Classics and the Western Canon discussion

Chapter XV
Anodos sings and the lady on the literal and figurative pedestal, who I presume is once again his ideal marble lady, slowly becomes visible from the feet up. Are there any parts of the song that we should note?

Chapter XVI
For those needing a a translation: (Note: the translations provided in this post are from my edition of the book)

“Selbst der Styx, der neunfach sie umwindet,
Wehrt die Rückkehr Ceres Tochter nicht:
Nach dem Apfel greift sie, und es bindet
Ewig sie des Orkus Pflicht.”

“Ev’n the Styx, which ninefold her infoldeth,
Hems not Ceres’ daughter in its flow;
But she grasps the apple—ever holdeth
Her, sad Orcus, down below.” —SCHILLER, Das Ideal und das Leben

Once again the lady flees. Anodos follows her through a door once again ignoring the warning signs, in this case an actual sign:

. . .I could not help reading, in silver letters beneath the lamp: “No one enters here without the leave of the Queen.” But what was the Queen to me, when I followed my white lady?

I have to say I am confused by who the white figure who rushes past Anodos is, the marble lady, the Alder maiden, someone else? And why does she say:

“Ah! you should have sung to me; you should have sung to me!”. . .

Who was Anodos singing to?

Chapter XVII
Another translation for those who need it:

“Anfangs wollt’ ich fast verzagen,
Und ich glaubt’ ich trüg’ es nie,
Und ich hab’ es doch getragen,—
Aber fragt mich nur nicht: wie?”

“First, I thought, almost despairing,
This must crush my spirit now;
Yet I bore it, and am bearing—
Only do not ask me how.” —HEINE

Anodos descends the pit meeting some kobolds along the way who harass him attempting to deny the lady to him until Andoos develops a:

spark of nobleness, and I said aloud, “Well, if he is a better man, let him have her.”

I am not sure what to make of his meeting with the ugly woman, but I suspect the spark of nobleness is another rung on the ladder of personal growth.

Chapter XVIII
Again, for those who need it:

“Im Sausen des Windes, im Brausen des Meers,
Und im Seufzen der eignen Brust.”

"In the wind’s uproar, the sea’s raging grim,
And the sighs that are born in him.” —HEINE

“Ja, es wird zwar ein anderes Zeitalter kommen, wo es Licht wird, und wo der Mensch aus erhabnen Traümen erwacht, und die Traüme—wieder findet, weil er nichts verlor als den Schlaf.”

“From dreams of bliss shall men awake
One day, but not to weep:
The dreams remain; they only break
The mirror of the sleep.” —JEAN PAUL, Hesperus

Anodos finally comes out of the pit and emerges onto the edge of a wintery sea, bare, and waste, and gray. He decides he would rather meet death head on than die slowly from hunger and exposure so he jumps in and is somehow saved and born away in a boat. Is this a sort of baptism? He looks down into the water and sees the happy times of his past. Then he sleeps and dreams:

Soon I fell asleep, overcome with fatigue and delight. In dreams of unspeakable joy—of restored friendships; of revived embraces; of love which said it had never died; of faces that had vanished long ago, yet said with smiling lips that they knew nothing of the grave; of pardons implored, and granted with such bursting floods of love, that I was almost glad I had sinned—

What exactly is he dreaming of here, and is it something that is actually happening or is this another case of foreshadowing?

All great questions, David. At this point in the story progression, I can confidently say that I have no idea what's going on. Much like an abstract painting, I'm finding that I'm not trying to figure out what something means, or represents, but rather, and just enjoying the stunning literary beauty of the text.

Kyle wrote: "All great questions, David. At this point in the story progression, I can confidently say that I have no idea what's going on. Much like an abstract painting, I'm finding that I'm not trying to fig..."

Kyle, I can not agree more: David has posted very good questions - How I do want to have any question! - and I also have no idea what's going on, it is like the hero jumps in a rabbit hole, then in another and keep going... Even that I have read further do not help with these chapters, maybe with one or two of David's questions.

I think the "you should have sung to me" exclamation was intended to convey that instead of trying to seize her once she was fully unveiled to him, Anodos should have continued to sing. MacDonald is depicting the nobility of disinterested appreciation (art, poetry) giving way to possessive desire. It is interesting that this particular misstep is what finally seems to trigger a change in Anodos, as subsequently for the first time he does not stop at pitying himself but truly renounces his imagined claim on the beautiful thing he wants.

It struck while reading these chapter that this tale, with Anodos traveling through a fantastical but serious and meaningful landscape, owes something to Pilgrim's Progress, which we read back in 2015, But here what the figures mean is not so clear, and I think I agree with those who say we are not meant to puzzle out exactly what they mean, but to absorb the experience in some subliminal fashion--like a fairy story.

Alexey wrote: "How I do want to have any question!"

Is Anodos' dive into the wintry sea a desperate act of suicide in or a spiritual act of surrender, or something else?

Rex's explanation of the Marble Lady's statement, "You should have sung to me [instead of trying to grab me] makes perfect sense. Or does it? What could have happened, been gained, lost, or learned, if Anodos kept his grubby hands to himself and just continued to sing?

In the boat Anodos dreams his past. Is Anodos traveling backwards, forwards, or is he somehow moving forwards by reviewing his past? How can we apply the Hesperus stanza here? What is the mirror of sleep; how do dreams break this mirror?

“From dreams of bliss shall men awake
One day, but not to weep:
The dreams remain; they only break
The mirror of the sleep.” —JEAN PAUL, Hesperus

David wrote: "Rex's explanation of the Marble Lady's statement, "You should have sung to me [instead of trying to grab me] makes perfect sense. Or does it? What could have happened, been gained, lost, or learned, if Anodos kept his grubby hands to himself and just continued to sing?"

When I was reading this place, I thought the only explanation is what Rex has written, but after your questions, I doubt and even producing something like alternatives. However, I still think that Rex is right.

David wrote: "“Anfangs wollt’ ich fast verzagen,
Und ich glaubt’ ich trüg’ es nie,
Und ich hab’ es doch getragen,—
Aber fragt mich nur nicht: wie?”

“First, I thought, almost despairing,
This must crush my spirit now;
Yet I bore it, and am bearing—
Only do not ask me how.” —HEINE."

I would translate "Und ich glaubt’ ich trüg’ es nie" to "And I thought I couldn't bear it" This is more literal (though it doesn't rhyme), and the original, at least from the little excerpt that we have, doesn't really imply a crushing of spirit. Not being able to bear something is very different from a crushed spirit.

David wrote: "“Ja, es wird zwar ein anderes Zeitalter kommen, wo es Licht wird, und wo der Mensch aus erhabnen Traümen erwacht, und die Traüme—wieder findet, weil er nichts verlor als den Schlaf.”

“From dreams of bliss shall men awake
One day, but not to weep:
The dreams remain; they only break
The mirror of the sleep.” —JEAN PAUL, Hesperus."

These two excerpts are similar but not the same. Let me translate a little more literally:

Yes, there will come another age,
where light emerges, and where man will awake from enlightened/sublime dreams, and will find the dreams again, because he didn't lose anything but sleep.

I wasn't familiar with Jean Paul - which is a pen name. And thanks to wikipedia, his full name is Johann Paul Friedrich Richter (1763 - 1825).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Paul

...ah, another author to explore :)

Thank you very much for the translations Kerstin. You have substantiated a suspicion I have had over the ones provided in my edition. However, I am sad to say I am still struggling with their meanings.

Does the one you translated in message 11 perhaps suggest daydreams, i.e., imagination, is the mirror of the dreams we have while we sleep?

You're welcome :)

Does the one you translated in message 11 perhaps suggest daydreams, i.e., imagination, is the mirror of the dreams we have while we sleep?

It's possible. Just like in English, the word (day)dream can be synonymous with imagination. Though I am still puzzled why the word "mirror" was used in translation. My thoughts were more in the direction of finding a memory again, the memory of a dream.
Anyway, without the context it's hard to speculate. And it doesn't make it any easier to figure out what MacDonald is driving at. I am with you there!

As I read Phantastes, I have concluded that epigraphs are not helpful at all. For me, they give no insight into the meaning of the chapters. Just puzzles on their own

The Brooks translation of Paul's Hesperus has it so:

Yes, there will indeed come another age, when it will be light, and when man will awake out of sublime dreams and find–the dreams again, because he has lost nothing but sleep.

It's contextually part of a prefatory prayer to the evening star (Venus). Paul is lamenting human alienation: "torn far away from the stars, amused with glowworms... all veiled from each other, every one alone." As I understand it, Paul imagines poetry as the magic of a "dream" within the condition of disenchantment. The poet calls down the evening star (an image of the sun) to transform the benighted landscape and cast enchanted shapes on the soul, to quicken it with visions. Yet when we wake with the dawn, it will be no loss, because we find the truth of these dreams waiting for us in the light of the true sun.

Jean Paul's work was a notable influence on MacDonald.

As I noted in a previous post, I am trying to engage with Phantastes in a different way than I would other kinds of books. I am not trying to decode most incidents and characters, many of which still strike me as random. However, there are patterns in the book that I am now beginning to see.

For instance, I read the overall narrative in Chapters XIV through XVIII, at least in part, as a retelling of the Biblical story of sin and redemption. Perhaps you've noticed that Anodos' Shadow is not with him the in the Fairy Palace (Eden). There is only one command there: ”Touch Not!” Anodos breaks the command (eats of the apple) driven by his own desire, leaves Eden, and descends to an upper level of Hell inhabited by lawless ”fairy devils.” Somehow he finds a way back to the bleak upper world, but gives up hope and in his despair intends suicide, and plunges into the sea from which he ”sought not to return." He is saved by a boat which appears from nowhere (gratuitous Grace) and redeems him. That this telling is part of Phantastes is no surprise given MacDonald’s training as a Congregational Minister and his lifelong faith.

Does anyone else find the lifting-of-the-veil poem in Chapter XV sort of creepy?

It did make me smile a couple of times, though.

The chin as the face's foot:
”Lo, the chin, first feature, treading,
Airy foot to rest the face!"

The ears as porches:
"Sideways, grooved porches only
Visible to passing eye
Stand the silent, doorless, lonely
Entrance gates of melody.”

Kerstin wrote: "David wrote: "“Ja, es wird zwar ein anderes Zeitalter kommen, wo es Licht wird, und wo der Mensch aus erhabnen Traümen erwacht, und die Traüme—wieder findet, weil er nichts verlor als den Schlaf.”
..."

Seeing the translation is definitely helpful, and seeing a literal (if grammatically awkward) translation often lends even new insights.

Gary wrote: "As I noted in a previous post, I am trying to engage with Phantastes in a different way than I would other kinds of books. I am not trying to decode most incidents and characters, many of which sti..."

Gary, I found your comments very interesting and helps me look a little deeper into the section. I was getting bogged down and felt much of the yearning for the marble/white lady was once again a recounting of his "unveiling" of the lady in the cave and his pursuit of her - unrequited love?

I did love the descriptive imagery of chap XVIII once he left the underground, found it quite beautiful.

I think it’s worth noticing that there are two stand-alone stories inside Phantastes. The first is the tale of Cosmos and the Princess in Chapter VIII, and the second is the narrative poem of Sir Aglovaile and Adelaide in Chapter XIX. Both are tales of /love/beauty/goodness/ sought, found, and lost. I wonder if these are clueing us into the narrative arc of the whole book?

Chris wrote: "I did love the descriptive imagery of chap XVIII once he left the underground, found it quite beautiful".

I agree, and especially admired "nothing for the ear but the rush of the coming, the roar of the breaking, and the moan of the retreating wave." But beauty is in the eye of beholder, and Anodos found nothing beautiful in this landscape.

Gary wrote: "I think it’s worth noticing that there are two stand-alone stories inside Phantastes."

Sermons often contain parables.

David wrote: "Gary wrote: "I think it’s worth noticing that there are two stand-alone stories inside Phantastes."

Sermons often contain parables."

I hope MacDonald's sermons were more comprehensible...

David wrote: "He decides he would rather meet death head on than die slowly from hunger and exposure so he jumps in and is somehow saved and born away in a boat. Is this a sort of baptism?"

I think it is more of a re-birth, like in the book of Jonah. Things only turn right-side-up, the storm only ceases when Jonah jumps off the boat headed for Tarshish. He gets saved by the fish and deposited on the shore towards Niniveh to resume his predestined path. We have something similar going on here with Anodos.

Kerstin wrote: "I think it is more of a re-birth, like in the book of Jonah."

I looked at from the perspective of baptism. That he finally submitted [to his conditions], took the plunge, and was born away to a new life. So yeah, kinda like being reborn.

This section had such wonderful images -- the statue gradually appearing, the stars appearing overhead as he climbs down the shaft, the crazy goblins, the old woman who transforms herself, and then the images he sees in the ocean of his past and loved ones.

The long trip through the barren stone tunnel made me think for some reason of the birth canal with the emergence through a small opening into the day (and the seashore).

I agree that the statue's lament meant he should have continued singing to the statue to transform her to life instead of grabbing. Perhaps his journey afterwards is penance for that action, and he is redeemed by renouncing his claim to a better man and by rejecting the (apparently) false transformation of the old woman.

I was struck by the section in the tunnel as it narrows and narrows and Anodos says he knows it is his way and his only hope of leaving Fairyland "of which I was now almost weary." "Almost", but not quite, I guess.