Graf von Loeben and the Legend of Lorelei Part 1

Graf von Loeben and the Legend of Lorelei.

by Allen Wilson Porterfield.

I

The devotees of Apollo have to give a good account of themselves in Olympia before, they can become _persona grata_ on Olympus. They spend their lives, more or less, at the various games of poetry. Some, like Goethe, win in the majority of trials, and then we study all of their records regardless of their individual excellence. Some like Immermann in _Oberhof_, win only once, but this is sufficient to insure immortality. Some play and joust, run and wrestle with constancy and grace; their records, just after starting and just before finishing, are interesting, but in the end they are always defeated. And when this is the case, posterity, lay and initiated, forgets their names and concerns itself in no wise with their records, unless it be for statistical purposes. It is to the latter cla.s.s that Graf von Loeben[1] belongs. For twenty-five years he was a perpetual, loyal, chivalric contestant in the Olympic vale of poetry. His running was interesting, but he never won; he never wrote a single thing that everybody still reads for its own sake.

Aside from his connection with the Lorelei-matter, Graf von Loeben is, therefore, at present, a wholly obscure, indeed unknown, Poet. The large _Konversations-Lexikons_[2] of Meyer and Brockhaus say nothing about him, unless it be in the discussion of some other poet with whom he a.s.sociated. Of the twenty best-known histories of German literature, some of which treat nothing but the nineteenth century, only six contain his name, and these simply mention him either as a member of the Dresden group of pseudo-romanticists, or as one of those _Afterromantiker_ who did yeoman service by way of bringing real romanticism into disrepute through their unsubstantial, imitative, and formless works. And this is true despite the fact that Loeben was an exceedingly prolific writer and a very popular and influential man in.

his day. Concerning his personality, Muncker says: "Die Tiefe und Warme seines leicht erregbaren Gemuthes, seine Herzensreinheit, seine schwarmerische Hingabe an alles Schone und Edle sowie sein zartes Tactgefuhl erwarben ihm bei Freunden und Bekannten das Lob einer schonen Seele in des Wortes schonster Bedeutung."[3]

As to his poetic ability from the point of view of quant.i.ty, one can only marvel at the amount he produced in the time at his disposal; his creative works cover all types and sorts of literature.[4] He is best known for his numerous poems and his _magnus opus_, _Guido_, a novel of 360 pages, written under the pen-name of "Isidorus Orientalis," and intended as a continuation of Novalis' _Ofterdingen_; he used Tieck's notes for this purpose. He wrote also a great number of letters, between 60 and 70 elaborate reviews, and some critical essays, the best of which seems to be his commentary to Madame de Stael's _De l'Allemagne_, while he translated from Anacreon, Dante, Guarini, Horace, Ovid, Petrarch, Vergil, and others, and left a number of fragments including the outline of a pretentious novel of which Heinrich von Veldeke, whom he looked upon as "der Heilige des Enthusiasmus," was to be the hero. And he was, incidentally, an omnivorous reader, for, as he navely said:

Viele Bucher muss ich kennen, Denn die Menschen kenn' ich gern.[5]

As to his originality, another confession is significant:

Ja, es gibt nur wenig Leute, Deren Schuler ich nicht bin.[6]

No attempt, however, has as yet been made at even an eclectic edition of his numerous finished works, a few of which are still unpublished, many of which are now rare.[7]

As to his standing with his literary contemporaries, Eichendorff admitted[8] that Loeben influenced him as a man and as a poet; it was he who induced Eichendorff to write some of his earlier works under the pen-name of "Florens." And Eichendorff in turn credited Goethe with the remark[9] that "Loeben war der vorzuglichste Dichter jener Zeit." His influence on Platen[10] is not quite so certain; Loeben was Platen's senior by ten years, and they resembled each other in their ability to employ difficult verse and strophe forms, and Platen read Loeben in 1824. Kleist interested himself in Loeben sufficiently to publish one of his short stories in his _Abendblatter_, but only after he had so thoroughly revised it that Reinhold Steig says: "Ich wurde als Herausgeber die Erzahlung sogar unter Kleists _Parerga_ aufnehmen."[11] His connection with, and influence upon, the Dresden group of romanticists, including Tieck, is a matter of record,[12] and Fouque looked upon him as a poet of uncommon ability.[13]

But let no one on this account believe that Loeben was a great poet and that the silence concerning him is therefore grimly unjust.

Goethe, whether he made the foregoing remark or not, at least received[14] Loeben kindly; but he received others in the same way who were not poets at all. Eichendorff said: "Loeben. Wunderbar poetische Natur in stiller Verklarung."[15] But Eichendorff was then only nineteen years old, and he later took this back. Herder was moved to tears[16] on reading Loeben's _Maria_, but Herder was easily moved, and he died soon after; he would in all probability have changed his mind too. Friedrich Schlegel, on the other hand, was not justified in calling[17] the pastoral poems in _Arkadien_ "Schafpoesie." Uhland praised[18] these same poems; but he reminded Loeben in no uncertain terms, that the chief characteristic of southern poetry was "Phantasie," while that of the northern poets was "Gemuth," and that the attempt to revive the spirit of Guarini, Cervantes, and their kind was not well taken.

That Loeben has been so totally neglected by historians and encyclopedists is simply a case of that disproportion that so frequently characterizes general treatises. Loeben is ent.i.tled to some s.p.a.ce in large works on German literature; but he was, like many another who has been given s.p.a.ce, a weak poet. And the sort of weakness, with which he was endowed can be brought out by a discussion of two of his novelettes, _Das weisse Ross,_[19] and _Leda,_ neither of which is by any means his best work, and neither of which seems to be his worst. But, to judge from what has been said of his prose works in general, both are quite typical.

The plot so far as the action[20] is concerned is as follows: Otto owes the victory he won at a tournament in Nurnberg largely to the beauty and agility of his great white horse Bellerophon. Siegenot von der Aue had seen him and his horse perform and determined to obtain Bellerophon, if possible, for, owing to a curse p.r.o.nounced on his family by a remote ancestor, Siegenot must either win at the next tournament or become a monk, which he does not wish to do. Both he and Otto love Felicitas, the niece of Graf Berthald. Siegenot secures Bellerophon, is victorious at the tournament, though seriously wounded, and is nursed back to health by Otto and Felicitas. It is Otto, however, who wins Felicitas through his chivalric treatment of his rival. The two are married, while Siegenot rides away on the great white horse Bellerophon.

It is such creations that make us turn away from Loeben. Alas for German romanticism if this story were wholly typical of it! It contains the traditional conceits of the orthodox romanticists, but applied in such a sweet, lovely, pretty fashion! One woman is placed between two men, for in that way Loeben could best bring out his philosophy of friendship. The only change, it seems, that he ever made in this arrangement was to place one man between two women. The sick-bed is poetized as the cradle of knowledge, for in it, or on it, we become introspective and learn life. Old chronicles, tournaments, jewelry, precious stones, Maryism, nature from every conceivable point of view, dreams and premonitions, visions and hallucinations, religion of the renunciatory type, the pain that clarifies, the friendship that weeps, Catholic painting and lute music, and love--human and divine--these are the main themes in this tale. Lyrics and episodic stories are interpolated, obsolete words and stylistic archaisms occur. In short, the novelette reads like an amalgamation of Novalis without his philosophy, Waekenroder without his suggestiveness, and Tieck without his constructive ability.

The story[21] ent.i.tled Leda is again typical of Loeben. Briefly stated, the plot is as follows: Leda, the daughter of a Roman duke, loves Cephalo, who is a gentleman but not a n.o.bleman, and is loved by him. Her father, however, has forced her to become engaged to Alberto, a man of high degree, whom she does not love. The wedding is imminent, and Leda is sorely perplexed. Her father does not know why she is so indifferent to the approaching event and accordingly sends her to a distant and lonely castle in the hope that she may become interested, at least, in her own nuptials. While there she drowns herself in the swan lake. Alberto drops out of the story, and Cephalo becomes the intimate friend of the duke. Previous to this Alberto had ordered a certain painter to paint a picture of "Leda and the Swan." Danae, the daughter of an old, unscrupulous antiquarian, was seen by Cephalo while posing as a model for Leda. Enraged at this, she tells her father that she will not be appeased until married to Cephalo. But she loses her life through the falling of an old, dilapidated castle wherein she has been keeping an unconventional tryst, and Cephalo becomes the intimate friend of the painter.

Loeben's ideas and technique stand out in every line of this story.

One woman is placed between two men, unexpected friendships are developed, the lute and the zither are played in the moonlight, love and longing abound, nature is made a confidant, _der Zaubern der Kunst_ is overdone, familiar stories--Leda and the Swan, Actaeon and Danae--are interwoven, there are manifest reminiscences of _Emilia Galotti_ and _Ofterdingen_, and the prose is uncommonly fluent. The only character in the entire narrative who has any virility is the antiquarian, and he is one of the meanest Loeben ever drew. Alberto has no will at all, Leda not much, Cephalo less than Leda, and Danae is without character. In short, the only valuable, part of the story lies in its approach to a development of the psychology of love in art. But it is only an approach; and it does not make one feel inclined to read a vast deal more of the prose works of Graf von Loeben.

As to Loeben's lyrics,[22] they are irregular, inconsistent, and odd as to orthography,[23] melodious and flowing in form, poor in ideas, rich in feeling that frequently sounds forced, representative of nearly all the important Germanic, Romance, and Oriental verse and strophe forms, reminiscent of his reading[24] in many instances, and romantic as a whole, especially in their constant portrayal of longing. Loeben was the poet of _Sehnsucht_. He tried always _das Nahe zu entfernen und das Ferne sich nahe zu bringen_. With a few conspicuous exceptions, his lyrics resemble those of Geibel somewhat in form and treatment. Poetry and individual poets receive grateful consideration, the seasons are overworked, love rarely fails and nature never, wine and the Rhine are not forgotten, and the South is poetized as the land of undying inspiration. Of their kind, and in their way, Loeben's poems are nearly perfect.[25] There are no expressions that repel, no verses that jar, no poems that wholly lack fancy, and there are occasional evidences of the inspiration that rebounds. It would be presumptuous to ask for a more amiable poem than "Fruhlingstrost" (46), or for a neater one than "Der Nichterhorte"

(121), or for a more gently roguish one than the triolett[26] ent.i.tled "Frage" (55).

But be his poems never so good, there is no reason why Loeben should be revived for the general reader. His prose works lack artistic measure and objective plausibility; his lyrics lack clarity and virility; his creations in general lack the story-telling property that holds attention and the human-interest touches that move the soul. His thirty-nine years were too empty of real experience;[27] his works are not filled with the matter that endures. And it is for this reason that they ceased to live after their author had died. His connection with this earth was always just at the snapping-point. His works const.i.tute, in many instances, a poetic rearrangement of what he had just latterly read. And when he is original he is vacuous. To emphasize his works for their own sake would consequently be to set up false values. Loeben can be studied with profit only by those people who believe that great poets can be better understood and appreciated by a study of the literary than by a study of the economic background.

To know Loeben[28] throws light on some of his much greater contemporaries--Goethe, Eichendorff, Kleist, Novalis, Arnim, Brentano, Uhland, Gorres, Tieck, and possibly Heine.

II

But it is not so much the purpose of this paper to evaluate Loeben's creations as to locate him in the development of the Lorelei-legend, and to prove, or disprove, Heine's indebtedness to him in the case of his own poem of like name. The facts are these:

In 1801 Clemens Brentano published at Bremen the first volume of his __G.o.dwi_ and in 1802 the second volume at the same place.[29] He had finished the novel early in 1799--he was then twenty-one years old.

Wieland was instrumental in securing a publisher.[30] Near the close of the second volume, Violette sings the song beginning:

Zu Bacharach am Rheine Wohnt eine Zauberin.

That this now well-known ballad of the Lorelei was invented by Brentano is proved, not so much by his own statement to that effect as by the fact that the erudite and diligent Grimm brothers, the friends of Brentano, did not include the Lorelei-legend in their collection of _579 Deutsche Sagen_, 1816. The name of his heroine Brentano took from the famous echo-rock near St. Goar, with which locality he became thoroughly familiar during the years 1780-89. No romanticist knew the Rhine better or loved it more than Brentano. "Lore" means[31] a small, squinting elf; and is connected with the verb "lauern." The oldest form of the word is found in the _Codex Annales Fuldenses_, which goes back to the year 858, and was first applied to the region around the modern Kempten near Bingen. "Lei" means a rock; "Loreley" means then "Elbfels." And what Brentano and his followers have done is to apply the name of a place to a person.

In _Urania: Taschenbuch auf das Jahr 1821_, Graf von Loebcn published his "Loreley: Eine Sage vom Rhein." The following ballad introduces the saga in prose. Heine's ballad is set opposite for the sake of comparison.[32]

Da wo der Mondschein blitzet Ich weiss nicht, was soll es bedeuten Um's hochste Felsgestein, Da.s.s ich so traurig bin; Das Zauberfraulein sitzet Ein Marchen aus alten Zeiten, Und schauet auf den Rhein. Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.

Es schauet heruber, hinuber, Die Luft ist kuhl und es dunkelt, Es schauet hinab, hinauf, Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein; Die Schifflein ziehn voruber, Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt Lieb' Knabe, sieh nicht auf! Im Abendsonnenschein.

Sie singt dir hold zum Ohre, Die schonste Jungfrau sitzet Sie blickt dich thoricht an, Dort oben wunderbar, Sie ist die schone Lore, Ihr goldenes Geschmeide blitzet, Sie hat dir's angethan. Sie kammt ihr goldenes Haar.

Sie schaut wohl nach dem Rheine, Sie kammt es mit goldenem Kamme, Als schaute sie nach dir, Und singt ein Lied dabei; Glaub's nicht, da.s.s sie dich meine, Das hat eine wundersame Sich nicht, horch nicht nach ihr! Gewaltige Melodei.

So blickt sie wohl nach allen Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe Mit ihrer Augen Glanz, Ergreift es mit wildem Weh; La.s.st her die Locken wallen Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe, Im wilden goldnen Tanz. Er schaut nur hinauf in die Hoh'.

Doch wogt in ihrem Blicke Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen Nur blauer Wellen Spiel, Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn; Drum scheu die Wa.s.sertucke, Und das hat mit ihrem Singen Denn Flut bleibt falsch und kuhl! Die Lorelei gethan.

The following saga then relates how an old hunter sings this song to a young man in a boat on the Rhine, warning him against the allurements of the Lorelei on the rock above. The hunter's good intentions are fruitless, the young man is drowned.

In the autumn of 1823, Heine wrote, while at Luneburg, his "Die Lorelei." It was first published[33] in the _Gesellschafter,_ March 26, 1824. Commentators refer to the verse, "Ein Marchen aus alten Zeiten," as a bit of fiction, adding that it is not a t.i.tle of olden times, but one invented by Brentano about 1800. The statement is true but misleading, for we naturally infer that Heine derived his initial inspiration from Brentano's ballad. Concerning this matter there are three points of view: Some editors and historians point out Brentano's priority and list his successors without committing[34] themselves as to intervening influence. This has only bibliographical value and for our purpose may be omitted. Some trace Heine's ballad direct to Brentano, some direct to Loeben. Which of these two points of view has the more argument in its favor and can there be still a third?

In the first place, Heine never knew Brentano personally, and never mentions him in his letters previous to 1824, nor in his letters[35]

that have thus far been published after 1824. _G.o.dwi_ was repudiated soon after its publicatipn by Brentano himself, who said[36] there was only one good thing about it, the t.i.tle, for, after people had said "G.o.dwi," they could just keep on talking and say, "G.o.dwi, dumm." On its account, Caroline called him Demens Brentano, while Dorothea dubbed him "Angebrenntano." The novel became a rare and unread book until Anselm Ruest brought out a new edition[37] with a critical and appreciative introduction in 1906. Diel and Kreiten say "es ging fast spurlos voruber." It was not included in his _Gesammelte Schriften_ (1852-55), though the ballad[38] was. Heine does not mention it in his _Romantische Schule_, which was, however, written ten years after he had finished his "Die Lorelei." And as to the contents of Brentano's ballad, there is precious little in it that resembles Heine's ballad, aside from the name of the heroine, and even here the similarity is far from striking.

And yet, despite all this, commentators continue to say that Heine drew the initial inspiration for his "Lorelei" from Brentano. They may be right, but no one of them has thus far produced any tenable argument, to say nothing of positive proof. The most recent supporter of Brentano's claim is Eduard Thorn[39] (1913), who reasons as follows:

Heine knew Brentano's works in 1824, for in that year he borrowed _Wunderhorn_ and _Trosteinsamkeit_ from the library at Gottingen.

These have, however, nothing to do with Brentano's ballad, and it is one year too late for Heine's ballad. All of Thorn's references to Heine's _Romantische Schule_, wherein _G.o.dwi_, incidentally, is not mentioned, though other works are, collapse, for this was written ten years too late. And then, to quote Thorn: "Loeben's Gedicht lieferte das direkte Vorbild fur Heine." He offers no proof except the statements of Strodtmann, Hessel, and Elster to this effect.

And again: "Der Name Lorelay findet sich bei Loeben nicht als Eigenname, wenn er auch das Gedicht, 'Der Lurleifels' uberschreibt."

But the name Loreley does occur[40] twice on the same page on which the last strophe of the ballad is published in _Urania_, and here the ballad is not ent.i.tled "Der Lurleifels," but simply "Loreley." Now, even granting that Loeben ent.i.tled his ballad one way in the MS and Brockhaus published it in another way in _Urania_, it is wholly improbable that Heine saw Loeben's MS previous to 1823.

And then, after contending that Brentano's _Rheinmarchen_,[41] which, though written before 1823, were not published until 1846, must have given Heine the hair-combing motif, Thorn says: "Also kann nur Brentano das Vorbild geliefert haben." This cannot be correct. What is, on the contrary, at least possible is that Heine influenced Brentano.[42] The _Rheinmarchen_ were finished, in first form, in 1816. And Guido Gorres, to whom Brentano willed them, and who first published them, tells us how Brentano carried them around with him in his satchel and changed them and polished them as opportunity was offered and inspiration came. It is therefore reasonable to believe that Heine helped Brentano to metamorphose his Lorelei of the ballad, where she is wholly human, into the superhuman Lorelei of the _Rheinmarchen_ where she does, as a matter of fact, comb her hair with a golden comb.[43]

And now as to Loeben: Did Heine know and borrow from his ballad? Aside from the few who do not commit themselves, and those who trace Heine's poem direct to Brentano, and Oscar F. Walzel to be referred to later, all commentators, so far as I have looked into the matter, say that he did. Adolf Strodtmann said[44] it first (1868), in the following words: "Es leidet wohl keinen Zweifel, da.s.s Heine dies Loeben'sche Ballade gekannt und bei Abfa.s.sung seiner Lorelei-Ballade benutzt hat."

But he produces no proof except similarity of form and content. Of the others who have followed his lead, ten, for particular reasons, should be authorities: Franz Muncker,[45] Karl Hessel,[46] Karl Goedeke,[47]

Wilhelm Scherer,[48] Georg Mucke,[49] Wilhelm Hertz,[50] Ernst Elster,[51] Georg Brandes,[52] Heinrich Spiess,[53] and Herrn. Anders Kruger.[54] But no one of them offers any proof except Strodtmann's statement to this effect.

Now their contention may be substantially correct; but their method of contending is scientifically wrong. To accept, where verification is necessary, the unverified statement of any man is wrong. And, that is the case here. Elster's note is of peculiar interest. He says: "Heine schloss sich am nachsten an die Bearbeitung eines Stoffs an, die ein Graf Loben 1821 veroffentlichte." The expression "ein Graf Loben" is grammatical evidence, though not proof, of one of two things: that Loeben was to Elster himself in 1890 a mere name, or that Elster knew Loeben would be this to the readers of his edition of Heine's works.

Brandes says: "Die Nachahmung ist unzweifelhaft."[55] His proof is Strodtmann's statement, and similarity of content and form, with special reference to the two rhymes "sitzet-blitzet" that occur in both. But this was a very common rhyme with both Heine and Loeben in other poems. How much importance can be attached then to similarity of content and form?

The verse and strophe form, the rhyme scheme, the accent, the melody, except for Heine's superiority, are the same in both. As to length, the two poems are exactly equal, each containing, by an unimportant but interesting coincidence, precisely 117 words.[56] But the contents of the two poems are not nearly so similar as they apparently seemed, at first blush, to Adolf Strodtmann. The melodious singing, the golden hair and the golden comb and the use that is made of both, the irresistibly sweet sadness, the time, "Aus alten Zeiten," and the subjectivity--Heine himself recites his poem--these indispensable essentials in Heine's poem are not in Loeben's. Indeed as to content and of course as to merit, the two poems are far removed from each other.