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Modern Philology
VOLUME XIII October 1915 NUMBER 6 (pp. 65-92)
ALLEN WILSON PORTERFIELD
GRAF VON LOEBEN AND THE LEGEND OF LORELEI
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 class 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 associated. 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
Wärme seines leicht erregbaren Gemüthes, seine Herzensreinheit, seine
schwärmerische Hingabe an alles Schöne und Edle sowie sein zartes
Tactgefühl erwarben ihm bei Freunden und Bekannten das Lob einer
schönen Seele in des Wortes schönster Bedeutung."[3]
As to his poetic ability from the point of view of quantity, 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 Staël'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 naïvely said:
Viele Bücher 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 Schüler 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 vorzüglichste 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 _Abendblätter_, but only after
he had so thoroughly revised it that Reinhold Steig says: "Ich würde
als Herausgeber die Erzählung 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
Fouqué 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 Verklärung."[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 "Gemüth," 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 entitled to some
space in large works on German literature; but he was, like many
another who has been given space, 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 Nürnberg 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 pronounced 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] entitled 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 nobleman, 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
"Frühlingstrost" (46), or for a neater one than "Der Nichterhörte"
(121), or for a more gently roguish one than the triolett[26] entitled
"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 constitute, 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, Görres, 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
__Godwi_ 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 höchste Felsgestein, Dass ich so traurig bin;
Das Zauberfräulein sitzet Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
Und schauet auf den Rhein. Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.
Es schauet herüber, hinüber, Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt,
Es schauet hinab, hinauf, Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein;
Die Schifflein ziehn vorüber, Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt
Lieb' Knabe, sieh nicht auf! Im Abendsonnenschein.
Sie singt dir hold zum Ohre, Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet
Sie blickt dich thöricht an, Dort oben wunderbar,
Sie ist die schöne Lore, Ihr goldenes Geschmeide blitzet,
Sie hat dir's angethan. Sie kämmt ihr goldenes Haar.
Sie schaut wohl nach dem Rheine, Sie kämmt es mit goldenem Kamme,
Als schaute sie nach dir, Und singt ein Lied dabei;
Glaub's nicht, dass 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;
Lässt her die Locken wallen Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe,
Im wilden goldnen Tanz. Er schaut nur hinauf in die Höh'.
Doch wogt in ihrem Blicke Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
Nur blauer Wellen Spiel, Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
Drum scheu die Wassertücke, Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
Denn Flut bleibt falsch und kühl! 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 Märchen aus alten
Zeiten," as a bit of fiction, adding that it is not a title 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. _Godwi_ was repudiated
soon after its publicatipn by Brentano himself, who said[36] there was
only one good thing about it, the title, for, after people had said
"Godwi," they could just keep on talking and say, "Godwi, 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 vorüber." 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 _Trösteinsamkeit_ from the library at Göttingen.
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 _Godwi_, 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 für 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' überschreibt."
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 entitled "Der Lurleifels," but simply "Loreley." Now,
even granting that Loeben entitled 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 _Rheinmärchen_,[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 _Rheinmärchen_ were finished, in first form, in
1816. And Guido Görres, 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
_Rheinmärchen_ 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, dass Heine dies Loeben'sche
Ballade gekannt und bei Abfassung 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 Mücke,[49] Wilhelm Hertz,[50] Ernst
Elster,[51] Georg Brandes,[52] Heinrich Spiess,[53] and Herrn. Anders
Krüger.[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 nächsten an die Bearbeitung eines Stoffs an, die ein
Graf Löben 1821 veröffentlichte." The expression "ein Graf Löben" 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.
And, moreover, literary parallels are the ancestors of that undocile
child, Conjecture. We must remember that sirenic and echo poetry are
almost as old as the tide of the sea, certainly as old as the hills,
while as to the general situation, there is a passage in Milton's
_Comus_ (ll. 880-84) analogous to Heine's ballad, as follows:
And fair Ligea's golden comb,
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,
Sleeking her soft alluring locks,
By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance,
and so on. And as to the pronounced similarity of form, we must
remember that Heine was here employing his favorite measure, while
Loeben was almost the equal of Ruckert in regard to the number of
verse and strophe forms he effectively and easily controlled. In
short, striking similarity in content is lacking, and as to the same
sort of similarity in form to this but little if any significance can
be attached.
And if the internal evidence is thin, the external is invisible,
except for the fact that Loeben's ballad was published by Brockhaus,
whom Heine knew by correspondence. But between the years 1818 and
1847, Heine never published anything in _Urania_,[57] which was used
by so many of his contemporaries. Heine and Loeben never knew each
other personally, and between the years 1821 and 1823 they were never
regionally close together.[58] Heine never mentions Loeben in his
letters; nor does he refer to him in his creative works, despite the
fact that he had a habit of alluding to his brothers in Apollo, even
in his poems.[59]
And therefore, though it is fashionable to say that Heine knew
Loeben's ballad in 1823, and though the contention is plausible, it is
impossible to prove it. Impossible also for this reason: Karl Simrock,
Heine's intimate friend, included in his _Rheinsagen_ (1836, 1837,
1841)[60] the ballads on the Lorelei by Brentano, Eichendorff, Heine,
and himself. Why did he exclude the one by Loeben? He made an ardent
appeal in his preface to his colleagues to inform him of any other
ballads that had been written on these themes. The question must be
referred to those who like to skate on flabby ice in things literary.
The most plausible theory in regard to the source of Heine's ballad is
the one proposed by Oscar F. Walzel, who says: "Heine hat den Stoff
wahrscheinlich aus dem ihm wohlbekannten _Handbuch für Reisende am
Rhein_ von Aloys Schreiber übernommen."[61] The only proof that Walzel
gives that Heine knew Schreiber's manual is a reference[62] to it in
_Lutetia_. But this was written in 1843, and proves nothing as to
1823. His contention, however, that Heine borrowed from Schreiber[63]
has everything in its favor, from the point of view of both external
and internal evidence and deserves, therefore, detailed elaboration.
As to internal evidence, there is only one slight difference between
Heine's ballad and Schreiber's saga: where Heine's Lorelei combs her
hair with a golden comb and has golden jewelry, Schreiber's "bindet
einen Kranz für ihre goldenen Locken" and "hat eine Schnur von
Bernstein in der Hand." Even here the color scheme is the same;
otherwise there is no difference: time, place, and events are
precisely the same in both. The mood and style are especially similar.
The only words in Heine not found in Schreiber are "Kamm" and
"bedeuten." Schreiber goes, to be sure, farther than does Heine: he
continues the story after the death of the hero.[64] This, however, is
of no significance, for Heine was simply interested in his favorite
theme of unrequited or hindered love.
Now Heine must have derived his plot from somewhere, else this would
be an uncanny case of coincidence. And the two expressions, "Aus alten
Zeiten," and "Mit ihrem Singen," the latter of which is so important,
Heine could have derived only from Schreiber. Heine was not jesting
when he said it was a fairy tale from the days of old; he was
following, it seems, Schreiber's saga, the first sentence of which
reads as follows: "In alten Zeiten liess sich manchmal auf dem Lureloy
um die Abenddämmerung und beym Mondschein eine Jungfrau sehen, die mit
so anmuthiger Stimme sang, dass alle, die es hörten, davon bezaubert
wurden." But Brentano's Lorelei does not sing at all, and Loeben's
just a little, "Sie singt dir hold zum Ohre," while Heine, like
Schreiber, puts his heroine in the prima donna class, and has her work
her charms through her singing. And it seems that Heine was following
Schreiber when the latter wrote as follows: "Viele, die
vorüberschifften, gingen am Felsenriff oder im Strudel zu Grunde, weil
sie nicht mehr auf den Lauf des Fahrzeugs achteten, sondern von den
himmlischen Tönen der wunderbaren Jungfrau gleichsam vom Leben
abgelöst wurden, wie das zarte Leben der Blume sich im süssen Duft
verhaucht."
And as to her personal appearance, Brentano and Loeben simply tell us
that she was beautiful, Brentano employing the Homeric method of
proving her beauty by its effects. Heine and Schreiber not only
comment upon her physical beauty, they also tell us how she enhanced
her natural charms by zealously attending to her hair and her jewelry
and religiously guarding the color scheme in so doing. In brief, the
similarity is so striking that, if we can prove that Heine knew
Schreiber in 1823, we can definitely assert that Schreiber[65] was his
main, if not his unique, source.
Let us take up the various arguments in favor of the contention that
Heine knew Schreiber's Handbuch in 1823, beginning with the least
convincing. If Heine read Loeben's ballad and saga in "_Urania_ für
1821," he could thereby have learned also of Schreiber's _Rheinsagen_,
for, by a peculiar coincidence for our purpose, Brockhaus
discusses[66] these in the introduction in connection with a tragedy
by W. Usener, entitled Die Brüder, and based upon one of Schreiber's
_Sagen_. Proof, then, that Heine knew Loeben in 1823 is almost proof
that he also knew Schreiber.
But there is better proof than this. In Elementargeister[67], we find
this sentence: "Ganz genau habe ich die Geschichte nicht im Kopfe;
wenn ich nicht irre, wird sie in Schreibers _Rheinischen Sagen_ aufs
umständlichste erzählt. Es ist die Sage vom Wisperthal, welches unweit
Lorch am Rheine gelegen ist." And then Heine tells the same story that
is told by Schreiber. It is the eighth of the seventeen _Sagen_ in
question. This, then, is proof that Heine knew Schreiber so long
before 1835 that he was no longer sure he could depend upon his
memory. But it is impossible to say whether Heine's memory was good
for twelve years, or more, or less.
But there is better evidence than this. Heine's _Der Rabbi von
Bacharach_ reaches far back into his life. That he intended to write
this sort of work before 1823 has been proved;[68] just when he
actually began to write this particular work is not so clear, but we
know that he did much preliminary reading by way of preparing himself
for its composition. And the region around and above and below
Bacharach comes in for detailed discussion and elaborate description
in Schreiber's _Rheinsagen_. The crusades, the _Sankt-Wernerskirchen_,
Lorch, the _Fischfang_, Hatto's _Mäuseturm_, the maelstrom at Bingen,
the _Kedrich_, the story of the _Kecker Reuter_ who liberated the maid
that had been abducted by dwarfs, and again, and this is irrefutable,
the story "von dem wunderlicheft Wisperthale drüben, wo die Vögel ganz
vernünftig sprechen," all of these and others play a large role in
Schreiber's sagas and in Heine's _Rabbi_. No one can read Schreiber's
_Handbuch_ and Heine's _Rabbi_ without being convinced that the former
stood sponsor for the latter.
And lastly, Heine wrote before 1821 his poem entitled "Die zwei
Brüder."[69] It is the tenth of the seventeen _Volkssagen_ by
Schreiber, the same theme as the one treated by W. Usener already
referrred to. It is an old story,[70] and Heine could have derived his
material from a number of places, but not from Grimm's _Deutsche_
_Sagen_, indeed from no place so convenient as Schreiber. Heine knew
Schreiber's _Handbuch_[71] in 1823.
The situation, then, is as follows: Heine had to have a source or
sources, There are three candidates for Heine honors; Brentano,
Loeben, Schreiber. Brentano has a number of supporters, though the
evidence, external and internal, is wholly lacking. It would seem that
lack of attention to chronology has misled investigators. Brentano's
ballad can now be read in many places, but between about 1815 and 1823
it was safely concealed in the pages of an unread and unknown novel.
Loeben[72] has many supporters, though the external evidence, except
for the fact that Heine corresponded with Brockhaus, is wholly
lacking, and the internal weakens on careful study. It would seem that
the striking similarity in form has misled investigators. Schreiber
has only one supporter, despite the fact that the evidence, external
and internal, is as strong as it can be without Heine's ever having
made some such remark as the following: "Yes, in 1823 I knew _only_
Schreiber's saga and borrowed from it." But Heine never made any such
statement. It would seem that the strong assertions of so many
investigators in favor of Brentano and Loeben have made careful study
of the matter appear not worth while; the problem was apparently
solved. And since Heine never committed himself in this connection,
the matter will, in all probability, remain forever conjectural. This
much, however, is irrefutable: even if Heine knew in 1823 the five
_Loreleidichtungen_, that had then been written, those by Brentano,
Niklas Vogt, Eichendorff, Schreiber, and Loeben, and if he borrowed
what he needed from all of them, he borrowed more from Schreiber[73]
than from the other four combined.[74]
III
Whore Brentano sowed, many have reaped. Since the publication of his
_Godwi_, about sixty-five _Loreleidichtungen_[75] have been written in
German, the most important being those by Brentano (1810-16), Niklas
Vogt[76] (1811), Eichendorff (_ca._ 1812), Loeben (1821), Heine
(1823), Simrock (1837, 1840), Otto Ludwig (1838), Geibel (1834, 1846),
W. Müller von Königswinter (1851), Carmen Sylva, (_ca._ 1885), A.
L'Arronge (1886), Julius Wolff (1886), and Otto Roquette (1889). In
addition[77] to these, the story has been retold[78] many times, with
slight alterations of the "original" versions, by compilers of
chrestomathies, and parodies have been written on it. There is hardly
a conceivable interpretation that has not been placed upon the
legend.[79] The Lorelei has been made by some the evil spirit that
entices men into hazardous games of chance, by others, she is the
lofty incarnation of a desire to live and be blessed with the love
that knows no turning away. The story has also wandered to Italy,
France, England, Scotland, Scandinavia, and the United States,[80] and
the heroine has proved a grateful theme for painters and sculptors. Of
the epic works, that by Julius Wolff is of interest because of the
popularity it has enjoyed. First published in 1886, it had reached the
forty-sixth thousand in 1898. Of the dramas that by L'Arronge should
be valuable, but it has apparently never been published; nor has Otto
Ludwig's operatic fragment,[81] unless recently. Aside from Geibel,
Otto Roquette is the most interesting librettist. Of the forty-odd
(there were forty-two in 1898) composers of Heine's ballad, the
greatest are Schumann, Raff, and Liszt, and in this case Friedrich
Sucher,[82] who married the ballad to its now undivorceable melody.
Though Brentano created[83] the story of his ballad, he located it in
a region rich in legendary material, and it was the echo-motif of
which he made especial use, and traces of this can be found in German
literature as early as the thirteenth century.[84] The first real poet
to borrow from Brentano was Eichendorff,[85] in whose _Ahnung und
Gegenwart_ we have the poem since published separately under the title
of "Waldgespräch," and familiar to many through Schumann's
composition.[86] That Eichendorff's Lorelei operates the forest is
only to be expected of the author of so many _Waldlieder_. Even if
Heine had known it he could have borrowed nothing from it except the
name of his heroine.[87]
As to Loeben's saga, there can be but little doubt that he derived his
initial inspiration from Schreiber, with whom he became intimately
acquainted[88] at Heidelberg during the winter of 1807-8. This, of
course, is not to say that Heine borrowed from Loeben. Indeed, one of
the strongest proofs that Heine borrowed from Schreiber rather than
from Loeben is the clarity and brevity, ease and poetry of Schreiber's
saga as over against the obscurity and diffuseness, clumsiness and
woodenness of Loeben's saga,[89] the plot of which, so far as the
action is concerned, is as follows: Hugbert von Stahleck, the son of
the Palsgrave, falls in love with the Lorelei and rows out in the
night to her seat by the Rhine. In landing, he falls into the stream,
the Lorelei dives after him and brings him to the surface. The old
Palsgrave has, in the meanwhile, sent a knight and two servants to
capture the Lorelei. They climb the lofty rock and hang a stone around
the enchantress' neck, when she voluntarily leaps from the cliff into
the Rhine below and is drowned.
The one episode in Loeben not found in any of Schreiber's _Rheinsagen_
is the story of the castaway ring miraculously restored from the
stomach of the fish. This Loeben could have taken from "Magelone" by
Tieck, or "Polykrates" by Schiller, both of whom he revered as men and
with whose works he was thoroughly familiar. But there is nothing in
Loeben that Heine could not have derived in more inspiring form from
Schreiber; and Schreiber contains essentials not in Loeben at all.
Indeed, a general study of Schreiber's manuals leads one to believe
that the influence of them, as a whole, on Heine would be a most
grateful theme: there is not one Germanic legend referred to in Heine
that is not contained in Schreiber. And as a prose writer, Heine's
fame rests largely on his travel pictures.[90]
The points of similarity between Loeben's ballad and saga and the
ballads and Märchen of Brentano, all of which Loeben knew in 1821, are
wholly negligible. It remains,[91] therefore, simply to point out some
of the peculiarities of Brentano's "Loreley" as protrayed in the
_Rheinmärchen_--peculiarities that are interesting in themselves and
that may have played a part in the development of the legend since
1846.
In "Das Märchen von dem Rhein und dem Müller Radlauf,"[92] Loreley is
portrayed in a sevenfold capacity, as it were: seven archways lead to
seven doors that open onto seven stairways that lead to a large hall
in which Frau Lureley sits on a sevenfold throne with seven crowns
upon her head and her seven daughters around her. This makes
interesting reading for children, but Brentano did not lose sight of
adults, including those who like to speculate as to the origin of the
legend. He says: "Sie [Lorelei] ist eine Tochter der Phantasie,
welches eine berühmte Eigenschaft ist, die bei Erschaffung der Welt
mitarbeitete und das Allerbeste dabei that; als sie unter der Arbeit
ein schönes Lied sang, hörte sie es immer wiederholen und fand endlich
den Wiederhall, einen schönen Jüngling in einem Felsen sitzen, mit dem
sie sich verheiratete und mit ihm die Frau Lureley erzeugte; sie
hatten auch noch viele andere Kinder, zum Beispiel: die Echo, den
Akkord, den Reim, deren Nachkommen sich noch auf der Welt
herumtreiben."
Just as Frau Lureley closes the first _Märchen_, so does she begin the
second: "Von dem Hause Staarenberg und den Ahnen des Müllers
Radlauf."[93] Here she creates, or motivates, the other characters.
Her seven daughters appear with her, as follows: Herzeleid,
Liebesleid, Liebeseid, Liebesneid, Liebesfreud, Reu und Leid, and
Mildigkeit. She reappears then with her seven daughters at the close
of the _Märchen_, and each sings a beautiful song, while Frau Lureley,
the mother of Radlauf, proves to be a most beneficent creature.
Imaginative as Brentano was, he rarely rose to such heights as in this
and the next, "Märchen vom Murmelthier,"[94] in which Frau Lureley
continues her great work of love and kindness. She rights all wrongs,
rewards the just, corrects the unjust, and leads a most remarkable
life whether among the poor on land or in her element in the water.
All of which is poles removed from Loeben's saga, though he knew these
_Märchen_,[95] for they were written when Brentano was his intimate
friend.
As to the importance of Loeben's saga, Wilhelm Hertz says: "Fast alle
jüngeren Dichter knüpfen an seinen Erfindungen an, so besonders die
zahlreichen musikdramatischen Bearbeitungen."[96] It is extremely
doubtful that this statement is correct. It is plain that many of the
lyric writers leaned on Schreiber, and the librettists could have done
the same; or they could have derived their initial suggestion in more
attractive form than that offered by Loeben. It seems, however, that
Geibel[97] knew Loeben's saga. Though his individual poems on the
Lorelei betray the influence of Heine, and though his drama resembles
Brentano's ballad in mood and in unimportant details, it contains the
same proper names of persons and places that are found in Loeben. And
what is more significant, it contains two important events that are
not found in any of the other versions of the saga: the scene with the
wine-growers and the story of the castaway ring. The latter is an old
theme, but that they both occur in Loeben and in Geibel would argue
that the latter took them from the former. It is largely a question as
to whether a poet like Geibel has to have a source for everything that
is not absolutely abstract. The entire matter is complicated.[98] The
paths of the Lorelei have crossed each other many times since Brentano
started her on her wanderings. To draw up a map of her complete
course, showing just who influenced whom, would be a task more
difficult than grateful.[99]
As to Brentano's original ballad,[100] try as we may to depreciate the
value of his creation by tracing it back to echo-poetry and by
coupling it with older legends, such as that of Frau Holla, we are
forced to give him credit for having not simply revived but for having
created a legend that is beautiful in itself and that has found a host
of imitators, direct and indirect, the world over, including one of
the world's greatest lyric writers. This then is just one of the many
things that the German romanticists started; it is just one of their
many contributions to the literature that lasts. And for the
perpetuation of this one, students of German literature have, it
seems, given the obscure Graf von Loeben entirely too much credit. But
who will give the oft-scolded Clemens Brentano too little credit? Only
those who dislike romanticism on general principles and who will not
be convinced that the romanticists could be original.[101]
ALLEN WILSON PORTERFIELD
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY
NEW YORK CITY
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Ferdinand August Otto Heinrich Graf von Loeben, the scion of an
old, aristocratic, Protestant family, was born at Dresden, August
18, 1786. He received his first instruction from private
tutors. For three years from 1804 on, he unsuccessfully, because
unwillingly, studied law at the University of Wittenberg. In 1807
he entered, to his profound delight, the University of Heidelberg,
where, in association with Arnim, Brentano, and Görres, he
satisfied his longing for literature and art. Beginning with 1808
he lived alternately at Wien, Dresden, and Berlin and with Fouqué
at Nennhausen. He took an active part in the campaign of 1813-14,
marched to Paris, and returned after his company had been
disbanded, to Dresden, where, in 1817, he married Johanna Victoria
Gottliebe _geb._ von Bressler and established there his
permanent abode. In 1822 he suffered a stroke of apoplexy from
which he never recovered: even the magnetic treatment given him by
Justinus Kerner proved of no avail. He died at Dresden, April 3,
1825. See _Allgemeine deutsche Biographie_, XIX, 40-45. The
article is by Professor Muncker. Wilhelm Müller also wrote an
article full of lavish praise of Loeben in _Neuer Nekrolog der
Deutschen_, III, Jahrg. 1824, Ilmenau, 1827.
[2] Meyer (6th ed.) does not mention Loeben even in the articles on
Fouqué and Malsburg, two of Loeben's best friends; Brockhaus
(Jubilee ed.) mentions him as one of Eichendorff's friends in the
article on Eichendorff, but neither has an independent note on
Loeben. Nor is he mentioned in such compendious works on the
nineteenth century as those by Gottschall, R.M. Meyer
(_Grundriss_ and _Geschichte_), and Fr. Kummer. Biese
says (_Deutsche Literaturgeschichte_, II. 436) of him: "Auch
ein so ausgesprochenes Talent, wie es Graf von Loeben war, entging
nicht der Gefahr, die Romantik in ihre Karikatur zu verzerren."
[3] Cf. _Allgemeine deutsche Biographie_, XIX, 42.
[4] Partial lists of his works are given in: Goedeke,
_Grundriss_, VI, 108-10 (2nd ed.): _Allgemeine deutsche
Biographie_, XIX. 40-45; the sole monograph on Loeben by
Raimund Pissin. _Otto Heinrich Graf von Loeben, sein Leben und
seine Werke_, Berlin, 1905, 326 pages. By piecing these lists
together--for they vary--it seems that Loeben wrote, aside from
the works mentioned above, the following: 1 conventional drama, 1
musical-romantic drama, 2 narrative poems, one of which is on
Ferdusi, 3 collections of poems, between 30 and 40 novelettes,
fairy tales and so on. and_ "einige tausend" aphorisms and
detached thoughts. It is in Pissin's monograph that Loeben's
position in the Heidelberg circle of 1807-8 is worked out. as
follows: Loeben and Eichendorff constituted one branch, Arnim and
Brentano the other, Görres stood loosely between the two, and the
others sided now with one group, now with the other.
[5] The verses are from _Geständnisse_, No. 125 in Pissin's
collection of Loeben's poems.
[6] _Geständnisse_. No. 125.
[7] Aside from the reviews, letters, and individual poems reprinted
here and there, the following works were accessible to the writer:
(1) _Das weisse Ross, eine altdeutsche Familienchronik; (2) Die
Sonnenkinder, eine Erzählung; (3) Die Perle und die Maiblume, eine
Novelle; (4) Cephalus und Procris, ein Drama; (5) Ferdusi; (6)
Persiens Ritter, eine Erzählung; (7) Die Zaubernächte am Bosporus,
ein romantisches Gedicht; (8) Prinz Floridio, ein Märchen; (9)
Leda; eine Erzählung; (10) Weinmärchen; (11) Gesänge._
[8] Eichendorff's relation to Loeben can be studied in the edition of
Eichendorff's works by Wilhelm Kusch, Regensburg. Vols. III,
X-XIII have already appeared. For a poetization of Loeben, see
_Ahnung und Gegenwart_, chap. xii, pp. 144 ff. For a
historical account of Loeben, see _Erlebtes_, chap. x,
pp. 425 ff. It is here that Eichendorff makes Goethe praise Loeben
in the foregoing fashion.
[9] There is no positive evidence that Goethe made any such remark. In
his _Gespräche_ (Biedermann. V, 270; VI, 198-99) there are
two references to Loeben by Goethe; they are favorable but
noncommittal as to his poetic ability.
[10] Cf. _Die Tagebücher des Gräfen von Platen_, Stuttgart, 1900.
Under date of August 14, 1824, Platen wrote: "Es enthält viele
gute Bemerkungen, wiewohl diese Art Prosa nicht nach meinem Sinne
ist." The reference is to Loeben's commentary to Madame de Staëls
_De l'Allemayne._
[11] Cf. _Heinrick von Kleists Berliner Kämpfe_, Berlin, 1901, pp.
490-96. The story in question is "Die furchtbare Einladung."
[12] Cf. _Herm. Anders Krüger, _Pseudoromantik. Friedrich Kind und der
Dresdener Liederkreis._ Leipzig. 1904. pp. 144-48. Krüger also
discusses Loeben in his _Der junge Eichendorff._ Leipzig. 1904.
pp. 88 and 128.
[13] Cf. Fouqué, Apel. Miltitz. _Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen
Romantik_, Leipzig,1908. In a letter to his brother. Fouqué wrote
(January 6, 1813): "Ein Dichter, meine ich, ist er allerdings, ein
von Gott dazu bestimmter." Fouqué, however, realized Loeben's many
weaknesses as a poet, though at Loeben's death he wrote a poem on
him praising him as the master of verse technique.
[14] Cf. Kosch's edition of Eichendorff. XIII. 65. Loeben says: "In
Weimar war ich im vorigen Winter bei Goethe; er war mir
freundlich." The "previous winter" was 1813.