The Gelehrtenschule des Johanneums educated German poet and dramatist Christian Friedrich Hebbel, the son of a bricklayer. He sent verses to Amalie Schoppe (1791–1858), a popular journalist and author of nursery tales; his manifest talent for poetry despite his humble origins resulted in the publication of these verses in the Hamburg Modezeitung. Through her patronage, he ably went to the University of Hamburg.
A year later, Hebbel went to Heidelberg to study law but then went to the University of Munich, where he devoted to philosophy, history, and literature. In 1839, he left Munich and walked all the way back to Hamburg, where he resumed his friendship with Elise Lensing, whose self-sacrificing assistance had helped him over the darkest days in Munich. In the same year, he wrote his first tragedy, Judith (1840, published 1841), which in the following year was performed in Hamburg and Berlin and made his name known throughout Germany.
He in 1840 wrote the tragedy Genoveva. Hebel at Munich began Der Diamant, a comedy, which he finished in 1841. In 1842, he visited Copenhagen, obtained a small travelling studentship from Christian VIII, king, and thus ably spent some time in Paris and two years (1844–1846) in Italy. In Paris, he wrote his fine "tragedy of common life," Maria Magdalena (1844). On return from Italy, Hebbel at Vienna met two Polish noblemen, the brothers Zerboni di Sposetti, who in their enthusiasm for his genius urged him and supplied him with the means to mingle in the best intellectual society of the Austrian capital.
Old precarious existence of Hebbel then horrified him, who in 1846 married the beautiful and wealthy actress Christine Enghaus, giving up the faithful Elise Lensing (faithful until her death), on the grounds that "a man's first duty is to the most powerful force within him, that which alone can give him happiness and be of service to the world": in his case the poetical faculty, which would have perished "in the miserable struggle for existence". This "deadly sin," which, "if peace of conscience be the test of action," was, he considered, the best act of his life, established his fortunes. Elise, however, still provided useful inspiration for his art. As late as 1851, shortly after her death, he wrote the little epic Mutter und Kind, intended to show that the relation of parent and child is the essential factor which makes the quality of happiness among all classes and under all conditions equal.
Long before this Hebbel had become famous, German sovereigns bestowed decorations upon him; in foreign capitals he was feted as the greatest of living German dramatists. From the grand-duke of Saxe-Weimar he received a flattering invitation to take up his residence at Weimar, where several of his plays were first performed. He remained, however, at Vienna until his death. Besides the works already mentioned, Hebbel's principal tragedies are: Herodes and Mariamne (1850) Julia (1851) Michel Angelo (1851) Agnès Bernauer (1855) Gyges and His Ring (1856) Die Nibelungen (1862), his last work (a trilogy consisting of a prologue, Der gehörnte Siegfried, and the tragedies, Siegfrieds Tod and Kriemhilds Rache), which won for the author the Schiller prize.
Of his comedies Der Diamant (1847), Der Rubin (1850) and the tragi-comedy Ein Trauerspiel in Sizilien (1845), are the more important, but they are heavy and hardly rise above mediocrity. All his dramatic productions, however, exhibit skill in characterization, great glow of passion, and a true feeling for dramatic situation; but their poetic effect is frequently marred by extravagances which border on the grotesque, and by the introduction of incidents the unpleasant character of which is not sufficiently relieved. In many of his lyric poem
The story of Herod the Great and Mariamne is so intriguing, so dramatic, that it has been staged frequently. Some of the most dissimilar writers have produced novels and plays on the subject: Voltaire, Elizabeth Cary, Stephen Phillips, Per Lagerquist, Pedro Calderón, Samuel Pordage and Friedrich Hebbel.
Although details vary, in essential, Herod suspects his wife Mariamne of disaffection, if not actual infidelity to him. Herod has previously murdered Mariamne’s grandfather and later her young and very popular brother, the High Priest Aristobulus, so that both Mariamne and Alexandra, mother of Mariamne and Aristobulus, hold Herod in fear. In Mariamne’s case, this fear is tempered by genuine affection and the knowledge that Herod loves her passionately and devotedly. Alexandra, on the other hand, lodges a complaint in Rome.
Salome, Herod’s sister, and not to be confused with a later, more famous, Salome, is insanely jealous of Mariamne, for her beauty and charm. She also resents the fact that her brother is so in love with a woman she considers inferior to him in station and therefore insinuates that Mariamne is unfaithful to Herod with more than one man.
It is at this point that Hebbel’s play begins. In the confused welter of court intrigue, unreasoning jealousy, resentment and power struggles against a backdrop of Roman military might and Jewish fanaticism the final drama in the lives of Herod and Mariamne plays out, with Alexandra (Mariamne‘s mother) and Salome, Herod's sister fanning the flames, and each new character with a plan to assassinate either Herod or Mariamne.
Herod here is deeply conflicted, savage in his mercilessness against anyone who poses a threat to his position as King, such as his brother-in-law Aristobulus, or to his personal authority, such as the unfortunate Joseph, here given the role of Salomé's husband. Torn between his passion for Mariamne and his fear that after his death, Mark Antony, a notorious lecher, would make her his concubine, Herod listens unwillingly to Salomé's slanders about his wife and her lover(s). Mariamne, for her part, loves Herod as passionately, despite her grief at her brother's murder, but cannot forgive Herod for his mistrust in her. When she comes to know of the orders Herod had given in the case of his execution by the Romans, her anger takes an unexpected turn.
Although the translation is less than sparkling, it serves a pedestrian purpose well. LH Allen's translation includes, in an appendix, the text left out in the final, staged copy as well as misc excerpts in the MS, but these, while they are interesting, do not really add substantially.
GYGES AND HIS RING (tr LH ALLEN)
For Kandaules, King of Lydia (in present-day Turkey), it is not the weight of tradition that matters: it is the need to impress Gyges the Greek, who has come to participate in the games and win laurels. Gyges stands as a direct contrast to the effete Kandaules, who is physically and morally flabby. Gyges is obviously unimpressed by Lydia and Kandaules, but in return for the King’s hospitality and admiration, he gives him an Invisibility Ring, telling him its provenance.
Kandaules is married to a beautiful princess of mixed Indo-Greek blood (Bactrian?) whose upbringing has been extremely strict. She will not allow herself to be seen in public, greatly to the King’s disappointment. Rhodope suspects that Kandaules prizes her as a possession of rare value, but does not really love her. Her instincts are right, for Kandaules has the bright idea of returning the Ring to Gyges and inviting him to watch his wife in her bedroom. Rhodope senses the presence of a stranger in her room; she hears footsteps, the clang of a weapon against a stone wall, and though she sees nobody, she remains uneasy. In the morning, she misses one of her diamond rings from her finger, and is confirmed in her suspicions, but Kandaules prevaricates when she questions him about his new Invisibility Ring. She tells him to kill Gyges at once, but Kandaules hesitates. The Queen then prepares to kill herself, but sends for Gyges, who tells her the truth. Rhodope tells Gyges to kill her husband, return and marry her and become King of Lydia.
In Plato’s Republic, the Ring stands for the corruption of gold to base metal: Gyges, when we first see him, is upright, athletic and above all, honourable. Possession of the Ring leads him first to an act of voyeurism and later to the murder of Kandaules. In Hebbel's play, Rhodope comes across as a very independent and determined woman, capable of immense dignity and raw barbarism. Kandaules himself boasts of his ancestor Herakles, but a stronger contrast to Hercules can hardly even be imagined. Kandaules is as weak, physically and morally, as Gyges and Rhodope respectively, are strong. He prefers tinsel to solid gold and accordingly pays the price. And in Thoas, we see Polonius all over again, but fortunately, with a happier end.
MARIA MAGDALENA (Tr LH ALLEN)
First off, this is neither a historical nor a Biblical play. It has a contemporary (for Hebbel's time) setting, with present day situations and people. A tragedy of operatic proportions, a prose play and not blank verse.
Maria Magdalena or rather, Clara, is the daughter of the carpenter Anthony. Honest and upright himself, public opinion or what he calls “civic pride” is what keeps him going. As long as he believes his son to be dishonest, he vows to make him pay: “I often wonder what I shall do when I see him again,” is his constant thought. He, who until today had held his head high, is forced to shake hands with the dregs of the townsfolk who regard him now with scorn. But what if his son were found to be innocent, after all? “Then I’d hire a lawyer, and I’d sell my last shirt to find out whether the mayor had the right to imprison the son of an honourable man, or not.” And since his son had disgraced him, he wants to be sure that his daughter's name is never brought to the dust. If she too were to let him down, he’d slit his throat.
And that is the peg on which the rest of the play is hung. For Clara, despair lies whichever of the three roads lie ahead of her. Although she is a strong character, like the other Hebbel heroines, the forces that act on her life are simply out of her choice or control. When she declares her independence in the only way possible in her day, by having an affair with a man not her fiance, she finally does not have the courage to face the taunts not only of society, but of her father.
The other, more pragmatic, aspect of the book is the importance given to money as a motive factor, as much as honour and duty. Although not perhaps intended that way, the way of honour and duty are the mark of gentlemen; both Anthony and Leonard are working-class, and respectability, theft and avarice is clearly their stamp. Only Clara's lover, the mysterious ‘Secretary’, who challenges Leonard to a duel, is again a gentleman, taking the gentleman’s way of settling scores.
Gyges and His Ring **** -- What a beautifully strange play. On the one hand, the poetry is truly breathtaking and the dialogue wild and unpredictable. I never knew what would come out of characters’ mouths – particularly Canduales and Gyges. Just brilliantly done.
“Just see them twist! They walk As though they were to wind around a thyrsus Which suddenly shot out of the ground, Climbs skyward arrowlike and faster still And drops a million grapes upon the earth. But wine meant for winged creatures only, Not for the world in which limps and crawls!” (p 229)
“The world requires sleep, as you and I Need ours; it grows, like us, and gains in strength When it apparently has died and tempts Some fools to jeer. Yes, when a man thus lies; His arms so used to toil, relaxed and idle; His eyes sealed tightly shut; his mouth is closed With lips clamped shut, perhaps still holding fast A wilted rose petal, just as though It were the greatest treasure; that must be A most peculiar sight for him who does Not sleep.” (p. 267)
This exotic language and strange characters, though, are trapped in a frustratingly unbelievable story. It the story of a king brought down by ancient myth, superstition and bizarre tradition.
His citizens want him out because he mocks the traditional crown and shield. His wife wants him dead because he let a man view her (presumably naked). Rhodope’s strict (and rather insane) ideas of modesty are hard to let pass, and the consequences in the play outweigh the crime a thousand-fold.
The ostensible problem appears to be that Candaules should not ask what the thing is (or its value/worth) but what it stands for. And failing to understand that he is brought down.
In the play, myth supplies power – rationalism is weakness. (And maybe in the world this is true – the ability of a people to deny reality creates a powerful force as we see in today’s conservative American politics.) But what to make of this – are we to surrender to superstitions because it has some kind of hold on people? Are we to see that superstition (and/or belief) holds everything together (from the economy to the government)?
Your opinion of the play may rest on how you view Rhodope. I found the play easier to believe (i.e., suspend disbelief) when I viewed her as utterly beautiful but completely and totally insane. I don’t, though, think that was Hebbel’s intention. (Though it does provide an interesting basis for a re-telling.)
It’s also rare see a play in which every character wants to die. They are anxious to. They absolutely demand it. They will tolerate no less.
As I noted earlier, the poetry is beautiful, but it shines through a rather stiff and unwieldy translation. The translator shows some knowledge of the rules of blank verse, but her desire for regularity (and a bit of a tin ear) leads her to sound some sour notes, like ending lines with “does” (as noted above) or “and” or “for.” Shakespeare would have been displeased.
In Candaules’ penultimate speech, her desire to “keep the beat,” so to speak, has her use a superfluous “does” that stultifies the pathos:
“Now be a tiger for me, and I’ll be your lion. Here will be our woods In which we often did enjoy the hunt.” (p. 268)
Overall, though, a wonderful little creation. Hebbel is completely unknown in the English speaking world, but deserves more performances and readings.