p. 267.

2Victor Lange, ”Zur Gestalt des Schwarmers im
deutsch-Boman des 18. Jahrhunderts," Festschrift fflr
Richard Alewyn, ed. Herbert Singer and Benno von Wiese
(Cologne7Craz, 1967), p. 159.

76

77

r 5
"5

would seem to apply to the Abderites. It is often di 1-
cult to distinguish between their foolish Schwarmerei
and their enthusiastic foolishness! Their Leichtglaubig-
kgit.(gullibility, e.g., XIII, 100) smacks of foolishness,
yet their intense desire to have their senses stimulated
(XIII, 58) indicates a certain choice and as such marks
them as Schwarmer. The author himself refers to them as
Schwarmer on many occasions.

The setting of Die Abderiten is Abdera, a small
city in Thracia, which, in ancient Greece, enjoyed a
reputation somewhat similar to that of the German
Schilda with its Schildbfirgerstreiche. The novel has
neither a central plot nor a single here as such. Demo-
krit, the only sensible Abderite, is very much at the
center in the first two books but then diminishes
steadily in importance during the course of the novel.
The only unifying element are the fanatical Abderites as
a group, for each one of the five books tells one inci-
dent out of the lives of these people, each incident being
more or less unrelated to the other as far as a plot is
concerned.

During the course of this novel Wieland proceeds
deliberately and digresses frequently as he creates a
well-rounded description of the behaviour of the

Abderites as it applies to the ramifications of their

excessive enthusiasm ("Wir haben gesehen, dass die

78

Abderiten Enthusiasten waren." XII, 15). That this
enthusiasm and fanaticism governs every aspect of their
lives, is shown here especially as it relates to their
cultural life, their political life and their religion.

The Schwarmerei dealt with in the first three books
(i.e., the books on Demokrit, Hippokrates and Euripides
respectively among the Abderites) relates in particular
to the cultural life of the Abderites. When the author
first introduces the Abderites, he mentions their
enthusiasm for the architecture of their city, but this
is by no means the only aspect of cultural life to which
they react in a fanatically enthusiastic way.

When the Abderites sit in the theater their fertile
imagination gets the better of them. They never tire of
seeing themselves portrayed in the family scenes of their
writer Thlaps. They forget reality and fancy themselves
in the midst of an actual situation concerning their own
relatives. (XIII, 2&0) This identification with what
they hear is also very evident when Demokrit, the
returned traveller, tells the young female Abderites,
who possess an unusually lively fancy, what he saw on his
journeys. The author, as though he had an insight into
the fantasy world of young ladies, describes the
conjured image of one of these listeners as follows:

. . . die gute Dame (schwamm) einige hundert Keilen

weit von Abdera unter einen athiopischet~Rosenbaum
in einem Meere der shssesten WohlgerUche, (horte)

79

tausend neue Vogel das Glflck der Liebe singen, (sah)

tausend bunte Papageien vor ihren Augen herumflat-

tern und (hatte) zum Uberfluss einen JUngling mit
gelben Locken und Korallenlippen zu ihren FUssen

liegen . . . (XIII, 31)

This fantasy and hypersentimentality then results
in overt emotions and reactions. Demokrit's young female
listener swoons, as a result of which the returned
traveller decides to make any future accounts of his
travels very dull, in order not to give his listeners
the impulse for such extreme reactions again. As they
watch the Thlapsodien on the stage, the emotions of the
audience are almost as overt:

I . . . als ob es ihre nachsten Blutsfreunde gewesen
waren, betrflbten und angstigten sich, hofften und
fflrchteten, liebten und hassten, weinten und lach-
ten, wie es dem Zauberer, unter dessen Gewalt sie
waren, gefiel--kurz, Andromeda wirkte so ausser-
ordentlich auf sie, dass Euripides selbst gestand,
noch niemals des Schauspiels einer so vollkommen
Empfindsamkeit genossen zu haben. (XIII, 240)

And on their way home from the theater they straggle
along, not yet recovered from their emotional experiences,
loudly declaiming passages from the performance which

had been especially meaningful to them.

The Abderites are also characterized by a strong
desire to have fantasy and senses stimulated--they want
to be moved. "Wir sind zufrieden, wenn uns ein Dichter
ruhrt. Der Mann, der uns lachen oder weinen macht, ist

in unsern Augen ein gottlicher Mann," (XIII, 58) they

say. They also put much weight on the desirability of an

www-

- ~~ -332. "'1 _' _' 3 _

 

 

80

illusion on the stage. Their objection to Perseus, who
comes flying onto the stage in the shoes of Mercury, is
that the ropes used were all too clearly visible. They
desire to have their ears tickled and were hoping that
Demokrit, upon his return from his journeys, would tell
them about such things as white Negroes and blue cen-
taurs. (XIII, 2b)

The attitude of the Abderites towards every aspect
of culture is simply the childish one of whether or not
it produces pleasure. Something that stimulates them
pleasantly is greeted with great enthusiasm, yet they
would be quite incapable of giving the reason for their
reaction; Demokrit tells them: "Gleich der Unmfindigen und
Sauglingen ist euch alles gut und schon, was eure Sinne
kitzelt, was rnnfllgefallt . . . Wie verlegen wflrdet ihr
sein, wenn ihr sagen solltet, warum ihr dies liebt und
jenes hasset!" (XIII, 62)

Another quality dealt with as it relates to their
cultural life is the gullibility of the Abderites. They
are frequently described as leichtglaubig and they lack
any standard for determining what is true and what is
false, what is good art and what is not. Despite the
lack of such a standard, they see no reason why they
should not always be convinced about and have definite
opinions on matters for which they have no understanding.

Nor is it difficult to persuade them to go from one

extreme to the other. (XIV, 117) They are thus the ready
target of many a joke the outsider would play on them,
notably Demokrit, who is actually an outsider in Abdera,
because of his exposure to the world:

Nan konnte in der Tat nicht lange unter den Abde-

riten leben, ohne in Versuchung zu gerathen, ihnen

etwas aufzuheften. Ihr Vorwitz und ihre Leicht-
glaubigkeit auf der einen Seite und die hohe

Einbildung, die sie sich von ihrer eigenen Scharf-

sinnigkeit machten, auf der andern, forderten

einen gleichsam heraus . . .; und da die Abderiten

albern genug waren, alles, was er ihnen ironischer-

weise sagte, im buchstablichen Sinne zu nehmen, so
entstanden daher die vielen ungereimten heinungen
und marchen, die auf seine Rechnung in der Welt
herumliefen . . . (XVII, 9b)

Concerning the philosophy of the Abderites, it is
immediately obvious that life for them has no insurmount-
able problems. They have philosophers and these impress
their hearers duly, but besides a few long, meaningless
words, these men really know no more than the average
Abderite. (XIII, 82) There seems to be the tendency to
give one answer to all problems. Their emphasis on music
at one point is indicative of this, for they considered
music as the foundation not only of their system of
ethics but their physicians also brouHht about cures by
means of various tunes and melodies. (XIII, 17)

The picture one gets of the Abderites is that they
are sick. In fact, Hippocrates--although the remedy of a

shipload of hellebore he prescribes for them is a

prank—-diagnoses them as sick and states that they are

-82

not aware of this. (XIII, 153) And yet the Abderites
would declare Demokrit, because he is so different from
them, as mentally ill. They lack a sense of values, they
do not know the meaningful from the meaningless, and they
think they have art when they have no art. They make
fools of themselves when they perform on the stage and
yet do it in the name of great art. They are unable to
differentiate between the first poem of an untalented
beginner and the great odes of Pindar. (I, 17a)

Needless to say, the cultural life of the Abderites,
despite the fact that they themselves are so enthusiastic
about it, is something to be held in very low esteem.

It is well-nigh depressing that the best poet of Abdera
is always the one who says what the people want to hear
and says it in the manner in which they would have said
it too: he is able to titilate and delight simply be-
cause he is the prototype of the Abderites.

The political Schwarmerei of the Abderites is dealt
'with especially in the fourth book, namely in per Prozess
Inn des Esels Schatten. When Struthion, a traveling
dentist, hired a donkey and insisted on resting in its
shadow on the way through a hot desert area, the donkey-
driver informs him that he has rented only the donkey
and.has no right to sit in his shadow, since he did not
:rent that. This incident is the cause for a serious

political upheaval in the little town.

83

When the Abderites hear about the shadow incident it
does not take long until the whole town is divided into
two parties, the Schatten and the Esel. Everyone is vio-
lently in favour of one or the other of the two parties,
depending on which one he belongs to at the moment, and
proudly defends its name. If a Schatten, for instance,
should all of a sudden find himself in a larger company
of strictly Eggl, he has three alternatives: the Schatten
could either flee directly, change his party allegiance
immediately or permit himself to be thrown out. (XIV, 38)
In their community relations a sort of shunning is prac-
tised; an Abderite would rather starve than go to a baker
of the opposite party to purchase a few pennies worth of
bread.

Their penchant for the sensational makes it possible
for an individual person, especially one like Agathyrsis,
who has "eine schwarmerische Hitze und eine gewisse
populare Art von Beredsamkeit," (XIV, 3b) to make himself
master of the Abderites. Agathyrsis, for instance, in-
fluenced a whole group of his fellow citizens to switch
their loyalty from one party, namely the Schatten, to the
opposing one, the‘Eggl. (XIV, 60) He required only a few
hours in which to bring about this change. These
Abderites were completely unaware of what was happening,
actually considering themselves to be impartial all the

time. Agathyrsis is able to ply and mold them, to have

I: *‘r‘rfio‘ 7' “(3‘ *‘h ‘: If“ ‘-."

81+

them almost completely within his own power.

The political concerns of the Abderites are limited
to the here and now; their fanaticism leaves them with a
very narrow range of vision and blocks out all compre-
hension for anything beyond their own political borders
or beyond the present. Their lack of historical perspec-
tive is shown especially in their reception of the
archon, Onolaus. Onolaus had a somewhat wider perSpective
than his fellow citizens, yet he receives no cooperation
when he proposes a plan for appeasing the two factions,
the Egg; and the Schatten. He alone fears that the
lawsuit concerning the shadow of the donkey, if pursued
any farther, will darken the reputation of Abdera for
many centuries. Members of both factions were blinded
by prejudices-~"der Parteigeist (hatte) alle Augen
verblendet." (XIV, 2&1) Onolaus, who sees beyond the
immediate situation, realizes that something like this
might have happened earlier and considers it essential
to go through the archives to see what solution might at
that time have been used to resolve such a partisan
problem. No one listens to him, yet his concerns and
behaviour at this point were exactly what convinced
posterity that here was one Abderite who had possessed
the wisdom essential to a person in an administrative

position.

The chauvinistic and hypocritical patriotism of the

imam

85

Abderites, described by Wieland in the chapter on
patriotism, is, of course, particular evidence of their
self-interest. (XIII, 49ff.) Although they did not
exactly consider all those living outside of Abdera to

be devils (as the Japanese reputedly did formerly), the

C.-. .5. .I_
VJ)!

Abderites fostered such a high opinion of themselves and
their state that they could not feature anything of any

importance whatsoever existing beyond their borders.

'Amnf‘n—u -- -
n
A
u

‘2.

They congratulate themselves for being better than
others. (XIII, 50) They are so blindly enthusiastic
about their own little domain that anyone who claims to
have found better customs or institutions in the outside
world is not considered a loyal Abderite. Indeed, a law
is passed, after Demokrit's return from abroad, which
forbids the young men from travelling to other countries,
lest they come back to Abdera disgusted with their own
city!

In Agathon, political Schwarmerei was characterized
by idealism. Agathon's political acts failed because
they were based on moving ideas rather than on ex-
perience. The political Schwarmerei of the Abderite is
lacking in noble and idealistic qualities, as useless as
they proved for Agathon. There is no action springing
from a desire to help. The Schwarmerei is so restricting
here that no need outside of self is seen. There is hardly

any idealistic reasoning involved. The whole division

86

over the donkey and his shadow only comes to an end

when, in a wild frenzy, all the people who have come to

the trial descend on the donkey as they spy him,

literally tearing him limb from limb. Then the cause for

all their troubles comes to an end. ?§
The only redeeming aSpect of the political crisis

thus overcome is that the Abderites laugh about it.

They feel extremely satisfied with themselves for '

having resolved the problem so creatively. They decide a

to erect a statue of the donkey, "das zugleich uns und

unsern Nachkommen zur ewigen Erinnerung diene, wie leicht

eine grosse und blahende Republik sogar um eines

Eselsschattens willen hatte zu Grunde gehen kennen."

(XIV, 116) They have, however, learned nothing from all

this and remain, therefore, as schwarmerisch as in the

beginning.
As for the religion of the Abderites, they find any

religion at all better than no religion: "Eine Religion

mussten Sie haben!" (XIV, 120) The most meaningful

religion for them, however, was one accompanied by

something visible and alive; simply a memorial or image

around which great celebrations might center would

have given the imagination inadequate stimulation and

satisfaction. (XIV, 120) When Strobylas then digs the

frog pond in the public park and the Abderites accept

the belief that these frOgs were the peasants of Latona

87

in their previous incarnation, this "religion" quickly
enjoys great popularity. Every good citizen soon has his
own little frog pond and does his utmost to protect these
divine creatures.

With their keen enthusiasm for this religion,

g

polemicism begins to spring up among the Abderites.
Under the influence of his religious fervour, Stilbon,
the priest, accuses Korax of having forsaken the faith (J
because he considers the frogs of Abdera to be nothing
but ordinary frogs.

While the practise of religion in Abdera seems but
a preposterous tragicomedy, the Abderites pursue their
sacred goal with great zeal and abandon. Their religion
of the frogs finally unites them so strongly that all
voluntarily submit to the leadership of the archon
Onokradius. Onokradius claims divine inspiration and
proposes that the human inhabitants abandon Abdera and
leave it to the frogs. They are without concern for the
future and bound together by common emotions and faith.
Before they depart they already see visions of the
'beauties of their new homeland: "Ihre leicht bewegliche
lEinbildungskraft stand auf einmal in voller Flamme.
bumie Aussichten, neue Szenen von Glfick und Freuden
txuqzten vor ihrer Stirne." (XIV, 195)

In Don Sylvie and Agathon the author takes great

Ixains to arrive at a solution to Schwarmerei. In Die

CO
CO

Abderiten, however, any attempt to show how these people

 

could achieve a synthesis of heart and mind is lacking.
The author is aloof from his subjects and merely observes.
During the process of the novel, however, he speaks to
the problem of Schwarmerei and, while the Abderites do
not change, the tone of the novel changes from despair
with mankind in the beginning to one approaching an
intelligent good-humoured acceptance of the status quo in
the end, which suggests at least a partial although
resigned solution to the problem.

In the beginning of the novel the idea is presented
that there is an inherently destructive element in
Schwarmerei. When the origin of the Abderites is
explained, the story of Diomedes, king of Thracia, is
told. Diomedes had such an exaggerated or fanatical love
for horses that he finally permitted his whole country
to be eaten by them. This element of self—induced
destruction is a criticism brought up on several
occasions in Die Abderiten. The Aberites, as examples of
fanatics, can not see destruction coming, and unknowingly
'welcome it. They consider themselves, for example, deeply
indebted to Strobylus, who duped them by causing them to
'believe that the frogs of Latona were especially sacred.
It is their fanatical enthusiasm for the frogs which
causes them to become sick and (XIV, 126) eventually

compels them to leave their homes.

I‘;"m

89

Phis novel also indicates pessimism over the possi-
bility of educating society in general to change from

Spiesstrgerlichkeit and Jchwfirmerei--the two always

 

seem to go together in this nevel--to a more intellitent
or rational state. Hippokrates has diagnosed the Abde-
rites as being sick, yet unconscious of their unhealthy
condition.

Not everything concerninj tie Abderites is pessi-
mistic, however. The author does not really hate the
Abderites,3 While Wie and is in Die Abderiten an ob-
server of Toren, Narren and dchwfirmer and, as such, is
set apart from his subjects, he nevertheless identifies
himself with them to a certain extent. The author's
portrayal of Demokr t suggests this identification; for
the greater part Demokrit is the observer, as Wieland
is the observer of society, but the rirror is also turned
briefly and we see Demokrit through the eyes of the

Abderites. Upon his return to his homeland, for instance,

 

3In one of his letters to Sophie von la Roche,
'Jieland writes: "Ma misanthropic n'est que factice;
j'aime naturellement l'humanit6 et les hormes (ce qui
pourtant fait deux sortes d'amour) et 81 j'aime aussi
a Iailler sur les défauts de l'une at les foiblesses
des autres c'est erdinairement avec douceur et dans
l'intention de lenr dire en plaisantant, des vérités
lltllCS, et qu'on n'ose quelquefois dire directement."
(As quoted by Fritfi Nartini in the "hachwort" in
Christoph hartin Wie and, Werke, ed. Fritz Kartiri 8
Hans Werner ieifferttlhnflxflh lifflffl, I.)

 

L.

r

 

 

,b llin .D r. iSvIHUn‘zt‘, I «If...

90

his compatriots regard him with great interest. They
want to hear all about his adventures. He does not
respond the way they expected him to respond-~instead of
telling them tall tales, which.was what they wanted to

hear, he gave them the impression that people were

'I’ :3
r .w-n

generally the same the world over-~and therefore he is
soon regarded as peculiar or queer. After one month the

relationship between him and the other Abderites

1 .,. ”up“
g
Q

deteriorates to the extent that they find each other
unbearable, as is the case with people, "die mit ihren
Begriffen und Neigungen alle Augenblicke zusammen-
stossen." (XIII, 49) They now have a reciprocal idea of
each other--the Abderites evaluate Demokrit in many

ways just as Demokrit evaluates them. One sees this, for
example, when they try to make a laughing stock of him
in the same way that he had formerly tried to do to
them.

Once this reciprocal attitude develops there are
ever increasing reasons for the Abderites to regard
Demokrit as peculiar, odd and fanatic. When he becomes
a hermit--and who but a fanatic or an enthusiast would
become a hermit under ordinary circumstances?--to flee
from the boredom of their company, (XIII, 69) they of
course interpret this as fleeing from the world. As they
observe how he occupies himself in the wilderness with

nature, dissecting plants and animals, being able to

91

foretell eclipses of the sun and the moon, they conclude
that something is wrong. Although there seems to be
little maliciousness on their part, the Abderites con-
sider him to be a.fiagr, a Scharlatan, and a Sonderling.

By thus causing Demokrit to take on the appearance of a

-

Schwarmer to a certain extent too, it is suggested that

perhaps Schwarmerei is not only a universal element but

-.- _ “
o I

also somewhat relative. The rational and the intelligent

Ii” 'F
0

also have their moments and aspects of fanaticism. The
hero thus approaches a solution to the problem of heart
and reason for, like the Sternesque hero, Demokrit is a
sort of verstandige; Sonderlin , one who embodies in one
person two opposites.

The disparaging image of the fanatical Abderites is,
at times, also mitigated by the contrasting rationalist,
who is not always described sympathetically. Stilbon, as
the calculating rationalist, has succeeded in subjugating
the Abderites to himself with his cleverly planned
system. Although he is not a Schwarmer like his compa-
triots, he is just as far removed from reality as they
are. Stilbon is compared to a philosopher who believes he
can determine the colour of the snow on Mount Hamus by
sitting down in the confines of his study and thinking
the matter through. Korax, who also represents an aspect
of the rational (but in contrast to Stilbon, his is an

enlightened view) is not depicted as entirely congenial

92

either. Korax has a passion for enlightening his fellow
citizens, yet he sees but one answer to the problem at
hand. Consequently he is criticized in the same way that
the unenlightened Abderites are criticized. It is unjust,
the author says, to consider everyone who thinks dif-
ferently from oneself as a dangerous person. Indeed, the
enlightened Korax is in his attitude still very much an
Abderite, the enlightened person or philosopher, by
inference, still being very human.

In summary it must be stated that the author has not
successfully resolved the problem of heart and mind in
Die Abderiten. He has tried, however, to arrive at an

attitude which will make it possible to live with the

situation. Little hope is expressed that the schwarmerisch

Abderites can be cured but, during the course of the novel
he learns to be tolerent of human nature and accept it
for what it is. By smiling at the foibles of human beings
and associating with people in spite of their short-
comings, Wieland has attained clarity for himself. As in
.Agathon he in a sense comes to terms with Schwarmeggi,
because it is closely linked with creative fantasy and
imaginative power, without which man ceases to be a vital

force.”

 

”Wieland's contemporary, Leasing, also refers to the
*rital creative force of Schwarnerei in his treatise
"Philosophen und Schwfirmer," written durinr the same

 

93

cv~“--.‘ ..-

‘4

 

period in which Wieland worked on Die Abderiten. Even the
philosophers, Lessing says, are not quite impartial
towards the Schwarmer and Enthusiasten, for they are a
constant source of new and gay ideas on which to philo-
sophize. He then gives the example of Leibniz, the
:rational philosopher, who really exploited the enthusiast
.and.said that, if for no other reason, one should at
Ileast read them because of the liveliness of their lan-
guafle.

CHAPTER VI

 

PEREGRINUS PROTEUS

Peregrin, the hero of Die_geheime Geschichte des
Peregrinus Proteus, is a Schwarmer, because he has been
unable to resolve two basic problems in his apprentice-
ship to life. The first has to do with finding a proper
love relationship with the opposite sex, and the second
is concerned with groping for a personal religion that
satisfies him.

With this novel Wieland is coming to the defense of
the little-known historical Peregrin. He believes that
Lucian (2nd. cent. A.D.) may have misinterpreted his con-
temporary, Peregrin, when he presented him as a fanatic
who was a hazard to his fellowmen, who were so prone to
permit themselves to be led astray by false prophets and

Charlatans.1 As Wieland lets Lukian and Peregrin converse

 

10hristoph Martin Wieland, ”Ueber die Glaubwurdigkeit
Lukians in seinen Nachrichten von Peregrinus Proteus,” in
Lukian, Sémtliche Werke, transl. C.M. Wieland & ed.
Hanns Floecke (Munich & Leipzig, 1911), II, 39urr.

94

95

with each other concerning Peregrin's experiences--the
whole novel is a long dialog between these two--Wieland
seems to say: "Let us take a second look at the Schwarmer

Peregrin; it might well have been this way."

A s _ I!
u";

The author gives two basic reasons as to why Pere-

”‘-

grin submits to Schwarmerei to solve his problems. On the
one hand, Peregrin has an innate inclination towards

this--he calls himself ”einen zum Enthusiasten geborenen

av—Mv— -‘W'f" r
:l
1

Menschen"; on the other hand, he owes his Schwarmerei to
his upbringing. Peregrin says of himself that his course
has been determined by the experiences and the environ-
ment of his youth. (XVI, 33)

Our hero grows up in a somewhat unnatural situation.
The father has to travel constantly and thus has no time
to train his own son. Consequently, his upbringing is
relegated to his grandfather. While Peregrin and his
grandfather can not be considered kindred spirits,
Peregrin is profoundly influenced by his grandfather and
the environment that surrounds him there. His grand-
father has a library filled with stories of miracles,
gods and heroes and he fosters an interest in all kinds
of Schwarmerei. He would, however, merely seem to have a
collector's interest in such things, having no inclination
to become emotionally involved himself. For the grandson,
however, this exposure results in complete abandon to

that for which he has a strong inclination (XVI, hi) and

96

it is indeed forming him for his entire life. When
Lucian later expresses surprise that Peregrin should be-
lieve so easily and be so quickly deceived, Peregrin says
that he has been accustomed to illusions since early
childhood.

As Peregrin tells Lucian of his experiences after
he grew up and left his grandfather, it quickly becomes
evident that he is not infrequently blinded to the
status quo by his illusions. This permits others to take
advantage of him and often leads to grave misunderstand-
ing of his intentions. While not entirely justifying
himself, Peregrin explains the combination of his own
misguided imagination and others trying to mislead him
as follows:

Ich bin getauscht worden, und habe andere getauscht;

aber Jenes immer unwissend; dieses immer ohne Vor-

satz: ich gestehe beides offenherzig; aber am Ende
ist es doch nur Gerechtigkeit, wenn ich sage, dass
ich zu beidem fast immer durch Anscheinungen ver-

leitet wurde, die so lebhaft auf mich wirkten, dass

ich sie fflr Wahrheit hielt. (XVII, 70)

The sincere pursuit of an illusory goal leading
sooner or later to a clash between real life and the
hero's illusions, and thus causing the hero to be a
Schwarmer, is illustrated at the outset of the novel by
the familiar conflict between erotic and Platonic love.
This episode begins with Peregrin's desire to help his

cousin Kalippe, who turns out to be a sort of Potiphar's

wife. Kalippe wishes to receive counsel from Peregrin,

97

her innocent, young and handsome relative, because her
husband fails to understand her. When it becomes in-
creasingly difficult to preserve the secrecy of their
counseling rendez-vous, Kalippe argues that the only

safe place they can meet is in her bedroom. When Peregrin
meets her there, he still considers himself to be her
counsellor. He is taken by surprise when a general alarm
sounds, proclaiming him as her illicit lover, who now has
to flee for his life.

With some variations, this theme is repeated in the
Mamilia incident and again in the hero's encounter with
Faustine. Mamilia poses as a goddess and employs various
cunningly designed contrivances in her attempt to attract
young men who desire theurgic experiences, hoping actually
to win them as her lovers. Peregrin quickly comes under
her sway but when crass reality breaks in upon him, he
leaves the scene directly. Much later Faustine lays a
wager that it would be possible to win Peregrin, now
turned ascetic, over to erotic love. Like Kalippe,
Faustine comes to him under the guise of seeking counsel;
she pretends to want to learn about spiritual love in
order to become a better wife to her husband, Marc Aurel.
When Peregrin then goes to her room to form an eternal
bond of spiritual love between their two souls, he shows
his inability to "recognize" her soul as he adoringly

falls before another voluptuous woman, whom he takes for

98

Faustine. Again Peregrin flees as it becomes obvious to
him that Faustine was merely trying to use him as a play-
thing.

In none of the cases mentioned does Peregrin flee
because he wants to avoid temptation; he does flee,
however, when it becomes clear to him that in his dealings
with the world he has been deceived. He will not consider
himself defeated, nor will he become angry with the one
who has deceived him; he will rather become disgusted
for having permitted himself to become deceived. When
it becomes clear that Mamilia's intentions with him were
of a strictly selfish nature, Peregrin says: ". . . so
fuhlte ich doch, dass mich dieser Fall nur erniedrigt und
besudelt, nicht zerschmettert hatte. Die Schwingen meiner
Seele waren nicht zerbrochen . . . Ich schamte mich . . .
eine Theatergottin fur Venus Urania genommen zu haben.”
(XVI, 152) Only after he has this feeling of disgust with
himself does he flee.

While Peregrin's concern for Gabius is concern for
one of the same sex, this experience, however, has similar
overtones of Platonic and erotic love. As in the case of
Kalippe and Faustine, it is again the hero's blind desire
to help that creates the predicament. He is impressed
with the potential of Gabius, the untrained shepherd
youth, and decides to educate him so that he will be able

to live a beneficial life. When Gabius receives an

99

invitation from Peregrin to come and live with him, this
shepherd boy immediately loses his innocent behaviour.
Only then does Peregrin realize that Gabius had certain
notions of what it meant to be invited to become the
companion of a rich young man. The father of Gabius
accuses Peregrin of having led his son astray, and in a
sense this accusation is justified. He has unwittingly
deceived Gabius but after that Gabius and his father try
to take advantage of the hero.

One is inclined to ask why the hero repeats the
same mistake over and over. While Peregrin himself on one
occasion expresses the idea that a humiliating experience,
referring to the Mamilia incident, (XVI, 152) could serve
to protect him from making similar mistakes in the future,
he is actually portrayed as incapable of learning from
his experience. Each incident, except his death, shows
him completely dedicated to a cause, and then he is de-
ceived. There is hardly any change in the way he handles
the first incident, that with Kalippe, from that of the
incident with Faustine, not long before his death. While
submerged in Schwggmerei the individual is too subjective,
too much influenced by his enthusiasm, to be able to see
the issues in broad daylight and to learn from experience.

In the same way that Peregrin experiences a conflict
trying to find an ideal form of love, so does he have

difficulty in finding a perfect religion. During the

lOO

course of his life he went from Orphism and belief in the
Greek gods to Christianity to Cynicism. He follows all
of these with equal abandon and yet always is primarily
a Schwarmer, continually searching in vain for a satis-
fying religious experience. As a youth his desire for
mystical and emotional experiences attracts him to
Mamilia and her promised theurgies. When he goes over to
Christianity, a new love for the mystical is aroused in
him. (XVI, xiv) In each instance Peregrin seems to be
attracted initially to a particular religion because it
promises to nourish his deepest emotions and inner
feelings; but in each instance he is repelled by its
rational and practical organization and by the selfish
souls of its leaders.

Kerinthus, the Christian, more than anyone else,
is guilty of deceiving and taking advantage of Peregrin,
however. He sees this enthusiastic young man as a tool
he could use in hastening the establishment of his
theocracy. After Peregrin has joined the Christians,
Kerinthus places a falsified Gospel of John in his hands
and dispatches him to the various groups of Christians or

Brfldergemeinen to urge them to join in a movement towards

 

consolidation. This is to result eventually in a sort of
theocracy, in which Kerinthus would play an important
role. He becomes disillusioned with this aspect of

Christianity when he begins to sense Kerinthus' plans.

101

He still clings to another element in Christianity,
which he had seen demonstrated in a naive and charitable
family of the Brudergemeinen and which he considered
true and unadulterated. His final break with Christ-
ianity, however, comes when this family sees him in-
nocently eating something or other forbidden to the
sect.

As demonstrated by his life, this Peregrin is an
enthusiast or Schwarmer through and through; whatever he
does, he does with ardent zeal and singleness of purpose.
He says of himself: "Wen ich nicht mit Schwarmerei
lieben, mit Entzuckung loben konnte, den musste ich mit
Abscheu fliehen, mit Bitterkeit tadeln." (XVII, 146) When
he gives himself to a cause, he wants to give himself
with complete abandon. When he joins the Christians, for
instance, he wants to give all his wealth to this group
and becomes very depressed when he is advised against it.
Later, as a Cynic, attempting to be the moral Hercules of
Thebes, he is willing to set his own reputation at stake
and is determined to become absolutely without feeling
towards anything said about him as he feels the weight of
responsibility on his shoulders. (XVII, 109) And finally,
he does not count his own life too dear as he places it
on the burning pyre, in the hope that this will help his
fellowmen by teaching them how to despise death.

Peregrin's idealism is, for a large part of the

102

novel, fed and symbolized by his mental image of the
Christians. Where Don Sylvie is encouraged in his pursuit
of idealism by the image of his imaginary princess and
Agathon by the image of Psyche he carries in his heart,
the impression Peregrin received upon his first encounter
with Kerinthus, who at that point symbolized for him the
true spirit of the Christians, is a sustaining influence
for our hero for a long time:

Mir war, als ob mich die Reden des Unbekannten

(i.e., Kerinthus) mit einer neuen Lebenskraft

angeweht hatten. Ihre Beglaubigung war in meinen

eigenen Gefuhlen und wanschen. Sie blieben mir, wie
sein Bild, immer gegenwartig--mit jeder Erinnerung
senkten sie sich tiefer in meine Seele ein, und

sein Abschiedskuss brannte noch lange auf meiner

Stirne. (XVI, 183)

It is the hero's unbridled zeal that fills him with
confidence in his power to overcome and resist temptation.
He does not flee when threatened by temptation but even
welcomes it, hoping to become stronger through exposure.
When he becomes a Cynic, he tests his resistance by in-
viting a beautiful hetaera to share his bed with him; and
she has no influence over him. This, says Lucian, he
would call true Schwarmerei, for by it Peregrin would
demonstrate that he has an immortal power to resist
temptation! (XVII, 127)

Peregrin, as a Schwarmer or a fanatic, is destined

to loneliness and isolation. While he longs for fellowship

with like-minded individuals, (XVI, #7) he realizes with

103

Plato and Jesus that the completely good and honest
individual-~and it is his ideal to be this--will be
misunderstood and become isolated because of what he is.
To this is added the fact that he pursues a law within
himself and thus does not take the civil laws into con-
sideration. (XVI, 50) His refusal to comply with society
sets him apart. He is indeed an Einzelfall; but so was
Plato as well as Christ. It seems clear that Wieland
thinks of Peregrin and Christ in the same way that
Peregrin and Dionysius think of Christ, namely, that
Christ's will was completely different from what it was
popularly interpreted to be and that he was indeed an
enthusiast in the most elevated sense. (XVII, 85) Such
an enthusiast, Wieland says, must be respected and held
in awe and must not be confused with the charlatan and
false prophet, who is bent only on deceiving.

It is Pererrin's eschatological hope that makes him
satisfied to endure the heartache and pain this world
inflicts on him. It is also this subjective hope that
gives him the desire to leave this world for a better
one. Disgusted with his earthbound condition, he willingly
terminates this life to be received into the next. His
final words are: "0 ihr nutterlichen und vaterlichen
Damonen, nehmt mich freundlich auf!” (XVI, 15) His belief
in the existence of another friendlier world urges him

on to encourage his fellowmen to despise death.

ion

The manner in which Wieland comes to the rescue of
Peregrin is a clear indication of the author's mellowed
attitude to Schwarmerei at this time. Earlier, in Der

geldene Spiegel, any naive religious Schwarmer was con-

 

sidered more harmful than a se-called Schwarmer who acts

 

out of selfish intentions. Here the naive Schwarmg; is

 

defended. Where Lucian has portrayed him as an adulterer
caumht in the act, as one who is trying to mislead a
youth, or as the murderer of his father (all this based
on hearsay), Wieland goes down the line and shows how
Lucian's motivation and intentions might have been of the
noblest quality, even though the appearance of his
actions, especially to the unsympathetic observer, could
have indicated the opposite. Under Wieland, thus, Pere-
grin remains a fanatic and an enthusiast but he rescues
him from disgrace and presents him above all else as an
honest individual. Peregrin convincingly defends himself
as follows:
Da es mir mit dieser ganzen Beichte meines aben~
teuerlichen Lebens bloss darum zu thun war, dich,
durch umstandliche Erzahlung dessen, was du nicht
wusstest, in den Stand zu setzen, von dem, was du
wusstest, oder zu wissen glaubtest, riehtiger und
billiger zu urtheilen; so kann ich es nun ganz
getrest dir selbst uberlassen, mich, we es vonnethen
ist, gegen den Verfasser der Nachrichten ven
Peregrins Lebensende in deinen Schutz zu nehmen.
Alles Missverstandniss hert nun auf, und Peregrinus
Proteus steht nun, als ein Schwarmer, wenn du
willst, aber wenigstens als ein ehrlicher Schwarmer
ver dir da. (XVII, 15a)

This respectable or honorable enthusiasm is con-

105

trasted sharply with a dishonest type of enthusiasm, for
these who try to seduce and deceive him are also a sort

of Schwarmer. Where the fermer's attitude, i.e., Pere-

 

grin's, is unnatural in its abandon to an idealistic
otherworldly cause, the latter's attitude is unnatural
because of its intense attachment or abandon to a this-
worldly cause. It is just as much a defiance of the laws
of nature for Kamilia to surround herself with her

lovers and her beautiful slave children, or for Kerinthus
to attempt to organize a theecracy intended to conquer
the world physically, as it is for Peregrin to attempt to
form a spiritual union with a woman whose body he sup-
posedly ignores or to let his own body go up in flames
for the benefit of his fellowmen. By this contrast
Peregrin's fanaticism, even at worst, is at least harmless
compared to the fanaticism of those who, through selfish
motives, try to deceive others. For the deceivers or
false prophets Wieland has nothing but spite.

If Wieland is thus defending Peregrin, the question
could be asked, however, why the here is not presented as
more victorious, for in each of the incidents related in
the novel he suffers a form of defeat. The most obvious
of these defeats is certainly the one he suffers at the
hands of Mamilia, where it is clear that he was unable to
distinguish between spiritual and erotic love. His death

is also marked by an apparent element of defeat, for

106

there is no immediate indication that he achieved his
purpose through it, for he is considered by most (as by
the unnamed orator in Lucian's version) (XVI, 13) a fool
(Egrr) or a mentally deranged individual. Yet his goal
had been the noble one of pre aring his fellowmen for
death by showing them how to despise death itself.
Actually Wieland gives no clear answer to the prob-
lem of Peregrin's defeats. It becomes clear, however,
that Peregrin must be understood as a seeker and as
such he is treated sympathetically by the author--at
this time he must have identified with his character-~as
he shows him maintaining his integrity in spite of each
apparent defeat. These defeats thus actually do not take
on the character of defeat. As compared to his earlier
works, Pereginus Proteus indeed shows a greatly mellowed
attitude towards the Schwarmer on the part of Wieland.
In Den Sylvie, for instance, Schwarmerei, while not
being portrayed as entirely bad in itself, is strictly a
stage to be overcome; in Peregrinus Proteus it is an un-
natural stage which is not overcome. To a certain extent,
however, it is something beautiful in itself, for it is
through the attempt to aspire to a divine level that the
individual is prevented from sinking to a level which is
less than human, as the transfigured Peregrin asserts.
(XVI, 2&) In the earlier novels the role of the humanistic

educators, such as Don Gabriel and Archytas, was a very

107

important one, but their counterparts in Peregrinus
Proteus (Dioklea and to some extent Dionysius) play very
weak roles. Dioklea appears to reason with Peregrin and
tries to open his eyes to the actual situation, but she
has no ideal to offer to Peregrin in exchange for his

Schwarmerei. Her only concern is Peregrin's personal

 

physical welfare, for she has selfish reasons in bringing
about his release from prison. She can only say: "Nein,
mein lieber Peregrin! du sollst nicht ein Opfer des
sehwarmerischen Eifers werden." (XVII, 53) Fittingly,
thus, Dioklea is only his physical benefactress. The
idealistic Peregrin despises her in Spite of any physical
help she gives him and flees from her as seen as he is
released from prison. (XVII, 60)

The whole issue surrounding Schwarmerei is thus de-
picted as much less black and white here than it is in
Wieland's earlier novels. The author would even seem to
express some doubt in this novel ever the separability
of objectivism and subjectivism, of Vernunft and Schwar-
ggggi. Lucian, who in his earthly life ridiculed the
enthusiast, new in Elysium and able to perceive more
clearly, almost expresses doubt over the fact that in
this earthly life Peregrin would have been less objective
than he himself. Belatedly Lucian realizes, ”dass es nicht
die Dinge selbst, sondern unsere dureh die Individualitat

bestimmten Vorstellungen von Ihnen sind, was die Sirkung

108

auf uns macht, die wir den Dingen selbst zuschreiben,
weil wir sie unaufherlich mit unsern Vorstellungen
verwechseln." (XVI, 95) In this life both were too
prejudiced to see clearly: "Wir waren beide zu ganz das
was wir waren, ich zu kalt, du zu warm." (XVI, 32)

This relativity of objectivity and subjectivity
rules out reason or Vernunft as an answer to enthusiasm.
Lucian advocates reason and so did Peregrin's friend
Dionysius, who invites him to give reason a try when
he finds Peregrin dejected because of his experiences
with Kerinthus. Dionysius has said: "Die Vernunft ist
der gute Damon der Hensohen," (XVII, 8%) but new, when
Lucian and Peregrin regard life in retrospect, it be-
comes obvious that that, which had passed as reason, was
also coloured by subjectivisn. Wieland, of course, had
to have the whole story of Peregrin told by the dead,
for, as he seemed to suspect concerning Lucian's version,
the living are too limited or subjective in their views
to present it accurately!

By transposing the whole dialogue between Lucian and
Peregrin to Elysium, Wieland, thus, has achieved much
that would seem to favour Schwdrmerei. Peregrin can now
say that he doesn't regret having gone into the world as
an enthusiast. And Lucian, who in his earthly life
ridiculed the Schwarmer, has now received a new impression

of Peregrin, for Peregrin has indeed experienced a varied

109

and interesting life. Lucian has to admit the truth of
Peregrin's statement: "Und doch lehrt dich nun die
Erfahrung, dass es nicht geschwarmt gewesen ware, wenn du
damals fiber diese Dingo gedacht hattest wie du jetzt
denkst." (XVI, 20) Lucian, speaking the last word, seems
almost convinced that there is a certain virtue in
Schwarmerei.

The author, however, does not justify his hero
entirely, for Peregrin has made many foolish mistakes.
Peregrin has, nevertheless, approached the truth, but the
truth has been difficult to comprehend; he could see
only "as through a glass darkly." This, as Sengle also
indicates, approaches a justification for Peregrin.2

In the final analysis it must be admitted, however,
that the author has here been unable to achieve a
synthesis of heart and mind. Peregrin's Schwarmer ex-
istence can not be completely justified, and Lucian, the
rationalist, although partly convinced of the values of
Peregrin's life, is not ready to become a Schwarmer

himself. Peregrin remains a Schwarner, albeit an elevated

 

one, and Lucian a rationalist.

 

2Sengle, Wieland, p. M35.

CHAPTER VII
AGATHODAMON

As in Wieland's Peregrinus Proteus, so the basic
problem in his Agathodamon arises out of the conflict in
the hero between a rationalistic, humanistic religion
incorporating selfish and ulterior motives and a religion
based on an emotional and Pietistic faith which allows no
hypocrisy. However, where Peregrin is an intuitive
religious Schwarmer, Aqathodamon is, until he retires,

a sincere calculating charlatan. In his old aqe Agatho-
damon is attracted to the entirely sincere Schwarmer
Christ; the hero can then find peace and fulfillment

only after he succeeds in synthesizing rationalism, which
heretofore dictated his every action, with the religious
Schwarmerei of Christ.

Agathodamon is the name Wieland has bestowed on the
historical Apollonius. Like Peregrinus Proteus, Aga-
thodamon is intended as a Rettunm (i.e., a sort of justi-
fication) for what Wieland considers a historically

misunderstood and misinterpreted figure. As in the case

110

111

of Peregrin, the actual facts surrounding the life of
Apollonius are not clear. Philostratus wrote the only
full account of his life around 200 A.D., or two hundred
years after the birth of Apollonius, who was a contem-
porary of Christ's. Philostratus' account is highly
romanticized and, on his own evidence, based on the work
of Damis, which was almost certainly only fiction. It is
also possible that Philostratus intended the account of
Apollonius' life to be a sort of pagan gospel to counter-
act the effect of the Christian gospel.1 Prohle2 says
that he was most likely only an adept magician or char-
latan and that, as a man supposedly endued with super-
natural powers, he had a wide following. In any event,
Wieland calls Apollonius the good spirit or Agathodamon
(from Greek agathos daimon) and portrays him as such.

The novel itself consists mainly of a series of
conversations between Agathodamon (who lives with his
sister, Terpsinoe, her husband Kymon, and their daughter,
Appolonia) and his guest, Hegesias, in an isolated
dwelling in the mountains. Agathodamon feels that his

role in life has ended and he now wants to confess his

 

1Arthus Hilary Armstrong, "Apollonius," Encyclopae-
dia Britannica (1966), II, 123.

ZLoebell in his biography of Wieland, as cited by
Prohle in Christoph Martin Wieland, Aristipp und einige
seiner Zeitqenossen, ed. and with an introd. by H. Prohle
(Berlin/Stuttgart, n.d.), LIV, iii.

112

experiences to his guest.

The hero begins with his youth, statinm that he was
born with an exaggerated ambition, which was fed by the
attention which he attracted wherever he went. To become
human to the fullest extent, i.e., to become everything
that it is possible for a human beina to be, is his moal
from early youth on. To this end he devotes himself to
extreme asceticism for some time and is consequently
attracted to the Orphics.

With his rational mind his relationship with the
Orphics is short-lived. He observes much corruption
there and becomes convinced that this order has lost
its relevance. Nevertheless, he stays on with this order
for some time, mainly to observe, for Aqathodamon has
decided to establish his own order for the purpose of
creating a new world. He feels that he has much to learn
from the Orphics that will be useful to him in the
carrying out of his plans later on.

Just how this new order will achieve its goals is
at first not clear in the mind of its founder. The whole
movement is enshrouded in great secrecy and owes its
strenqth to the unflinchin: loyalty of its members.
While this order hopes to banish superstition and igno—
rance by educatinj mankind on the one hand, it attempts
to improve conditions for mankind on the other hand by

manipulating at top political levels. Members of this

113

order infiltrate every city and important office of the
empire in true Freemason style. It is easy for them, for
instance, to dispose of the tyrant Domitian and to have
him successively followed by Trajan and Nerva.

As Agathodamon now looks back on his life he con-
fides to Hegesius that he has merely played a role and
has been untrue to himself. Everything he achieved,
despite the altruism of his intentions, seems to him
completely useless. His interventions, he is convinced,
have had no influence on the course of events. What
causes him to feel his inadequacy so acutely is the
example of Christ. Christ, the contemporary of Agatho-
damon, was that which Agathodamon only appeared to be.
Agathodamon's attempts to help his fellowmen by means of
his secret organization and well-meaning trickery are
completely put to shame by Christ, who brought about the
salvation of many by the simplest and most direct means.

This Agathodamon is, above all, portrayed as a sin-
cere person, despite the fact that he did not hesitate to
deceive his fellowmen. Like Kerinthus, he wants to free
mankind from all forms of oppression. Where there is some
question about Kerinthus' unselfishness, perhaps because
we see him mainly through the eyes of Peregrin, who con-
siders him only a great deceiver, there can hardly be
any doubt about Wieland's intention to portray Agatho-

damon as a completely sincere swindler.

11M

To enable him to play this role, it is necessary to
portray Agathodamon as an intelligent rational individual
who is in complete control of himself and has a keener
understanding of his fellowmen than these have themselves.
Kymon describes him as possessing these qualities: "Die
Natur schein kein Geheimnis vor ihm zu haben--und seine
Gewalt fiber sich selbst, und fiber alle Arten von Men-
schen, ist beinahe unglaublich." (XVIII, 97)

This human superiority together with the circum-
stances it creates (for wherever he went, he created a
sensation), encouraged him to become a "god." (XVIII, an)
He sets about to develop himself into the ultimate human
being, determined to become nothing less than the great
men about whom he heard from his pedahogues. He is urged
on by the questions: "Warum . . . sollt' es einem Men-
schen nicht mbglich seyn, alles zu werden was henschen
waren? Was ist dem unverdross'nen Fleiss und dem hart-
nackigen Millen unmoglich?" (XVIII, an) The resources for
achieving this goal he considers nature to have put in
man when he was created. Man must, therefore, have a
high esteem of himself and learn to utilize all the
powers within himself to the fullest. (XVIII, NS) He
must be educated to reason. Only thus can he become
truly free.

Agathodamon gradually comes to realize, however,

that the greater part of mankind is in a stage of child-

115

hood, (XVIII, 59) steeped in superstition and suffering
because of its bent to look for assistance in an outside
source, i.e., they are plagued with their inclination to
believe. Mankind must, therefore, be helped and educated.
But how? He comes to the conclusion that the only way
the human race can be approached is through beliefs and
superstitions, for this is the level on which everything
is interpreted. Under his own influence he now attempts
to see, "ob sich der Aberglaube dieser Leute, der ihnen
bisher so schadlich gewesen ist, nicht zu ihrem Vorur-
theil benutzen lasse." (XVIII, 79ff.) He does not object
if the people consider him a prophet and he soon adjusts
his behaviour in a willful attempt to create the im-
pression that he can perform miracles. He does not shy
away from any means, no matter how deceptive or even
uncharitable these may be, if he feels that they will
serve the purpose of helping mankind to become free in
the end.

The hero pursues his goal with a zeal and an enthusi-
asm which is unexpected in one so rational. This earns
for him the somewhat contradictory description of rational
enthusiast, for there is, indeed, a marked contradiction
in the life of Agathodamon. He is the openly declared
enemy of all superstition and Schwarmerei; (XVIII, 95) his
sole concern in life is supposedly to help mankind become

more noble. And yet he stoops to trickery and outright

116

deceit in order to free man from beinm a victim of these
very elements.

Christ, whose goal is the same as Amathodamon's
(namely, to set men free), is presented as entirely
honest in his approach to his fellowmen--in sharp con-
trast to Agathodamon's sincere pretension. At ninety-
five, Agathodamon, looking at his own life in retroSpect
and accusing himself of not having accomplished anything
in this life, says of Christ:

Ich wurde es vielleicht wenieer seyn (i.e., critical

of himself), wenn nicht unter meinen Zeitgenossen

ein Hann gelebt hatte, der das war, ohne alle

Geheimanstalten, Hunstrriffe und Blendwerke, auf

dem geradesten Wege und durch die einfachsten

Hittel, zum Heil der Hensohheit zu dtande brinfien

wird, was ich vermuthlich durch die meiniqen

verfehlte. (XVIII, 253)

In Peregrinus Proteus Christ is already called der
erhabenste Enthusiast, (XVII, 85) an idea which is
developed farther here. Christ is described as one who
believes in all sincerity in his calling and his good
works and actions are an outgrowth of his deep faith. It
is his enthusiasm which entitles him to be called a
god-man: "Wenn man einen Sterblichen, der mit einem so
hohen und anhaltenden Enthusiasmus beqabt ist, dass er
sich selbst und alles qleichsam nur in Gott sieht,
einen Gottmenschen nennen konnte, so hdtte wohl noch

niemand diese Benennune so sehr verdient wie er." (XVIII,

301) Here is a convinced enthusiast whose god controls

117

his every fibre and who has no self-made plans for freeing
his fellowmen. The pur ty of the life of this Schwarmer,
accordinr to this novel, would seem to become particu-
larly distinct in the hour of his death. (XVIII, 303-u)
In his dying hour Christ for the first time expresses
doubt about his being the Son of God ("my God, my God,
why hast Thou forsaken me?"). This doubt, however, does
not cause him to feel defeated; instead of demanding
reinstatement of the conviction that he really is God,
his final words indicate corplete commitment and dedi-
cation "Into thy hands I commit my spirit!").
Agathodamon nay feel that he sees throumh Christ-
ianity. He has grave nisgivings about it as he foresees
how it will 20 the way of all relifiions and aspire to
world-power. In spite of all this, however, he is
disquieted by his own rationalism when he sees the
impact which Christ, the Schwarmer, has had on his fellow-
men. He is so stronzly influenced by the purity of
Christ's enthusiasm that it moves him to abandon his
philosophy of self-sufficiency (where the individual is
considered to have within himself the sufficient where-
withal to trinz the two contendinj spirits into the
proper relationship necessary for achieving the hijhest

’5
)

possible goals in life)a for a philosophy that involves

 

3'x’hile still playing the role of a false prophet,

118

irrationalism and emphasizes a simple dependence on an
exterior power greater than himself. Now in his old age
he is willina to admit that fulfillment can come only
as he, a mortal being, submits to and assumes his re-
sponsibility as a part of a Pantheistic system, of which
he is a minute but important part:
Das allcemeine Leben der Natur drfinqt sich wieder
warm an mein Herz, ich webe in allem was webt, und
ffihle mich in allem was athmet . . . und mit
shssem Schauern umfasst mich die Geaenwart des
allgemeinen Genius der Natur, des liebeiden,
versoraenden Allvaters, oder wie der beschrankte
Sinn der Sterblichen den Unnennbaren immer nennen
mag, und ich bin—-m1t einem Worte, wieder was ich
seyn soll. (XVIII, 3M9)
Aaathodahon thus discredits the solution he con-

sidered valid in his youth-—a solution which was essen-

tially also that which Agathon accepted from Archytas.l‘L

 

Agathodamon verbalizes his philosophy as follows: "Aber
irriq ist es, wenn man sich diese so unqleichartige
Naturen als Ein Canzes zusanmenteschmelzt vorstellt . . .
Geist und Korper, Sinnlichkeit und Vernunft, verhalten
sich im henschen zu einander, wie die dehkraft zum Ange
und die Hand zum Willen. Ich betrachtete seine geistige
Natur als mein eigentliches Ich; und meiner Natur gemass
leben, hiess mir, das thierische Leben dem geistigen
derqestalt unterordnen, dass dieses so wenig als moglich
durch jenes gestort und eingeschrenkt werde." (XVIII, 50)

uThis change in Aeathodamon's philosophy has a
distinct parallel in Wieland's own life. Reichert
(Herbert w. Reichert, "The Philosophy of Archytas,"
Germanic Review [Jan. 1949], p. 12) shows by means of
Wieland's correspondence of the early 17908 that the
philosophy or ethical view of Archytas, which shows a
strong Kantian influence, was at that time the author's
own. In 1796 Wieland announces that this is unfortunately
no longer his philosophy and that he plans to include his
own new philosophy in the final book of Agathodamon.

 

119

For Archytas, bringing the intellectual or spiritual
nature into right relationship with the animal nature,
was to result in action, yet rather contradictorily, the
hero retired to the idyllic and found his fulfillment
where there would be little cause for action. The
solution in Agathon thus seemed somewhat unconvincing.
Agathodamon would seem to have applied Archytas' philo-
sophy more directly, inasmuch as he placed himself where
one would expect to find the man of action, namely at
the crossroads of encounter with his suppressed fellow-
men. Yet rational action does not bring fulfillment to
Aaathodamon, for he does not believe that his fellowmen
have been helped through it. He has to submit himself to
a role which is different from his previous one in every
way. Instead of being self-sufficient, he must become

dependent--he must realize his dependence on God, the

 

Wieland describes his dilemma of faith and his need for
a new philosophy as follows: "Wie ich mir am Ende aus
diesem Gedankenlabyrinth wieder heraushelfe, bleibt

fur diesmal noch ein Geheimnis und 3011 es so lange
bleiben, bis der das letzte Buch vom Agathodamon--zu
seiner Zeit--das Allerheiligste meiner eigenen Haus
Philosophie (wenn ich so samen kann) auf geschlossen
haben wird, welche leider! nicht Philosophie des Archytas
1m Agathon ist. Ich sage leider! Weil ich in der Tat,

um meines innern Vergnflgens und Gewinns an Zufriedenheit
glauben. Aber auch Glauben hangt nicht mehr von meiner
Willkur ab, als die Einrichtung meiner ausserlichen
Umstande--und ich muss glauben was ich glaube, wie ich
mir gefallen lassen muss was ich nicht andern kann."
(Robert Keil, ed., Wieland und Reinhold [Leipzig &
Berlin, 18853, p. 1H3.

120

Father of the universe. Instead of bein: active and
connivinfig he must settle for a sort of passiveness,
realizina that he is but a small part of all-encompassina
nature. He calls himself but "einen Nassertropfen 1m
uferlosen Ocean." (XVIII, 3%?)

This retreat into a composed passiveness is evident
in much of the thourht of the retired Asathodamon. He
sees that Christ, the nreat divine Schwarner, had no
proqram of action. For him it had been merely a matter
of doina the will of God which meant only to love God
above all else and others as yourself. (XVIII, 327)
Christ did not strive for success and yet he achieved
more in a short life than Afathodamon achieved in a lone
one. Agathodamon believes that he has achieved nothing
that will outlast him and amount to anything of endurin:
value at all; to any credit Heresias would attribute to
him he only answers: "die reife Frucht ware auch gefallen,
wenn wir sie nicht geschuttelt hatten." (XVIII, 251)

The philosophy which Agathodamon here expounds to
Heqesius thus indicates a second very notable attempt
after the third revision of Aeathon to brine head and
heart toeether. This time the attempt to suppress the
irrational, which was stronrly represented in Arathon,
is lacking. Where the philosophy of Archytas in Arathon
strongly emphasized fulfillment in this present world,

Arathodamon expresses concern about the next life. For

 

121

the youn: and active Aaathodamon Schwarmerei meant
dependence on some power outside of self, Schwarmerei
being closely related in his judgment to all forms of
belief in the supernatural. The only way for him to
overcome it was, then, to become independent. As already
stated, however, Agathodamon turns to a dependence on

God, thus becoming in part a Schwarmer. He has not lost

 

his own identity, however, but admits in humility that he
has no desire to be more than he can be and should be.
(XVIII, 3M8) This relationship with the God of the
universe has led him to a self-realization at a level not
before suggested by Wieland.

Finally, the question must also be asked, why
Agathodamon did not become a follower of Christ, for
whom he expresses such admiration. The answer is, I
believe, that he could not accept a religion which, in
his opinion, owed its strength to a reportedly super-
natural element--Christ's resurrection. (XVIII, 295)
While he has no objection to the pedagogical value of
a popular religion (Volksglauben) with its related
supernatural aspects, Agathodamon sees too clearly to

accept such a religion personally in its entirety. He

considers it useful mainly for the uneducated masses.

 

5Teesing points out that Wieland, by sanctioning
.Vglksglauben with its related supernatural elements,
sets himself apart from the Enlightenment in this respect.
(H. P. H. Teesing, "Wielands Vernaltnis zur Aufklarung im
Asathon," Neophilolggus, XXI [1935-36], p. 107.)

122

The hero, in his own personal philosophy, thus attempts
to go beyond Christianity. He has eaten of the tree of
knowledge; his dependence on the God of the universe is
conscious whereas Christ's dependence on God the Father
was strictly intuitive. One thus sees a synthesis of
reason and emotionalism in Agathodamon which is more
satisfactory than that of Agathon.

With the solution in Agathodamon the author also
strikes a contemporary-sounding note. Agathodamon was
not satisfied with mere activism, as advocated by Archy-
tas; he needed a deep emotional faith to satisfy his
yearning. Today, too, there are many who feel that the
scholarly and humanistically oriented approach to reli-
gion with its emphasis on morality and social activism
must be supplemented with a religious faith. The current
renascence in interest in such a contemplative philosopher

as Schleiermacher is evidence of this.

CHAPTER VIII
ARISTIPP

Aristipp, the hero of Wieland‘s last novel, Aristipp
und einige seiner Zeitgenossen, is not a Schwarmer nor an
extreme rationalist. Nor is this last novel a develop-
mental novel (ein Entwicklungsroman), as are most of
Wieland's other novels. It is rather an extended dis-
cussion on humanism in the form of a series of 14b
letters (gig Briefroman) of which well over half are by
the hero. The humanistic instigator of this volume of
correspondence, Aristipp, is described as a man, "dem
alles Uebertriebene, Angemasste und uber die Proportionen
der menschlichen Natur Hinausschwellende lacherlich oder
widrig ist." (XXIV, 257) By portraying Aristipp as he
moves about among extremists--both rationalists and
Schwarmer--the author speaks to the question of the re-
lationship and the desirable synthesis of Schwarmerei and
reason.

The setting of the novel is Greece of the time of

Socrates and Plato, that is Greece of the latter part of

123

12h

the fifth and the first part of the fourth century 3.C.
(the dates of the historical Aristipp are ca. NBS-336
B.C.), a time during which Greek civilization had already
surpassed its climax. One once more meets in this novel
many of the characters of Wieland's earlier works, for
example Hippies of Agathon, Demokrit and his compatriots
of Die Abderiten and others.

Lais, in her relationship to Aristipp, lends the
first part of this novel the slight semblance of possess-
ing a plot-dwith her disappearance the plot essentially
ends. Lais is one of the historical hetaera of Aristipp
and a devout disciple of his. The elevated relationship
of the two is based on denial, on possessing each other
as though not possessing each other. They meet rarely and
when they do, their meetings are so brief that the spell
of their being together is not broken by its common-
placeness. Once they meet for only fifteen minutes, even
though they have not seen each other for a long time. The
two then grow farther apart as Aristipp settles down in
Athens and marries Kleone, the sister of his friend
Kleonidas, an amiable artistic Schwarmer. Lais meanwhile
abandons the doctrine of Aristipp and falls passionately
in love with a young man, Pausanias (Drosylas), who came
to her disguised as a slave. As a result of her fanatical
love for this young man, she severs her ties with her

former friends. There are rumors of orgies in her house

125

but her last days as well as her death are shrouded in
uncertainty and mystery. The last letter of the second
volume (XXIII, 41&) is her farewell to her friends. It is
not clear whether Lais, who has become a Schwarmerin,

is simply leaving the area or whether, like Sappho, she
has jumped off Leukadia. The letters in the third part or
last book, which deals mainly with Plato's works, refer
to her on occasion but fail to explain what happened to
her. Whether Wieland intended to come back to her during
the course of the novel-~Aristipp is a fragment despite
its length and the fact that it approaches tedium--is

not certain.

That Agathon and Agathodamon with their respective
solutions to the basic dualism in man preceded Aristipp
is very clear. Unlike these earlier heroes, Aristipp does
not have to go through the tribulations of finding his
way from Schwarmerei to £322; or to self-fulfillment.
Although Aristipp was a Schwarmer in his childhood, he
was cured so thoroughly of it at an early age that this
conflict does not enter the novel at all. Nor is this
novel good-humoredly cynical with regard to the human

race, as is Die Abderiten. Aristipp is aware of the

 

foibles and tendencies of mankind but rather than being
cynical about these, his faith is able to conquer his

fleeting inclinations towards cynicism or self—pity.

126

The characters with whom Aristipp interacts in this
novel serve two closely related functions: 1) as a con-
trast to Aristipp and to set him off as the truly rounded-
out individual who has overcome the crippling tendencies
of life and 2) to give the author an opportunity to
deliberate on and discuss the way of life which Aristipp
finds satisfying. Of greatest importance here is Lais,
although Socrates and Plato as well as Hippias (suffice it
to say that he serves as the antipode to the schwar-
merisch tendencies represented in this novel), Kleonidas,
Arasambes and others are also important in this connection.
Let us briefly turn our attention to the first three,
beginning with Lais.

Lais, who turns into an erotic Schwarmerin, is a
Don Sylvie or an Agathon in reverse. She is at first
portrayed to all outward appearance as a wholesome well-
balanced individual who extends her own wholesomeness to
those around her. Her affect on Aristipp, mentioned in
the quote below, reminds one strongly of the role attri-
buted by Don Eugenio to Felicia in the curing of Don
Sylvio: "Du ahnest wohl nicht, schene Lais, dass drei in
deinem Hause gelebte Tage mich dem hechsten Ziele der
Philosophie ndher gebracht haben als vier Jahre in der
Sokratischen Schule." (XXII, 260) Her affect on Socrates
is somewhat similar, for it is she, according to Aristipp,

who was able to bring out a certain warmth in this great

127

philosopher which no one else was able to bring out.
Through association with her Plato becomes a sort of
hermaphrodite, incorporating in one person both Vernunft
and Schwarmerei. (XXII, 196)

Towards the end of the second book it becomes ap-
parent that Lais is going to go off on a tangent.
Aristipp prepares the reader for this when he indicates
(XXIII, 29) that Lais will probably be unhappy during the
second half of her life. The reason given is that she
has had everything she could desire and yet she always
desires more. She has, with her feminine charm, conquered
every man's heart and made all men her slaves. She has
but to mention to Arasambes, for instance, that it would
be nice to have a certain kind of exotic fish for her
garden pool, when he dashes off to a remote place to fetch
her one of these, driving twenty horses to death in the
process. (XXIII, 3b) This attention brings her no lasting
peace, for it is after this that she writes to Aristipp
about ending her life, referring to Sappho's jumping off
Leukadia.

How is it possible that Lais, who according to all
outward appearance is emotionally stable, can suddenly
retrogress and come to an end such as this? The answer
given is that her true inner resources have never been
tested before her encounter with Drosylas and that she

has actually lived in an unnatural state all her life.

128

As long as she is not forced to face reality, everything
seems to go well for her. She has been in a state of
dormant Schwarmerei until the raving Drosylas awakens
her. As was the case with the other Schwarmer characters
of Wieland, her unnatural upbringing is to blame for this
to a large degree. At the age of eight she had been
brought to Leontides, who brought her up. She was his
favorite and he spoiled her, thus contributing early to
her awareness of her unusual gifts of nature.

Having this disposition for Schwarmerei, being only
interested in and gifted for the art of making men happy,
she is able to keep from succumbing to her narrow
interests--the hallmark of Schwarmerei--only by paying
attention to many men, treating all equally and permit-
ting special privileges to none. There is at first no
enthusiastic abandon in her love. She is living by the
Cyrenaic maxim of Aristipp, i.e., possessing as though
she didn't possess; but she applies this maxim only to
the narrow area of her love life. She obtains favorable
responses from her many lovers and is able to achieve
everything she sets out to achieve. However, "auf Voll-
genuss folgt Sattigung, auf Uberffillung Ekel," (XXIII,
374) she has to experience after twenty years of this
life. As long as she was satisfied to make many happy,
she was the host beauti‘wl Mn? “ram 721 Hf all hankeru,

but nww ”lat the ”ixes her total attention on Drosylas,

129

and hence has become selfish, she can only love as a

:1 1 L'
o C .lVIzial‘IT‘. Cl" .

 

Inasmuch as Lais has been able to cope with life
until she becomes disillusioned and misanthropic, thus
becoming unfit for existence in this world any longer,
she bears a resemblance to Peregrin. while the reason for
her exit is less idealistic than that of Peregrin, who
thereby hoped to teach his fellowmen a useful lesson, the
basic reason both can not continue in their earthly
existence is the same-~their idealism clashes with
reality, making further existence within the confines of
the mortal body impossible.

Peregrin did not stand condemned. There was a cer-
tain futility about his death but his honest Schwarmerei
was not attacked; instead it was portrayed as something
almost divine. This is also true of Lais. Aristipp des-
cribes her as follows: "Lais ist dazu genacht, in allem
gross und ausserordentlich zu sein." (XXIII, 408) She
does not fit into this life.

A new element introduced here concerning the
Schwarmer, which is not yet present in Peregrin, is the
admission through Aristipp that one can not understand
the reason for the end which the Schwarmerin takes. This
is contained in the implicit trust that an eternal will
overrules all: "Es habe dennoch so gehen mussen, und wie

unbegreiflich uns auch die Verkettung unsrer Freiheit mit

130

dem allgemeinen Zusammenhange der Urschen und Erfolge
sein mdge, immer bleibe das Gewisseste, dass das ewige,
mit der scharfsten Genauigkeit in die Natur der Dinge
eingreifende Raderwerk des Schicksals nie unrichtig gehen
kann." (XXIV, 22) Her fate was unavoidable and who are

we as humans to question it, Wieland seems to say. The
older more mellow Wieland is loathe to sit in judgment

on the Schwarmer.

Concerning Socrates and Plato, Aristipp calls the
former healthy (gesund) and the latter divine (gottlich).
What justifies these descriptions?

Socrates is an example of Wieland's ideal, in that
he is a man subscribing to both Verstand and figrg. He is
a practical philosopher who, at the same time, is also
the liebenswfirdigster Schwarmer. He is described as a
hermaphrodite who is able to keep the two poles in a
healthy relationship to each other, so that neither
overrides the other. It is not surprising tha' the human-
istic Aristipp appreciates the philosophy of Socrates,
which makes an important contribution towards the whole-
some education and development of all levels of society.
Diogenes, the cynic, indeed considers Socratism to be the
philosophy which will always benefit the greatest number
of people.

Plato, called divine here, is treated with much

greater reserve than Socrates. Although the exchange of

 

131

letters concerning Plato's works occupies the major part
of the last book of Aristi , the point made is mainly
that the systems of philosophers are, in the final analy-
sis, nothing but poetical works or Dichtung. As Sengle
suggests,1 Wieland is quite likely taking revenge on the
idealistic philosophers Fichte and Kant, his contem-
poraries. In comparing the different systems of various
philosophers to different paths leading over the face of
our world, Plato's is compared to that of Ikarus, whose
path does not lie in this world but in the air. He is
described by Diogenes as one who has "eine warme Ein-
bildungskraft und zu viel Neigung zur dialektischen
Spinneweberei." (XXII, 281) The utilitarian Diogenes, who
is a fitting mouthpiece for Wieland as a "citizen of the
world" and an advocate of the natural life, suggests

that there is a group of people who will benefit from
Plato. This group, which possesses the combination of
melancholy and fantasy which characterized Plato, is,
however, very small. In comparing Plato's philosophy with
that of Aristipp, Diogenes says, that if the former is the
philosophy or religion of the noblest of Schwarmer,

then Aristipp should be the pattern for all eupatrids
(i.e., law makers and administrators), for thus Schwarh

merei would be rendered harmless and nobility and wealth

 

1Sengle, Wieland, p. 506.

132

would become amiable and charming. (XXIV, 275) According
to degrees of practically benefitting his fellowmen,
Plato ranks the lower of these three with Socrates in the
middle and Aristipp at the top.

Turning our attention now to the hero, Aristipp, in
an attempt to explore his significance as it relates to

the problem of Schwarmerei, we find in him a kindly

 

adaptable man. Aristipp, the founder of Cyrenaic philo—
sophy, states that there is nothing we can really know
about life after death, yet no one need fear death. He
will also never argue with anyone about religion, for no
definite statement can be made about death. He has con-
fidence that nature would not advocate volcanic change
when going from death to life. He also thinks all people
would be good, if it were possible for everyone to be
happy.

Although Aristipp's Cyrenaic philosophy embodies
much of Socrates, the latter is chided for not being
open to a more thorough synthesis of the two elements
within the human breast. Once more a philosophy essen-
tially the same as that of Archytas is described, as
Aristipp argues that he is not plannin: to permit the
spiritual nature to choke the animal nature, for both are
an essential part of him. The two must come to a reason-
able agreement with each other. This time, however, the

spiritual is not specifically supposed to be in a position

133

superior to that of the animal nature. Should the re-
sultinm compromise between the two be unsatisfactory,
however, Aristipp would then want reason to subordinate
the animal nature, thus making a worthy existence pos-
sible. Aristipp, thus, actually has nothing new to say
about this synthesis of the spiritual and the animal,
for as in Agathon, the animal nature must not be allowed
t9 main the upper hand at any cost.

Aristipp's desire for synthesis is also evident in
other ways. He himself more than once expresses the idea

7

that he, too, is an occasional or partial Jchwfirmer. He

 

admits this to the Schwfirmer Kleonidas: "Ich glaube jar,

 

ich schwfirme, Freund Kleonidas? Beim Anubis! es ist nicht
mans richtig mit mir." (XXIII, 6?) Yet this is only one
facet of his person. He, too, can be compared to the many
heroes of whom he savs: "Ich denke, wir werden don Hel-
den hberhaupt kein Unrecht tun, wenn wir voraussetzen,
dass sie alle, soviel ihrer je gewesen sind, immer mehr
oder minder ein wenig geschwarmt haben." (XXII, 313) He
does not hesitate to credit Socrates, one of these heroes,
with having received genuine strength as the result of an
occasional divine voice.

Aristipp's interest in synthesizing is also sym-
bolized in his marriame to Hleone, the artistic sister of

the Schwfirmer Kleonidas, whom she resembles so closely.

 

Kleone is in some ways Aristipp's opposite yet Lais was

134
able to detect at the first glimpse of Kleone the other
half of Aristipp. (XXIII, 33H) Aristipp himself finds
extreme contentment in this union. In the circle of his
own family and associates there is present and alive
that harmony of human relationships which in Plato's
Republic is only on paper. The openness of his heart in-

#-

dicates that he is not a 3ektenstifter (XXIV, 261) (that

 

distincuishinq mark of narrowmindedness and Schwarmerei),
but his attitudes help to bring about reconciliation and
understanding.

In summary, in the same way that many characters
encountered in Wieland's earlier novels make their re-
appearance in this novel, there is also much recapitula-
tion concerninr what Wieland earlier said about Schwar-
merei. When he wrote Agathodamgn he announced that the

philosophy of Archytas, Azathon's solution to Schwarmerei,

 

was no longer his own personal philosophy but that he

had a new philosophy which he would expose in Agatho-
damon. This shift was essentially one from eudaemonia,
with the synthesis of the two natures in man at its core
(the animal nature and he spiritual nature), to a sort
of pantheism. While Wieland in Aristipp expresses greater
confidence in a universal force than he does in Aéathon,
one might expect more exposure of his antheism than is

here the case. Instead of this, he amain stronfly empha-

sizes euda‘monia and synthesis and one wonders whether

 

135

the solution of Aaathon has perhaps increased in impor-
tance again to where it anhs equal with the pantheism
of Arathodamon. It must be remembered, of course, that
Aristipp is only a fragment, which permits one to specu-

late that the author perhaps intended to proceed towards

a synthesis of the two solutions found in Amathon and

 

Azathodamon. The groundwork for such a synthesis is

 

actually laid in Aristipp. Such a synthesis would result
in a solution which would be even closer to the mean
between Vernunft und Schwarmerei, for the solution of
Arathon tended towards the former and the solution of

4*—

Amathodamon somewhat towards the latter.

CHAPTE. IX

CONCLUSION

The hallmark of the Schwfirmer characters of Wieland's
novels is a sinmleness of interest or purpose: The

Schwarmer is capable of directins himself only at one

 

thins at a time. Thus one has in Wieland's novels charac-
ters who are preoccupied exclusively with sensual love
for an individual of the opposite sex, i.e, erotic

schwarmer, or, by the same token, religious, moral or

 

30

political Schwarmer. Basically, all of the lunatical

 

characters discussed in this study fit into one or more

of these catejories during the course of their Schwarnerei
or enthusiasm. Araspes, for example, chanees from moral

to erotic enthusiasm and Adathon does from moral-relirious
to erotic to political enthusiasm. The emphasis in

Der :oldene fipiegel and in Die Abderiten is somewhat
different from that of Nieland's other novels; here there
are no main characters or specific individuals who are

portrayed as Schwfirmer. In the forrer novel Schwarmerei

 

centers mainly around the fanatical priests and in

136

 

137

’\

Die Abderiten the en.husiasri o: the Abderites for diff:

 

ent aspects of their cowuunity and immediate environment,
such as their relimion and art, are nrphssized. In 01*

Abderiten Wieland places Schwarrerei in a position tanta-

 

rount to inessnurierlichieit.

. V

'ineland La i0 ally portr:ys ich'cfdrxxgrei as an unnatur—

 

al state and the Schwar er as owin; his condition to an

 

unnatural upbringinf. Tier : any have heen some innate
tendency tOWHrds leviant helm aviour, but it is raininm
that produces Schi-Iii.:mm‘rrt'ei. In “fest cases the: child was
taken from its natural parents for some m"; son or other
a.d brouiht up by some peculiar or eccentric persozt. A
moralistic aunt raiSed Don Cylvio, the Crphics were in
C?“.ai“'_:je of’ AT? gnon's ib“i‘in't..n»., an eccentric .‘31‘8.11dei-.thei‘
was responsible for your; Pererrin, and Leontides, who
spoiled his charje ani contributed to her sel--centerrness
by making her aware of her unusual feminine charms at a
very earl, are, trained Lais. It is not the prin tive
child or the child that receives no F“Erln€lhf that turns

towards fanm.:icis".

”J
{-1-

In most 0 he novels analyzed, the hero mahis .n
attempt, varyinfi in de; cos of effectiv‘ness, to resolve
a basic conflict which pre'onts him from realizing his
true potential.

-1 ,_ .0 .. ,.-'_
,nea tntre is no solution yu, in

terms of overcoming lchwflrrerei. The conflict is between

 

 

138

spiritual and erotic love and these are presented as

more or less parallel to good and evil. Araspes begins as
an enthusiast for divine love for Panthea, only to
discover that erotic love suddenly replaces divine love.
In the end he returns to a form of divine love again, but
by his eager desire to risk everythinm for the cause that
Cyrus lays before him, he demonstrates that he is as much

a Schwarmer as he was at the outset. The idea of the two

 

 

souls in the human breast, as presented here, is, however,
of continued importance in Wieland's later works. This
concept increases in significance as the author persists
in his attempts to find a solution to the problem of
Schwarmerei through synthesis.

Since the Schwarmer essentially owes his condition
to an unnatural upbringing, he must be re-educated to
flatur, that is, to a life in harmony with the world, his
fellowmen, and his inner self. Thus, especially in 22g
Sylvio and Avathon, the Schwarmer heroes are symbols of
Bildung or development. Schwarmerei, as a source of imag-
ination, is portrayed as healthy and helpful; as a state,
however, it must be overcome and the Schwarmer brought
face to face with reality. What happens to the hero after
his disenchantment is of secondary importance. For Don
Sylvie the course more or less ends when he achieves a

certain state of Natur or harmony of character through

association with the well-adjusted and genuine Felicia.

139

Don Sylvio was a Schwfigmer because of a conflict between
the dream world and the real world. He lived in his world
of fantasy and was unaware of his environment until he
became disenchanted. After that he is suddenly able to
communicate with himself and his fellowmen. When the

hero is healed--not through the acceptance of some ration-
al philosophy-~everything falls into place. Avathon,
however, goes beyond this. In Agathon one can talk of
disenchantment too, but the change is not so complete

and sudden as in Don Sylvig. During the course of his
apprenticeship to life he had been cast from moral-
religious to erotic to political Schwarmerei and after he
became disenchanted the pendulum moves farther and farther
in the direction of rationalism. It started to swing at
Schwarmerei and headed towards rationalism, its opposite,
actually passing Natur at mid-point. From Archytas, his
humanistic mentor, he accepts a philosophy of eudaemonia
which, although based on a synthesis of the animal and
spiritual natures, in practice results in the subordina-
tion of the animal nature to the spiritual.

In both‘Qie Abderiten and Peregrinus Proteus the
protagonists have not been able to resolve their polar
conflicts and consequently remain Schwarmer. Unlike
Agathon, who finds a solution in the philosophy of

Archytas, the citizens in Die Abderiten continue in their

 

confused, emotional and irrational state, because they

 

140

cannot and are unwilling to learn from experience. By
inference wieland is expressing a pessimistic view of
society and its capacity to reform. But by smiling at the
people’s foibles and their incapacity to shed their
Schwarmer cloak, Wieland demonstrates his tolerance of
humanity and at the same time devises a comforting,
personal philosophy. Humour and satire, however, are not
entirely satisfying answers.

pessimism about the

A.

Although Wieland still expresses
possibility of reforming and educating mankind in
Peregrinus Proteus, he has become much more mellow to-
wards Schwarmerei than he was in Derpgoldene Spiegel.
Those priests W10 were convinced and naive Schwarmer in
Derggoldene Spiegel were portrayed as a greater hazard to
their fellowmen than the shrewd calculating Schwarmer
who dealt out of strictly selfish motives. In Peregrinus
Proteus as well as in Agathodémon the tide is reversed.

In these novels there is only spite for the calculatinq
Charlatans, while the sincere honest enthusiast, although
he may be ineffective, is upheld as something almost to
be envied. After Lucian hears about Peregrin's experiences
he is convinced of his sincerity and impressed with the
beauty of the life he lived. The solution in Peregrinus
Proteus is, thus, not a practical one, for the hero does

not overcome his Schwarmerei, which stemmed from his

 

intense pursuit of a satisfyin: relationship with the

 

1 1:11

opposite sex and a satisfying religion. The portrayal of
Schwarmerei as a positive creative force, however, large-
ly eliminates the need for the practical solution.

In Agathodamon one finds the author's second major
attempt (after Agathon) to formulate by synthesis a
satisfying practical solution to his dilemma. The philo-
sophy of Archytas had been a sincere attempt to synthesize
figgg_and Vernunft; the author had hoped thereby to achieve
Egggg, the mean. The resultant submission of the animal
nature to the spiritual nature (which must here be under-
stood as man's intellect), results in a suppression of
the impulsive and irrational. The pendulum, which in its
final position, thus, inclined towards rationalism,
swings somewhat past the mean of Natur and inclines to-
wards Schwarmerei and irrationalism in Agathodamon.
According to Archytas, the individual had the strength
within himself to bring about self-realization; Agatho-
damon depends on an outside force to bring this about.
Where Archytas emphasized only fulfillment in this world
and disregarded the idea of the next, Agathodamon is also
concerned about the next world. Agathodamon realizes his
own freedom and strength and finds contentment as he
submits himself to and accepts his role within the frame-
work of an all-encompassing universe, of which he is a
minute yet an integral and significant part. In his con-

scious submission to and dependence on this god, whom he

 

in;
4:.-
i\)

does not understand in a completely rational way, one
sees a synthesis of reason and emotion which is more
satisfying than that of Agathoz.

The hero of Aristi , the kindly adaptable old man
who is willing to recognize Schwarmerei, might well
portray the older, mellowed Wieland, who is unwilling to
sit in Judgment of the Schwarmer. The question pertaining
to an actual solution in this, Wieland's final novel, is
somewhat problematic, inasmuch as this novel is a frag-
ment. It seems somewhat perplexing, at first, that the
philosophy of Archytas, which the author claimed to have
abandoned with Agathodamon, has again gained in impor-
tance, although the deep confidence in nature, as per-
trayed in.Agathodamon, still continues. It may, however,
indicate that our author is once more attempting to
arrive at a still more satisfying solution, which would
be even closer to the mean, by synthesizing Agathodamon's
solution with that of Archytas. These solutions both
approached the mean, the former inclining slightly to-
wards Schwarmerei or irrationalism and the latter tending
towards rationalism. Whether this was the author's actual

intent, I can, however, not assert.

 

. 1 N‘ 'U: - - 'V - ‘1 - ‘ .. ~~ * -~
thflOu51 .ieland's solution» ten . cone increas-
,- ‘ '3 ~ » v. s - p \ . _ - A Q’ — ,
ingij more satisfying as he earemgts to - sol". the erot-
r- 7‘ -. ." . i T‘ . L . -. ~ . ~
lem uf >chrzrmerei, nis Jrerlcveis, we cannot say that no
_mm.~ “

finally resolved it once and for all. In *%5 continuing

 

1143

struggle with this problem he arrived at a series of
solutions, but each time he felt the need to deal with it
again. He does not, however, merely come to an armistice
with the subject at the end of each novel, by simply
displacing the solution to a future date, as some would
say. It was inherent in the nature of Wieland to be
inquisitive and he explored a variety of possible

solutions in his search.

 

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: Eine

 

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