Sleep Walking and Moon Walking Part 7

"At last he saw her no more, the lovely picture had suddenly disappeared from him. He must however still hasten and hasten, there was no rest for him. He no longer knew himself what he was seeking and what he hoped to find. But now he ran upon a door; it opened and he entered a small, cosy room in which stood a white bed. Seized with a strange apprehension the youth drew back the curtains with bold hand, and looked, astonished, smiling, burning with bliss. There lay a beautiful maiden asleep and dreaming--ah! it was Rosalinde herself. In the sweet forgetfulness of sleep, unveiling herself like the outblown petals of a rosebud, she revealed her most secret charms in lovely fulness to the eye of night.

Emil stood before her in the dear delusion of aroused pa.s.sion and bent over her. 'Is not tonight my bridal night?', thought he. He reflected and the hot tumult of exulting senses tore him irresistibly. Then he flung himself pa.s.sionately into her arms, pressed his mouth to her mouth in yearning kisses and clung closer and closer to the warm, living delight of her charming form. He dared the boldest work of love. The sleeper did not oppose the daring beginning; in the power of a dream, like him, according to the myth, whom the chaste Luna had seized, she seemed at first to yield softly to the seductive moment. Only a glowing color suffused the tender cheek, a gentle halting exclamation breathed through the half open lips. The bright light of the full moon shone on high with its trembling beams directly over the couch of the maiden.

"Now, now however she awakes from the strange troubled dream. She opens her eyes, she shakes her beautiful head as if she would free herself from the fetters of a dark enchantment. With a loud outcry she beholds herself actually in the young man's arms and sees alas! that she has not dreamed it. Wildly with all the strength of horror she pushes him from her, springs up and stands wringing her hands distracted before him, her fluttering hair only half disclosing her frightened countenance. Then she calls him by name in a tone indescribably piercing, painfully questioning, 'Emil!' He in turn, hearing himself called by name, falls at the same moment with a faint sigh swooning to the floor. After a pause he raises himself up, rubs his eyes and looks wonderingly about him. He cannot comprehend how he has come here. The influence of the moon has permitted the poor night wanderer to experience this adventure.

When he was completely awake and had come to himself, he stood up and began to think over his situation. Then his eye fell astonished upon Rosalinde, who continued to stare at him speechless and immovable. Shame and anger adorned with a deep glowing color the injured maiden, whose virgin whiteness had been sullied by the strange events of this night. A dark, frightening recollection of what had taken place flashed now like a remote, faded dream into Emil's consciousness. The alluring spirits of the night, which had buzzed around him, now mockingly stripped from him the deceitful mask.

"'Go, go, go!' called Rosalinde finally, who could no longer bear his look. 'Go!' she called and stretched out her hand with a pa.s.sionate movement toward him, as if she would with it jerk a reeking dagger from her breast. 'Go, go!' she repeated, sobbing and beseeching. Then she hid her aching head with a loud outbreak of tears. Emil slipped away heartbroken and in despair. He was in such a state, when he reached his own room, that he would have put a ball through his head, had there been at that moment a pistol at hand." How Rosalinde then became pregnant and in spite of her resistance toward Emil, still married him to reestablish her honor, how though after the wedding feast two acquaintances of the young husband, whom he had not invited, played him so mischievous a trick that he lost his reason in consequence, that deserves no further rendering.

We find here also as the nucleus of moon walking, when we strip from the foregoing all its mystical setting, the longing to approach the love object and there to be able to indulge oneself without punishment because it is done unconsciously. The literary historian Richard M.

Meyer regards it quite correctly: "Theodor Mundt believed that he had emphasized something new in his way of presenting it. 'The influence of the moon had caused the night wanderer to undergo this adventure.'" To be sure Mundt attributes all sorts of mystical-romantic rubbish to the action of the heavenly body.

"DER PRINZ VON HOMBURG," by Heinrich von Kleist.

Heinrich von Kleist also like Ludwig carried night wandering and moon walking into material at hand. We know that Kleist not long before the origin of the "Prinz von Homburg" under Schubert's influence occupied himself very much with the "night side of the natural sciences" and Wukadinovic has made it also apparent that the poet went still deeper, back to one of Schubert's sources, to Reil's "Rhapsodien uber die Anwendung der psychischen Kurmethode auf Geisteszerruttungen."[27] There he found a number of features which he then interwove into his drama, although by no means all that he permitted his moonstruck hero to do.

The matter of the drama is presumably so well known that I content myself here with giving the mystical setting and the beginning and end of the action.

[27] "Rhapsodies over the Employment of the Psychical Method of Treatment for Mental Disturbances." See Critical Historical Review by W. A. White, Journ. Nerv. and Ment. Dis., Vol. 43, No. 1. [Tr.]

Wearied with a long ride, the Prince von Homburg throws himself down to sleep that he may obtain a little rest before the great battle in which he is about to engage. In the morning when they seek the leader they find him sitting on a bench in the castle park of Fehrbellin, whither the moonlight had enticed the sleep walker. He sits absorbed with bared head and open breast, "Both for himself and his posterity, he dreams the splendid crown of fame to win." Still further, the laurel for this crown he himself must have obtained during the night from the electoral greenhouse. The electress thinks, "As true as I'm alive, this man is ill!" an opinion in which the princess Natalie concurs. "He needs the doctor." But Hohenzollern, his best friend, answers coolly, "He is perfectly well. It is nothing but a mere trick of his mind."

Meanwhile the prince has finished winding the wreath and regards it idly. Then the elector is moved to see how far the former would carry the matter and he takes the laurel wreath out of his hand. "The prince grows red and looks at him. The elector throws his necklace about the wreath and gives it to the princess; the prince stands up roused. The elector withdraws with the princess, who holds up the wreath; the prince follows her with outstretched arms." And now he betrays his inmost wish, "Natalie! my girl, my bride!" In vain the astonished elector, "Go, away with you!" for the prince turns also to him, "Friedrich, my prince, my father!" And then to the electress, "O my mother!" She thinks wonderingly, "Whom is it he thus names?" Yet the prince reaches after the laurel wreath, saying, "Dearest Natalie! Why run away from me?" and really seizes her gloves rather than the wreath. The elector however disappearing with his retinue behind the gates calls to him:

"Away, thou prince of Homburg, get thee back, Naught here for thee, away! The battle's field Will be our meeting place, when't pleases thee!

No man obtains such favors in his dreams!"

"The prince remains standing a moment with an expression of wonder before the door, then pondering descends from the terrace, laying his hand, in which he holds the glove, before his forehead, turns as soon as he is below and looks again toward the door." Out of this state the Hohenzollern returning awakens him. At the word "Arthur" the moonstruck prince collapses. "No better could a bullet have been aimed." Afterward of course he makes up some story in regard to his sleep walking, that he had slipped into the garden on account of the great heat. Only the princess's glove recalls to him what has happened in his sleep:

"What is this dream so strange that I have dreamed?

For all at once, with gold and silver gleaming, A royal castle flung its portals wide.

While from the marble terraced heights above Thronged down to me the happy dancers all; Among them those my love has held most dear.

Elector and electress, and--who is the third?

--What name to call her?"

For the name of the princess there is amnesia, as well as for the reason for his moon walking. Then he continues:

"And he, the elector, with brow of mighty Zeus, A wreath of laurel holds within his hand.

And pressing close before my very face Plucks from his neck the chain that's pendant there.

His hand outstretched he sets it on my locks, My soul meanwhile enkindled high."

Now again the complete forgetting of the loved one's name. He can only say:

"High up, as though to deck the brow of fame, She lifts the wreath, on which the necklace swings, To crown a hero, so her purpose seems.

With eager movement I my hands outstretch, No word, mere haste to seize it in my grasp.

Down would I sink before her very feet.

Yet, as the fragrance over valleys spread Is scattered by the wind's fresh blowing breath, Along the sloping terrace flees the throng.

I tread the ramp--unending, far away It stretches up to heaven's very gate, I clutch to right, I clutch to left, and fear No one of all the treasures to secure, No one of all the dear ones to retain.

In vain--the castle's door is rudely closed; A flash of brightness from within, then dark, The doors once more swing clatteringly together.

And I awaking hold within my hand Naught but a glove, alas! as my reward, Torn from the arm of that sweet dream caught form A glove, ye G.o.ds of power, only this!"

It is evident that there is complete memory of the latter part of his night wandering up to the name of the beloved maiden, although he thinks, "One dumb from birth to name her would be able!" Only once, when he was dreaming by himself, he was on the way toward recollecting the repressed name. He turns even to the Hohenzollern:

"I fain would ask you, my dear friend, The electress, her fair niece, are they still here The lovely princess of the House of Orange, Who lately had arrived at our encampment?"

But he was cut off briefly by his friend, "Eh, what! this long while they've been gone." The same friend had however to explain in detail later, when he appeared before the elector in behalf of the prince condemned to death:

"When I awoke him and his wits he gathered, A flood of joy the memory roused in him; In truth, no sight more touching could you find!

At once the whole occurrence, like a dream He spread before me, drawn with finest touch.

So vivid, thought he, have I never dreamed.-- And firmer still within him grew belief On him had Heaven a favoring sign bestowed; With all, yes all his inner eye had seen, The maiden, laurel crown and n.o.ble jewels, Would G.o.d reward him on the battle's day."

We see here plainly that the kernel of the supposed dream belonging to the night wandering is wish fulfilment, desire for glory and the hand of the beloved. It agrees very well with this conception that the prince himself takes the laurel from the gardener's forcing house to wind a wreath of honor for himself. He looks at it with admiring eyes and puts it upon himself, playing the role of being beloved, only the elector and Natalie come in to interfere. The princess and the laurel, also love and fame really hypnotize him and draw him magnetically. The prince follows them both with outstretched arms until the elector and Natalie disappear behind the gates. It seems to me very significant that not long before the creation of this drama a crowning with laurel at the hands of a loved one had actually taken place in the life of the poet and that, as it is now generally admitted, Kleist himself stood as the model of the prince. "Two of the smallest, daintiest hands in Dresden," as Kleist relates, crowned him with laurel at a soiree in the house of the Austrian amba.s.sador after the preliminary reading of the "Zerbrochenen Kruges." ("The Broken Pitcher.") These daintiest hands belonged to his beloved Julie Kunze, to whom Dame Rumor said he was engaged. Wukadinovic defines quite correctly the connection of the drama with its autobiographical meaning: "As the poet sees the ideal of love arising next to that of poetic fame, so he grants to the ambitious prince, who exhibits so many of his own traits, a loving woman standing at his side, who rewards him at the close with the wreath."

The matter goes yet much deeper. The prince says of the elector: "Plucks from his neck the chain that's pendant there.... My soul meanwhile enkindled high." The laurel attains a further value for the prince, because the elector binds his own necklace about it. The latter is continually taken by Homburg as the father, to which a number of verses testify. Since the prince unmistakably stands for the poet, it cannot be denied that Kleist had desired the reward not only from the beloved one, but this still more with the express concurrence of the father. In the beginning to be sure he is repulsed by him, "Naught here for thee, away!" and later on account of his disobedience is even condemned to death.[28] He was not only pardoned, however, after he had acknowledged his wrong and recognized the father's judgment as correct, but when he believed his last hour had struck, he was bedecked with the wreath which he desired and on which moreover his elector's chain hangs. Still further, the latter, the father himself, extends the laurel to Natalie and leads the beloved to him. It is beyond question that love is the chief motive of the moon walking of the prince von Homburg, love to a woman as well as a h.o.m.os.e.xual tendency otherwise authenticated in the case of Kleist. Only it appears here closely amalgamated with desire for fame, something completely unerotic, and with the s.e.xual, as we have found it so far regularly in night wandering and moon walking, quite excluded.

[28] It is significant to compare here the Consul Brutus, who permitted the execution of his sons.

We will attempt to get more light on the last two points. The striving after poetic fame does not remain with our poet within the usual, normal limits but becomes much more a peculiar neurotic characteristic. No less a hope for instance had Heinrich von Kleist than with an unheard of creation to strike at Sophocles, Shakespeare and Goethe and concerning the last named he uttered this audacious sentiment, "I will rend the crown from his brow!" Since he fails to attain this goal in spite of repeated most earnest onslaughts, he rushes away to die upon the battlefield. He writes to his sister, however, "Heaven denies me fame, the greatest of earthly possessions; I fling back to it all else like a self willed child!"

What lay in truth behind that unattainable goal that Kleist tried again and again to carry by force? He himself confesses that it was not the highest poetic art or at least not exclusively so. Otherwise Kleist would have been able to content himself with his so commanding talent and with that which he was able to accomplish with it, like so many other great poets. Let us not forget that he sought to outdo especially the three greatest. Therefore I think, in accordance with all my psychoa.n.a.lytic experience, that Sophocles, Shakespeare and Goethe are together only father incarnations, that Kleist thus wanted to remove the father from the field. One has a right to definite surmisings on the basis of various works of Kleist, although nothing is known to us of the poet's relations to his parents. The incest motive is one of the chief determining factors of artistic creation, as Rank has outlined in his beautiful book.[29] It is in the first place the desired and striven for incest with the mother herself, in the way of which the father naturally stands. The poet realizes in the freer land of poetry what is impossible in life, by displacing it over a discovered or given material.

[29] Otto Rank, "Das Inzest-Motiv in Dichtung und Sage," 1912, Franz Deuticke.

I discussed in a larger work,[30] previous to Rank's book, how Heinrich von Kleist made the incest phantasies of his childhood the foundation of many poems. So for instance the Marquise von O., a.s.saulted in a fainting fit, is protected from the foe pressing upon her by some one who loves her and will subsequently surely marry her. I need hardly explain that the evil one who will positively force himself upon her is the father, from whom the son defends the mother, that he may subsequently woo her.

It is again only the poet himself who sets himself as a youthful ideal G.o.d in place of the aging father, as Jupiter descended from his throne renewed in beauty and youth according to his divine power, to visit Alcmene in the form of her spouse Amphitryon. In the "Zerbrochenen Krug"

(Broken Pitcher) the judge breaks violently into the room of the beloved one--a typical symbol for one's own father who is also in fact the child's first judge--and is driven out by the rightful lover.

[30] "Heinrich von Kleist. Eine pathographisch-psychologische Studie,"

1910, J. F. Bergmann.

The objection need not be made that the poet has simply held to his pattern. The choice of material betrays the purpose, which frequently remains unconscious. What, we may say, impelled the poet although he wished to translate it wholly, to take up Moliere's Amphitryon, one of his weakest productions too, and then change it in so striking a fas.h.i.+on? Quite unlike the French version, Jupiter becomes for Kleist the advocate with the wife-mother:

"What I now feel for thee, Alcmene dearest, Ah, see! it soars far, far beyond the sun, Which even a husband owes thee.

Depart, beloved, flee from this thy spouse, And choose between us, either him or me.

I suffer with this shameful interchange, The thought to me is all unbearable, That this vain fellow's been received by thee, Whose cold heart thinks he holds a right o'er thee.

Oh! might I now to thee, my sweetest light, A being of another sort appear, Thy conqueror since the art to conquer thee Was taught me by the mighty G.o.ds."

In truth Kleist, like every other poet, chose the most of his material in accordance with unconscious wishes, where beyond all else the mother complex presses for poetic expression.

Let us apply once more that which has been so far discovered to the "Prinz von Homburg." This is rendered yet more easy from the fact that the electress is repeatedly designated by the hero as "Mother." His real mother had indeed at her death delivered him over to the friend of her youth with the words: "Be a mother to him when I am no longer here." And the electress had answered in similar strain, "He shall be mine as if my own in birth!" But since on the other hand Natalie also addresses her repeatedly as Mother as she does the elector as Father, so Natalie is Kleist's beloved sister in disguise. The poet would desire the laurel wreath thus from his own sister. Why then the father's acquiescence? If we now appeal to our psychoa.n.a.lytic experience, this teaches us that regularly the sister incest represents a later form of the older and more serious mother incest. The boy, who first desires the mother, satisfies himself later with the less forbidden and more easily accessible sister. All poets follow very significantly this psychoa.n.a.lytically established relations.h.i.+p, as Rank[31] has recently convincingly shown. The poets often represent this, that the phantasies and wishes are displaced from the mother to the sister or they are split up between mother and sister, which then makes their origin especially clear.

[31] _L. c._

The latter is also the case with Kleist in the "Prinz von Homburg." He takes for the mother he desires, at one time the electress, at another time Natalie, "his girl, his bride."[32] It agrees strikingly also that the prince in the fear of death expects to be saved only by the electress, that is the mother, from the punishment with which the elector father threatens him. So a child who knows no way out for himself, no help any more, flees to his mother. Such an unusual, shocking fear of death on the part of a field officer needs explanation.

It is nothing else than the child's fear in face of the stern parent. It is further overdetermined in an infantile way. In the drama the prince for a long time does not believe in the grim seriousness of his position. The elector father will only put him to the test. The sudden transition to frantic fear follows first when the friend informs him that Natalie has sent back the addresses carried by the amba.s.sador, because she is betrothed to the latter. This would have so roused the elector against him. From this time on the prince--and the poet--holds everything as possible and is ready to sacrifice even the hand of the beloved for his life.

[32] It is now plainly understood that the prince can name among the dear ones who appear to him the elector and the electress, that is his mother, but not the third, who is merely a split-off from the latter, at bottom identical with her.

A second determination likewise is not wanting, which is also infantile.

Freud has shown in the "Interpretation of Dreams" that the child does not at all connect the ideas of older people with the words "death" and "to die." He knows neither the terror nor the shuddering fear of the eternal nothingness. To be dead means to him merely to be away, gone away, no longer to be disturbed in his wishes. For his slight experience has already taught him one thing, dead people, as perhaps the grandparents, do not come back. From this it is only a step that the child sometimes wishes death to his father, when the latter disturbs him. Psychoa.n.a.lysis tells us that this is not perhaps a shocking exception but a matter of everyday occurrence. Such thoughts are touched upon in the "Prinz von Homburg." The false report has come that the elector father has been shot and Natalie laments, "Who will protect us from this world of foes?" Then is the prince ready on the spot to offer his hand to the orphaned girl, also apparently to her mother. A child wish comes to fulfilment, the setting aside of the father who interferes with his plans for the mother. When the man believed to be dead nevertheless returns, he p.r.o.nounces, as we can understand, the sentence of death upon his treacherous son. Only when the latter had acknowledged the justice of the sentence--I might almost have said, after he had asked forgiveness, is he not only pardoned but more than that recompensed, while now the father voluntarily grants him his wish.