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Committee Chair signature: Criminals and Artists: Detecting the Artist in German Crime Literature of the Twentieth Century

A Dissertation submitted to the Graduate School of the University of Cincinnati in partial fulfillment of the

DOCTORATE OF PHILOSOPHY (Ph.D.)

in the Department of German Studies

of the College of Arts and Sciences

2009

Erick Francis Urbaniak

M.A., University of Cincinnati, 2002

B.A., Xavier University, 2000

Committee Chair: Todd Herzog, Ph.D.

ABSTRACT My dissertation, Criminals and Artists: Detecting the Artist in German Crime Literature

of the Twentieth Century, examines how German speaking authors of the twentieth century

reflect upon their identity as artists through writing about criminals both real and fictional.

Moreover, each case represents a response to a specific era. This project begins with Thomas

Mann’s crime novel Die Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull. Mann’s work draws on a

long, but rarely examined tradition of linking the criminal to the artist that stretches back to Plato

and forward to Michel Foucault. Mann’s novel establishes the nexus in which the artist and the

criminal are united. Felix Krull, a confidence man, is a unique case because he is simultaneously a criminal deceiving society for one’s personal gain, and an artist, performing a role for an audience like a masterful actor. This novel not only uncovers points of intersection for the criminal and the artist, but also reveals the surprising function the public / audience has in differentiating the two.

This study also considers a little known and short-lived series of reports on contemporary

criminal cases by a variety of authors called the Außenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die Verbrechen

der Gegenwart edited by Rudolf Leonhard. The specific volumes discussed are Der Mord am

Polizeiagenten Blau by Eduard Trautner, Karl Otten’s Der Fall Strauβ, and Freiherr von

Egloffstein by Thomas Schramek. This group is responding to the criminalization of the artist in

the Weimar Republic which threatens their own personal freedom and livelihood. Interestingly,

they discuss contemporary criminal cases without the aid of fiction to defend the freedom of

speech and combat the labeling of artists as criminals.

iii

The artist and the criminal are also linked by seriality. An analysis of the fictional serial killer in Doron Rabinovici’s novel Die Suche nach M, provides a new way to approach the main characters of the work which illuminates new insights to the process of identity formation and re-formation for the surviving generations of Jewish-Austrians living in Vienna in the decades following the Holocaust. Read alongside Rabinovici’s short story “Ich schriebe Dir” and Mark

Seltzer’s Serial Killers: Death and Life in America's Wound Culture, this novel discovers the serial bahavior that authors might exhibit through writing.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank the faculty members, both past and present, in the Department of

German Studies at the University of Cincinnati for the challenging and inspiring academic

environment that has enriched me intellectually throughout my career as a graduate student.

Special thanks must be given to Todd Herzog, my dissertation advisor, for being an

extraordinary mentor. I am indebted to his guidance and unwavering support from the very start

of my time at UC. I also would like to thank Jennifer Kelley-Thierman for her friendship and

pushing me to become the best teacher possible. I will always treasure working with you and learning from you.

I would like to express my gratitude to the many graduate students I had the pleasure to

work with and befriend. Graduate school would not have been as enjoyable without them.

Thank you for the wonderful thought-provoking discussions, teaching tips, and moments of

sanity.

I am grateful to each and every teacher I have had. I have learned something from each

of you. I would especially like to thank Leo Schulte and Irene Compton for opening my eyes to

the wonders of the German language and culture. They epitomize what it means to be a teacher.

I am also indebted for the sponsorship of the Verband der Deutsch-Amerikansichen

Clubs, which made it possible for me to live and conduct research in Berlin for a year.

Finally, I would like to thank my family and friends for the incredible amount of support

and encouragement they have shown through the many years of being a perpetual student. I

would like to especially thank my dearest Beth for her love, patience, and understanding. My

brother, Michael for being the best brother I could ever have. I am forever grateful to my parents

and grandparents who instilled in me the importance of an education and have supported my

journey through life in every way possible. Thank you for your unconditional love and encouragement.

vii

Table of Contents

ABSTRACT...... iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... vi

Table of Contents...... viii

1.0 Introduction...... 1

1.1 An Overview of the Project ...... 1

1.2 Who is the Artist?: Surveying Portrayals of the Artist from Classical to Criminal...... 3

1.3 Linking the Criminal to the Artist...... 14

1.4 Thomas Mann: The Criminal as Artist ...... 22

1.5 Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft: The Artist as Criminal...... 23

1.6 Doron Rabinovici: The Artist as Serial Killer...... 25

2.0 Chapter 1 The Criminal as Artist...... 28

2.1 Finding the Unexpected Artist ...... 28

2.2 The Artist: Caught in Between...... 30

2.3 “Eine auffallende Mischung”: Criminological and Philosophical Intersections...... 37

2.4 Entstehungsgeschichte: The Story of the Story ...... 51

2.5 The Adventures of Felix ...... 54

2.6 Desire of Deception: The Artist, the Criminal and the Victim ...... 59

2.7 Thomas Mann: The Real Hochstapler? ...... 85

2.8 Allsympathie: Revealing the Secrets of the Criminal as Artist ...... 94

3.0 Chapter 2: Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft : The Artist as Criminal...... 97

3.1 The Criminality of Art ...... 97

3.2 Adof Loos: the Scientific and Philosophical Cases against Artists and Tattoos...... 99

3.3 Artists under Siege: The Legal Case against Artists...... 107

3.4 Explorations of Genre and Making a Case for the Artist...... 117 viii

3.5 Discovering the Artist through Observing the Criminal...... 121

3.6 Conclusion: Implementing the Model of the Criminal in Defense of the Artist...... 131

4.0 Chapter 3 The Artist as Serial Killer...... 135

4.1 Like a Serial Killer: Repeating My Search for the Artist...... 135

4.2 Searching for the Serial Killer in Fact and Fiction ...... 136

4.3 Locating the Suche nach M...... 145

4.4 Situating the Suche in Scholarship...... 152

4.5 Helmuth Keysser: The Seriality of Identity ...... 157

4.6 Sina Mohn: Detecting the Ignorance of Art...... 164

4.7 “Die Welt steht Kopf”: The Guilty Victims...... 167

4.8 Seriality: Repeated Attempts to Cope with Trauma and Establish an Identity...... 174

4.9 Fritz Lang’s M and the Ghosts of War...... 184

4.10 Papirnik: Repeating the Search in “Ich schreibe Dir” ...... 188

4.11 Conclusion: Searching for a Cure and the Pathological Condition of the Artist ...... 193

5.0 Conclusion ...... 197

6.0 Bibliography ...... 202

1.0 Introduction

1.1 An Overview of the Project

Where does one go when one wants to learn about the artist? When embarking on such

an endeavor to understand the historical perspectives on the role of the artist in society, one

might immediately think of turning to certain well-established sources: philosophical works of

aesthetic theory, major cultural institutions, great literature—not visit a prison, listen to police

sirens, or read a crime novel. But that is precisely where I began my project: with Thomas

Mann’s great crime novel Die Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull. Here, Mann

establishes the nexus in which the artist and the criminal are united. Interestingly, he draws on a

long—but rarely examined—tradition of linking these two figures that stretches back to Plato and forward to Michel Foucault. From the earliest recorded discussions on aesthetics and the

role of the artist in society, this individual was initially linked to the criminal element in the

works of Plato. Artists were considered frauds by this canonical philosopher because any piece

of art was merely a copy of an already flawed object in reality and would mislead the public

from the true essence of an object. Yet, this early attempt to categorize the profession as illicit

would yield to more conventional conceptions of the artist as a portrayer of nature, genius-

creator, or even entertainer as opposed to a swindler. It was not until the late nineteenth century

that this connection between the criminal and the artist would again be taken up by one of the

founding fathers of criminology, Cesare Lombroso. Rather than delving into the nature of an

artwork and its relationship with the audience as Plato did, Lombroso emphasized biological

similarities between artists and criminals. Through the application of physiognomy, he

purported to have discovered scientific evidence linking the artist to the criminal. In short, artists

and criminals were believed similar because they shared an atavistic gene which would manifest

itself in physical abnormalities, illnesses or specific tendencies. Other criminologists and

intellectuals of the nineteenth and early twentieth century like Max Nordau, Hans Gross, and

Adolf Loos would continue to propagate versions of this theory by either linking the two groups

through measurable anatomical discrepancies or by tattoos. Even the great philosopher Friedrich

Nietzsche participated in this debate citing the degenerate nature of these professions and in the

spirit of Plato the illusionary aspects of them. Although still adhering to genetic and biological

factors uniting artists and criminals, Erich Wulffen’s study Georges Manolescu und seine

Memoiren placed more emphasis on artists and their creations than the aforementioned

physiognomic explanations. Upon examining the heists claimed by the con artist in his literary

productions and discovering them to be false or exaggerated in reality, Wulffen concluded that

authors use writing as an alternative to crime: to commit crimes not possible or permitted in real

life or to confess for past transgressions. In uncovering the truth of the glamorized criminal

lifestyle found in Manolescu’s memoirs, Wulffen found that writing was merely an extension of

Manolescu’s crimes as he once again fooled the public—making his literary work also in essence

a crime. In the latter half of the twentieth century, Michel Foucault took the link between artists

and criminals one step further by making the argument that crime and art can be intermingled.

His case study concerning the murderer Pierre Rivière shows that when one commits a crime

alongside composing a narrative, they propel and induce each other to the point where they can

no longer be separated regardless of their chronology. Influenced by Manolescu’s memoirs and

other thinkers on this matter, Thomas Mann’s novel engages in the notion that the artist and the

criminal are similar creatures since its protagonist simultaneously occupies both professions as

an author of his memoirs and Hochstapler. Through this piece of literature, Mann is not trying

to affirm the relationship as propounded by criminologists; rather, he is using this nexus to

explore the nature of the artist. With this novel, Mann paves the way for a unique and nontraditional manner to examine this figure. By taking a closer look at the often overlooked

genre of crime literature, one is able to gain insights into the nature of the artist not accessible

through traditional sources. Specifically, it is through the portrayal of criminals—both fictional

and non-fictional—where the artist can be detected. In the following project, I would like to

investigate how German speaking authors of the twentieth century reflect upon their identity as artists through writing about criminals both real and fictional.

1.2 Who is the Artist?: Surveying Portrayals of the Artist from Classical to Criminal

Like a detective chasing a perpetrator, I have tried to grasp the enigmatic and fascinating

figure of the artist. History, however, proves that this individual is elusive to being definitively

characterized. Yet, before entering into an overview of my project, I would first like to briefly

discuss some of the conceptions of the artist that have appeared in the past. An excellent place to

begin such a survey is with one of the founding fathers of philosophy and aesthetics, Plato.

United by the concept of mimesis, this great Greek philosopher makes a wonderful starting point

because his ideas depict both a classical representation of the artist and one that is criminal as

well. In his view, the artist is one who simply copies what he finds in the world, but this has the

potential to lead the weak minded away from the true nature of an object since copies are always

flawed. It is perhaps surprising that one of the original recorded theories concerning the nature

of the artist is rather controversial. In his Republic, Plato calls for the banning of artists—

specifically, he desires the removal of the poets from his imaginary land. He fears the tragedians

and the dramatists: deeming the “poetry of that sort seems to be injurious to the minds which do

not possess the antidote in a knowledge of its real nature” (Plato 1962: 324). At the center of his

critique of the artist is Plato’s perception of what a person of this profession does. The artist is

described as someone who represents things whether it is through painting, words, or music.

This individual is, however, in Plato’s estimation thrice removed from the truth or “essential

nature of the thing” (Plato 1962: 327). In the Republic, the idea of an object is created by God

while the imitation of that idea is made by a craftsman. The artist, on the other hand, is only able

to produce an imitation of the imitation. In other words, while God creates the idea or Form of a

table, a carpenter is able to create a table, but it is only an imperfect replication of the idea. The

table as it appears in a painting or a piece of literature is considered by Plato to be a copy of the

carpenter’s flawed table. The poet’s portrayal is thus disconnected from reality no matter how

wonderfully an item might be described. Because they lack a grasp of reality, Plato expresses his

concern with poets and artistic figures:

In the same way the poet, knowing nothing more than how to represent appearances, can

paint in words his picture of any craftsman so as to impress an audience which is equally

ignorant and judges only by the form of expression; the inherent charm of metre, rhythm,

and musical setting is enough to make them think he has discoursed admirably about

generalship or shoemaking or any other technical subject. Strip what the poet has to say

of its poetical colouring, and I think you must have seen what it comes to in plain prose.

It is like a face which was never really handsome, when it has lost the fresh bloom of

youth. (Plato 1962: 331)

The poet, according to Plato, has no knowledge of how to make a table or most any other object

he may write about, and thus fools the audience of such through poetry. This causes Plato to fear for the masses because they may not be aware of the artist’s so-called deceptions. This compels him to make the startling pronouncement to rid the land of poets: “it stands to reason that we

could not but banish such an influence from our commonwealth” (Plato 1962: 339). He worries

about the influence of the poets upon the young and the weak minded. Some scholars question the severity of this declaration by pointing out the premise of the Republic as Darnell Rucker

does in his article “Plato and the Poets.” Here, he reminds the reader that the Republic is an

imaginary land, moreover, it is a utopia in which there exists “the difference between an ideal

and an actuality” (Rucker 1966: 167). Plato is theorizing about his idea of how a perfect state is

to be run. In this state, poetry is permitted as long as it is “conducive to the end of the state: the

production of good men” (Rucker 1966: 168). Rucker argues that Plato actually appreciates

poetry that “celebrates the praises of the gods and of good men” but despises that which

undermines the formation of ideal citizens (Rucker 1966: 168). Allan H. Gilbert agrees by

writing that the poet is expelled for a “failure to do what is respectable Athenians thought he did,

namely tell the truth about gods, present characters worthy of imitation, and teach men how to

conduct the affairs of practical life” (Gilbert 1939: 8). Basically, poets should be censured; if

they do not contribute to the good of the state, they should be sent elsewhere.

It is fascinating that this earliest representation of the artist is primarily concerned with

the dangers an artist poses to society. The lasting impression of this individual left by the

Republic is one of fear, not of wonder and admiration. Nevertheless, in doing so, Plato admits

the power of the artist to influence the hearts and minds of the populous. This philosophical

masterpiece is to serve as a warning of their deceptive skills while categorizing them as 5

swindlers and outsiders for their inability to portray the true nature of an object. It is remarkable

that one of the symbolic leaders of an ancient culture revered for its art and democratic values is

spreading fear toward artists. In doing so, Plato opens the door to the mistreatment of artists by

governments in the future. For example, many experienced censorship or even imprisonment

while living under the Weimar Republic as well will examine later in the case of the Auβenseiter

der Gesellschaft series. Similar to Plato, such works were implicated because they threatened

the common good by causing social unrest. All of the traditionally positive aspects of art are

overshadowed by his declaration against poets.

In his Poetics, Aristotle, the student of Plato, offers a more positive representation of the

artist, but still focuses on his mimetic nature. Noël Carroll compares Plato’s reservations against

poetry to that of today’s concerns with the mass media. They both threaten society with their

“seductive imagery” and can rile the masses to commit deeds against the welfare of the state

(Carroll 1999: 19). It is noteworthy to consider this disciple of Plato because of how he

immediately shifts a nontraditional standpoint of the artist as deviant to a more traditional one.

Aristotle believes the mimetic aspect of art to be didactic while at the same time recognizing the

creative capabilities of the artist by accepting that there is more to art than simply copying.

Contrary to Plato, Aristotle views art as a rather natural and pleasurable occurrence. Mimesis is

something recognized in human beings from childhood as a method of learning which is also

seen as quality that separates human beings from animals. In contrast to Plato, Aristotle situates

art with truths enabling humans to learn about the world rather than deceptions. Furthermore,

the artist is capable of more than mimesis; he is able to add order to the world. Regarding the

abilities of the poet, Aristotle states: “Since a poet represents, just like a painter or some other

maker of images, at any moment he is necessarily representing one of three things, either (a) 6

things as they were or are, or (b) things as people say and think [they were or are], or (c) things

as they should be” (Aristotle 1987: 37). In stating that the poet can portray objects as they

should be, Aristotle gives more credit to the poet than simply calling him an imitator. The poet

becomes for Mary Klages a “creator” for being able to take an object from nature and placing it

in a different medium (Klages 2006: 16). The artist re-creates the table instead of simply

copying it. The artist is able to discuss all matters of potentialities for an object giving it

something more than imitating it (Nahm 1956: 36-7). This figure is no longer a Hochstapler to

be feared and exiled, but a maker and teacher—an asset to society.

The beginnings of a transition to a new type of artist from the previous imitative versions

mentioned by Plato and Aristotle can be seen in arguably the greatest English poet of the eighteenth century, Alexander Pope. Here, he depicts a poet imbued with the artistic ideals of

the past but on the verge of embracing the qualities that now are associated with this profession:

originality, creativity, rule breaking. “An Essay on Criticism” in many ways bridges a gap from

the Renaissance view of the writer to the Romantic. Written in heroic couplets, this poem seeks

to set guidelines for the behavior of both the poet and the literary critic. Despite discussing both

professions, the critic is ultimately the target of Pope’s oft quoted satire as he hopes to aid the

critic in his understanding of the artist. In this attempt, he recalls the tradition of past thinkers

such as Aristotle and Horace and how Pope and his contemporaries should conform to their

rules.

First follow Nature, and your judgment frame

By her just standard, which is still the same:

Unerring NATURE, still divinely bright,

One clear, unchanged, and universal light,

Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,

At once the source, and end, and test of art.

Art from that fund each just supply provides, (Pope 1993: 69-74)

As in Aristotle, Pope believes that the artist should derive inspiration from nature. In order to be

a successful artist, one should follow the methods set by those who came before like the Greeks;

for, “True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, / As those move easiest who have learned

to dance” (Pope 1993: 332). In The Author, Art, and the Market: Rereading the History of

Aesthetics, Martha Woodmansee claims that Pope still views “the writer as primarily a craftsman

whose task is to utilize the tools of his trade for their culturally determined ends” (Woodmansee

1993: 37). Yet, she believes that there are glimpses contradicting the thought that a poet must

always abide by the rules. Through Pope’s “Essay on Criticism,” Woodmansee argues that he

intimates the poet has the ability in writing “of achieving something that has never been achieved

before” (Woodmansee 1993: 37). Such a moment may only be attained by breaking the rules:

Some beauties yet no precepts can declare,

For there's a happiness as well as care.

Music resembles poetry; in each

Are nameless graces which no methods teach,

And which a master-hand alone can reach.

If, where the rules not far enough extend,

(Since rules were made but to promote their end)

Some lucky license answer to the full

Th'intent proposed, that license is a rule.

Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,

May boldly deviate from the common track.

Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend,

And rise to faults true critics dare not mend;

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,

And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art (Pope 1993: 139-155)

Though not truly revolutionary, there is now a space for deviation from the norm. It is a place in

“which only genius can produce and ‘taste’” (Clark 1967: 32). Though Pope prefers to play within the boundaries of tradition, he anticipates the coming of the Romantic author. This

individual will become the center of writing where moments of inspiration or “graces” will

“transform the writer into a unique individual uniquely responsible for a unique product”

(Woodmansee 1993: 38). It will be a state where the writer has agency over creativity as

opposed to being inspired by nature alone as was dictated by tradition.

The destination of Pope’s vision of the artist was that of the Romantic. This type of artist

is characterized as a genius: one who is able to break with tradition and find inspiration from the

self. Such thoughts coincide with traditional notions of the artist which are still prevalent today

and were propagated by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a poet and founder of the Romantic

Movement in England. Rather than commenting on his poetry, I would like to briefly consider a

couple of his critical works on art: Biographia Literaria, “On the Principle of Genial Criticism,” and “On Poesy or Art,” because they reinforce the notion of the evolution of art being centered on nature alone to being focused on the individual creating it. In the latter work, Coleridge refers

to art being a “mediatress” between nature and man (Coleridge 1973: 253). On the topic of

poetry, he believes it to be “purely human; for all its materials are from the mind, and all its

products are for the mind” (Coleridge 1973: 254). It is the challenge of the genius “to make the

external internal, the internal external, to make nature thought, and thought nature” (Coleridge

1973: 258). The genius artist is one who does not simply copy instances from nature to the

mind; rather, he is forced to create forms from his own mind (Coleridge 1973: 258). This

prompts Klages to grant Coleridge’s artist “the status of a god” for creating “worlds that have

never before existed” (Klages 2006: 26). The Romantic artist valued creativity, putting the artist

at the focal point as he interacts with nature.

Whereas the author of Romanticism is to be revered, Roland Barthes provides a highly

controversial vision of this figure by destroying him. Early on in his essay after quoting Balzac’s

“Sarrasine” and putting forth questions to the passage, Barthes sets the tone and startles the reader by proclaiming: “Writing is the destruction of every voice, of very point of origin.

Writing is that neutral, composite, oblique space where our subject slips away, the negative

where all identity is lost, starting with the very identity of the body writing” (Barthes 1992: 114).

Seán Burke, in his book The Death and Return of the Author: Criticism and Subjectivity in

Barthes, Foucault, and Derrida, characterizes the actions of Barthes as “a call to arms and not a

funeral ovation” (Burke 1992: 29). Barthes is on the offensive against the author and not

reacting to current literary trends. To successfully do such, Burke argues that Barthes “must

create a king worthy of killing” (Burke 1992: 26). Barthes indeed builds up the importance

attributed to the author, placing this person at the center of modern discussions of works of

literature. The author is often seen as the central figure of a text, whereby Barthes states: “The explanation of a work is always sought in the man or woman who produced it, as if it were 10

always in the end, through the more or less transparent allegory of the fiction, the voice of a

single person, the author ‘confiding’ in us” (Burke 1992: 114). Yet, the so-called Author-God is

deposed by Barthes, who is merely an instance of writing not eternal.

Barthes is, however, able to locate a replacement for the author—the reader. In this

being, writing is able to find unity; for the reader is the one who is able to interpret the text and bring all of its disparate parts together. Barthes writes:

The reader is the space on which all the quotations that make up a writing are inscribed

without any of them being lost; a text’s unity lies not in its origin but in its destination.

Yet this destination cannot any longer be personal: the reader is without history,

biography, psychology; he is simply that someone who holds together in a single field all

the traces by which the written text is constituted. (Barthes 1992: 118)

In order to make way for the reader, Barthes must remove the author. The power of the text is

now in the hands of the reader who ultimately decides how it should be read. For my project,

Barthes represents a post-modern approach to understanding the artist with whom the power of

the meaning formerly lied but in his estimation is now conceded to the its recipients instead. I

am not concerned as much with the power of the audience to interpret a text, but rather whether

they deem an action to be criminal or artistic.

Upon reading Die Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull: Buch der Kindheit, my

quest to understand the artist took a surprising turn. I discovered a new way to approach the

question of the artist—via the criminal. Felix’s talent of deception gives him the unique access

to two worlds because of his curious connection to both, and in a way made him similar to the

poets of Plato’s Republic since they both are considered swindlers. The confidence man is

nothing more than an actor who can use the gift of role-playing to deceive the public for personal

gain, or one could join the local theater troupe. Thus, the Hochstapler is a space where the

criminal and artist intersect.

Researching the matter further, I discovered that this unique combination had already

been under scrutiny from criminal anthropologists, philosophers, and other artists before Mann

had even written Krull. In the latter half of the nineteenth century, the well-known Italian

criminal anthropologist Cesare Lombroso implemented a new approach which would result in

the linking of the criminals to the artists. The conclusions of his research argue that these two

groups are genetically connected by being born with an atavistic gene. Having similar genetic

material would manifest itself through frequent epileptic episodes, like physiognomic and

anatomical profiles, or other degenerative tendencies. According to Lombroso, if an artist did

not have the same physical markers or behavior as a criminal, he believed that they merely have

not yet appeared or could be found in one’s relatives. Another degenerate inclination attached to

criminality by Lombroso was being tattooed. During the course of his many criminological

studies, Lombroso observed that a large number of prisoners who had ink permanently etched on

their bodies. In agreement with Lombroso’s thoughts regarding body ink, Adolf Loos would

apply it to his theory of modern art. Loos believed that tattoos were a palpable sign of one’s

criminality—or future criminality if one had not yet committed an infraction. For Loos, tattoos were evidence of an individual who had not yet evolved from a primitive state and thus were indications of a potential lawbreaker. Artists were included in this equation because of their propensity to add decoration to their works. Ornaments like tattoos were viewed as excess and unnecessary, again illustrating a degenerate tendency which links the artist to the criminal. 12

As I will later demonstrate, the major spark for Thomas Mann’s novella came in the form of the criminal-psychological study Georges Manolescu und seine Memoiren by Erich Wulffen.

Mann’s novel is initially a reaction to Manolescu, a Hochstapler who wrote his bestselling memoirs. Through this action, the actual confidence man becomes an artist. While Wulffen’s piece is more of a psychological study of the criminal, Mann is using Manolescu to perform a psychological study of the artist and in turn himself. Wulffen’s study represents a culmination of the hard work of those who came before him like Lombroso, but it also brings something new to this field. Wulffen actually links the criminal to the artist through literary texts rather than with atavistic genes. Wulffen’s examination of Manolescu shows that the lines between crime and art have been transgressed and blurred as a result of Manolescu’s actual crimes in real life and on paper. Furthermore, it is important to note how his criminality and artistry fuel and inspire each other—his criminal adventures as a Hochstapler and thief inspire the creation of his memoirs which, in turn, expand his criminality because they enable Manolescu to deceive the world yet again with tales of love, adventure and thievery allowing him to recommit previous crimes while more importantly committing new crimes in writing, enacting offenses he was not able to execute previously.

I would then like to apply Michel Foucault’s theory of “verboballistics” to further demonstrate how criminal acts and works of literature could possibly be interconnected in a similar fashion as Manolescu’s. I wish to discuss Manolescu’s work in a similar manner to how

Foucault treats Rivière’s where the actions of writing about a crime and committing one are the same. What is fascinating about Foucault’s ideas is that he does not simply view the two acts as being separate, rather, he emphasizes how they are both necessary cogs in the same machine-- they simultaneously cause and produce each other. I wish to utilize verboballistics as a tool to 13

demonstrate the complexities of the dual natures of the criminal / artist. By placing the artistic

and criminal sides of one’s nature as the “projectile” and “target,” I show that the criminal and

the artistic are both required and get lost within each other as they combine to create an end

product.

1.3 Linking the Criminal to the Artist

The relationship between artists and criminals is not simply limited to the musings of criminologists and philosophers from the late nineteenth through the twentieth century. Besides deliberating on such topics as to the nature of art and the role of its creator, artists have

frequently considered the criminal element present in society throughout the course of history.

Works pertaining to the sordid side of life were not constrained to the fancies of the detective novel that had entered the scene in the eighteenth century. From unknown to canonical artists of all forms of media, they have been inspired by true-life accounts of lawbreakers to compose works spanning several genres from histories or reports of a case to fictional incarnations. The earliest descriptions of notable crimes in writing come from the likes of Plato and Cicero. In the

Apology, Plato recounts the trial and punishment of his mentor, Socrates who was convicted and condemned to death for among other charges corrupting the youth. The writings of Cicero include many of his addresses made as a lawyer in criminal cases. Up until about the sixteenth century, crimes were mostly depicted as corresponding to sins. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, nonfictional crime literature began to appear in the form of chapbooks and broadsheets across Europe. Fictional adaptations of real criminals also appeared in some of the works of Shakespeare such as in King Richard III and The Merchant of Venice. Interestingly,

several broadsides have been proven to be false as Albert Borowitz points out in his extensive

study, Blood and Ink: An International Guide to Fact-Based Crime Literature. Furthermore, he brings to attention other significant works which posed as collections of factual cases but were

actually fabrications like John Reynold’s The Triumphs of God’s Revenge Against the Crying

and Execrable Sin of Wilful and Premeditated Murder. From its original release in 1621, this

work of fiction had attained such popularity that its fifth edition was published in 1670

(Borowitz 2002: 5). It was widely acclaimed and credited with inspiring other works of fiction

such as Middleton and Rowley’s drama The Changeling (Borowitz 2002: 5, 363).

An actual compilation of factual criminal cases could be found in Gayot de Pitaval’s

influential work Causes célèbres et intéressantes, avec les jugemens qui les ont décidées. A

motivating factor behind Gayot de Pitaval’s collection of trial summaries was that he believed in

its edifying capabilities. Fiction for him is merely an empty pleasure because in the end it lacks

the satisfying substance of facts which true-life court cases can offer (Borowitz 2002: 21-22,

198). Though a French publication, it would have a significant impact by pioneering this genre

in other countries as well. The Causes célèbres was well received in Germany having been

translated and published between 1792 and 1795. There are countless descendants of this

collection, notably Der Neue Pitaval which consisted of a sixty volume series published between

1842 and 1890. What is most remarkable about Gayot de Pitaval’s work is not simply the

immense popularity it gained, but rather the artistic prominence of those who would work on and

be influenced by such a compilation and its future incarnations. Naturally, these projects would

attract those who work in conjunction with the law like court reporter Hugo Friedländer and

judge Anselm Ritter von Feuerbach who would each develop their own volumes of criminal

cases. Yet, Friedrich Schiller, one of the most important authors in German history, contributed 15

a preface to a German edition of Causes célèbres. Borowitz highlights this introduction as

demonstrating one of the principle reasons people are drawn to crime stories. Schiller states:

The secret play of passion unfolds before our eyes, and many a ray of truth is cast over

the hidden paths of intrigue. The springs of conduct, which in everyday life are

concealed from the eye of the observer, stand out more clearly in motives where life,

freedom and property are at stake, and therefore the criminal judge is in a position to

have deeper insights into the human heart. (quoted in Borowitz 2002: 4)

Just as Schiller intimates, Borowitz contends that the appeal of such narratives is the chance to delve into the depths of human psychology.1 Through which one can discover many fascinating

and frightening things about the human condition. It is an attempt to understand what drives

people to certain actions.

The interest of artists in the lives of lawbreakers would carry over into their fiction as a

means of exploring the mind. Schiller was no exception to this as he based some of his works on

actual criminals. In the Der Verbrechen aus verlorener Ehre, Schiller adopts the real-life case of

Christian Schwan for his own narrative. Despite changing the name of the main character to

Christian Wolf, Schiller adds “Eine wahre Geschichte” to the title. Before entering the narrative

with a first person account of the story from the perspective of Wolf, Schiller interjects his own

voice again in an introduction. Schiller tells the audience how to approach the contents of the

piece that, “wir müssen ihn (Wolf) seine Handlung nicht bloß vollbringen sondern auch wollen

sehen. An seinen Gedanken liegt uns unendlich mehr als an seinen Taten, und noch weit mehr an

1 According to Borowitz, there are three major reasons that compel one to be an avid reader of true crime stories. Besides the above stated purpose of psychological discover, he argues that one might also be an enthusiast of this genre for the love of drama and suspense, or because of the detail provided in trials which offers one access to information on how people lived in other times and places (Borowitz 2002: 4-5). 16

den Quellen seiner Gedanken als an den Folgen jener Taten” (Schiller 2000: 6). Here, Schiller again places emphasis on the psychology of the perpetrator and not the crimes themselves. For him there is more to gain by examining the inner workings of the protagonist than the actions.

Other German authors of the nineteenth century also looked to historical criminals as a basis of fictional works. These figures are utilized in a variety of ways, some as psychological explorations and others to comment on the current state of affairs. The title figure in Heinrich von Kleist’s novella Michael Kohlhaas, based upon the sixteenth century horse dealer Hans

Kohlhase, accomplishes both. This work is a study of the decision making process of a person placed under extreme amounts of stress as his attempts to rectify injustices done to him are ignored by the legal authorities and a man whose wife has been killed when she tried to use her influence to help. It calls the reader to question what kind of man Kohlhaas is and when a quest for justice turns into revenge. This novella challenges the limits of borders and the law. Despite being set a few centuries earlier, it is also an act of political commentary, functioning as an outlet for Kleist’s displeasure with certain German states and their ties to Napoleon. E. T A.

Hoffmann’s Das Fräulein von Scuderi considers the chaos caused in society when a string of unknown murders occurs in Paris which refers to the historical poisonings committed by the

Marquise Brinvilliers. It also deals with the obsessive nature of Cardillac toward his jewelry. In

Georg Büchner’s Woyzeck, the author reflects upon the case of the murderer, Johann Christian

Woyzeck. Here, Büchner examines the mental capacities of one who hears demonic voices and has paranoid fantasies. The reader is faced with the same questions that medical and legal officials were in trying to determine the sanity of the killer. Furthermore, the story compels one to wonder what truly drove Woyzeck to murder. Was it the enormous external pressures placed upon him by others that led him to madness or was it some biological or spiritual defect? The 17

use of trial documents and other reports on crime was not limited to German authors. Some of the greatest writers in the history of literature like Dickens, Melville, Dumas and Poe also employed this genre to function in a manner similar to the aforementioned German examples.

For Borowitz, atavistic genes, epileptic tendencies, and tattoos do not necessarily connect crime to art. Instead, he links them through their point of origin. He argues that “Both the criminal act and the creative impulse have their origin in the human psyche, and it may be pure accident whether a germinative concept is first translated into conduct or formulated as a narrative” (Borowitz 2002: 1). Here, Borowitz does not make the claim that the acts of crime and art are related as Wulffen or Foucault might. However, the attempt to understand both beings should begin in the same location—the mind. Illustrated by Schiller and other authors, artists often place criminals at the center of their works as a means to try to investigate how humans operate. In the same manner, the application of criminals in an artistic work can function as a means to try to examine the figure of the artist. They are connected by a desire to understand the point of origin for both deviant and creative actions, and the inability for one to come to a decisive conclusion regarding the nature of criminals or artists.

The incapacity for one to completely grasp these types links them by labeling them both as outsiders. They are considered outsiders because they are not recognized as behaving within a system or societal norms. The criminal is an obvious example of an outsider for the proclivity to set oneself outside of the social order by breaking the rules of a community. Similarly, the artist is also often located beyond the normal realm of society because of the ability to think and produce works of art at a level which the masses cannot. They are related by the perception of society that the impulses that inspire lawbreakers and artists come from a radically different

place than for the rest of the populous. Because of this apparent difference, they are in essence

“caught in between,” not belonging or having a comfortable spot within any segment of society.

However, being marked as an outsider does have some advantages for artists and criminals.

They both are seen to function with a freedom not possible for those who follow the rules. This freedom allows for the creativity of the artist to emerge and be productive. Because of these similarities, authors like Thomas Mann can turn to the seamy individuals of society to explore and explain their craft to the public.

The attributes of a certain type of criminal provide a further opportunity to link the artist to the criminal—the serial killer. Before explicating what I contend connects the artist to the serial killer, it is first necessary to briefly talk about the term itself. In his study on horror fiction,

Matt Hills raises the “narrative dissatisfaction” inherent in the ‘serial’ of ‘serial killer’ (Hills

2005:141). As both Hills and Seltzer point out, this discontent lies in the reason why the FBI profiler Robert Ressler popularized this phrase. In doing so, Ressler alludes to movie serials of the past and recounts “Each week you’d be lured back to see another episode, because at the end of each one was a cliff-hanger. In dramatic terms this wasn’t a satisfactory ending, because it increased, not lessened the tension. The same dissatisfaction occurs in the mind of serial killers”

(quoted in Seltzer 1998: 64). These films encouraged the audience to come back week after week to discover the fate of an imperiled hero. The problem with this narrative is that it is essentially one without end. The story continues devoid of any type of conclusion. Seriality is a case of behavior that continues to repeat itself indefinitely and that the fate of the serial killer is akin to the avid patron of movie serials. I believe that this type of conduct can also be located in the works of some artists. Like the serial killer, they too engage in repetitious actions. Instead of committing crimes, they might revisit themes and motifs continuously throughout their career. 19

Oftentimes, they do so in order to define and re-define their own identity as an artist and as a

human. These instances mark attempts to discover themselves through the destruction of a previous identity and the creation of a new one. It is destructive behavior without the violence of serial killing. Alluded to by both fictional and nonfictional accounts of serial killers, trauma is regularly regarded as the cause for the creation of serial killers, yet it can also inspire an artist to explore certain themes just as I will show Rabinovici does.

The final linkage I wish to briefly discuss is more explicit than those previously

mentioned. Throughout history, artists have been criminalized by institutions in power. The

troubles of the artist are an extension of the attempts made by authorities to repress the freedom

of speech. The case of Socrates marks the most notable recorded instance of punishing one for

expressing oneself in the ancient world. His execution made famous by the work of Plato gives

an account of his trial and conviction for blasphemy and corrupting the minds of the youth. The

practice of censorship indeed has a long-standing history. Not only did the ancient Greeks

participate in this activity but the Romans and Chinese did as well. The emergence of the

Roman Catholic Church marked the beginning of a new era of repression as they attempted to

control literary production through methods like the Inquisition and an index of forbidden books.

Resistance to the oppressive policies of the Church was occasionally met with death as it had

been in antiquity. Some like the poet John Milton spoke out against various incarnations of the

censor as he did in his pamphlet, “Areopagitica.” Censorship has continued to persist in many

parts of the world for various reasons despite the invention of the printing press, the

Enlightenment, and today’s emerging electronic media. Art has been and continues to be

criminalized in some places for considerations of morality, to protect the youth, and to prevent

political dissent and unrest. In my project, I specifically consider the oppression of artists living 20

under the watchful eye of the Weimar Republic and their literary response to such threats.

Although the theories of Lombroso would eventually lead to the National Socialists banning and labeling certain forms of art Entartete Kunst, I will not discuss this grouping of artists at this time because of the abundance of excellent scholarship already available. My focus is on how artists regard themselves as criminals and how this reflection offers insights into their own nature.

I consider the works of literature examined in this project to be case studies. In each attempt to investigate and understand their own identity as an artist, they find their way to the criminal. Moreover, each case represents a response to a specific period in the twentieth century.

In Felix Krull, Mann is reacting to the popularity of Hochstapler literature from the early years

of the twentieth century and the scientific and philosophical theories connecting art to crime.

Even though the work took fifty years to complete, his later work functions to reflect upon a later

experience—his Exile during World War II. As a Hochstapler, Felix Krull provides the perfect nexus to begin a discussion of the linkages between the criminal and the artist. The creativity and need for freedom define both his artistry and criminality. Leonhard’s Auβenseiter der

Gesellschaft considers the criminalization of the artist in the Weimar Republic which threatens the personal freedom and livelihood of this specific group of authors and all artists. This remarkable collection is fascinating because it discusses real criminal cases without the implementation of fiction. In contemplating the conditions of these criminals in the wake of

World War I and during the Weimar Republic, they are also looking at their own status as authors under siege. Meanwhile, Rabinovici is dealing with the questions surrounding what it means to be a second generation Jewish-Austrian author living in the aftermath of the Holocaust.

The criminals in his works reveal aspects of seriality which can be found in each subject of my study. He exposes that the search for identity can be a repetitive process with no conclusive end. 21

1.4 Thomas Mann: The Criminal as Artist

A natural starting point for a discussion on the relationship between the criminal and the

artist is the figure of the Hochstapler. This type of criminal is unique because it offers the most

direct link between the criminal and the artist. The confidence man’s criminality can be

attributed to his propensity to trick others in order to gain something—in most cases money.

Yet, it is the act of fraud which brings to light the artistic side of this trickster. For an act of deception, a confidence man usually takes on the role of another much like an actor, an artist.

The only difference is that an actor is given permission by the audience to fool it, while a con artist is not and incarcerated if apprehended. Thus, the confidence man presents the perfect case for this project because he is simultaneously a criminal, deceiving society for one’s personal gain, and an artist, performing a role for an audience like a masterful actor. Thomas Mann’s novel Die Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull utilizes the complexities of this criminal type to present a different approach to the Künstlerproblematik. If you pick up a piece of

literature written by Thomas Mann at random, odds are that either a major character or theme

concerns the relationship of the artist to the bourgeoisie world and the hardships that come with

it. Many of these works either offer this Bürger / Künstler duality in which the protagonist is

either caught ‘in between’ like a Zwischen-Species or he is lost to oblivion because of a lack of

balance in his life. Felix Krull splendidly fulfills the part as a con artist. He is a criminal for his

many frauds and acts of thievery, yet an artist for his superb role-playing ability and more so for

penning his memoirs.

In chapter one, I examine Mann’s novel in light of the historical figure on which Krull is

based, the Hochstapler Georges Manolescu. I consider the interesting book on Manolescu by the

criminologist Erich Wulffen, as well as Foucault’s study of the murderer-memoirist Pierre

Rivière. I argue that the adventures of Felix Krull are intended to instruct the reader as to the

nature of the artist by exposing the line which differentiates artist from criminal. In a similar

manner to Barthes, the power of art resides in the hands of the public: it ultimately decides if one

is an artist or a criminal—innocent or guilty. The novel signifies an unmasking of the artist by illustrating the traits common to both professions.

At the heart of this humorous tale is not the critically accepted narcissistic Hochstapler

but rather the audience. It is a novel intended for the audience because Mann reveals the

authority it has in determining crime from art while essentially illustrating how they are the same

and even inseparable without the judgment of the public. By unveiling the criminal tendencies

of the artist, Mann creates a newfound intimacy between himself and the reader in his final

novel. While these fictional memoirs bridge the gap for Mann between author and reader, it also

is a moment for him to reflect on his own identity as an artist. It is a space for self-affirmation as

a writer through a character who successfully navigates the pitfalls of his past artist character and

gives an idealistic view of the artist and his interactions with society.

1.5 Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft: The Artist as Criminal

Whereas Thomas Mann uncovers the criminality of the artist, Rudolf Leonhard’s series

the Außenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die Verbrechen der Gegenwart explores the notion of the artist

as a criminal element of society. Rather than portraying the relationship between the artist and the criminal as narratives of fiction, the authors of the fourteen volumes of this collection instead wrote about actual trials and criminals of their day which had garnered much attention from the public. This group of authors included the likes of Alfred Döblin, Theodor Lessing, Kurt

Kersten and Egon Erwin Kisch. In this section, I focus my attention on three works of the series:

Der Mord am Polizeiagenten Blau by Eduard Trautner, Karl Otten’s Der Fall Strauβ, and

Freiherr von Egloffstein by Thomas Schramek. While Thomas Mann playfully equates the artist

to the criminal, these authors employ their literary skills to defend the right to be creative which

was threatened by the policies of the Weimar Republic. It is during this time period when artists

of all persuasions were being censored or charged with criminal activity, despite the guarantees

concerning the freedom of speech granted under the new Weimar constitution implemented after

World War I.

The writers of the Auβenseiter series sought to raise the plight of their profession by

writing about real criminals. I contend that they raise the problems of the artist through the

reflection of the criminals they investigate. However, I believe it is a collection of works which

raises more questions than answers. I consider how scholars have intimated that these volumes

illustrate the disintegration of the line separating criminal from noncriminal as blurred by

modernity. I argue that the competing narratives of both the series as a whole and within

individual cases show the many attempts to grasp the nature of the criminal, but ultimately reveal

the impossibility of such a task. This difficulty is meant to be applied to the artist. The

government is essentially undertaking the endeavor of declaring what constitutes a work of art,

declaring the rest as criminal acts.

Each account also raises the ambiguity of the series’ title: Außenseiter der Gesellschaft.

Die Verbrechen der Gegenwart. Are they crimes which simply occurred during the present or

are they the results of the current state of the world? Again, this line of questioning is applicable

to the artist as well. As Loos opined, what was once considered art should now be thought of as

kitsch and criminal. Moreover, these authors emphasize the powers of the masses over

individuals, often granting status of victimhood to the criminals themselves. Writers like Otten

believe in the ability of art to help the criminal rehabilitate and as a preventative measure. They

show that art like crime can point out the problems of society.

1.6 Doron Rabinovici: The Artist as Serial Killer

In the final chapter, I return to the realm of fiction to examine another criminal type as a means to comprehend another aspect of the nature of the artist—the serial killer. Here, I look at

the complex work Suche nach M by the Jewish-Austrian author Doron Rabinovici. Published in

1997, this novel is part of a renaissance of Jewish-German literature which began in the 1980s

and continued into the 1990s. A common theme found in these works is the question of identity,

specifically of Jewish-German identity of second and third generation survivors of the

Holocaust. Rabinovici’s novel employs a mixture of genres from the detective story, and the

thriller to the romance novel in order to portray the plights of Dani Morgenthau and Arieh

Scheinowiz, two children of Holocaust survivors, struggling with the Überlebensschuld passed

on to them from their parents. While the plot of the novel and subsequently its literary

scholarship revolves around these two characters and their familial constellations, I wish to take

a fresh and different approach to reading this novel. Instead, I begin my study with an analysis

of Helmuth Keysser and Sina Mohn, two secondary characters who are overlooked by most

academic discussions of the novel. In my opinion, these figures reveal what ails the ability for

Jewish-Austrians to develop an identity after the Shoah and perhaps pose some possible solutions. The repeated murders perpetrated by Keysser are emblematic of the serial behavior of the main protagonists. While Dani and Arieh do not necessarily murder others, they act like

Keysser and other serial killers by repeating their actions over and over again.

To aid in my investigation of seriality, I make use of Mark Seltzer’s cultural study Serial

Killers: Death and Life in America’s Wound Culture. According to Seltzer, serial killers are the

product of being unable to distinguish between private and public trauma and fantasy. The

compulsion to repetitively kill others is actually an attempt to destroy the self, but because of the

loss of the ability to delineate between public and private, personal trauma is acted out in public

and vice versa. The only way to curb this activity is for these boundaries to be re-established and

recognized by the individual. In light of Seltzer’s theories on serial killers, I maintain that an

artist can also behave in a like manner through mimetic compulsion and the repetition of motifs

throughout one’s oeuvre. This is evident in Rabinovici as he has serial killers and characters in

Suche nach M as well as in his collection of short stories, Papirnik. Such authors like Jewish-

Austrians who explore the problems of identity do not necessarily come to a conclusive and

coherent answer; rather, they open new doors and propel their imaginations to contribute more

works of literature in an ongoing serial pursuit.

The art historian of the novel, Sina Mohn, further uncovers universal implications of

Seltzer’s theories in conjunction with art. Through her false interpretation of a painting entitled

Ahasver, the “Wandering Jew,” she reveals the ignorance of non-Jewish Austrians to the

unknown daily occurrences of anti-Semitism in her country. Like a serial killer, who for Seltzer,

often claims to be the real victim because of childhood trauma, the characters of Rabinovici also

experience a similar role reversal. Instead, Dani and Arieh and other Jewish figures in the novel

believe themselves to be guilty although they were the victims of the Holocaust. Through Sina

Mohn, we see the naïveté of artists and of those toward traditions of bigotry. But, she remains a positive figure in that she learns about her mistake through dialogue and is the lover and possible

healer of the Jewish character, Dani.

2.0 Chapter 1 The Criminal as Artist

2.1 Finding the Unexpected Artist

Ever since being introduced to the world of literature, I have been fascinated by the concept of the artist. From these initial experiences, I had developed an impression of the artist as being a creator of beauty, which represents a somewhat classical approach to this figure. In his essay “The Poet,” Ralph Waldo Emerson argues that “The poet is the sayer, the namer, and represents beauty” (Emerson 1971: 546). This “man of beauty” is charged with the gift of expression and is responsible for transmitting to the world what others cannot (Emerson 1971:

545). With the exceptional skills of speaking and transferring knowledge, the poet is also called a “doctor” or teacher much like Aristotle does (Emerson 1971: 546). Although I now believe that the audience plays a role in interpreting a work of art, I still adhered to the traditional theory of the artist in which the transmission of meaning is a one-way street. Roy Ascott describes the artist as a “sender and therefore originator of meaning, the artist as creator and owner of images and ideas, the artist as controller of context and content (Ascott 1995: 492-3). My conception of the artist would grow as I would be exposed to more genres and forms of art. I could conceive of the artist as an outsider or even as an exile—occupying a position where one is better able to observe and respond to society. Despite being a melancholic position, occupying it afforded an artist a unique place to monitor and report upon the world around him or her. My perception of the artist as a creator of beauty, teacher and outsider would be challenged in an interesting way by Thomas Mann’s novel Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull. As a result, I would be forced to consider the unexpected, yet intriguing relationship between the artist and the criminal.

In this chapter, I wish to examine a point where artist and criminal meet in this novel—

the Hochstapler. Mann’s decision to employ a criminal character to explain the artist was

actually rooted in the criminological, anthropological, and philosophical texts prevalent at the

time. Criminal anthropologists like Cesare Lombroso directly linked these two individual types through physiognomic means. Inspired by these sources, Mann adds yet another approach for understanding the artist to a career oftentimes devoted to this theme. The confidence man presents the perfect case for this project because he is simultaneously a criminal, deceiving society for one’s personal gain, and an artist, performing a role for an audience like a masterful actor. Felix Krull splendidly fulfills the part of the con artist. He is a criminal for his many frauds and acts of thievery, yet an artist for his superb role-playing ability and more so for

penning his memoirs. While the people he meets during his adventures teach him about what it

means to be a Hochstapler, they instruct the reader in the nature of the artist. Both the criminal

and the artist deal in deceptions, yet there is a fine line which separates them from being illicit or

harmless. I intend to show that the ultimate verdict of guilt or innocence lies in the hands of the

public. They signify the line between the criminal and the artist. This process unmasks the

criminal nature of the artist by illustrating the traits common to both professions. Through its

various artistic and criminal characters, Felix Krull depicts different degrees of artistry /

criminality which are dependent upon the audience.

Felix Krull proves to be a humorous tale which acts as a playground for both the

protagonist and the imagination of Thomas Mann. In the space which follows, it is important to

first briefly situate Felix Krull among the other artistic characters of his oeuvre which shows

Mann’s devotion to this topic of the artist. At the heart of this work is not the narcissistic

Hochstapler, rather the audience. Through the interaction between the artist or the criminal with 29

the public, this novel shows that the masses can determine whether a deed is artistic or criminal and the difficulty separating the two. Moreover, it is a novel for the audience. Mann allows the readers to get closer to the artist in his final work by breaking down the lines between the artist and audience, and revealing the criminal tendencies of this individual.

2.2 The Artist: Caught in Between

In order to later expose Felix Krull’s ultimate motives and the theme of duality within the

novel, it is noteworthy to briefly survey a few of Mann’s other artists. Many of the protagonists

who appear in the works of Thomas Mann are often caught zwischen zwei Welten—between the creative and the reflective, the domain of dreams and reality, myth and modernity, life and death,

Bürger and artist. Because of the conflicting nature of these realms, this space “in between” offers Mann’s characters a complex site that contributes to how their identities are formed and sometimes to how they are destroyed.

Tonio Kröger and Gustav Aschenbach are examples of artists whose identities are simultaneously created and to a certain extent doomed by these clashes. They are not only bound together by being trapped “in between,” but they share similar origins with each other and with their author. Martin Travers is compelled to reveal how Mann’s private sphere enters the public:

Both his life and art evolved around the claims of two competing identities: on the one

hand, the conservative patrician figure whose roots were in the nineteenth-century

Bildungsbürgertum (educated bourgeoisie), and, on the other, a private self, highly self-

conscious and given to introversion, that periodically questioned the very nature and

validity of writing as a vocation. (Travers 1992: 1-2)

They each have the same profession; they are both authors who descend paternally from

businessmen, senators and military officers who believe in the Prussian and Protestant ethic of

order and discipline while their maternal side was populated with fiery, exotic artists from the

South. Not only are their literary works the products of the mechanizing strength of such contrasts but their fates are as well. The characters of Buddenbrooks also possess similar points of origin coming from the Hanseatic City of Lübeck. The details of the family are possibly more autobiographical than in the other stories mentioned. They are a merchant family whose business eventually fails because of the disinterest and premature death of the only male heir.

Aschenbach, unable to ultimately bring balance between the Apollonian nature from his father and the Dionysian from his mother, is doomed by being overcome with Dionysian passion in his lust for Tadzio as a result of his continued denial of this half of his existence. Kröger, on the other hand, attempts to reconcile his impulses for a bürgerliche existence with his status as artist and outsider. He lives in a state of purgatory between these two mutually exclusive worlds not feeling that he totally belongs in one or the other. In the end, he feels compelled to choose one mode of existence and devotes himself to a life as an artist.

It is at this site, zwischen zwei Welten, where the artist is most productive. Here, despite

the difficulties and potential dangers involved in attempting to define oneself while trapped in

this netherworld, the conflict of dual (and dueling) natures inspires them to create pieces of art.

The fatherly discipline inherited by Aschenbach allows him to bring order to the unruly and

exotic world of art. Besides being a catalyst for various fictional incarnations of artwork, this

position allows the character to classify and explore both sides of this dichotomy revealing the complexities inherent in their unique relationship. Not being definable aids this individual standing in the middle to uncover one’s true nature and how one fits in the world.

Such dichotomies are implanted by Thomas Mann, because he personally deals with

them as well. More importantly, Mann has to work through them in order to establish his own identity: foremost as a human being and then as an artist. As is typical in Mann’s catalogue, one

only needs to look at the protagonist to find the author; for, Mann shares in the hereditary

dynamics of his characters. He too has a disciplined and orderly father along with a foreign and

exotic artistic mother. Mann works feverishly on his art to the point of exhaustion and illness and shares Aschenbach’s fondness for Saint Sebastian, a martyr for a public cause. He also faces the same artistic issues as Kröger and Aschenbach, especially in regard to the separation between the worlds of the Bürger and the artist. Mann does not feel comfortable in either world, yet wants to be accepted and praised by both. Throughout his career, Mann offers the reader a myriad of different studies which are his attempts to comprehend the nature of art and the artist to definitively answer Tonio Kröger’s question: “Aber was ist der Künstler” (Mann 2004a: 273).

This question is as essential to Tonio’s identity formation as it is for Thomas Mann. In the comprehensive collection of essays entitled the Thomas Mann Handbuch, Helmut Koopmann on the magnitude of this issue in Mann’s work states,“das so oft behandelte Künstlerproblem ist tatsächlich ein existentielles Problem, es berührt die Frage nach den Möglichkeiten und Grenzen der eigenen Individualität aus der Sicht der ‘anderen’, der Gesellschaft, Umwelt und

Zeitgenossenschaft” (Koopmann 2005a: 517). Not simply a problem concerning the duality that

exists between the artist and the Bürger, it deals with issues of existence and being in which the

question of one’s own individuality is intimately related with an “other.” Throughout his life,

Mann repeatedly tries to define himself through others, especially in the context of the

Künstlerproblem. Mann is not only encaged between the extremes of two forms of existence like his protagonists, but he also feels pressure as an artist from his brother Heinrich. From his earliest writings until his last novel, the works of Thomas Mann exhibit his need and desire to match and supersede the success of his older brother.2 A Goethe-Schiller complex exists in the

mind of Thomas Mann in relation to both his brother and to these canonical German writers.

Thomas Mann sympathizes with Schiller as is indirectly evident in Aschenbach but more overtly

in Schwere Stunde. The fictional depiction of Schiller in this study represents an artistic type as

claimed by Horst Daemmrich in the essay, “Mann’s Portrait of the Artist: Archetypal Patterns”

(Daemmrich 1977: 167). In his estimation, most of Mann’s artistic characters fall under two

categories: “the sensuous-creative artist” and the “reflective-analytic artist” (Daemmrich 1977:

167). The first type is essentially a creative person, producing pieces without mulling over what

they are doing. These instinctive artists mainly include painters and sculptors who are content

replicating nature. On the other side, we have the reflective type which demonstrates

introspection and thought when they produce works of art. This brand seeks abstract ideals and

considers moral values unlike the first version while corresponding to the figure of Schiller in

Schwere Stunde. Schiller and Aschenbach are both ascetics of art, requiring tireless hard work to

the point of exhaustion and following the motto of “Durchhalten” in order to complete a task.

Whereas Schiller succeeds in this imaginary penning of Wallenstein, Aschenbach fails to

2 Koopmann’s Thomas Mann—Heinrich Mann: Die ungleichen Brüder discusses the relationship between the two brothers as appears in their literary products. Koopmann portrays Thomas Mann’s struggle to define himself as being limited by all aspects of his artistic brother—from success to ability and style of writing. Thomas Mann oftentimes is jealous of Heinrich’s accomplishments and even after Thomas Mann has established himself as the more astute writer of the two, he still fears a reemergence of Heinrich’s influence in the literary market. 33

maintain maximum distance from the object of his desire: causing him to become overwhelmed

by the sensuous-creative side. Heinrich Mann and the early Goethe on the other hand were able

to create their works in a quick manner as if it came directly from nature itself. Thomas Mann

understood his position as a sentimentalischer author but was jealous of the more natural naïve artist. While these characters do provide insights into Thomas Mann’s upbringing, methodology of writing, and the polarities he feels caught between, these protagonists are unable to escape or

to come to terms with their roles as artists within the world. They are all outsiders who feel

forced to choose between the two extremes.

Adrian Leverkühn of Mann’s novel Doktor Faustus is another reflective-analytic artist who, for Daemmrich, is unable to remain disciplined. Unlike Aschenbach, who succumbs to emotion, Leverkühn’s music is devoid of feeling and composed with “icy precision” and mathematical rigidity which precludes conferring any affection for man (Daemmrich 1977: 174).

Leverkühn like most of Mann’s other artists suffers from an illness. His sickness, however, is much more unique than the rest, since he receives syphilis in exchange for creative power from

Mephistopheles. As T. J. Reed correctly notes, Leverkühn’s syphilis is an allegory “für die

Infektion mit dem Faschismus” (Koopmann 2005a: 132). It is a response to the loss of morality which led to the rise and fall of the Third Reich.

Another allegory can be found in the novel Königliche Hoheit. Although the protagonist

Klaus Heinrich is not an actual artist, his position of prince represents one, illustrating how

Thomas Mann can still discuss his craft without directly evoking an artist. Illusion follows the prince / artist for the duration of the story. Despite the elevated social status of being a prince or a well-known artist, this person still suffers the loneliness of being an outsider in a similar

fashion to Tonio Kröger. Ceremonies like his eighteenth birthday bash are hidden by cheap and broken decorations. Even artists are met with illusions as Klaus Heinrich forces the poet Axel

Martini to wait for an audience, though in reality Klaus has nothing to do. The award presented to Martini is also a sham, since he does not lead a life as happy as the poems he writes. This novel is a humorous attempt at discussing the “difficulties of extraordinary existence in general,” while functioning as another hidden autobiography (Feuerlicht 1968: 22). Imma Spoelmann is an homage to the courtship of Katja Mann and a celebration of Thomas Mann’s transition from a lonely bachelor into the world of marriage.

Although Daemmrich examines many of the artists found in Thomas Mann’s oeuvre, he does not take into account Felix Krull or another duality found in Mann. In an attempt to bridge these two worlds and to further explore the nature of the artist and art itself, Mann offers the reader another duality, the criminal and the artist. This odd combination was first illustrated briefly in Tonio Kröger, where the protagonist relates the story of a banker who begins to write stories after he is arrested for committing crimes. Tonio ponders this unique case and wonders if there does indeed exist a relationship between criminality and art; for, he too feels like a prisoner not belonging to either the realm of the artist nor to that of the bourgeoisie.

Man könnte daraus, mit einiger Keckheit, folgern, daβ es nötig sei, in irgend einer Art

von Strafanstalt zu Hause zu sein, um zum Dichter zu werden. Aber drängt sich nicht der

Verdacht auf, daβ seine Erlebnisse im Zuchthause weniger innig mit den Wurzeln und

Ursprüngen seiner Künstlerschaft verwachsen gewesen sein möchten, als das, was ihn

hineinbrachte. (Mann 2004: 273)

Koopmann remarks that in Tonio Kröger, all artists are under, “den Verdacht, daβ jener fast

schon an der Grenze zum Kriminellen stehe.” (Koopmann 2005: 216). Tonio himself is

questioned by the authorities upon visiting his hometown, as he was thought to be a Hochstapler

or con artist. Because he felt like a con man, he almost identifies himself as the criminal for

whom the police are searching. Tonio admits a kinship to the lawbreaker; he feels like an

outsider, illegally roaming through the landscapes of the Bürger and the artist not finding a home

in either and indefinitely imprisoned in a space caught somewhere in the middle. What is to not

be forgotten in this newfound relationship between artist and criminal is that the banker is by

profession a member of the bourgeoisie and becomes an author only after becoming a criminal.

Criminality unites the mutually exclusive extremes which make up Kröger, Aschenbach and

Mann himself.

In a work which essentially encompassed the entirety of Thomas Mann’s career,

Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull, Mann’s protagonist occupies the privileged position between the worlds of crime and art. As a Hochstapler, Krull is both a criminal and actor, and furthermore in writing his memoirs he becomes an author as well. In the figure of Felix Krull,

Mann is able to unite two professions which are traditionally diametrically opposed to one another—the artist who creates beauty and celebrates life and the criminal who defaces beauty

and destroys it. Krull is intended to give a different perspective into the psychology of the artist.

By creating a protagonist as a Hochstapler, Mann creates a nexus where the artist and the criminal are one and the same. Felix is a character who is not only difficult to define physically but also professionally, for as we will see, the line between Felix the artist and Felix the criminal is not easily discerned. The function of criminality allows Mann the ability to explore new relationships and concepts in concerns to the nature of the artist. Mann’s artist / criminal is able 36

to traverse between the boundaries which Mann’s other protagonists were unable to do

successfully. In this process, Mann is able to develop a better sense of his own identity as an

artist through Felix’s revelations concerning the relationship between the artist and the audience

and the perpetrator and the victim. By these means, a hierarchy of artists is created which

measures to what degree one is a criminal. Through the ambiguousness in Mann’s protagonist

and in the reader’s level of belief in the criminal narrator, he is trying to break down boundaries

between the audience and the artist. Mann wants to reveal a part of himself to his readers by

adopting the role of the criminal, and show how similar these two figures actually are.

2.3 “Eine auffallende Mischung”: Criminological and Philosophical Intersections

During the entirety of Thomas Mann’s literary career, he put several different types of

characters to work in order to aid the pursuit to both understand and to describe one’s identity as an artist. However, the unanticipated shift to the figure of the criminal as an alternative approach to locate the artist is not one without a prior history; for, many studies had already been conducted by the first criminal anthropologists, such as Cesare Lombroso. The idea that the artist could be linked to the criminal was first established through the practice of physiognomy and medicine. It was believed that artists and criminals had similar atavistic tendencies—notably the marking of the body with tattoos. Lombroso’s theories would gain enough popularity that they would finally be discussed by philosophers and artists themselves. The turning point was when the criminals would attempt to enter the art world. Many confidence men committed their memoirs to paper which fueled excitement for criminologists and for the general public. Thomas

Mann, for example, was inspired by the memoirs of the Romanian confidence man, Georges

Manolescu. There was a history, albeit a short one, connecting the artist to the criminal present

when Thomas Mann began to take down the initial notes for the supposed novella in 1905.

Nonetheless, Mann had already introduced the association between the two within the short story

Tonio Kröger, written in 1901. Before beginning a detailed discussion of the criminological and philosophical texts which both influenced Thomas Mann and my reading of this work, I would like to look at two short scenes found in his fiction. I wish to examine the conversation about the

artistic banker from Tonio Kröger and Pate Schimmelpreester’s fairy tale from Felix Krull. They

are the first two incidents in Mann which solidify this relationship. I believe that they offer the

best way to enter a dialogue on the connection between the artist and the criminal.

Early in Felix Krull, Thomas Mann concretizes the artist / criminal nexus as illustrated in

a story harking back to ancient Greece, which Pate Schimmelpreester told the young Felix quite

often. The content of this narrative closely resembles that of Tonio Kröger’s anecdote regarding

the imprisoned banker turned author. The Greek man named Phidias (or Pheidias) was

incarcerated in an Athenian jail for stealing the gold and ivory appropriated to him for the

creation of a statue of Athena. According to Schimmelpreester’s version, Pericles recognized the

artistic talents of Phidias and freed him, only for him to commit another crime while being

commissioned to create a great statue of Zeus at Olympia. Tonio Kröger’s comments on this

peculiar relationship between these two vocations are especially echoed when Schimmelpreester

utters:

Eine auffallende Mischung. Aber so sind die Leute. Sie wollen wohl das Talent, welches

doch an und für sich eine Sonderbarkeit ist. Aber die Sonderbarkeiten, die sonst noch

damit verbunden – und vielleicht notwendig – damit verbunden sind, die wollen sie

durchaus nicht und verweigern ihnen jedes Verständnis. (Mann 1997: 25)

Just as Tonio Kröger postulates that there is a curious connection between the artist and the

criminal as evidenced by his story of the banker and his own personal experiences,

Schimmelpreester’s tale allows Mann again to allude to the existence of a connection between the artist and the criminal. The talents of both are mysteriously related and Mann even suggests that the criminal tendencies of these artists may possibly be essential to the creation of art itself.

The last phrase of Schimmelpreester should not be immediately ignored and treated as unimportant; for, it initiates another ongoing discussion throughout the course of the novel—the relationship between the artist and the audience.

Before entering such an analysis or into a close reading of the text itself, it is worthwhile

to first look briefly at some of the “Sonderbarkeiten” linking the artist to the criminal which were

debated in the fields of criminal anthropology and philosophy that influenced Mann and other artists as well. These peculiarities come in a variety of incarnations which include the possibility that they are related biologically. In this case, a degenerate gene is passed down from generation to generation which hypothetically would result in an illness like epilepsy. Finally, some argue that crime and art are two parts of the same event; two actions which are interwoven into a complex whole where they are practically indistinguishable from each other.

One of the first to postulate this kinship was Cesare Lombroso, a prominent Italian

criminal anthropologist whose career spanned the latter part of the nineteenth century until his

death in 1909. His work is noteworthy because it brought about a paradigm shift in criminology from focusing upon the legalistic aspects of crime to a more scientific model of investigating

criminality. This new approach is the key to how he connects the deviants of society to their

creative counterparts. Basically, they were linked by being born with atavistic personality traits

which could be quantified by a scientific measurement of abnormal physical characteristics.3

They are associated with each other by various degenerative tendencies and similar

physiognomic and anatomical measurements. In his study, Man of Genius, Lombroso adds to his

claim in stating, “Among poets and artists criminality is, unfortunately, well marked. Many among them are dominated by passion which becomes the most powerful spur of their activity; they are not protected by the logical criticism and judgment with which men of science are armed” (Lombroso 1914: 59). Besides the belief that criminals and artists were alike based on physical defects, Lombroso brings passion and also sickness and insanity into his schema. The human capability to produce art thusly falls, “on the confines of criminality, one of the teratologic forms of the human mind, a variety of insanity” (Lombroso 1914: 2). In two of his other studies Entartung und Genie and Crime: Its Causes and Remedies, the criminal and the artist are linked to one another by a supposed tendency of them to demonstrate symptoms of epilepsy.4 It is, thus, probably not a coincidence that Mann has Krull mimic a seizure to escape

conscription into the military. If, however, a man of genius did not display any such indications,

Lombroso would dismiss the discrepancy by claiming that it was merely latent.5 Since they are

marked by similar physical characteristics and spells of epilepsy, Lombroso argues that they are

3 In Mark M. Anderson’s Kafka’s Clothes: Ornament and Aestheticism in the Habsburg Fin de Siècle, he points out the contentious notion linking artists and criminals, where he states: “A controversial point on Lombroso’s typological theory was the connection between criminals and artists. Because Lombroso saw any deviation from the norm as the result of a similar regression, he grouped together poets and murderers, visionary artists and epileptics, geniuses and the insane” (Anderson 1992: 179). 4 Lombroso makes separate arguments on the epileptic relationship between geniuses and criminals (Lombroso 1894: 280-1; Lombroso 1911: 370-1). 5 Lombroso states, “It may be noted here that artistic creation presents the intermittence, the instantaneousness and very often the sudden absences of mind which characterize epilepsy” (Lombroso 1914: 39).

forms of atavism. For him, this explains how there are artistic children whose parents are insane

and vice versa with the strong possibility that a criminal is also a member of this family tree

(Lombroso 1914: 145).

Although Lombroso’s ideas are outdated, they represent a fascinating beginning in trying to connect the two professions through scientific and criminological means. His thoughts were carried further by the likes of critic and author Max Nordau, who claimed that all forms of modern art displayed the atavistic degeneracy of their creators just as Lombroso did. Hans

Gross, Kafka’s law teacher at the University of Prague, also had comparable ideas on the issue, especially concerning the tendency for criminals to have tattoos all over their bodies. Kafka’s short story In der Strafkolonie depicts so-called criminals being tattooed with their crime written onto them. This punishment literally labels the convicted simultaneously as art and criminal, symbolizing the author’s turning away from the decadence associated with Jugendstil. However, by this time the linking of artistic and criminal behavior was already a known idea as illustrated by Adolf Loos and his contemporaries (Anderson 1992: 178-181). Loos’s “Ornament und

Verbrechen” written in 1908 not only reinforced Lombroso’s provocative theories associating tattoos as being markers of degeneracy and the criminal, but wished to purge all art from any sort of ornamentation. Anything added to an object above and beyond its function was given the same consideration as a tattooed person for Loos and his followers.6 The movements of Nordau

and Loos were against what they viewed as artistic decadence; they thought that certain forms of

modern art were degenerate and criminal, impeding the path to a new era of modernism.

6 Note that Loos’s critique was not focused on criminals, but rather on the “degenerate aristocrats” of his time (Anderson 1992: 180-181). 41

Interestingly, one of the artists targeted by Nordau for being decadent and “satanic” was

the great German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, who wrote in Wille zur Macht that the

counteragent to the decadence of humanity is “die Kunst” (Nietzsche 1922: 225, Aph. 794).

There are two main issues from Nietzsche which are noteworthy for our discussion of Mann: the concept of the Zwischen-Species and his notions of art, reality and lies. In a similar fashion to

Lombroso, Nietzsche considers the artist as a being of extraordinary circumstance who has

innate characteristics analogous to the sick.7 A passage underlined by Mann himself, which

highlights the essence of a character “in between” occurs when Nietzsche writes:

die zunehmende Civilisation, die zugleich nothwendig auch die Zunahme der morbiden

Elemente, des Neurotisch-Psychiatrischen und des Criminalistischen mit sich bringt. Eine

Zwischen-Species entsteht, der Artist, von der Criminalität der That durch Willenschwäche

und sociale Furchtsamkeit abgetrennt, insgleichen noch nicht reif für das Irrenhaus, aber

mit seinen Fühlhörnern in beide Sphären neugierig hineingreifend, diese specifische

Culturpflanze, der moderne Artist, Maler, Musiker, vor allem Romancier, der für seine Art,

zu sein, das sehr uneigentliche Wort ‘Naturalismus’ handhabt…Die Irren, die Verbrecher

und die ‘Naturalisten’ nehmen zu: Zeichen einer wachsenden und jäh vorwärts eilenden

Cultur, - d. H. Der Ausschuss, der Abfall, die Auswurfstoffe gewinnen Importanz, - das

Abwärts hält Schritt... (Nietzsche 1922: 281, Aph 864)

The artist is once more found trapped between two realms and what is significant is that this creature is almost on par with the criminal but has “Willenschwäche.” Just as Hans Wysling

7 Nietzsche writes: “Es sind die Ausnahme-Zustände, die den Künstler bedingen: alle, die mit krankhaften Erscheinungen tief verwandt und verwachsen sind: sodas es nicht möglich scheint, Künstler zu sein und nicht krank zu sein” (Nietzsche 1922: 238, Aph. 811).

points out in his definitive study on this novel, Narzissmus und Illusionäre Existenzform: Zu den

‘Bekenntnissen des Hochstaplers Felix Krull’, that this fact is nothing new; for, we have already

seen the artist portrayed as a degenerate type closely related to the criminal in the work of

Lombroso (Wysling 1982: 25). As I will discuss later, this concept of the “Zwischen-Species”

will be taken up by Mann especially in the figure of Andromache, the trapeze artist who appears

to be an angel of daring but who is in no way accepted by the crowd as a human being.

Not only does Nietzsche’s philosophy contribute to the criminal / artist nexus, but his

writings address issues concerning the artist’s relationship to the rest of society and to reality

itself like Plato did centuries earlier. The social contract for the artist and the criminal are

fundamentally different. The criminal is one who breaks this agreement while the artist is a

giver, and the laity is signified by Nietzsche as a taker (Nietzsche 1922: 238-9, Aph. 811). In his

account “Die Kunst in der ‘Geburt der Tragödie,’” the artist at its most basic level is a liar

(Nietzsche 1922: 270-3, Aph. 853). There is only one world which is ugly, cruel and, moreover

false. He contends: “Wir haben die Kunst, damit wir nicht an der Wahrheit zu Grunde gehn”

(Nietzsche 1922: 248, Aph. 822). While Plato views the artist primarily in a negative light

distracting the masses away from true knowledge, Nietzsche conversely considers the deceptions

of the artist as representing the only way to overcome and survive the harshness of reality. This

places the artist in a good position, because he is the best at portraying reality since metaphors

are creations of artists and are our only access to reality.8 This is in direct opposition to Plato’s

belief that art is the furthest removed point from the truth and the least helpful tool in attaining it.

According to Nietzsche, the artist’s trade is naturally criminal because they lie and deceive just

8 My understanding of Nietzsche is partly based upon J. P. Stern’s The Dear Purchase: A Theme in German Modernism. His interpretation of Nietzsche is in relation to Mann’s Felix Krull, where their works meet in attempting to portray life through metaphors of life while the other through the metaphors of fiction. 43

like a Hochstapler, but the artist is providing a service to society by helping humanity live in a

false world. As I will later illustrate, this distinction is of the utmost importance in Felix Krull.

It proves to be part of the defining line between the artist and criminality as is exhibited by the

various characters in the text. Just as in the story of Phidias, his fate is determined by the

acceptance or rejection of the audience.

By the time Mann begins to collect notes for his at the time planned novella in 1905 and

when he actually begins to put his ideas onto paper a few years later, the connections between

the criminal and the artist have already been established by those in criminology, philosophy,

and art. In fact, they are so strong to Dr. Erich Wulffen and his contemporaries that he bluntly

states, “Die Wissenschaft weiss schon lange von dem innige Zusammenhange zwischen

Schriftstellertum und Verbrechertum zu erzählen” (Wulffen 1911: 107). Wulffen reports these

relationships to us in his criminal-psychological study Georges Manolescu und seine Memoiren

which appeared in 1911. Manolescu was a Hochstapler who wrote his memoirs that mesmerized most of the Western world. The composition of these memoirs represents a historical instance where the criminal becomes an artist. Like Krull, Manolescu led a life full of adventure having travelled to various points around the globe. With him came titles of royalty that were self- conferred: Prince Lahovary, Prince of Padua, and Duke of Ontario. He was a notorious thief who claimed to have stolen at least an amount of 35 Million Marks but was more noted for his ability to con others. Manolescu’s case would become an inspiration for Thomas Mann’s short story and later novel Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull. Both Wulffen and Mann are

conducting psychological studies of the criminal / artist. Mann’s goal, which will be illustrated

with greater detail later in the work, was to examine the psychology of the artist through the eyes

of a criminal. Wulffen on the other hand analyzes the works of Manolescu, Ein Fürst der Diebe: 44

Memoiren and Gescheitert: Aus dem Seelenleben eines Verbrechers and his criminal files to

determine if he is mentally insane or if he is truly a master Hochstapler

In his study of Manolescu, Wulffen acts as a precursor of Foucault in that he gathers all information possible upon his subject. He has not only read Manolescu’s memoirs, but also has met and been in correspondence with him, talked with his publisher, and reviewed countless case files from his trials and medical examinations. From the text, it is clear that Wulffen is in many aspects following in the footsteps of Lombroso and Gross; for, he repeatedly brings up the topic of genetics and degeneration. He does not hesitate connecting Manolescu’s crimes to factors of heredity in stating: “Weist also Manolescu in seinem Gesamtcharakter sehr deutlich die Züge der rumänischen Nationalität auf und wissen wir, dass Rasse und Nationalität wichtige biologische

Faktoren des Verbrechens sind” (Wulffen 1911: 105).9 In his study, Wulffen is very much

interested in comparing factual information about Manolescu to what he has written in his

memoirs. His investigation discovers that Manolescu was not as successful of a criminal as he claimed to be. The methodology of his criminal activity and its results did not match documented records of his crimes. For example, in his memoirs, Manolescu explained how he would devise and experiment with new techniques to steal another’s valuables, while according to most accounts he was simply an opportunist Hoteldieb looking for unlocked rooms and other easy marks (Wulffen 1911: 3, 94-95). Because of this research, Wulffen is able to point out how the public, which was amazed and amused by Manolescu’s tales, had been fooled again.

Unlike Lombroso, he is able to better articulate and connect the criminal to the writer by

focusing on actual works of art. According to Wulffen, the criminal and the artist are beings of a

9Wulffen also adds: “Die grausamen Fiktionen in seinen Memoiren lassen sich wohl auch mit aus seiner Naitonalität erklären” (Wulffen 1911: 104). 45

similar nature; Manolescu’s jewel thievery during the night is equivalent to Goethe waking up

from a deep sleep and writing down a poem (Wulffen 1911: 20-21). It was nature which

compelled them to do these actions and, moreover, “Die Natur macht keinen Unterschied

zwischen moralischen und unmoralischen Handlungen. Für sie bleibt es dasselbe, ob der

Träumer unsterbliche Gedichte niederschreib oder Juwele stiehlt” (Wulffen 1911: 21). There is

no difference between artists and criminals; they are one and the same.

Upon reading Wulffen’s examination of Manolescu’s memoirs, two manners in which the

author reveals one’s literary bond to the misdeeds of the delinquent become evident.10 First,

such a connection can be seen when, “Das literarische Werk kann zum Ausdrucke des

Bekenntnisses und der Reue werden” (Wulffen 1911: 111). In this case the author confesses

guilt for a transgression and seeks remorse. Goethe’s Faust and Iphigenie auf Tauris as well as

Schiller’s Die Räuber are all examples of such acts in literature for Wulffen. In these works, the

author is looking for inner purity and forgiveness, or in other words for peace of mind. The

second way for an author to expose himself occurs when a written composition is “der Ersatz für

die Tat, die sie aus irgend welchen Gründen nicht begehen können oder nicht begehen wollen”

(Wulffen 1911: 107). This group of writers sublimates their criminal desires by expressing them

through a means which act as a substitute for a crime that they could not or did not want to

commit. Despite the many crimes that Manolescu committed himself, he too fits under this

category of writers, because in his memoirs he describes many crimes that he either did not

commit or exaggerated the ones he did. This fact prompts Wulffen to comment, “er verübte aber

10 The two types of artists / criminals recall the two “basic artistic dispositions” originally present in Mann as argued by Daemmrich and depicted in the second section of this chapter. Influenced by Mann’s readings of Lessing and Schiller, they are known as the “sensuous-creative artist” or the Künstler and the “reflective-analytic artist” or Literat (Daemmrich 1977: 167). They bring to mind the two types of authors found in Schiller’s Über naïve und sentimentalische Dichtung, and how Mann views himself in relationship to his brother as seen in Koopmann. 46

in der alten, ungeschwächten Triebartigkeit seine Diebstähle in Wort und Schrift auf dem Papier”

(Wulffen 1911: 108).

As a Hochstapler, Manolescu is in the business of lying which carries over to his writing

since Manolescu did not, for example, always commit the crimes he wrote about. He is a

historical instance in which the “related nature” is manifested in both occupations—theft and

false representations of his life in his memoirs (Wulffen 1911: 108). Just as Lombroso insisted

that criminals and geniuses sometimes do not exhibit evidence of having a common degenerative

defect, Wulffen believes that artists, for the most part, have a dormant disposition toward crime.

This is apparent when Wulffen declares:

Sie (the writers) begehen den Mord und das Sittlichkeitsverbrechen nicht in Wirklichkeit,

dazu haben sie noch genügende Hemmungsvorstellungen, keinen Mut, keine Gelegenheit

oder kein Geschick; aber die innere Befähigung dazu ist latent vorhanden und will sich

auslösen. (Wulffen 1911: 108)

For example, the potential for Goethe to murder is inactive; he, instead, expresses his inner

criminal through writing about crime which he is unable to commit in reality. Wulffen contends

that the capability of an artist to commit crime is articulated through literature instead.

After looking at Wulffen’s study of Manolescu, one is able to recognize how the boundaries between crime and art are blurred since Manolescu’s thievery and Hochstaplerei become transferred from actual acts and onto paper in the form of his memoirs. This “Dieb in

Wort” has the ability to be understood beyond the confines of Wulffen’s fascinating bonds the criminal and artist share, for, Manolescu’s crime and art are intimately intertwined with each

other to the point where it is hard to distinguish between the two since a form of criminality is active in both his fraudulent and artistic endeavors. Furthermore, it is important to note how his criminality and artistry fuel and inspire each other—his criminal adventures as a Hochstapler and thief inspire the creation of his memoirs which, in turn, furthers his criminality because they enable Manolescu to deceive the world yet again with tales of love, adventure and thievery. They allow him to recommit previous crimes while more importantly committing new crimes through literature, enacting offenses he was not able to execute previously.

The application of Michel Foucault’s theory of “verboballistics” to this discussion further demonstrates how criminal acts and works of literature could possibly be interconnected in a similar fashion as Manolescu. Foucault’s theories on the matter are found in the fascinating study I, Pierre Rivière, having slaughtered my mother, my sister, and my brother. Motivated much in the same manner as Wulffen’s Georges Manolescu und seine Memoiren, Foucault compiles the existing documents concerning Pierre Rivière’s murder of his mother and siblings on June 3, 1835 in order to determine if Rivière was indeed a madman or simply the perpetrator of the heinous act of parricide. The centerpiece of this collection and of the trial is Rivière’s manuscript which eloquently chronicles his own life with the purpose of providing a narrative account of his motives for murdering his mother. His memoirs are supplemented by police and trial records, and newspaper articles; the rest of the collection includes essays by contemporary scholars.

As Foucault points out in the introduction, “it was simply the beauty of Rivière’s memoir,” and the “astonishment” it generated which provides them with an excellent point of departure (Foucault 1982: x). Ultimately, what is most important for Foucault’s discussion of

this case is how this “beautiful” piece of art works in conjunction with multiple homicides and

causes him to pronounce, that “the fact of killing and the fact of writing, the deeds done and the things narrated, coincided since they were elements of a like nature” (Foucault 1982: 200).

Although the parallels between Foucault and Wulffen are immediately apparent, Foucault does

not simply view the two acts as being separate and illustrating a like nature; he emphasizes how

they are integral parts of the same mechanism—they simultaneously cause and produce each

other. Recall, that this is precisely the same point Mann implies with the banker in Tonio Kröger

and Phidias from Felix Krull. We can infer from the reactions of Kröger and Schimmelpreester

to these astonishing tales that art may not be possible without crime. A criminal element must be

present in order to produce a work of beauty.

What motivates Kröger to ponder the necessity of crime for the creation of art is the order

of events in the banker’s life. Kröger notes that the banker had not written any lyrics prior to

breaking the law and being put in jail. Likewise, Foucault’s understanding of Rivière’s crime and narrative is dependent upon the chronology at work in this case. Originally, Rivière had intended upon writing his memoirs before murdering his family members. These were to serve as a chronicle explaining his actions of aiding his poor father by ridding him of his malicious wife. The first part would elucidate the history of his father and mother which would then end with his rationale for perpetrating the offense. His initial plans were, however, thwarted when they were discovered by his sister. He justified the writings to her as being an account of the instances his father was mistreated by their mother. This version of the text was subsequently burned and although he began to write his story again, he simply gave up the endeavor. The document found in Foucault’s dossier was not written down until after he was incarcerated awaiting trial, yet he had already composed it in his head and committed homicide in reality. 49

It is this rotation of text and deed around each other which generates Foucault’s theory of verboballistics. The act of deviancy and the act of art are both at the same time the desired goal and the propulsion required to reach it. Thus, Rivière is in essence a dual author as Foucault explains:

He contrived the engineering of the narrative / murder as both projectile and target, and

he was propelled by the working of the mechanism into the real murder. And, after all,

he was the author of it all in a dual sense: author of the crime and author of the text. The

very title of the memoir expresses this plainly enough: “Particulars and explanation of the

occurrence on June 3 at la Faucterie by Pierre Rivière, author of this deed.” (Foucault

1982: 209)

Each rotation of text and deed are merely phases in the process and fabrication “of a mechanism: the murder / narrative. The murder would rather appear to be a projectile concealed at first in the engine of a discourse which recoils and becomes unnecessary in the propulsion discharging it”

(Foucault 1982: 202).

Reading the tale of Phidias in light of verboballistics further illustrates the complexity inherent in the dual natures of the criminal / artist. His sculptures are not merely fueled by his criminal instincts but demand them. Phidias must steal the gold and ivory to create his tribute to the Olympian gods, but at the same time it could be argued that his transgressions are enkindled by his need to create art. These opposing forces appear to be necessary for Phidias to function just as the banker cannot compose poetry without first committing a crime. As previously explicated, Manolescu is another example where this duality functions as both “projectile” and

“target.” Both his crime and art become so intertwined, it is not possible to separate the two

from each other. I argue that it is possible to comprehend Felix Krull in terms of Foucault’s

verboballistics—it operates at metafictional and metaphysical levels. The criminal and artistic

aspects found in the novel combine to form the cause and the final product. The novel represents

a crime because it by definition portrays a fictional world which is meant to deceive the reader.

The crime is further multiplied by the fact that the faux composer is himself a master swindler.

Mann’s notions of the interconnected nature of art and crime propel him to create a work which

concurrently is a piece of art and also a crime.

2.4 Entstehungsgeschichte: The Story of the Story

Based upon the long process involved in composing the tale, it is natural that the

influence of real criminals and criminological theories can easily be seen in Mann’s Bekenntnisse

des Hochstaplers des Felix Krull. Let us for a moment consider the process involved in its

creation. Unlike most works of literature, this piece took a lifetime to complete as Thomas Mann

sporadically toiled over these fictive memoirs for roughly fifty years of his life. After briefly

experimenting with the idea of the artist being linked to the criminal in his early novella Tonio

Kröger, Mann began to develop Felix Krull after digesting Manolescu’s memoirs (Wysling

1967: 317). As Guido Stein reports in Thomas Mann, Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix

Krull: Künstler und Komödiant, “Manolescus Verleger Langenscheidt in Berlin hatte die beiden

Bände im Rahmen einer Werbesendung u. a. an Thomas Mann geschickt, der sie, wie die Folgen zeigen, mit grösstem Gewinn gelesen hat” (Stein 1984: 11). The two volumes by Manolescu,

Ein Fürst der Diebe. Memoiren and Gescheitert. Aus dem Seelenleben eines Verbrechers, were such a sensation that even the New York Times mentioned their financial success and the

aftermath of his recent exploits in New York and apparent capture in Dresden (“A Casanova in

New York” 1907, “Swindler’s Book a Success” 1907). It was during the time period from 1905 to 1909, when Mann began to conceptualize what was originally intended to only become a novella. Already present in this series of notes was a plot point which would occur in the latter part of the novel and not to be attempted for years until a later writing period:

der Hochstapler lernt einen jungen Grafen kennen, der ein Liebesverhältnis hat und dem

seine Familie, um ihn los zu machen, eine Reise um die Welt verordnet hat. Sie hat ihm

eine groβe Summe dazu geschickt und verlangt Briefe von Stationen. Felix macht ihm

den Vorschlag, zu tauschen. Er empfängt das Geld, sie schreiben zusammen nach dem

Bädeker die Briefe, und Felix reist als Graf und giebt die Briefe an den betreffenden

Stationen auf, während der wirkl. Graf bei seinem Liebchen bleibt. (Wysling 1982: 390)

Besides outlining the meeting with the Marquis de Venosta, Mann posited some of Krull’s childhood tomfoolery stealing candy and pretending to be sick to avoid school and then his brief stint as a waiter. In his article, “Archivalisches Gewühle: Zur Entstehungsgeschichte des

Hochstapler-Romans,” Hans Wysling highlights Mann’s initial brainstorms remarking, “wie

Thomas Mann beginnt, autobiographische Züge mit den Hochstapler-Erinnerungen Manolescus zu vereinen” since the shop from which Felix purloins chocolates retains the same name as one in his home town of Lübeck and the proposed site for Felix’s job is the hotel where Mann and his wife Katja honeymooned (Wysling 1965: 27).

After finishing the novella Königliche Hoheit, Mann began in 1910 to concentrate his efforts on Felix Krull. Already in 1909, he was able to articulate the story orally to his wife but had not yet begun to commit the story to paper. In his correspondence with family and friends, it

is evident that Mann found working on Felix Krull to be an unnerving experience and yet is

surprised by what he is producing calling the potential novella “mein Sonderbarstes” (Wysling

1965: 30). In spite of that, he realizes the need to proceed with caution or else the novella would turn into a novel, which is of course what eventually happened. Although ultimately a novel would result from his labor, it was constantly interrupted for a myriad of reasons: he would be inspired and compelled to write other works instead i.e. Tod in Venedig, personal circumstances

would demand his attention such as Katja’s stay at the sanatorium in Davos because of illness, or

he simply did not feel like he had the energy to work on Krull. By 1913, Thomas Mann had

completed the novel up to the Rozsa scene and put the Hochstapler novel to the side in favor of

other projects, yet he still hoped “den Krull beenden” (Wysling 1965: 34).

Although the “finished” product was not published until 1954, in 1922, the Buch der

Kindheit was circulated for financial concerns. Occasionally, Mann would discuss the possibility

of returning to Krull, but did not do so until 1951.11 During this final phase, he continued Felix’s

adventures as an employee at a Parisian hotel where Felix takes on the identity of Venosta as

outlined in one of Mann’s early notes in 1906 and under the guise of Venosta travels to Lisbon

where the novel ends. It is the last deception of Krull, for the subtitle of the novel is “Der

Memoiren erster Teil” and a sequel would not be undertaken by Mann who himself realized before his death in 1955 that he did not have the energy to further work on the adventures of

Krull despite having copious notes of outlines, illustrations and cut-outs for Felix’s trip around the globe.

11 In letters to such friends as the author Hermann Hesse, Mann wonders if he should revisit Felix Krull (Wysling 1965: 38-9; Stein 1984: 14). 53

2.5 The Adventures of Felix

At the heart of Thomas Mann’s Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull is the

character for whom the novel is named and he acts as the “author” of these memoirs. From its

opening preface “Indem ich die Feder ergreife…” the reader is thrown to the mercy of a fictional

author (Mann 1997: 7). As Wulffen questioned the veracity of Manolescu’s memoirs, the reader

is called to ask about the fictional authenticity of Krull’s writings:

Was aber meine natürliche Begabung für gute Form betrifft, so konnte ich ihrer, wie mein

ganzes trügerisches Leben beweist, von jeher nur allzu sicher sein und glaube mich auch

bei diesem schriftlichen Auftreten unbedingt darauf verlassen zu können. (Mann 1997: 8)

Is the reader going to easily trust the words of someone who admits to fraud? Mann’s narrator

continues to interact with the reader by periodically carrying on a dialogue throughout the novel.

This occurs most often at the beginning or the end of a chapter where Felix is trying to persuade the reader of his skill as a writer and offering his reasoning for certain literary devices. These interjections serve as a reminder that this piece has a fictional narrator framing the body of the text which includes the many escapades of Felix Krull throughout the first quarter of his life.

In the first book, aptly named Buch der Kindheit, the narrator tells of his youth where we learn about Krull’s family and his formative years that would later translate into a career of

Hochstaplerei. At an early age he learns the importance of Schein over Sein from his family.

The wine his father produced, “Lorley extra cuvée” was bottled exquisitely covered in gold and silver and with an artistic label designed by Schimmelpreester, but the quality of the wine inside the contents was awful. This prompts Krull to write in his memoirs: “Übrigens scheint es, dass

die Beschaffenheit des Weines dieser blendenden Aufmachung nicht vollkommen entsprach”

and according to Krull’s godfather the wine “sollte die Polizei verbieten” (Mann 1997: 10). His

father also disguised the economic state of the family by throwing large extravagant parties with

food, music and fireworks. These fests were thrown despite the imminent failure of the wine

business which would lead to his father’s ruin and subsequent suicide. The actions of Engelbert

Krull offer a glimpse on a much smaller scale, the trickery that Felix will engage in during his

life, and brings to mind the role of heredity in the theories of Lombroso and Wulffen.

Seemingly following in his father’s footsteps, Felix discovers and hones his own talents

of deception at an early age. According to Schimmelpreester, “Er hat einen Kostümkopf” which

allows Felix to physically fit any role or time period no matter what clothing he would wear

(Mann 1997: 26). He would not only put his talents to use as a model for Schimmelpreester’s

paintings, but for pranks to serve his own ends. For example, he pretends to be the Kaiser, a

violin virtuoso, and to be ill to avoid school. Felix was a fairly lonely child; for, the other

children were not permitted to play with him because of the state of his family’s affairs. He,

however, utilized his skills to gain the approval of the other aristocratic families. His pretend

performance as violin virtuoso allowed him access into their world as he was then invited to the

confectionery and to play croquette with the other children

Such glimpses into Felix’s life illustrate early on the important role the public plays in

these deceptions. In the case of his father’s sparkling wine, the public ultimately rejected the ruse while Felix is able to successfully gain access to another world through his performance and the public’s encouragement. This relationship between public and performer is made most apparent to him with the attendance of a show by the artist and friend of his father, Müller-Rosé.

Upon meeting him backstage, Felix is disgusted by this sickly looking pimple covered actor, yet

Krull realizes that the audience is willing to be deceived in order to be entertained. The young

Felix grasps that such a symbiotic relationship is needed for a profitable deception. He will need to employ this knowledge, because at the conclusion of the first book his father commits suicide feeling the pressure of his debtors.

The second book follows the actions of the family Krull in the aftermath of the tragedy.

Listening to the guidance of Pate Schimmelpreester, the family ultimately disbands. Krull’s sister Olympia goes to Paris to become a singer while Felix and his mother move to Frankfurt to start a boarding house before Felix travels to Paris to begin his career working at a hotel. It is during this time that Felix enjoys observing the life in a big city, learns about the pleasures of the body from Rozsa, and trains for his most important performance yet. Before he is allowed to go to Paris, he must first get out of obligatory military service. He is able to accomplish this feat through the use of his uncanny gift of deception learned as a child and augmented by the knowledge found in clinical books. Being in the military would be the worst thing that could have happen to him, because it would limit his freedom to experience the world and to have multiple identities.

After being rejected for the service, Felix is finally able to travel to Paris to take his post at the hotel Saint James and Albany. Naturally, this transit is not able to pass without incident.

While repacking his luggage after speaking with the customs agent, one piece of his luggage

“etwas von der Unschuld verlor,” and he places another woman’s jewelry case with his belongings (Mann 1997: 129). Because of the unreliability of the narrator, it is unclear if this truly is an accident or if he has committed his second crime. With the assistance of a colleague

at the hotel, Stanko, he is able to locate a vendor where he can sell these goods of questionable

origin, giving Felix the means to afford nice clothing and to enjoy some of the fine food and

entertainment in Paris that his new position as lift boy could not. Despite the meager pay, the

director of the hotel is able to, however, offer Felix a new name who “viel innere Erfrischung

fand an dem neuen Namen” (Mann 1997: 175). By now having a new name, Felix is able to

once again undertake a different identity; a cause of jealousy toward his sister when she was

engaged (Mann 1997: 58).

Pleased with his new name, “Armand” must now face the woman whose jewels he

accidentally took and sold, since she is now a patron staying at his hotel. Madame Houpflé, an

author herself, seduces the young Felix and much to Felix’s astonishment, she encourages him to

steal even more jewelry and money from her room after learning of his previous transgression.

“Es wird die reizendste Erfüllung unsrer Liebe sein!” (Mann 1997: 189). Like the audience of

Müller-Rosé, she wants the criminal / artist to take something from her and is a willing participant to the crime as it is transformed into an act of love.

In the final book of the novel, Krull faces many important decisions involving his future which could threaten his freedom like the military service, but provide the possibility for other opportunities. Felix rebuffs two relationships from individuals he met while working at the hotel. He turns down the amorous advances of Miss Twentyman who wants to run away with

Krull. Similarly, Lord Kilmarnock offers Felix the chance to return to his estate in Scotland as his servant and lover which would present Krull with a life of luxury. Had he accepted one of these tempting propositions, his creativity would have been stifled and would have limited his identity.

Krull along with Stanko enjoys another artistic show which has a deep impact upon him

much like the Müller-Rosé episode earlier in the novel. It is at the circus where the spectator

Krull intently watches the flying trapeze artist, Andromache. It is hard for Krull to imagine this

daring performer as a woman, a man, or even as a human. She was instead “Ein ernster Engel

der Tollkühnheit” (Mann 1997: 200). Felix does not feel like a member of the audience, but

rather as a comrade of Andromache. Her androgyny embodies the “Doppelbild” of the brother

and sister observed in Frankfurt and the mother and daughter he is to meet in Lisbon.

There is one offer that Felix is unable to turn down and that is from the frequent guest,

the Marquis Louis de Venosta. Now a waiter, he becomes acquainted with Venosta and his lover

Zaza while serving them at the hotel restaurant. After the episode with Madame Houpflé, Felix

has enough financial resources to keep a separate apartment, purchase nice clothes, and enjoy an

aristocratic lifestyle. On one of his excursions into the city, the two gentlemen meet where

Venosta explains his dilemma. The Marquis’ parents have planned a trip around the globe to

provide him with a broader view of the world with the added objective of separating him from

Zaza. Impressed by Felix’s “Doppelleben” and ability to blend in and take on different roles, he

suggests that Felix travel the world in his place so that he can remain in Paris with Zaza. Felix

accepts and after some preparations departs for Lisbon. This opportunity to in a sense become

“Armand de Kroullosta” allows Felix to practice his talents and to travel with a freedom he could

not have enjoyed had he agreed to the pacts of Miss Twentyman or Lord Kilmarnock (Mann

1997: 261).12

12 “Armand de Kroullosta” is a combination of Krull’s various identities: Armand, Marquis de Venosta, and Felix Krull. 58

In this last segment of the novel, Felix encounters yet another “Doppelbild,” a

philosophical and scientific father figure, and an unacknowledged artist. On the train ride, Felix

meets Professor Kuckuck, the director of the natural history museum in Lisbon who discusses his

theories of creation and evolution saying that existence is something “zwischen Nichts und

Nichts.” This is an existence that is episodic like Krull’s life and another place “in between” for

him to function. Then, Felix arranges to meet Kuckuck’s wife and daughter, Zouzou, who are a

mother-daughter double figure. During his stay, Felix takes a tour of the museum and becomes

acquainted with Hurtado who himself is an artist of sorts since he re-creates extinct animals so that the public might enjoy and learn from them. Felix enjoys the company of the family, often dining with them, going on walks, or playing tennis with Zouzou and her friends. He is also able to successfully trick the local aristocracy of his true identity and is even given an audience with the king. The ruse is further propagated by his correspondence with Venosta’s family as he tells of his adventures and his delayed departure. He is trying to win over Zouzou who continuously rebuffs his erotic advances until after they attend a bullfight. It is at this point that the other half of the “Doppelbild,” her mother Maria Pia interrupts their interlude and takes Felix into custody as if to punish him. The novel however ends in sounds of ecstasy as she instead seduces the

young man. The reader is abruptly left to ponder what further adventures Felix will face.

2.6 Desire of Deception: The Artist, the Criminal and the Victim

In Felix Krull, Thomas Mann develops his understanding of the relationship between the artist and the criminal building upon the previous musings of Tonio Kröger and Pate

Schimmelpreester’s telling of the fable of Phidias. Through the banker in prison and Phidias,

both artist and criminal are united as one much like the real life case of Manolescu. Here, the

talents of both the artist and the criminal are shown to be potentially intertwined and that the

criminal tendencies of the artist are essential to the creation of art itself. Mann does, however, more than admit a mere relationship between the realm of the artist and the realm of the criminal; he transcends it. The incarnations of criminality in art according to Wulffen and Lombroso involve the portrayal of a crime that the artist cannot commit in reality. With Felix Krull, Mann takes this relationship a step further. Not only is the artist / writer portraying crime; moreover, he or she is in a sense committing one through the creation of art. The best method for Mann to convey this concept is through the Hochstapler or confidence man. The Hochstapler like Felix

Krull or Manolescu is a criminal who deceives the public. We should however remember the artistic side to these individuals, because they are both authors and their profession as a

Hochstapler calls them to essentially be actors creating and mimicking characters to attain a desired goal. Through the use of disguises and other methods of trickery, this type of criminal brings to life fictitious individuals and circumstances. In short, the Hochstapler deceives the public into believing in a false reality. Overlooked in this criminal nexus is what actually separates the artist from the criminal. Why is Phidias praised for molding a statue of Zeus but imprisoned because of the theft of materials to complete it? Why is the confidence man incarcerated for pretending to be royalty while the stage actor is lauded? The adventures of Felix

Krull not only provide Thomas Mann with the opportunity to explore the Künstlerproblem which is found in his vast oeuvre, but allow him to expose the intricate relationship between the artist and the audience.

Before proceeding further, it is necessary to first answer the following simple questions

about our main character: Is Felix an artist? Is he also a criminal? If Felix fails to fit in either 60

category, then the nexus of the artist and criminal would be nullified. Benno von Wiese claims

that Felix is “im strengen Sinne des Wortes weder ein Künstler noch ein Hochstapler, sondern

weit eher, wie bald danach Tadzio, ein verführerisches ‘Standbild der Schönheit’” (Wiese 1977:

191). Von Wiese is seemingly alone in challenging Krull as an artist asserting that Felix did not

create anything throughout the novel besides his additions to the sketches of Venosta and his

propensity for acting.13 Most critics, on the other hand, do not even raise the question of Felix as

an artist and proceed to assume that he is such. What von Wiese does not address is Felix’s role

as “the author” of the memoirs and does not acknowledge the craft of his acting as art. The

novel itself is technically a piece of art crafted by him. By also discrediting the role-playing

ability of Felix, I believe that von Wiese would be forced to contend that Müller-Rosé is also not

an artist. This is clearly not the case, since he produces a performance in a manner similar to the

acrobats and clowns do later in the novel.

The matter of Krull’s criminality has certainly generated more debate among Thomas

Mann scholars than the issue of his artistic nature. I struggle with this issue myself upon each

reading of the novel, wavering on whether or not Felix is a delinquent or not. Like Wiese, I often find Krull’s actions to not be illicit or even harmful to society (Wiese 1977: 191). Felix does not intend to steal the jewelry from Diane Philibert or Madame Houpflé, they accidentally slip into his luggage. In a later point in the novel, while Felix is operating under the persona of

Armand as an employee at the Parisian hotel; she even compels him to steal more. Also, this new identity of Armand is given to him by the hotel’s manager to make him more exotic and attractive. Later, Krull takes on Venosta’s identity as part of a mutual agreement allowing Felix

13 Von Wiese also emphasizes a phrase from “Einführung in ein Kapitel der Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull” from 1953 in which Mann only talks about an “Art von Künstlernatur” (Von Wiese1977: 191). 61

the opportunity to travel the world while the real Marquis is permitted to remain with his lover.

Mann’s protagonist is for Ignace Feuerlicht, “not so much a ‘Hochstapler’ or ‘confidence man’ as a born, artful, delighted, and delightful player of roles” (Feuerlicht 1968: 95).

In the eyes of such critics, Krull is not considered much of a threat to society and is at most a confidence man in name only. Erich Kahler’s essay, “The Elect: The Holy Sinner and

Felix Krull,” also ponders this conundrum, stating that “He is certainly a swindler, but of a very special sort. And can he really be considered a criminal? Only in a very limited sense” (Kahler

1986: 150). Felix Krull is indeed a criminal figure though mostly a benign one at best. The title itself reveals the intentions Mann has for his mischievous creation: Die Bekenntnisse des

Hochstaplers Felix Krull. Before opening the book, the reader is confronted with the knowledge that this is a novel about a confidence man and thus an admitted criminal. This revelation also immediately calls into question the veracity of the account written by the “author” in the same vain that Wulffen suspects and disproves many of the claims Manolescu made in his memoirs.

Felix can probably be deemed a criminal from the content of the novel because of his admitted time in prison and the central Musterungsszene in which he perfects his talents as a role player to feign epilepsy and insanity to avoid conscription into the military. Undoubtedly, he would have at least been incarcerated by the authorities for such a transgression. Unbeknownst to those who are only familiar with the novel itself comes further evidence to indict Felix Krull from Thomas

Mann’s notes and letters. Hans Wysling’s tireless efforts bring to light the author’s projections of Krull’s future.

Was den zweiten Teil der Krull-Memoiren betrifft, von denen offengestanden noch kein

Wort auf dem Papier steht, so ist der Roman ja seit mehr als vierzig Jahren zu Ende

geplant, und wie er ausgeht, ist im ersten Teil mehrfach angedeutet. Das fernere Leben

Krulls wird eine Ehe- und eine Zuchthaus-Episode bringen und ein Leben der

beständigen Täuschung darstellen, das sehr anstrengend ist und seinen Mann früh schon

abnutzt. (Wysling 1974: 149)

Much like Felix’s real life inspiration, Georges Manolescu, he is to become a hotel thief and

finally is placed under arrest (Wysling 1982: 405).14 Krull is even supposed to eventually get

married and to continue his travels from Lisbon to South America and then to the rest of the

globe.

It is not surprising that there exists some difficulty and thus debate as to the

characteristics of this self-titled Hochstapler. Felix is an artist who is essentially an actor and

author, creating new and exciting identities during his life’s journey which also results in the

production of a fragment of ‘his’ memoirs. However in doing so, Felix also illustrates his

criminal side, since his artistic creations are meant as deceptions. Yet these cons often have a

positive outcome for both Felix and the target as literary scholar Robert B. Heilman, a proponent

that Krull is more a variation of a picaro than a criminal, makes the noteworthy comment that

“Felix does not merely use others; he gratifies them” (Heilman 1965: 148). The complexity of

Krull’s criminality lies in the fact that the reader is not privy to any knowledge of delinquent

activity which had malevolent intent or was not encouraged by the person being victimized

besides the duping of the military officials. As Heilman points out, the individuals on the

opposite end of Felix’s actions actually profit and permit the deceptions like Graf de Venosta.

14 In Hans Wysling’s collection of Thomas Mann’s notes, we also discover possible details pertaining to the nature of his arrests and a description of the living conditions while in jail (Wysling 1982: 453-62). 63

In Thomas Mann: A Critical Study, R. J. Hollingdale states: “Felix is certainly an artist: yet

he is also equally certainly a criminal and a criminal in the most commonplace sense of the word.

But this ‘yet’ is not to be found in Felix’s confessions: on the contrary, the two states are held to

be, not merely compatible, but actually to imply one another” (Hollingdale 1971: 138-139).

Already as a child, Felix learns from Schimmelpreester’s tale of Phidias that the characteristics

of the artist and the criminal are intertwined, but that for one to exist the other must also be

present. The problem is that the public does not comprehend this nexus and, thus, punishes the

necessary criminal tendencies while praising the artistic.

Early in his life, Felix Krull displays elements of having the dual nature of artist /

criminal. In the first part of Mann’s novel, Buch der Kindheit, Felix is well on his way to

becoming a Hochstapler. Krull among other deceptions pretended to be the Kaiser, could

plagiarize his father’s signature, and faked illness to avoid school. The artist too commits this

crime of deceiving the audience, much like the youthful Felix who acts as child-virtuoso violin

player in front of a receptive crowd. The best example of the artist as Hochstapler is indeed the

character of Müller-Rosé, an actor. He is a fantastic thespian who enraptures the audience with

his performance. At first the young Krull is mesmerized by the grace and beauty of this actor, but upon visiting his dressing room with his father, Krull sees a naked and ugly man.

Dies also – so etwas gingen damals meine Gedanken – dies verschmierte und aussätzige

Individuum ist der Herzensdieb, zu dem soeben die graue Menge sehnsüchtig

emporträumte! Dieser unappetitliche Erdenwurm ist die wahre Gestalt des seligen

Falters, in welchem eben noch tausend betrogene Augen die Verwirklichung ihres

heimliches Traumes von Schönheit, Leidigkeit und Vollkommenheit zu erblicken

glaubten! (Mann 1997: 35)

The inner criminal tendency that Wulffen claims is latent is actually active in artists. Whether an actor or a writer, the artist is usually portraying reality, and in many cases trying to cover reality, which is oftentimes ugly, beautifying it and embellishing it in order to please the audience. The main occurrence of Hochstaplerei in art is turning fantasy into reality. What Müller-Rosé did with acting is similar to what Krull’s father did with wine. The bottles of wine that his company produced were elegantly designed, but the wine itself was abominable. Again the reality of the wine (Sein) does not equal the appearance (Schein) of it.

Writing is in itself like Hochstaplerei, for not only does the writer portray fantasy as reality, the writer plans and plots like a criminal. The artist also exaggerates the truth to make something more exciting and to gain a larger audience. The story of Felix Krull itself is a fictionalized response to the memoirs of Manolescu where the imaginary narrator assumes the role of the Romanian con man. Through the character of Krull, Mann is even able to pretend to be Manolescu like the Hochstapler he created. As the author of the work, Mann has crafted another persona and a new plot for others to encounter. While the process of writing offers

Mann the ability to act like a Hochstapler, he is not able to completely become one because his profession is already known. He is a world renowed author. Mann is not able to truly fool the reader because it is expected that he construct a world of illusion in the manner that Müller-Rosé does. With this, he acknowledges an artist’s relationship with the audience. In the meantime,

Manolescu’s own memoirs are also a type of “literary crime,” for he writes about those which he had never committed and embellished many that he did. Thus, the lawlessness of the criminal

carried over in the criminality of the writer which prompts Wulffen to point out the thievery of

Manolescu’s memoirs.

These various issues concerning the artist and the criminal raise even more questions that

need to be considered. If the artist is a criminal and the criminal an artist, then why are criminals

placed in prison while artists (most of them) are free to do what they please? Through the story

of Phidias, Mann illustrates that the nature of the artist is intrinsically connected with that of the

criminal. Typically people are put in jail for committing a crime by breaking the law or a social

contract. However, if we logically follow this newfound relationship between these two groups

of people; society should throw artists in jail to prevent crimes that they might potentially

commit. In Anderson’s account of Lombroso’s teachings, the difference lies in the Sein and the

Schein of crime. As previously mentioned, a writer like Dostoevsky is one, “who expressed himself in great literature about crime, whereas a murderer . . . ‘expressed’ himself directly in

criminal acts” (Anderson 1992: 179). Here, there is a definite distinction between the artist and

the criminal.

There is, however, something more than the simple difference between writing about and

committing a crime. The artistic form of Hochstaplerei is (usually) accepted by society while criminal Hochstaplerei is not. It is the matter that art is accepted which is the important distinction not why, because the fact that it is accepted gives art meaning and makes it valid in contrast to Hochstaplerei. It is the acceptance of the public that gives Felix’s violin playing validity. As Stein points out, “Mag die Pantomine des Achtjährigen auch noch so gekonnt gewesen sein, sie wäre bedeutungslos geblieben, hätten der Vater und der Kapellmeister nicht einen Coup verabredet und eine Vorstellung des mimenden Jungen vor einem grossen Publikum

arrangiert” (Stein 1984: 25). Without the acceptance of the public and the encouragement of the

father and music director, there is no art. It is this acceptance which makes this an act of art and

not one of Hochstaplerei.

In both the cases of the artist and the criminal, the incarnation of the Hochstapler is

dependent upon the audience for success. Stein states, “Denn Publikum gehört zum Schauspiel

unabdingbar dazu. Wie der Schauspieler ist auch der Hochstapler auf Öffentlichkeit angewiesen, wie sonst als durch die Mithilfe einer leichtgläubigen Öffentlichkeit könnte er sich zur Geltung bringen und seine Scheinexistenz aufbauen” (Stein 1984: 25). It is through Felix Krull’s role model, Müller-Rosé, that this vital lesson is taught. Krull is amazed at how the audience is fooled by Müller-Rosé’s performance; for, Krull sees how grotesque the man actually is. He, thus, asks himself:

Die erwachsenen und gewiss im üblichen Masse lebenskundigen Leute aber, die sich so

willig, ja gierig von ihm betören liessen, mussten sie nicht wissen, dass sie betrogen wurden?

Oder achteten sie in stillschweigenden Einverständnis den Betrug nicht für Betrug? (Mann

1997: 35)

Just as Stein asserts, it is obvious that in order for either the artist or Hochstapler to succeed, they

need a public who will believe their performance, and in the case of Müller-Rosé the audience

eagerly desires to be deceived.

The artist and the criminal not only need the public to believe them, but also require some

reward or compensation. The artist is placated with praise, applause or financial reimbursement

while the criminal is compensated with whatever he or she takes--money, identity, property,

etc.—without the approval of the victim. Unlike the criminal, however, the artist enters into what

John Locke might call a tacit agreement or the “stillschweigenden Einverständnis.” In exchange for recognition, fame, or approval, the artist gladly entertains and brings the public indescribable bliss with their brand of Hochstaplerei like Müller-Rosé did. Commenting on this agreement,

Felix asks, “ist es nicht ein wechselseitiges Sich-Genüge-tun, eine hochzeitliche Begegnung seiner und ihrer Begierden?” (Mann 1997: 36). The criminal, on the other hand, does not enter into this contract and only takes what he or she desires without recompense. In seeing the actor behind the curtain, the young Felix realizes that Müller-Rosé and therefore the artist is really nothing but a Hochstapler: creating illusions of beauty for public consumption yet disgustingly hideous in reality. What defines the artist in contrast to the criminal is the manner in which the actions are perceived and permitted by the spectators.

Müller-Rosé exposes the importance of the relationship between the audience / victim to the artist / criminal: an audience allows and wants to be conned by an artist while a victim does not.

Müller-Rosé provides a central inspiration for Felix’s craft, his understanding of it, and what motivates his mischievous actions. To begin a case examination of Felix Krull, we should first turn to his early years for the answer to this question. As we already know, Felix’s family was not one of high standing or regard. It is evident that his family was not from high society and was shunned from it. This impacted the young Felix greatly because he was an outcast of sorts to the other children and prompts him to say:

dass diese Burschen, Weingutbesitzers- und Beamtensöhne, von seiten ihrer Eltern, wie ich

bald gewahr werden musste, vor mir gewarnt und von mir ferngehalten wurden, ja, einer von

ihnen, den ich versuchsweise einlud, sagte mir mit kahlen Worten ins Gesicht, dass man ihm

den Verkehr mit mir und den Besuch unseres Hauses verboten habe, weil es nicht ehrbar bei

uns zugehe. Das schmerzte mich und liess mir einen Umgang begehrenswert erscheinen, an

dem mir sonst nichts gelegen gewesen wäre. (Mann 1997: 17-18)

Felix desired the love and attention of the upper class to the point that it hurt him when other

children were forbidden to play with him. To a large extent, Felix’s Hochstaplerei is driven by

this desire to be accepted by society much like his father. Thus, perhaps his greatest

accomplishment as a child was his stint as a virtuoso-violin player when he received much

adulation from the aristocracy. Here, Felix describes the success of his performance:

Edelbürtige, schöne und reiche Kinder, die kleinen Grafen Siebenklingen, nach denen ich

oft mit Sehnsucht ausgeschaut, die mich aber bisher nur kalter Blicke gewürdigt hatten,

baten mich artig, eine Partie Krocket mit ihnen zu spielen, und während unsere Eltern

miteinander Kaffee tranken, folgte ich, meine Brillantnadel auf der Brust, heiss und

trunken vor Freude ihrer Einladung. Es war einer der schönsten Tage meines Lebens,

vielleicht der unbedingt schönste. (Mann 1997: 23-24)

It is this yearning to be accepted by the aristocracy that appears to drive the actions of the

adolescent Felix. This episode is one of the first in the novel which illustrates the fundamentals

of this give and take relationship between artist and society. Felix is encouraged by all parties in

this situation: his father procures the props while coordinating the “performance” with the music conductor at the spa where the family was vacationing, and the audience “überhäuft (Felix) mit

Lobsprüchen, mit mit Schmeichelnamen, mit Liebkosungen” for a concert by the imitating

virtuoso (Mann 1997: 23). It is unclear whether the approving crowd knew that the violin’s bow

was covered in Vaseline to prevent music emanating from the instrument which would disrupt

the actual results of the real musicians, but they probably could discern that this cute lad was merely the center of a fraudulent spectacle.

Since it is Felix’s father who arranged the gig and his propensity for elaborate deceptions himself, we could perhaps trace back Felix’s later transgressions to him. Recall that for Wulffen, biology and race are important factors contributing to the criminality of individuals like

Manolescu (Wulffen 1911: 105). Although both Wulffen and Manolescu make the case for race and nationality as being the cause of his criminal tendencies, the finger can be pointed more directly at Manolescu’s parents and ancestors for giving him these biological factors of crime. If

Wulffen or Lombroso were alive today, they would probably be looking for a similar gene in both criminals and artists that would be passed down from parent to child. Looking at the entirety of Mann’s writings, one witnesses that Mann plays with the idea that several of his protagonists, especially of the artistic nature, are a product of the union of their parents. He even goes as far as to include autobiographical elements in many of his characters such as Gustav

Aschenbach, the lead character from Der Tod in Venedig. Aschenbach’s parents were basically mirrors of Mann’s real life parents. Both of their fathers were civil servants and stereotypically

German while their mothers were fiery, artistic, and exotic. What the narrator says about

Aschenbach in Der Tod in Venedig also applies to Mann as well: “Die Vermählung dienstlich nüchterner Gewissenhaftigkeit mit dunkleren, feurigen Impulsen liess einen Künstler und diesen besonderen Künstler erstehen” (Mann 2004a: 508). Tonio Kröger, the artist accused of being a con man, shares a similar genealogical history. In Felix Krull, the hereditary nature of the criminal / artist is not explicitly stated as in Der Tod in Venedig or in Wulffen’s writings, but is something to consider because of the various actions of the father and son. We already have encountered Felix as a Hochstapler in his various antics of violin playing, but it is not to be 70

forgotten that his father, Engelbert, was also a Hochstapler of sorts. Although not quite as

criminal or explicit in his acts of Hochstaplerei, his father also participated in deceiving the

public. As mentioned earlier, the wine that he produced was bottled exquisitely but the quality

of the wine was dreadful. His father also disguised the economic state of the family throwing

large extravagant parties with food, music and fireworks, despite the imminent failure of his

wine business.

Seemingly, the actions and lifestyle encouraged by his father and Pate Schimmelpreester

offer a glimpse of the trickery and the motivations that Krull will engage in during his life.

Martin Travers emphasizes the role of the family in stating that, “Krull is born into a world of

deception and play-acting” (Travers 1992: 118). Like Engelbert, Felix commits a number of

hoaxes in order to interact with high society resulting ultimately with his trading places with

Marquis de Venosta. In the meantime, his godfather, a dubious artist who painted the infamous champagne bottles for the family’s business also recognized Felix’s talents to transform himself

into other individuals. Because of these abilities, he served as a model for many of

Schimmelpreester’s paintings wearing clothing from different time periods. It was at this point

that Felix too realized his gift writing in his memoirs, “mein Gesicht mit Hilfe von Tracht und

Perücke sich nicht nur den Ständen und Himmelsstrichen, sondern auch den Zeitaltern

anzupassen scheinen” (Mann 1997: 26-27). This skill and knowledge would prove useful in his later adventures allowing him to pass as a member of the aristocracy and to participate in the society his father envied.

The artist too not only desires acceptance but also adulation. What artist does not want to be praised and be famous? The reaction of the crowd is what many artists like Müller-Rosé crave.

His appetite for praise is described as, “Lediglich der Hang und Drang seines Herzens zu jener bedürftigen Menge hat ihn zu seinen Künsten geschickt gemacht; und wenn er ihr Lebensfreude spendet, sie ihn dafür mit Beifall sättigt” (Mann 1997: 36). All Müller-Rosé wanted as compensation for his services as entertainer was applause. Like Müller-Rosé, Aschenbach too had “sein ganzes Wesen auf Ruhm gestellt war” (Mann 2004a: 508). Many criminals also commit crimes in order to gain attention and to be in the spotlight. It seems that even Manolescu gained more fame as a writer than as a criminal.

On the surface level, Felix enters a career as a con artist for the societal and financial

benefits it affords one. As he was accepted by the wealthy families at a spa resort pretending to

be a violin virtuoso, Felix would later harness his abilities to mingle with Portuguese royalty and

the elite as he visited Lisbon under the guise of Marquis de Venosta. Felix even mentions that

his trip to Paris to become a liftboy at the hotel Saint James and Albany, “für immer das letzte

Mal war, daβ ich dritter Klasse, als Fahrtgenosse der Unerquicklichkeit, reiste” (Mann 1997:

127). Although Felix relishes bathing in the attention of the upper class and enjoys a luxurious lifestyle, he becomes a Hochstapler for other reasons. This comes to fruition despite the fact that he is offered many chances at a comfortable life without crime, yet he often turns them down.

The true motivating factor is revealed in the novel’s most famous scene in which he

eludes conscription into the army by faking epilepsy among other illnesses. After the suicide of

his father, Felix and his mother move to Frankfurt where she at the suggestion of

Schimmelpreester got a smaller place in the city to take on boarders in hopes of generating

income. Felix was now of the age in which he would be forced to fulfill obligations to the

military. In the time leading up to his medical examination for entrance into the service, Krull

has practiced and improved the skills displayed as a child feigning illness to avoid going to school. Not only does he prepare various facial and bodily expressions to fake an epileptic fit, he studies medical books to learn the various symptoms and sicknesses to perfect his performance.

In fact, his undertaking and attention to detail were so accurate that according to him he even

“war ohne Besinnung” (Mann 1997: 108). Naturally, the military doctors reject Krull’s admission to the service because of his “epileptoiden Zufällen,” and migraines possibly caused by depression and potential for “Nervenkrankheit” (Mann 1997: 110). To further add to the comedy of the scene and to show the simulated earnestness to be accepted by the military, Krull pleads “Wäre es nicht möglich, daβ das Soldatenleben meine Gesundheit kräftigte” (Mann 1997:

111). He was so convincing that one of the doctors even remarked that Felix would have been an asset to the army. At the end of this chapter, Felix admits in his memoirs to the central problem of joining the army:

War ich doch nicht im Zeichen des Mars geboren, - wenigstens nicht im besondern und

wirklichen Sinn! Denn wenn freilich kriegerische Strenge, Selbstbeherrschung und

Gefahr die hervorstechendsten Merkmale meines seltsamen Lebens bildeten, so beruhte

es doch in erster Linie auf der Vor- und Grundbedingung der Freiheit, - einer Bedingung

also, welche mit irgendwelcher Einspannung in ein plump tatsächliches Verhältnis

schlechterdings unvereinbar gewesen wäre. Lebte ich folglich soldatisch, so wäre es

doch ein tölpelhaftes Miβverständnis gewesen, wenn ich darum als Soldat leben zu sollen

geglaubt hätte; ja, wenn es gälte, ein so erhabenes Gefühlsgut wie dasjenige der Freiheit

für die Vernunft zu bestimmen un zuzurichten, so lieβe sich sagen, daβ dies eben:

soldatisch, aber nicht als Soldat, figürlich, aber nicht wörtlich, daβ im Gleichnis leben zu

dürfen eigentlich Freiheit bedeute. (Mann 1997: 112) 73

With this long explanation crafted for the reader, Mann’s protagonist declares the importance of freedom in his existence. Felix claims that he could live “like a soldier” in which he would be able to employ his role-playing skills, altering his identity to pretend to be in the military, but could not live “as a soldier.” To enter the service would prevent him from being able to take on other identities as he did as a child. He would be stuck with a singular identity and be prohibited from creatively expressing himself by constantly changing that identity. In my opinion, this episode represents the most criminal act Felix commits during the story; for, he explicitly broke the law by deceiving the military doctors.

While working at the Saint James and Albany hotel in Paris, Felix demonstrates the importance of having his freedom by regularly turning down opportunities from various patrons to join them in leading a comfortable life without worry. One of the conditions of his new job as liftboy at the hotel is that he is given a new name because Felix “hat etwas Privates und

Anspruchvolles” (Mann 1997: 157). His boss gives him the name Armand which happens to be the name of the previous liftboy. This new identity gives Felix immeasurable joy; for, now he is able to take on a new identity instead of being Felix all of the time. The excitement for this new name is even greater when considering a passage earlier in the story. Felix becomes extremely jealous when he learns that his sister Olympia is engaged and will be able to change her last name. “Welche Wohltat, welche Anregung, welche Erquickung des Daseins, sich mit einem neuen Namen vorzustellen und anreden zu hören!” (Mann 1997: 58).

Felix’s stint as the Parisian hotel’s employee Armand opens up many possible doors for him with interesting results. His fortune began to change even before he set foot into the Saint

James and Albany where he refreshingly received a new name; he stumbled into the possession

of several jewels when a case accidentally fell into his luggage at the customs office. With the help of a new colleague, Stanko, Felix is able to locate an establishment to sell the loot. This, however, is not the end of the story of the jewels. Krull is approached by a guest of the hotel,

Madame Houpflé, a writer of poetry whose precious stones were those unintentionally taken by

Felix during the mishap with customs. Moreover, Felix is seduced by this erotic poetess, proclaiming him to be Hermes, “der geschmeidige Gott der Diebe” (Mann 1997: 185). This unorthodox scene of lust takes an interesting turn after Felix admits to Diane that it was he who had found the jewels. It is at this point, that she then wishes for Felix to again steal all of her valuables right under her eyes and orders him, “Steh auf, wie du da bist, diebischer Gott, und stiehl!” (Mann 1997: 189). For Travers, “in this seduction, it is difficult to tell who is the victim and who the victimizer: the deceiver and the deceived have become willing partners in an act of mutual deception” (Travers 1992: 121). Here, we have an example of the give and take relationship that is prevalent in the novel. Both Diane and Felix benefit from this affair in a similar fashion to Müller-Rosé and his adoring audience. Despite undertaking an endeavor which may by punishable by the law, Krull becomes a Hoteldieb like Manolescu. Felix provides this “Frau von Geist” with an erotic encounter in which he follows her orders while he attains the new identification of Hermes and is more or less given the remaining jewelry in her collection at the hotel since she is the one who permitted and advanced the larceny. This incident is undoubtedly less criminal since he is commanded to take her valuables, but again illustrates the complicated nature of Felix’s criminality and the role the victim / public can have to determine criminality.

The freedom Felix earns in order to live a life “im Gleichnis” is not taken for granted as he found offers by wealthy patrons of the hotel difficult to refuse. Krull’s personal fortune had 75

increased as a result of the late night “heist” from Madame Houpflé. This new source of income was added to his previous sale of “stolen” jewels which provided him with the ability to lead a double life outside of the hotel. He rented an apartment to store elegant clothes to once again put his acting skills to work so that he might mingle with high society during his time off. He would enjoy fine dining and entertainment without anyone knowing. However, Felix began to fear becoming “eingesperrt” in his position as liftboy, yet declines two fascinating opportunities proposed by Eleanor Twentyman and then Lord Kilmarnock. Felix is able to temporarily cure his malaise by being persistent and working his way up to waiter. He met these two individuals while working in this new capacity at the hotel. Both were on two week stays at the hotel where they became infatuated with the charming new waiter. Eleanor was born into a wealthy British family and wanted to marry Felix and run away from her family to Morocco. Lord Nectan

Kilmarnock, descended from Scottish nobility, asked the mesmerizing Krull to return with him to Scotland as his personal valet in which Kilmarnock would essentially adopt the twenty year old waiter who would have inherited Nectan’s lordship. There is little doubt that both suitors would have allowed Felix to lead a life without financial worries and to indulge his high class tastes, but he would have been limited to one identity, unable to fully practice his skills as a

Hochstapler. This becomes apparent in his reasoning against joining Lord Kilmarnock in

Scotland:

Die Hauptsache war, daβ ein Instinkt, seiner selbst sehr sicher, Partei nahm in mir gegen

eine mir präsentierte und obendrein schlackenhafte Wirklichkeit – zugunsten des freien

Traumes und Spieles, selbstgeschaffen und von eigenen Gnaden, will sagen: dem

Beschluβ, ein achtzehnjähriger Prinz namens Karl zu sein, und an dieser reinen und

reizenden Erdichtung, solange ich wollte, in Freiheit festgehalten hatte – das war das 76

Rechte gewesen, und nicht, an dieser Mann mit der starrenden Nase mir in seiner

Anteilnahme bot. (Mann 1997: 229)

Felix expresses his need for the freedom he enjoyed as a child as modeling for his godfather or

pretending to be a virtuoso or a prince. Feuerlicht affirms Krull’s need for freedom saying “He

does not like or accept the role imposed upon him by society or offered to him ready-made by

another person” (Feuerlicht 1968: 96). He desires control over a situation in which his identity

has the potential to be fluid yet free from external forces.

Krull eventually does accept a proposal from one of the customers at the hotel affording

him the prospect of applying his unique talents. In contrast to Twentyman and Kilmarnock,

Travers states that “Krull accepts the offer because, like any actor, he welcomes the chance to

play a new role” (Travers 1992: 120). This offer is one made to him by another visitor to the

hotel, the Marquis de Venosta. Just like Twentyman and Kilmarnock, he comes from an

aristocratic family with seemingly unlimited resources at his disposal. Having given up the study of law, he has taken up painting and fallen in love with the lovely Parisian Zaza. Felix learns that Venosta’s picturesque life is threatened by his parents who do not approve of his lifestyle and are especially disappointed in his relationship with Zaza. At this time, Krull is still enjoying his “Doppelleben” as a waiter by day and a “Herr von Distinktion” by night (Mann

1997: 238). His secret is discovered by Venosta who accidentally runs into him at another hotel.

Venosta is fascinated by Krull’s dual identities and how convincing Felix is in both worlds.

During the course of the conversation, Venosta mentions his newest parental dilemma. In an effort to break up the relationship between the Marquis and Zaza and to give him some

“Lebenserfahrung,” his parents are making Venosta travel around the world. They come up with

a solution to the problem, though Felix leads him on. “Es müsste so aussehen, als ob Sie reisten, in Wirklichkeit aber bleiben Sie zu Hause...So müsste also Ihr Name reisen, verbunden mit einer

Person, die nicht Sie wäre” (Mann 1997: 251-252). Amazed how easily Felix is able to pass as a nobleman, Venosta agrees to allow Felix to take the planned trip in his place, while the Marquis stays in Paris with Zaza.

Felix is exuberant because his newest adventure gives him the opportunity to fully use his talents as a Hochstapler that he has been practicing since childhood. He will be forced to not only imitate Venosta himself, but will also have to forge his handwriting, like he did for his father’s signature, to withdraw money from the bank during the journey and to send letters to

Venosta’s parents reporting on the proceedings. This opportunity is much more interesting to

Felix than those proposed by Twentyman and Lord Kilmarnock, because he gets the chance to play a new role along with the comforts of wealth and nobility instead of entering a static persona. Felix is still going to be committing various acts of fraud to uphold his identity as the

Marquis, but just as in the case of Houpflé, he is given permission to commit the crime.

The figure of Müller-Rosé exposes the all important connection and unspoken agreement between the artist and the audience. The key to this so-called pact lies in the permission granted to an artist such as Müller-Rosé to dupe the audience: to portray an alternate reality for a specific purpose, most often being entertainment. This is what defines the artist from the criminal. They are seemingly the same except for this essential point. The acceptance of the audience is what differentiates the Hochstapler from the artist. Though they both deceive the public only one is permitted and and asked to do so. In unveiling this line which separates the artist from the

criminal, Thomas Mann is hoping to give the reader a new way to understand the nature of the artist.

Through the course of the novel, Krull encounters several artistic figures and each has a

different relationship with the audience and with the subject material. In addition to Müller-Rosé

whose function we have already visited, I would like to explore some of the other individuals involved in artistic endeavors. The artist most overlooked by scholars is the character of Dom

Miguel Hurtado, the assistant to Professor Kuckuck at the Museum of Natural History in Lisbon.

Admittedly, he plays a minor role in the novel with his most notable attribute being that he is engaged to Kuckuck’s daughter, Zouzou. This relationship appears to be passionless and cold: a seemingly practical arrangement given Hurtado’s position at the museum. His work is probably not viewed as being of an artistic nature because he is not a writer, actor, or painter—or in other

words a typical artist. Hurtado re-creates animals and dioramas for the museum. Maria Pia,

Kuckuck’s wife, describes him as “ein vorzüglicher Tiergestalter, der für unser Museum nicht

nur alle möglichen zeitgenössischen Tiere aufs natürlichste nachbildet, sondern auch die Kunst

übt, an der Hand von fossilen Resten nicht mehr existierender Geschöpfe ihre Erscheinung

höchst überzeugend wiederherzustellen” (Mann 1997: 305). Zouzou chides Hurtado by calling

him an “Ausstopfer” which he admits was his position when he started, but he adds that he has

moved on to better things: “vom Handwerk zur Kunstwerk,” calling his fellow coworkers

“Künstler” (Mann 1997: 306-307). Because of Hurtado’s profession creating figurines of

animals, it is ironic to note that he as well as Zouzou were inspired by mannequins as mentioned

by Eric Downing in Artificial I's: The Self as Artwork in Ovid, Kierkegaard, and Thomas Mann

(Downing 1993: 233). It is Hurtado’s job to craft models like a mannequin. In many ways,

Hurtado’s profession mimics that of Krull’s. They both require “viel Naturbeobachtung und 79

Studium,” in order to successfully complete their tasks (Mann 1997: 307). While Felix masquerades as other individuals, Hurtado is another example of an artist who deceives the public. Unlike the Hochstapler, Hurtado and his colleagues do not have malevolent intentions or mean to mislead the public; they want to do the opposite. In order to educate the public about animals which are extinct, he does his best using everything he has learned to construct a model.

It is difficult for such a representation to be completely accurate, because no one has ever personally seen an extinct species. For example, scientists can give us a visual of a dinosaur, but they do not know what color it used to be. The public accepts such re-creations of the past and the visual aids of science in order to better comprehend a time period or a subject. The same can be said of the venues Felix visits after selling the jewels obtained by chance while at the customs booth. With his newfound wealth, Krull pays for admission to a panorama of the Battle of

Austerlitz which is “so vorzüglich, daβ man kaum vermochte, die Grenze zwischen dem nur

Gemalten und den vordergründigen Wirklichkeiten, weggeworfenen Waffen und Tornistern und gefallenen Kriegerpuppen, wahrzunehmen” (Mann 1997: 173). This setting was made in order for one to visualize what the battle looked like but most likely did not. It has the same function as Hurtado’s creations; it helps give an idea of what life was like despite being unable to represent something with one hundred percent accuracy. Feuerlicht calls them “places where artful illusion is created,” where the boundaries of reality are obscured (Feuerlicht 1968: 100).

Another diversionary destination for Felix is the Panoptikum, “wo man auf Schritt und Tritt zu seiner schreckhaften Freude mit allerlei Potentaten Groβ-Defraudanten, ruhmgekrönten

Künstlern und namhaften Frauenmörderin zusammenstieβ, jeden Augenblick gewärtig, von ihnen auf du und du angeredet zu werden” (Mann 1997: 173). Here, we have a site which displays a myriad of people in the public eye as wax figures much as the museum shows animals.

In this case, criminals and artists alike are placed on a similar level. Although the Panoptikum

Felix attends is a wax museum of sorts, the word Panoptikum has another meaning besides being a cabinet of curiosities; it can also be a type of prison in which the inmates can be seen from the outside. Each example illustrates a type of artistry that creates an illusion in order for the observer to get a better understanding of the past. This aspect of deception in the criminal nature of the artist is accepted for this purpose which was praised by Aristotle and Nietzsche for its didactic potential and as a method for surviving the deceptions of reality. Plato, on the other hand, would contend that the artistic representations of Hurtado are dangerous for leading the public away from understanding the true nature of these extinct creatures.

Felix also goes to the circus with his coworker, Stanko, but this time he uncovers a

different degree of artistry through his observation of the crowd and the main attraction. At the

center of his attention is the trapeze artist known as Andromache which as most critics like Picart

and Hatfield point out, literally means “she who fights with men.” Despite the declaration of this

character being female from the name, Krull not only brings into question her gender but her

humanity as well.

Aber wiederholt frage ich hier: War Andromache etwa menschlich? War sie auβerhalb

der Manege, hinter ihrer Berufsleistung, ihrer ans Unnatürliche grenzenden, für eine Frau

tatsächlich unnatürlichen Produktion? Sie sich als Gattin und Mutter vorzustellen war

einfach läppisch; eine Gattin und Mutter, oder jemand auch nur, der es möglicherweise

sein könnte, hängt nicht mit den Füβen kopfab am Trapez, schaukelt sich so daran, daβ es

sich fast überschlägt, löst sich ab, fliegt durch die Luft zu dem Partner hinüber, der sie an

den Händen ergreift, sie daran hin- und herschwingt und sie im äuβersten Schwunge

fahrenläβt, damit sie unter Exekutierung des berühmten Luftsaltos zum anderen Gerät

zurückkehre. Dies war ihre Art, mit dem Manne zu verkehren; eine andere war bei ihr

nicht erdenklich, denn zu wohl erkannte man, daβ dieser strenge Körper das, was andere

der Liebe geben, an seine abenteuerliche Kunstleistung verausgabte. Sie war kein Weib;

aber ein Mann war sie auch nicht und also kein Mensch. Ein ernster Engel der

Tollkühnheit war sie mit gelösten Lippen und gespannten Nüstern, eine unnahbare

Amazone des Luftraumes unter dem Zeltdach, hoch über der Menge, der vor starrer

Andacht die Begierde nach ihr verging. (Mann 1997: 200)

In the figure of Andromache, Mann distinctively situates the artist as an outsider wondering if

these individuals could find a place in everyday life. This is a result of the perfection of her act

of daring and her unnatural achievements. It is hard for him and moreover the crowd to imagine

that she has the potential to simultaneously be a mother and perform her amazing feats. Felix

attempts to figure out how to categorize her if she is not human. This prompts him to ponder:

“zwischen Tier und Engel so sann ich stehet der Mensch. Näher zum Tiere stehet er, das wollen

wir einräumen. Sie aber, meine Abgebetene, obgleich Leib ganz und gar, aber keuscher, vom

Menschlichen ausgeschlossener Leib, stand viel weiter hin zu den Engeln” (Mann 1997: 201).

She is, rather, more of a sexless being like the philosophical angels of Thomas Aquinas.

Andromache recalls the Nietzschean concept of the Zwischen-Species mentioned in the second

section of this chapter. She does not exhibit the traits of the criminal or of illness, but is still in a

state of not belonging and trapped in between two forms of existence. There is no doubt that she

is an artist of the highest caliber who is so good in her field that others do not believe she is human. Her extraordinary talents compel the audience to put her on a pedestal.

Marion Faber’s analysis Angels of Daring: Tightrope Walker and Acrobat in Nietzsche,

Kafka, Rilke and Thomas Mann considers the freedom Andromache possesses being in this

“angelic” state. Faber emphasizes Andromache’s role as “a pure representative of the artist and through her we have an image of what the phenomenon signifies to Mann” (Faber 1979: 151).

Although she is able to mesmerize the audience like Müller-Rosé earlier in the novel, she does so

without fraudulent means. Yet, Felix still feels camaraderie with Andromache and her fellow circus performers. While empathizing with these entertainers, he rejects being a simple member

of the crowd like Stanko, because he is unable to passively enjoy a routine.15 For Faber, Krull’s

rejection of friendship with Stanko is indicative of his commitment to freedom. The basic

principle of this freedom precludes a personal relationship with other human beings (Faber 1979:

148-149). This is in contrast to other artistic protagonists of Thomas Mann, like Tonio Kröger

who yearns for such contact.16 Not only does Stanko offer Felix a chance at friendship, he wants

Felix to be an accomplice in a scheme to rob a villa (Mann 1997: 205). As he does to Lord

Kilmarnock and Miss Twentyman later in the novel, Felix turns down this offer because he does

not play second fiddle to anyone, nor does this allow him the chance to utilize his skills of

deception.

15In this scene, Krull is distancing himself from the circus audience by questioning what was going on around him. “[B]ei aller Bewunderung etwas von Bosheit in ihrem eindringlichen Beschloβ mich aus von ihrem Gären und Gieren, kühl wie einer, der sich vom ‘Bau,’ vom Fach fühlt. Nicht vom circensischen Fach, vom Salto mortale- Fach, natürlich, konnte ich mich fühlen , aber vom Fache im allgemeineren, vom Fach der Wirkung, der Menschenbeglückung und –bezauberung. Darum rückte ich innerlich ab von den vielen, die nur das selbstvergessen genieβende Opfer des Reizes waren, fern von dem Gedanken, sich mit ihm zu messen. Sie genossen nur, und Genuβ ist ein leidender Zustand, in welchem niemand sich genügt, der sich zum Tätigen, zum Selber-Ausüben geboren fühlt” (Mann 1997: 203).

16In this instance, Faber puts Krull at odds with Tonio Kröger and Adrian Leverkühn, because of their desire for friendship. Faber insinuates that these characters are willing to change their lot in life in order to gain such companionship, while Felix remains committed to being isolated from others, lest he lose the ability to alter his identity and continue with his role-playing (Faber 1979: 149). 83

From the perspective of Krull, an artist of the highest order like Andromache is quite

simply above everyone else. The reader is not privy to what Andromache thinks of her situation

or her views on the crowd. Through Felix’s narration, we learn that she is perceived as

something unnatural (if not supernatural) with the notion that she could not function like a

normal person outside of the circus tent. If Andromache could not be envisioned as a mother,

then how could she be someone’s friend? Here, we not only witness the narcissism of Felix by

his placement of the artist above the rest of the people, but also see that Andromache reveals

another possible way in which the public can view the artist. By putting her on a pedestal, the

audience isolates the trapeze artist from itself. Although Andromache may be blessed with an

amazing talent, she cannot be a part of normal society because it makes her less human.

In step with critics like Heilman and Stern, Faber maintains that “Felix wishes simply to

delight by deceiving, to give pleasure by bewitching,” and furthermore adding, “the Krullian

artist is revealed to be involved primarily with effect, with entertainment, not with instruction or

improvement” (Faber 1979: 158). For Faber, Andromache is the artist par excellence in the eyes

of Mann’s protagonist. Her sole purpose is to amuse the masses. Hurtado, on the other hand,

prefers to teach others with his pieces of art. With the many artists in the text, Mann is

illustrating the different ways the audience interrelates with the artist. By making the lines

between the artist and audience clear, Mann is using the Hochstapler to actually bring them together. Mann is giving the reader a behind the curtain view of the artist just like the young

Felix witnessed the two sides of Müller-Rosé: one with grace and beauty and the other with disgust. It is another chance for the public to better understand the nature of the artist and in a sense to reconcile the masses with a figure like Phidias. It also provides another opportunity for

the crowd to connect with the performer which seems impossible with the otherworldly

Andromache who gives everything to her profession.

Toward the end of the novel during Felix’s stint as Venosta, he attempts to win over

Zouzou to love. His persistence with the cold and childish daughter of Professor Kuckuck pays

off resulting in a passionate kiss and embrace. Erich Kahler considers this moment to be

emblematic of Krull’s giving nature, stating, “it is a metaphoric apotheosis of Felix Krull’s

passion for the other” (Kahler 1986: 153). While Krull is able to break down the boundaries

between two individuals, Mann unveils the divide between artist and audience in the hopes to

bring them together. He reveals the unspoken secrets between the two, making a more

humanized approach than that between Andromache and her fans possible.

2.7 Thomas Mann: The Real Hochstapler?

As stated earlier, Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull is a work which

encompassed the majority of Thomas Mann’s career. Despite the many breaks and the fifty

years it took to be completed, it provides, as Wysling points out, “einen Rahmen um Thomas

Manns gesamtes Werk” (Wysling 1982: 10). What began as a literary response to Heinrich

Mann’s Im Schlaraffenlandes and its “Glückskindmotiv,” Thoman Mann wanted to surpass his

older brother with a character who was not only a Fortunatus but also a Hochstapler. The first

notes from 1905 however developed into something much more and combined these ideas with

that of the Künstler.17 In 1930, Thomas Mann described the central theme of the novel thus far

as the following:

Nach der Zurücklegung von Königliche Hoheit hatte ich die Bekenntnisse des

Hochstaplers Felix Krull zu schreiben begonnen - ein sonderbarer Entwurf, auf den, wie

viele erraten haben, die Lektüre der Memoiren Manolescus mich gebracht hatte. Es

handelte sich natürlich um eine Wendung des Kunst- und Künstlermotivs, um die

Psychologie der unwirklich-illusionären Existenzform. Was mich aber stilistisch

bezauberte, war die noch nie geübte Direktheit, die mein grobes Muster mir nahelegte,

und ein phantastischer geistiger Reiz ging aus von der parodistischen Idee, ein Element

geliebter Überlieferung, das Goethisch-Selbstbildnerisch-Autobiographische,

Aristokratisch-Bekennerische, ins Kriminelle zu übertragen. (Mann 1989: 83)

However, already in the novella Tonio Kröger, Thomas Mann had entertained the idea of the

criminal being related to the artist. Published two years prior to the conception of Felix Krull,

Thomas Mann was questioning this possibility. Two small scenes from the novella stand out in

this regard. First, during a visit to his home town, Tonio is accused of being a con man from

Munich. Lacking documents to travel because of his disdain for bureaucrats, Tonio’s identity is

verified by showing the constable and Herr Seehaase a manuscript about to be published with his

name on it. His claim to being a writer validates his identity and confirms to the authorities that

he is not a threat, though Tonio secretly wants to admit to being the pursued offender. He feels

akin to the former banker who was placed in jail for good reasons, but only began to write while

17 In Koopmann’s Thomas Mann – Heinrich Mann: Die ungleichen Brüder, he chronicles the back and forth relationship that existed between the Mann brothers as illustrated in their literary productions (Koopmann 2005b: 464-483). Koopmann admits though that Felix Krull did become “weit mehr als ein Gegenentwurf” (Koopmann 2005b: 466). Wysling also considers Heinrich’s influence upon Thomas Mann (Wysling 1982: 36-41). 86

being imprisoned. As in the story of Phidias, Tonio postulates that the artist and criminal are

alike and that being incarcerated and recognizing one’s criminal tendencies is a necessity for the

development of an artist.

The evolution to Krull from the infant ideas of Kröger were, as Mann admitted in the

above quote, influenced by the memoirs of Manolescu with the goal of applying the ideas

concerning the artist to the realm of the criminal, in a manner parodying Goethe. For Hannelore

Mundt, “Initially, Confessions was planned as a fictional autobiography, an imitation and parody

of Goethe’s semiautobiographical Fiction and Truth, with the intention to use the criminal artist

figure to undermine the authority, dignity, and importance that the German educated burghers bestowed upon their artists” (Mundt 2004: 209). A piece intended to function as a rebuttal to his brother Heinrich becomes a mixture of Goethe, perhaps the greatest literary mind of Germany,

and Manolescu, a Romanian swindler. It is a work that is an amalgam of several different genres. It contains elements of the Bildungsroman, Künstlerroman, picaresque-novel, confessions, fairy tales, and most notably the autobiography.18 The autobiographical dimensions

of the novel are the most fascinating aspects because of the complexity caused by the fusion of

various disparate factors. Critics like Mundt widely accept the notion that the novel is part

parody of Goethe’s Dichtung und Wahrheit, for, Mann himself admits this fact:

Was ich sonst noch arbeiten möchte? Den Krull zu beenden. Ich muβ bei meiner

Schachtelmethode und ein langes Leben hoffen. Freilich, die Fortsetzung des Krull ist in

18 Hans Wysling utilizes these among other terms to describe aspects of this story in the seminal work Narzissmus und illusionäre Existenzform. Many critics focus their arguments on how Krull fits a specific genre or re-defines it. Hatfield, for example, believes in the picaresque nature of the novel, while Kahler thinks it transcends this genre. 87

vielen Aphorismen festgelegt. Im ganzen soll dieser Roman eine Parodie auf die

Selbstbiographie des XVIII. Jahrhundert werden. Unter anderem.” (Wysling 1967: 34)

However, what began as an anti-Heinrich novel became something else. It became for

Koopmann “etwas wie ein Selbstbildnis: seine Wünsche, seine Fähigkeiten, seine Neigungen

und seine Lebensphilosphie machen den Roman zu einer versteckten Autobiographie”

(Koopmann 2005b: 469). Originally, Thomas Mann had made Felix Krull born in the same year as his brother Heinrich, in 1871. Thomas, then, altered the birth year of Felix to that of his own,

1875 (Wysling 1982: 37; Koopmann 2005b: 469). For Koopmann, this action also exemplified that Krull was to be “mehr als eine Satire auf Heinrichs Lebensplan. Denn Narcissos: das war er selbst” (Koopmann 2005b: 469).

Besides switching the birthday of Felix from Heinrich’s to his own, Thomas Mann also

added other elements from his own life to the novel bolstering the autobiographic nature of the

work. The notes for Krull included even minute autobiographic details for use in the novel. For

example, Mann’s notebook contains lines such as “Hochstapler stiehlt als Knabe Chokolade bei

Drefalt. Ist Kellner bei Baur au lac?” (Wysling 1967: 27). In the first book of the novel, the young Felix would steal candy from the sweet shop which had the same name as one from

Mann’s childhood in Lübeck. Baur au lac on the other hand did not make the cut but was to be

the name of the hotel where Felix is employed. This hotel was an actual destination for Thomas

and Katja Mann on their honeymoon. However, there are more than detailed locations from

Mann’s life inserted in the work. In many ways, Felix Krull’s experiences mirrored his creator’s.

This is especially evident in their respective childhoods. Like Krull, Mann was an indifferent

student with a vivid imagination who felt contempt toward teachers. Both of their fathers died at

a relatively young age and had to weather the collapse of family businesses. Even the pivotal

Musterungsszene has some basis in reality, as Thomas Mann is able to avoid being conscripted

into the army through the cooperation of an army doctor.

While many critics point out the similarities of Felix’s fictional life to Mann’s real one,

there are those like Koopmann who claim there is a deeper meaning behind the novel because of

them. Feuerlicht, for example, lists the similarities between Thomas Mann’s life and the memoirs of his protagonist, but diffuses the implications of these points of intersection in the text, stating “all literary creations are, to some extent, autobiographies. This is certainly true of

Mann’s works, and Krull’s autobiography can hardly be expected to constitute an exception”

(Feuerlicht 1968: 103). Basically, Feuerlicht finds them interesting, yet does not take the matter

further with the contention that all works have elements of autobiography.19 Thomas Sprecher and Hans Wisskirchen echo Koopmann in stating “dass das Buch eine versteckte Autobiographie ist und Thomas Mann in Felix Krull viele seiner Träume und Sehnsüchte gestaltet hat” (Sprecher and Wisskirchen 2004: 5). For this group of critics, the autobiographic components along with the subject matter of the novel suggest that Mann utilizes the format of a fictional autobiography to explore the tribulations and possibilities of his own life. Although not explicitly alluded to in

Felix Krull, the novel is somewhat of a commentary on the life of an exile. The escapades of

Krull outside of Germany were not written until at least 1951, well after Mann had left Germany in 1933 because of the rise of National Socialism. He bounced around Europe until 1938 when he fled to the United States where he later would receive citizenship. Felix Krull, in the eyes of

Koopmann, is in essence the model of an idyllic Exilantenexistenz. Felix does not encounter the hardships and difficulties Mann did while fleeing the Nazi regime. This is due in large part

19 Heilmann also illustrates where one can locate Mann in Felix Krull (Heilman 1965: 142). 89

because of Felix’s profession as a con man. “Dieser Hochstapler wird nicht entdeckt, er wird nicht verfolgt, hat vielmehr überall freies Geleit” (Koopmann 2005b: 478). It could be said that

Felix is actually at his best while he is away from his native land. Felix has no problems

travelling to Paris and Lisbon, and presumably to South America and beyond. There are no

complications with attaining the proper visas or passports. Felix is not at any point in peril of

being deported and his finances are never an issue. Mann identifies with the con artist because

of the seemingly unbridled freedom they possess and desires the possibilities inherent to this type

of individual.

Despite being a criminal, Felix represents a positive character and outlook on life for

Mann. He should be seen, as Koopmann contends, not as a “problematisches Ich,” but rather as

an “idealisiertes Ich.” (Koopmann 2005b: 470). Because of his gifts, Krull is able to navigate

through life by creating and re-creating his identity. Unlike other artist characters of Mann,

Krull’s abilities as a master role-player and his outlook on life result in a positive outcome. They

represent variations of a theme concerning the nature of the artist. In a prior section, I discussed

how Tonio Kröger and Gustav Aschenbach are two artists who are most productive working

while feeling trapped between two conflicted worlds. As Krull experiences some of the same

events that Thomas Mann did in real life, these characters also had similar familial backgrounds

to their author. For these artistic figures, Lange believes, “die Grundproblematik ist Einsamkeit”

(Lange 1956: 215). Being caught between two realms is a starkly lonely place for them. While

the novella Tonio Kröger has an ambiguous conclusion at best, with the future of Tonio

remaining unknown, Aschenbach succumbs to his carnal desires and dies unable to come to

terms with his dual nature. Exemplified by the loneliness felt as a child from being excluded to

play with other children, Krull is also a lonely individual. He however uses his loneliness to his 90

advantage. He is not allowed to get too close to others lest his freedom could be infringed upon.

Hence, he refuses advances from Miss Twentyman and Lord Kilmarnock among others to

remain a con man able to change his identity at his own whim. As a Hochstapler, Felix stands between art and crime and embraces the transitory nature of his being. Moreover, Krull embodies the philosophy of existence articulated by Professor Kuckuck: Felix lives in a place

“zwischen Nichts und Nichts.” He is a character perpetually caught in between and ever changing his identity.

Through Felix Krull, Thomas Mann revealed a utopian space where he could simply

play. Writing allows him the freedom to escape and explore other identities as well as his own.

From the onset of the novel, the theme of the artist is at the focal point, dealing with “des von der

Gesellschaft Ausgestoβenen und doch in sie Integrierten, die Sonderstellung des hochbegabten

Einzelgängers, der sich keiner Gemeinschaft fügen will, dennoch aber pausenlos mit ihr zu tun

hat,” which for Koopmann is autobiographically oriented (Koopmann 2005a: 516). Influenced

by the memoirs of Manolescu, philosophers, and criminologists, Mann took his Künstlerproblem

in a new literary direction. He thus plays with the conventions and ideas of the time to delve into

this issue. Mann takes the place of Manolescu and pretends to assume the identity of a con artist writing his own autobiography. A pervading thought of the time, was that the criminal and artist

were of a similar nature. Both individual types are united in an atavistic genetic defect

demonstrated by illness and the propensity lie. Nietzsche wrote:

Der moderne Künstler, in seiner Physiologie dem Hysterismus nächstverwandt, ist auch

als Charakter auf diese Krankhaftigkeit hin abgezeichnet. Der Hysterike rist falsch; - er

lügt aus Lust an der Lüge, er ist bewunderungswürdig in jeder Kunst der Verstellung – es

sei denn, dass seine krankhafte Eitelkeit ihm einen Streich spielt. (Nietzsche 1922: 813,

Aph 241)

Lombroso also advocated that sickness is a unifying trait held by artists and criminals, according

to the criminologist both were susceptible to episodes of epilepsy and was undoubtedly an

inspiration for the Musterungsszene where Krull fakes a seizure to avoid the military draft.

Essentially, for thinkers like Lombroso and Nietzsche, nothing really separates genius from

criminal except the law.

In his analysis of Manolescu’s memoirs, Erich Wulffen again raises the relationship

between the artist and the criminal. Manolescu was found to have actually embellished his life

story and was not as a prolific criminal as claimed to be. While for Wulffen the artist and the

criminal share a like nature, the acts of art and crime are separate and distinct. A piece of

literature, according to Wulffen, is created as either a substitute or replacement for crime or as an

act of remorse in search of forgiveness inner peace. Since Manolescu wrote about crimes he either did not commit or increased the success of those he did, his writings fall under the first category.

In Thomas Mann’s work, the acts of art and crime are not distinct; they are intertwined.

What separates them is measured in how the audience reacts. This determines whether one is an artist or a criminal. While Wulffen’s writers are not aware of their criminal tendencies, Mann is

cognizant that there is some truth to this connection. Felix Krull is an outlet for some of his

personal issues, yet also represents a humorous attempt to bond with his audience. By making

the narrator a con artist, the reader immediately is called to question the altruism of the narrator.

The fact that Krull is a fictional narrator complicates matters more by exposing the author

himself. At the most basic level, the author of fiction is no different than a criminal who lies.

Von Wiese perhaps articulates it best:

Ein Betrüger und Täuscher! Gewiβ. Aber nicht weniger, als jeder Poet auch ein Betrüger

sein muβ. Darin besteht noch seine zweideutige Ähnlichkeit mit dem Dichter und

Schriftsteller Thomas Mann. Jedoch Krull ist nicht nur Betrüger, sondern zugleich eine

Art homo universalis des Rollenspieles und eben darin wie Thomas Mann ein ‘Zauberer.’

(Wiese 1977: 200)

As Felix falls in love with the various Doppelfiguren like Zouzou and Zaza or the brother and

sister observed in Frankfurt, so too should the audience and artist recognize and embrace the

duality intrinsic to the artist.

Felix Krull is what I would call a verboballistic invention. The dual nature of the

criminal / artist are so intertwined that they are both necessary for the production of crime or art.

Felix Krull is the target and projectile for Mann. Crime and art inspired Mann to write the novel and proved to be the projectile to get this project in motion, but it is also the ends. The final result is a mixture of both. This fits in with Foucault’s notion of verboballistics, where a

“narrative / murder” are “both projectile and target” (Foucault 1982: 209). Recall that the chronology of a crime and a narration about the crime are for Foucault interchangeable and that these two processes are of a similar nature. The intention, the action, and the final outcome are all one and the same. Like Phidias and Tonio’s banker, the crime and the artistic creation cannot be separated. In the case of Felix Krull, Mann’s own experiences as an artist act as a “projectile” and “engine” for the creation of the imaginary mischief-maker, and are thus found in the

narrative itself.

2.8 Allsympathie: Revealing the Secrets of the Criminal as Artist

Ultimately, the verboballistic goals of Felix Krull are twofold. First and foremost, the novel is ‘propelled’ toward the audience and then also toward the self. Yet, the two targets cannot be separated. Originally aimed at his brother Heinrich, Thomas Mann wrote a novel to explore his identity as an artist. The result was a character who melds the professions of artist and criminal; a figure who blurs the line between the two. It is a novel written from the perspective of a Hochstapler who is penning his memoirs. Through Krull’s adventures, he learns that the primary difference between the two professions is dependent upon society. What is accepted and permitted becomes art while the contrary becomes crime. By exposing this difference, Mann is trying to gain understanding from the audience. He wants to bring the audience and the author together. In a manner of speaking, he is letting the audience in on the joke because they can now see behind the curtain of the artist and are rewarded with discovering the criminal side of the artist. Felix Krull is a declaration of love to the audience. Mann desires to entertain the crowd with humor in his last novel. When asked by Frederic Morton if there is humor in Krull, Mann replied, "Yes, that was perhaps my most crucial reason for tackling Krull again. As I'm getting on in age I've become more and more impatient for opportunities to make people laugh-- to make them laugh constructively, if possible, that is seduce them into amused self-recognition. My greatest joy now during a public reading is the sound of laughter" (Morton

1955). He wants the audience to not only hear itself laughing, but to realize what role it has in the process of creating art. The audience gives validity to the artist and to art itself by accepting it.

For Mann himself, Felix represents the “idealistischen Ich.” As a Hochstapler, Krull is

able to exist between the worlds of the artist and the criminal while carving out an idyllic life.

He succeeds where Kröger and Aschenbach fail. Felix is the Glückskind who utilizes his

loneliness in the service of his freedom. He molds his identity to his liking in the same fashion

an author creates his characters. Krull is a Selbstporträt which represents another attempt by

Mann to examine himself and the nature of the artist.20 Instead of trying to separate the two extremes of his existence, Krull accepts and unifies them. He is able to make his way in the world while Phidias does not. Mann is not only seeking acceptance and understanding from his public, he is also looking to gain that from himself. Lange contends that the novel handles the

“Existenzform des Künstlers und gesellschaftlichen Voraussetzungen seiner Situation und vor allem Verhältnis zur Selbstbestätigung” (Lange 1956: 215). Mann is trying to gain a sense of peace for himself and for his audience.

Unveiling the thin line of separation between the artist and the criminal not only gives us

a better understanding of Thomas Mann and his relationship to the novel, but locates a space

where the artist and the criminal collide. The criminal, especially the Hochstapler, has many

abilities, questions, and problems in common with the artist. Both are creative types of

individuals who are able to conceive elaborate plots to deceive their intended target. Mann

asserts the power of the audience much like Barthes does. While Barthes completely eliminates

the author from this relationship, Mann uncovers its importance. While the public for Mann is

20 According to Koopmann, Krull is Mann’s last attempt to reveal himself (and his most autobiographic) and the possibilities of the novel. He writes: “Er hat sich vielmehr im Alter noch einmal an der Fertigstellung eines Selbstporträts versucht, das für ihn bezeichnender ist als jedes andere Werk, das zugleich aber auch die Möglichkeiten des Romans, die ihm nach jenen Spätwerken des Doktor Faustus und des Erwählten übrig und noch verfügbar waren, radikal nutzte” (Koopmann 2005a: 516).

the force that defines and separates the artist from the criminal, it should not be overlooked as one, which unites the two as well. Besides the obvious reasons, they are considered outsiders by society because of its inability to comprehend then. This is best exemplified by the tale of

Phidias who participates in both the worlds of crime and art. The peculiarities of this Greek and his penchant for crime make it difficult for others to understand and accept him. This tale can be related to the plight of artists and criminals, who are faced with the same questions in concern to their origin: Is one genetically disposed to enter a certain field or is it one’s upbringing? Many like Lombroso have tried to apply science to figure out these types of people. Some argue that genetics will answer this question in a manner in which Mann explains the artists of Tonio

Kröger and Tod in Venedig. Others would contend that it was the environment in which one was raised. Perhaps, Felix Krull became a criminal after observing the deceptions of his father. The actions of the artist and the criminal are subjected to the judgment of the public. It is the people of a society who determine if something is lawful or not, and they determine if something is art.

Mann is not simply making a case for a new interpretation of the criminality of the artist, but is paving the way for others to explore these issues as well.

3.0 Chapter 2: Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft : The Artist as Criminal

3.1 The Criminality of Art

In the previous chapter, I looked at how Thomas Mann used a fictional criminal as a means to gain a new understanding of the nature of the artist. Through Felix Krull, he is able to bring the artist and the audience closer together by admitting the power each has over the other.

I now, however, shall turn my attention to a collection of documents and reports of actual criminals instead of fictional incarnations such as Felix Krull. Namely, I analyze part of a little known and short-lived series of reports on contemporary criminal cases by a variety of authors entitled the Außenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die Verbrechen der Gegenwart. Despite this major difference, I believe that I can apply a similar approach to written accounts of real lawbreakers that I did with the fictional Krull in order to again acquire further insight into the profession of the artist. Nevertheless, I do not contend that the artist can be found in the reports on any average criminal, but that conditions were disposed for such an occurrence. Published in

Germany in 1924-1925, these volumes are a result of the turbulent environment of the Weimar

Republic and the guidance of their editor, Rudolf Leonhard. As I will detail later, the artists of this era were being censured and accused of crimes despite new constitutional laws protecting the freedom of speech. The publishing house Die Schmiede proved to be a good fit for Leonhard because both were politically located on the liberal side of the spectrum. Becoming a pacifist and a left-wing activist after enduring the horrors of World War I as a volunteer, Leonhard gained notoriety for his ability to mobilize artists for political causes as he did when he formed the “Gruppe 1925” to fight the aforementioned repressive policies toward artists in the Weimar

Republic. Some of those who joined Leonhard’s organization also contributed to the

Auβenseiter series like Alfred Döblin, Kurt Kersten, Egon Erwin Kisch, and Hermann Ungar.

Leonhard was also able to get these authors and others like Theodor Lessing and Karl Otten for these volumes. It was very much a list of “Who’s Who” of writers from Germany and Austria, not even counting other planned releases from Thomas Mann, Joseph Roth and Max Brod among others.21 Unfortunately, these pieces were never completed as Leonhard left Die Schmiede in

1927 which soon thereafter closed due to the publishing house’s bankruptcy.

I believe it is not a coincidence that many of those politically active under the auspices of

Leonhard in the “Gruppe 1925” also contributed to his series on actual criminals. Despite the disparate manners in which each participant of the Auβenseiter series examines a real-life criminal case or trial, combined they form a broader treatise on the state of art as crime in the

Weimar Republic. They each implement their own style and manner in reporting the details of crimes or trials with such notorious criminals ranging from the noted and feared serial killer,

Fritz Haarmann, to the life of a con artist known as Freiherr von Egloffstein. In an attempt to paint a complete picture of a case, these authors might include a combination of many literary forms: posters, newspaper clippings, memoirs, transcriptions of the trial, and even medical records. This prompts Todd Herzog to comment that this series “is ultimately uncontainable under traditional generic concepts because it consciously presents itself as a borderline project that transgresses genres” (Herzog 2002: 37).22 It questions the notion of classification while establishing the now beloved genre of the nonfictional crime documentary. Through the

21 Future installments were advertised following the conclusion of certain volumes. 22 Besides Joachim Linder’s “Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die Verbrechen der Gegenwart: Straftater und Strafver- fahren in einer literarischen Reihe der Weimarer Republik,” Herzog is the only other scholar to do any type of an extensive study of the Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft series to which my work is indebted. 98

examination of real criminal cases, these writers are able to indirectly harness the complex

arguments which surround them in order to raise awareness of their own plight. This band of

artists is trying to fight the label of criminal as imposed upon them by society. Just as Mann

insinuated in Felix Krull, the public—or in this case, the government—has the power to

determine what is art and what is not; furthermore, they have the authority over crime. This

politicization of art into crime was instrumentalized by the authors of this collection to illustrate

the value of art by discussing their other label as criminal. In doing so, they show that like art,

crime is not easily defined.

3.2 Adof Loos: the Scientific and Philosophical Cases against Artists and Tattoos

The Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft series is part of a larger discourse about art as crime in

classical modernity. Governmental agencies were not alone in regarding artists as criminals, as noted in the previous chapter this undertaking involved criminologists, philosophers, and artists.

For his many polemical writings pertaining to the subject of the ornament, Adolf Loos was heralded as a pioneer of the Modern Movement. Although they are meant mostly as a critique of

the culture’s fascination with the ornament, his treatises foreshadow what was to come. His

assertion that those who create and promote ornamentation are criminals prefigures the

criminalization of artists by the government of the Weimar Republic. Objects with needless

decorations, in Loos’s opinion, are an impediment for the progress of society into the modern

age. For the legal system of the Weimar Republic and even for Loos, it is not solely the aesthetic

quality of an item that is being scrutinized—they are chiefly concerned with the impact an item

has on the order of society. In this section, I examine how Loos connects the artist to the

criminal in order to expose a mindset already present in the realm of art and in society before the

writers of the Auβenseiter series wrote about historical crimes and criminals to in effect defend

their freedom, craft and livelihood endangered by the policies of the Weimar Republic. Adolf

Loos, an artist by way of being an architect, contemplates the potentiality of an artist acting as a

criminal who would have a negative impact on the progress of society.

In his most influential and discussed work, which was first published in the Neue Freie

Presse in 1908, Loos articulates his views on modernism in the manifesto entitled “Ornament und Verbrechen.” Here, he equates criminality with the inclusion of ornamentation, beginning

with the example of the human body:

Das kind ist amoralisch. Der papua ist es für uns auch. Der papua schlachtet seine feinde

ab und verzehrt sie. Er ist kein verbrecher. Wenn aber der moderne mensch jemanden

abschlachtet und verzehrt, so ist er ein verbrecher oder ein degenerierter. Der papua

tätowiert seine haut, sein boot, seine ruder, kurz alles, was ihm erreichbar ist. Er ist kein

verbrecher. Der moderne mensch, der sich tätowiert, ist ein verbrecher oder ein

degenerierter. (Loos 1999: 114)

Loos begins his argument by comparing the modern man to the Papuan who decorates

everything from his own body to all of his possessions. If, however, the modern man were to

participate in the same behavior, he should be considered a criminal and thus arrested. Loos

continues:

Es gibt gefängnisse, in denen achtzig prozent der häftlinge tätowierungen aufweisen. Die

tätowierten, die nicht in haft sind, sind latente verbrecher oder degenerierte aristokraten.

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Wenn ein tätowierter in freiheit stirbt, so ist er eben einige jahre, bevor er einen mord

verübt hat, gestorben. Der drang, sein gesicht und alles, was einem erreichbar ist, zu

ornamentieren, ist der uranfang der bildenden kunst. Es ist das lallen der malerei. Alle

kunst ist erotisch. (Loos 1999: 114)

Being tattooed for Loos is not befitting the modern man and recalls the primitive actions of the

Papuan. The tattoo is a warning sign that even though someone has not committed a crime, he or

she still has the potential to do so; it merely has not happened yet. The need to adorn oneself or one’s objects marks the origins of art and is natural for the Papuan and for children, but it is a

“degenerationserscheinung” for the modern man (Loos 1999: 115). Moreover, it is necessary for the advancement of humanity to reproach ornamentation. Loos asserts (emphasis from the author): “Evolution der kultur ist gleichbedeutend mit dem entfernen des ornamentes aus dem gebrauchsgegenstande.” (Loos 1999: 115)

With such strong contentions, it comes to no surprise that many scholars direct their attention to the impact ornamentation has upon a society in Loos’s work. According to Patrizia

McBride, “Ornament und Verbrechen” is part of Loos’s plea for a more modern Austria.

McBride argues that “Loos associated his contemporaries’ predilection for ornamental deception with a backwardness that prevented Austria from being truly modern—a shortcoming he sought to remedy through an agenda of ‘introducing Western culture to Austria’” (McBride 2004: 746).

Ornamentation in architecture or fashion marks resistance to modernity. Loos is, in the eyes of

McBride, trying to combat the tendencies of his homeland Austria to favor cultural isolationism

through the process of ornamentation and avoiding the ideals of the West (McBride 2004: 757).

Like McBride, Daniel Purdy also views Loos’s efforts as being aimed at Austria. His article,

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“The Cosmopolitan Geography of Adolf Loos” again points out the glaring lack of modernity

Loos finds there while looking to Western Europe and America as the highest examples of modernity. The complications Loos witnesses in the uneven distribution of culture in Austria are

not as prevalent in the United States.23 In Purdy’s estimation, Austria is more than simply the target of Loos’s program of cultural transformation; it is merely one nation of many that needs to rid itself of decoration. “By emptying itself of ornament, the modernist subject / building insists on its own universality, its abstraction above all traditions,” writes Purdy (Purdy 2006: 60). Yet, as a complication of geography, the time it takes for modern (Western) trends to reach everyone, and the disparity of classes, Purdy concludes that a country such as Austria will forever remain subservient to the culture of the modern states. It can only attempt to remain as close as possible to the “international aestheticism” propagated by the more modern and thus dominant Western cultures.

Miriam Gusevich offers an alternative reading of Loos by simply emphasizing the

functional reasons he is confronting the ornament. Unlike the previous two critics, she does not

concern her article specifically with the effects of the ornament on Austria and its standing in the

world; rather, she focuses on the ornament itself. While summarizing Loos’s arguments in

“Ornament und Verbrechen,” she claims that the “core of his concern and the target of his

criticism” is “kitsch” (Gusevich 1988: 99). The battle against kitsch or ornamented objects is the

focal point of a broader cultural critique on some of the fundamental activities of humanity:

work, sex, and death. The dilemma for Loos’s modern man, Gusevich says, is one’s reaction to

23 In his article, Purdy relates Loos’s experiences in Philadelphia as portrayed in the short-lived magazine Das Andere (1903). In the excerpt cited by Purdy, Loos travels to the United States in order to visit an uncle. During the course of his travels, he meets some farming relatives in rural America. He is however shocked to see them appropriately dressed and mannered at a funeral some time later in the city. Such instances are unforeseeable for Loos in Austria because of the steep cultural separation across the country and the lag in time it takes for advancements to reach the nation and then to reach the countryside (Purdy 2006: 43-44). 102

ornament. The ability to have “progressive control and mastery over the urge to decorate the self and society” represents a successful modern man and society while those “clinging to decoration” demonstrate the traits of the primitive individual which is now deemed inappropriate

(Gusevich 1988: 101). One of Loos’s social concerns raised by Gusevich’s article deals with the negative implications the ornament has on the worker. Above and beyond being an obstruction to the health and “kulturellen entwicklung” of a group of people, the ornament is a crime because it appears to be a cause of strife among the working class (Loos 1999” 115).

Noch viel größer ist der schaden, den das produzierende volk durch das ornament

erleidet. Da das ornament nicht mehr ein natürliches produkt unserer kultur ist, also

entweder eine rückständigkeit oder eine degenerationserscheinung darstellt, wird die

arbeit des ornamentikers nicht mehr nach gebühr bezahlt. Die verhältnisse in den

gewerben der holzbildhauer und drechsler, die verbrecherisch niedrigen preise, die den

stickerinnen und spitzenklöpplerinnen bezahlt werden, sind bekannt. Der ornamentiker

muß zwanzig stunden arbeiten, um das einkommen eines modernen arbeiters zu

erreichen, der acht stunden arbeitet. (Loos 1999: 117)

Those workers who produce decorated goods must work harder and longer than those who do not and are often not compensated monetarily for this extra effort. Loos exposes the inequities and poor labor conditions which are needed in modernity to manufacture the ornament.

The use of the ornament in the modern world can develop into a form of kitsch, according to Gusevich, and thus becomes a criminal act committed against the object. Loos is seeking more than improving labor conditions; his essay serves as a warning to the problematic conditions created by kitsch in all areas of life. Furthermore, she adds, “for Loos, kitsch was a monster begotten through a crime of violence, a transgression against decorum. Against the 103

transgression leading to the fetishism of kitsch, he sought to defend the ‘pure’ object, and wanted

to exorcise its contaminants” (Gusevich 1988: 123). Kitsch represents an unnecessary excess, an

object which is overpriced or of poor quality. The only solution, per Loos, is the prohibition of

all ornament.

Whereas Gusevich, Purdy, and McBride focus on the social, national and even universal

issues found in Loos, Mark Anderson discusses his artistic critique. As Anderson correctly

points out in his article “The Ornaments of Writing: Kafka, Loos and the Jugendstil,” Loos’s

diatribe is not meant to condemn Papuans or criminals, but rather the artistic style of Jugendstil.

Loos attacks, according to Anderson, the “followers of the Wiener Werkstätte: the ‘degenerate

aristocrats,’ cultural snobs and dandies who had so confused life with art that the two could no

longer be distinguished” (Anderson 1988: 134). At the heart of this document is this critique of

art and lifestyle. Loos favors a simple and functional approach to artistic creation as opposed to

the elaborate and extravagant trends of his contemporaries. Although Loos is an architect and

his writings are mostly directed at them, this theory is applicable to all forms of art. Any artist

who according to Loos partakes in this style should be considered a criminal. They are impeding

the progress of society by reverting to primitive and degenerate inclinations.

These notions in this manifesto bring to mind the associations recognized by the early

criminologists which relate the nature of the criminal to the artist. It is uncertain if Loos had

read the works of Cesare Lombroso, but he undoubtedly reflects some his ideas and those of his

follower Max Nordau.24 As Canales and Herscher point out, both Loos and Lombroso link

24 Some scholars express their uncertainty as to whether Loos had indeed read Lombroso’s writings as intimated by Claude Cernuschi in Re/Casting Kokoschka: Ethics and Aesthetics, Epistemology and Politics in Fin-de-siècle Vienna (Cernuschi 2002: 207). They have little doubt that Loos was at least indirectly influenced by Lombroso, for 104

“criminals with primitives by means of the tattoo” (Canales and Herscher 2005: 239). Before

developing the association between the artist and criminal based upon tattoos, Lombroso

connected the two through similar physiognomic and anatomical measurements. Referring to

passion and not yet tattoos, the criminality of artists is, as Lombroso states, “well marked”

(Lombroso 1914: 59). In several of his studies on the criminal and the genius, Lombroso

continuously links these two types through their physical traits, passions, and illnesses.25 He,

then, takes the next step and adds the tendency of deviants having tattoos to these beliefs,

surmising that these connections are instances of atavism. Lombroso believing in a biological

account of criminality views the numerous tattoos found on the criminals in prison and connects

them to “primitive cultures” that also bear markings on the body. This causes Canales and

Herscher to comment on Lombroso’s ideas of the criminal: “because of their atavistic nature—

the criminal’s urge for ornament was equivalent to the primitive’s” (Canales and Herscher 2005:

239). The tattoos are evidence for Lombroso of a genetic defect found in individuals who have

not yet evolved. While Loos focuses on ornamentation to tie deviants to artists, Lombroso

combines the two types through degenerative inclinations (such as the tattoo) and through

biological means.26 Loos’s concept concerning the dormancy of criminality in those individuals who are tattooed but not in jail mirrors the assumptions of the artist held by Erich Wulffen. This is reflected in his analysis of Manolescu und seine Memoiren, written two years prior to Loos’s

“Ornament und Verbrechen.” In Wulffen’s study, the artist is merely a criminal in disguise—he

his teachings and that of the “Italian school” provide a basis for Loos’s theories of criminality and art. For an informative survey on the history of the study of the tattoo by anthropologists which provides a basis of Loos’s ideas, see Jimena Canales and Andrew Herscher.

25 These theories can be found in such works by Lombroso as in his Man of Genius and Entartung und Genie, and Crime: Its Causes and Remedies. As stated previously, the illness he uses to connect the two professions of criminal and artist is epilepsy. 26 For further discussion of Lombroso’s associating the criminal to the artist, see my chapter on Thomas Mann and the introductory chapter. 105

is one who either produces art to repent for a real or fictional transgression or to transfer the desire to commit a crime into an artistic expression. In this spirit, Anderson exclaims that authors write “about crime” while a lawbreaker conveys himself through the actual crime

(Anderson 1992: 179). Criminality is not only latent in the tattooed, but also in the artist.

While working within the philosophical and anthropological framework of his time which linked the criminal to the artist, Adolf Loos is on a mission to modernize humanity. His controversial treatise sought to embrace the concept of the “modern man” who exists in a world free of the clutter of ornamentation. Artists who welcomed the disorder inherent with the ornament are criminals in the eyes of Loos, because they represent a regression of humanity. As

McBride states, “Loos’s discourse identifies degeneracy in the inability to embrace the present.

It is not present culture that is degenerate and criminal, Loos suggests, but rather those who resist it by engaging in behavior that is at odds with it, such as ornamentation” (McBride 2004: 748).

As opposed to a purely biological understanding of degeneracy, Loos adds a behavioral form where an individual’s acceptance of progress and the modern are affirmations of the present.

Evolution, in contrast to degeneracy, is marked, for Loos, by the disappearance of the ornament.

Furthermore, his program calls for change in social, political and economic structures for the betterment of Austria and humanity. He takes on what Anderson calls a “missionary tone” in this document (Anderson 1988: 134). By eliminating the unnecessary in the production of goods, objects would not have to cost so much and the workers would not have to toil for more time than is needed. As Anderson notes, this was not an isolated phenomenon; well-known artists of all types like Franz Kafka, Oskar Kokoschka, and Arnold Schönberg were also members of this movement against Jugendstil (Anderson 1988: 133). Notably, Kafka’s short story “In der Strafkolonie” brands this embellished form of writing a crime as the punishing 106

apparatus, which writes or tattoos the crime onto the transgressor through an arduous and

convoluted process, falls to pieces killing its keeper or “writer.”27 The destruction of this

machine is symbolic of ridding the world of ornament (the tattoo) in the hopes of progress. True

art for Loos is free of decoration and primitive tendencies; it is, as quoted by McBride from

Loos’s essay “Architecture,” “concerned with the future and directs us along new paths”

(McBride 2004: 748). While Loos attempts to rid art of its degenerate and criminal nature,

Thomas Mann exposes and to an extent embraces the linkage between criminals and artists.

Once again recalling Schimmelpreester’s tale of Phidias, Mann even considers that the so-called

degenerate tendencies or “Sonderbarkeiten” might be necessary for the production of art. With

his Hochstapler novel, Mann is trying to help his readers better understand the nature of art and

the important role they play in connection to art. As I will later show, this quest for understanding and acceptance of the artist is an integral part of the agenda of Leonhard and his ensemble of authors.

3.3 Artists under Siege: The Legal Case against Artists

While Lombroso and Wulffen offer anthropological and criminological theories

connecting the artist to the criminal, they do not advocate the actual incarceration of artists to

prevent possible crimes. Despite making the claim that artists who promote the use of the

ornament are criminals for obstructing the progress and welfare of a society, Adolf Loos also

does not explicate the need to punish these individuals. This criminal tendency inherent in the

artist of the ornament is exaggerated to aid Loos’s arguments for the advancement of culture in a

27 Mark Anderson has a more thorough discussion of Kafka and his relationship to the movement as illustrated by the story “In der Strafkolonie” (Anderson 1992). 107

modern world. Yet, roughly a decade after the publication of “Ornament und Verbrechen,” a number of artists were prosecuted and labeled criminals by the authorities. Writers, for example, could be charged with a myriad of different crimes because of a piece of literature. They faced similar conditions as while living and working under the reign of the monarchy. In the new

Weimar Republic, an author would face legal action:

wenn er mit einem Werk gegen ein geltendes Gesetz verstieβ: eine Publikation konnte

verbotenermaβen eine Person, eine Rasse, eine Religionsgemeinschaft oder das

Staatswesen und seine Symbole beleidigen; es konnte Gott lästern oder unzüchtig sein; es

konnte Unruhe stiften oder zu Aufruhr und Bürgerkrieg auffordern; es konnte sogar

Verrat üben. (Petersen 1988: 77)

The interval between the two World Wars denoted a chaotic era for the German people. The

destruction of World War I coupled with the harsh conditions of the Treaty of Versailles helped

fuel the demise of the Weimar Republic (1918-1933) and produce a state of mass disorder. The

initial and closing years of the government were full of tension and conflict as political

extremists from both the left and the right fought for control. Despite the fledgling government,

Germany was blessed with great artistic talent ranging all fields from literature and music to the

visual arts. For this chapter, I will limit my discussion to written forms of art, but it could have

easily been expanded to include painting, music and the cinema. In his informative study

Literatur und Justiz in der Weimarer Republik, Klaus Petersen surveys the conflicts caused by

the interactions between authors and the judicial system during this time period. It is a catalogue

of the plight of the artist during the Weimar Republic. He wants to examine a period of literature

often overlooked by scholars, as he desires to investigate “die Grundlagen und Wirkungsformen

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der Rechtsprechung in ihrem Verhältnis zur literarischen Produktion” (Petersen 1988: 10).

Following a discussion of the creation of the Weimar government and its legal system, Petersen

begins the second section of his inquiry by emphasizing the safeguards in place for works of

literature created in the Weimar Republic.28 Petersen writes, “Der öffentliche Charakter der

Literatur bringt es mit sich, daβ das sprachliche Kunstwerk wie jede andere Äuβerung in Form

des gesprochenen oder gedruckten Wortes dem Schutz und den Schranken des Gesetzes

unterliegt” (Petersen 1988: 77). Because of the public nature intrinsic to literary creations, they

were considered an extension of speech that was protected under the guidelines of the new

Weimar constitution.

Freedom of speech was guaranteed under article 118 of the Weimar constitution. It

states:

Jeder Deutsche has das Recht, innerhalb der Schranken der allgemeinen Gesetze seine

Meinung durch Wort, Schrift, Druck, Bild oder in sonstiger Weise frei zu äuβern. An

diesem Recht darf ihn kein Arbeits- oder Angestelltenverhältnis hindern, und niemand

darf ihn benachteiligen, wenn er von diesem Rechte Gebrauch macht. (Petersen 1988: 82)

The opening lines of this article protected the ability of an individual to express oneself through a

variety of methods and also prohibited employers from interfering with this right. However, it is

the second part of this clause which would pose significant challenges for aspiring artists:

28It should be noted that Petersen’s study is divided into three parts: the first gives a summary of the judicial system founded by the Weimar constitution and then the problems it faced; the second involves how writers were impacted by the laws and intervening legal entities; while the final section is a brief discussion on various literary works which were subjected to the whims of the government. 109

Eine Zensur findet nicht statt, doch können für Lichtspiele durch Gesetz abweichende

Bestimmungen getroffen werden. Auch sind zur Bekämpfung der Schund- und

Schmutzliteratur sowie zum Schutze der Jugend bei öffentlichen Schaustellungen und

Darbietungen gesetzlichen Maβnahmen zulässig. (Petersen 1988: 82)

Despite protecting the right of free speech and seemingly eliminating the censure, authors would

find themselves under attack from the law because of the second section of this article. This part

allowed much room for interpretation by government and legal officials. They would take

leeway in defining what “Schund- und Schmutzliteratur” actually were and what constituted

endangering the youth. Also, due to the relative newness and evolution of the cinema,

regulations regarding this field could be written at a later date. Like Plato, government officials,

expressed fear in the corrupting powers of art over the young and weak-minded. While Plato

merely wrote about the banishment of artists, the Weimar Republic took measures to quiet poets

for the purpose of preventing the incitement of civil disorder.

The newly formed laws concerning the freedom of speech and literature / art would be

tested shortly after being written. Because of the abolishment of a censure and the rights

guaranteed by article 118, it was originally thought that the conditions of an artist would be

much better in this new democracy. However, any optimism on the part of the artistic

community would soon be diminished. Through the case of Carl Einstein and his publisher Ernst

Rowohlt, they would come to realize that not much had actually changed since 1919, “und daβ sich die oben dargestellte Unsicherheit und Einäugigkeit der Justiz gerade auf Literatur und

Kunst in einer Form auswirkte, die Schriftsteller und Künstler schnell zu den erbittersten

Kritikern der Justiz werden lieβ” (Petersen 1988: 78). Einstein’s play Die schlimme Botschaft

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which appeared in July of 1921 faced legal scrutiny because of its satirical depiction of Jesus

who appearing in the current day is morally compromised by the ethical decay of the present.

Even though Majestätsbeleidigung was no longer a punishable offense as it was under the laws

of the Reich in 1901, Gotteslästerung and Unzucht still were. Einstein and his publisher were

found guilty of blasphemy and were forced to pay a fine: Einstein owed 10,000 Marks and

Rowohlt 5,000 Marks along with the confiscation and destruction of all remaining copies of the

work.

The consequences of Einstein’s trial and subsequent conviction impacted more than just

one individual and his publisher. According to David Quigley’s biography Einstein: A Defense

of the Real, this case posed a challenge “to the symbolic order of the Weimar Republic, or

perhaps more importantly, to Germano-Christian culture” and “represents a direct conflict with the collective forces of society” (Quigley 2007: 106). Einstein’s position in the community as a

German-speaking Jew and an intellectual placed him in the crossfire of competing political forces. It is interesting that both Petersen and Quigley quote the prosecution’s closing argument which makes these issues apparent. The prosecution places emphasis on the author’s religion saying “Einstein ist geborener Jude, er ist Dissident, und da will er hier der Strafkammer weismachen, daβ er religiös wirken will” (Petersen 1988: 79). The religion of the accused should not play a role in the trial, since a person of any faith is able to be blasphemous including

Christians themselves. The final speech continues: “Die Konsequenz des Buches und damit die

Tendenz beider Angeklagter ging dahin, religiös und ethisch zersetzend zu wirken, und die

Religion als Pfeiler der gegenwärtigen Gesellschaftsordnung sollte ebenfalls untergraben und zerstört werden” (Petersen 1988: 79). The literary work itself is not the only issue at hand, but the character of its creator as well. Although the prosecution does make arguments aimed at the 111

content of the play, its author’s religion and past “Tendenz” are placed front and center of the case. For Quigley, Einstein is a victim of the agenda of right-wing fanatics because of his religion and the topic matter of his work and is thus an outsider. The trial showed which group was truly protected by the law. “The resulting public outrage and the legal action taken against him reveal the force of censorship and denunciation as active protection of the political-semiotic boundary of the collective fiction of society” (Quigley 2007: 106). The fictional order of society

is valued over the possible unrest caused by works of art.29 Quigley calls the result of the trial “a

preview of coming tragedy in Germany” (Quigley 2007: 108). It does foreshadow the treatment

of Jews and many artists in the Third Reich, however it also has a more immediate effect. The

freedom of free speech guaranteed by the Weimar constitution is no longer certain and artists

could be restricted by the government despite the elimination of the censure, resulting in further

cases against other artists including Kurt Tucholsky, Johannes R. Becher, and Kurt Weill.

Despite the freedom of the written word promised by the constitution of the Weimar

Republic, a plethora of authors faced criminal charges for Gotteslästerung or “Verbreitung

unzüchtiger Schriften” (Petersen 1988: 82). As mentioned earlier, the ambiguity of the second

part of article 118 provided the authorities with ample leeway to limit and constrain an artist’s

ability to bring their works to the public. It was argued by the state government of Bavaria that a

censure did not exist, rather it is the “allgemeine Verpflichtung der Polizeibehörden, Ordnung

und Ruhe aufrechtzuerhalten” (Petersen 1988: 83). Such legal rulings granted the police and

local authorities the ability to forbid stage productions thought to threaten the peace and order of

society as was alleged against Ernst Toller’s Masse Mensch. Authors were considered criminals

29 Quigley points out the irony via Einstein’s own testimony that his work is an attempt to show how “unchristian” the supposed Christian society of Germany after the Revolution of 1918 was acting. It was a critique of the morals exhibited by the public as opposed to an attack on the Christian religion. 112

if they could purportedly destabilize and disrupt the political and social order. Plays by Carl

Zuckmayer and other dramatists were at times forbidden by local law enforcement agencies for

fear, “daβ das Stück die öffentliche Ordnung und Sicherheit gefährden würde” (Petersen 1988:

83). Occasionally, theatrical pieces were allowed to continue only with “gereinigtem Text” or

“‘anstöβige’ Stellen gestrichen würden” (Petersen 1988: 83). Productions were prohibited for the

possibilities of unrest resulting from the play or even from disturbances created by others in

protest against a writer or a play. A type of “Vorzensur” or “Präventivzensur” was thus created

by local officials.

Literature from extremists on both sides of the political spectrum was often the victim of

the above clause. The government feared the breakout of civil war. Yet, even when this

situation was not the reason for prohibiting the release of a work of art, it could be banned for

being “Schmutz-” or “Schundliteratur,” guarding the youth of Germany. It should be noted that

despite the numerous cases suppressing authors, the debates in the government on this issue were

emblematic of the chaos and disunity in the country. According to Petersen, “Das Fehlen einer

Definition der Begriffe ‘Schmutz- und Schundliteratur’ war eine der am heftigsten debattierten

Einzelstreitfragen” (Petersen 1988: 93).30 He, then, illustrates this point by providing excerpts

from various political parties ranging from “was gemein und niedrig und Ekel ist” to literature,

“die die kapitalistische Gesellschaft verbreitet” (Petersen 1988: 93-94). Artists of all political persuasions were caught in the crossfire between the right-wing extremism, communism and other political organizations.

30 The future first Bundepräsident of West Germany, Theodor Heuss, made an interesting observation regarding the difficulty of having the government to make legal rulings concerning art. Heuss remarks, as quoted by Petersen, “Der Staat soll vorsichtig sein, wenn er mit den Dingen der Kunst zu tun hat; den das Verhältnis Staat und Kunst ist im tiefsten problematisch, weil die Wurzeln ihrer Art verschieden sind: der Staat ein rationalisierter Machtbetrieb und die Kunst im letzten aus einem irrationalen Schöpfertum quellend” (Petersen 1988: 87). 113

Perhaps the most notorious case to take place during the Weimar Republic was that of

Johannes R. Becher. He was a poet who refused military service in World War I and later

became an influential member of the Communist Party of Germany (KPD) who was at one time

a deputy in the Reichstag. Without specified reasons, Becher was arrested on August 20, 1925 in

Württemberg under orders from the police department of Berlin. He was accused of “literarische

Hochverrat” for a collection of poems called Der Leichnam auf dem Thron whose trial was later

dropped, but was brought up again in 1926 after the publication of his novel (CH CL = CH)3 As

(Levisite) oder Der einzig gerechte Krieg. This book was viewed as a “literarische Vorbereitung des Bürgerkrieges und eine bewuβte Aufpeitschung zur revolutionären Erhebung” attempting to incite a revolution (Petersen 1988: 103). It was confiscated on February 4, 1926 and Becher’s house was searched by the police. Even a book distributer, Reimann und Domnig from Leipzig, was convicted in 1927 for selling the novel against the book ban. After several delays, the trial was dropped in 1928 after being granted amnesty following the victory of the Socialist Party in the Reichstag elections in the same year.

Especially following the treason indictment of Johannes R. Becher in 1925 because of a handful of his works, authors began to mobilize to fight against the subversions directed towards artists by the government. Becher himself sought to fight the authoritarian power demonstrated by the legal establishment toward left-wing and avant-garde artists. While awaiting his first trial for “literarische Hochverrat,” he wrote the aforementioned anti-war novel Levisite. In the forward of the novel, Becher addresses the implied representative of the censure, exclaiming:

“Hände weg! Hände weg von diesem Buch” (Becher 1926: 6). In doing so, he anticipates the novel being read by the censure since he was already being tried for other literary works.

Becher’s case is emblematic of the predicament of the artist. Their works are constantly under 114

the watchful eye of the government which used loopholes and a loose interpretation of the law to

prosecute and ban those deemed “dangerous.” Through membership in groups such as the

Deutsche Liga für Menschenrechte, writers worked to publicize the injustices of the legal

system. The Liga itself was an organization which sought reform of the justice system and it

took numerous avenues to achieve this goal. It held rallies, conducted surveys and distributed

brochures promoting the abolishment of the death penalty, protesting against wrongful

convictions, and appealing to government officials for the amnesty of some individuals. Many

artists participated in the Liga or one of its offshoots such as Ernst Toller, Leo Lania and Erich

Weinert. Its rubric “Kampf gegen Justizunrecht” slowly grew to include matters beyond those

mentioned above and expanded into the legal complications of the artist (Petersen 1988: 110). In

1929, the Deutsche Liga für Menschenrechte held a protest “Gegen die Zensur—für

Gesistesfreiheit” and made public declarations against the arraignment of artists such as

Johannes Becher, George Grosz and journalist Carl von Ossietzky (Petersen 1988: 117).

Petersen shows that through their participation in such groups, authors oftentimes labored in

these other areas before they raised judicial issues in their artistic endeavors.31 In response to the

Becher case and the increasingly repressive stance of the Weimar Republic toward artists, the

editor of the Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft series, Rudolf Leonhard, founded the “Gruppe 1925.”

This organization consisted of 39 authors and artists and was created “um sich gegen Eingriffe der Justiz auf die Freiheit der Kunst und Literatur zu wehren” (Petersen 1988: 114). Members

Ernst Toller and Eduard Trautner collaborated to compose the “Protesterklärung der Gruppe”

31 Petersen states “Hier zeigt sich nämlich, daβ fast alle Autoren, die Aspekte der zeitgenössischen Justiz in ihrem Werk thematisierten, auch schon an allen eben aufgezählten organisatorischen und publizistischen Formen der öffentlichen Justizkritik teilgenommen hatten” (Petersen 1988: 112).

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against the seizure of Becher’s novel Levisite. This band of left-liberal and communist artists counted some of the most notable authors of German literary history like Bertolt Brecht, Alfred

Döblin and Robert Musil.

The fourteen volumes of the Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die Verbrechen der

Gegenwart, collected by Rudolf Leonhard create a bridge from the second part of Petersen’s study to the third and final part. This series represents the efforts of authors discussing actual crimes and trials in the legal system (although none of these crimes are committed by pure artists) instead of the fictional works for which they are better known. What is fascinating about these investigations is the fact that they “wurden nicht, wie meistens bei früheren und späteren

Sammlungen dieser Art, von Juristen, sondern von Schriftstellern verfaβt” (Petersen 1988: 113).

This raises the important question of why did a group of writers undertake a task traditionally done by legal professionals? While the second section of Literatur und Justiz in der Weimarer

Republik deals with diverse ways in which the suppressed authors responded to the law crisis via nonliterary methods, the third section encompasses examples of literature as a critique of the system. Neither works of fiction, nor traditional reports of factual crimes, the appearance of the

Auβenseiter series epitomizes the literary trends of the “resistance” and, as I will explain later, a format transgressing the boundaries of genre. Leonhard’s collection is an amalgamation of several literary forms. These works contain transcripts of trials, medical reports, posters, letters, newspaper clippings et al, which justifies Petersen’s claim that “der literaturpolitische Charakter der justizkritischen Werke führte zu einer für die neusachliche Literatur der zwanziger Jahre typischen Mischung literarischer Gestaltungsformen” (Petersen 1988: 137). This mélange of forms attempts to give a complete documentation of the event without sacrificing any authenticity or the believability of the audience. 116

Petersen again mentions Die Schmiede’s series Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die

Verbrechen der Gegenwart as being demonstrative of the investigations into the nature of the

criminal from committing the crime to standing in front of a judge, irrelevant of whether the case

was fictional or not. Naturally, for these writings and other fictional dramas, they mainly focus

on “das Problem der Kriminalität” (Petersen 1988: 139). But, what should not be forgotten is

that these works are not merely simple reports of a crime. They are able to offer more because of

the all-encompassing embrace of all genres and documents which can provide the reader with

more information. By trying to be as complete as possible allows the reader the chance

“Straftaten ‘besser’ zu verstehen,” because one is able to see more than just the legal process

(Petersen 1988: 139). Here, the criminal alone is not placed under the spotlight, but rather the

whole proceedings from beginning to end, making a critique of the entire system possible.

3.4 Explorations of Genre and Making a Case for the Artist

Besides the passing treatment Petersen dedicates to this series, there exists only a few

other literary or criminological scholars who have researched these texts despite the prolific status of several of their authors. One of the most comprehensive and fascinating studies is by

Todd Herzog. In his article “Crime Stories: Criminal, Society, and the Modernist Case History,”

Herzog’s arguments concern the place these documents have in the history of the crime narrative

and the relationship of the offense to the structure of these works. Rather than being a part of

what Petersen would term a “Justizkrise” or something to that affect, Herzog views this series as

being more representative of a crisis of genre and modernity. These volumes, Herzog writes,

“intervene in the tradition of crime narratives in order to question the nature and effects of the

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genre” (Herzog 2002: 35). The authors are reacting to the crisis regarding the “belief in narrative

coherence” common in modernity (Herzog 2002: 35). With the dissipation of the belief in the

narrative, the ability to distinguish criminal from noncriminal also becomes problematic.32 The incorporation of various forms of texts within the volumes of the series, such as medical reports, clippings from newspapers and transcripts from trials et al, and methods making them at times seem fictional challenge any form of categorization.

For Herzog, this set of criminal studies signifies the initial stages in the development of today’s nonfictional crime documentary. The different types of records found in these texts compose what Foucault calls a dossier as depicted in his case study of Pierre Rivière which was discussed in the previous chapter. Although Foucault successfully links the processes of writing and committing a crime through verboballistics, it is the number and variety of documents he has collected in this study which proves to be more applicable to a discussion of Leonhard’s

Auβenseiter series. Foucault’s inquiry into Rivière not only contained the infamous memoir composed by the criminal but also documents from the trial including testimony from witnesses as well as medical and legal opinions. Along with essays written 100 years later by experts of various fields which conclude Foucault’s collection, the reader is faced with an overload of information in order to try to understand the crime. He is not attempting to interpret the crime or the criminal; rather he is illustrating the competing discourses present in this study. The complications found in this case are also evident in the Auβenseiter according to Herzog; for, the numerous documents found in each volume battle for narrative superiority which creates an

32 Herzog states, “When the belief in the ability to narrate a life story, to turn experience into text, comes into doubt, the belief in the ability of a narrative to separate criminal from noncriminal and to reconstruct the events that lead to a crime must also fall under suspicion” (Herzog 2002: 35).

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incoherent text. It is one where the boundaries between the criminal and the noncriminal and

between texts are dissolved.33 After briefly discussing most of the texts, he concludes that these

volumes illustrate that some crimes “ultimately cannot be clearly located, explained or

narrated—and that is obscured by locating, explaining or narrating it” (Herzog 2002: 57). The

inexplicable nature that accompanies crime is obfuscated by the process of trying to give order to

it and describing it. Such an interpretation brings to mind the principle of modern architecture:

“form follows function.” The form composed of many competing arguments in these works exemplifies this difficulty to truly comprehend a crime or criminal. In this manner, these writers follow in the footsteps of Loos’s philosophy of art. Each part of these pieces of literature serves the purpose described by Herzog.

All artists including the authors of the Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft series were under

attack intellectually and legally as criminals. The integrity of one’s art could be called into

question by thinkers such as Loos who could undermine an artist’s career through a scathing

critique for not fitting into his project of modernizing the world. Lombroso on the other hand

used scientific measurements and genetics to call artists criminals. They, however, faced a more

immediate and pressing accusations of criminality from the government. While these authors

may have had their craft disparaged by fellow artists or critics, such treatment pales in

comparison to possible actions taken by the juridical system against them. The stakes were high

for the artists of the Weimar Republic because their means of earning income and even their

33 Herzog applies Foucault’s case study of Pierre Rivière to Leonhard’s collection of works to illustrate the many voices participating in a discussion trying to determine the guilt and state of mind of the killer. He quotes Foucault to show that the various discourses “form neither a composite work nor an exemplary text, but rather a strange contest, a confrontation, a power relation, a battle among discourses and through discourses” (Foucault 1982: x). It is like a courtroom full of arguments competing with each other to win over an audience. But, according to Herzog, the authors of the Auβenseiter series wanted to discuss the “process of narrating events” rather than giving weight to one claim over the other (Herzog 2002: 42). 119

freedom were constantly under siege. Specifically, many authors of these volumes were, per

Petersen, under government scrutiny. The real danger to this group was felt by their

contemporaries as Johannes R. Becher was indicted for “literarische Hochverrat,” Kurt Weill for

blasphemy, and plays from Carl Zuckmayer and others were forbidden from being performed.

Because of the acute nature of this threat of imprisonment, Leonhard’s band of authors

were forced to use any means necessary to confront these connections between the artist and the

criminal head-on. Thus, like a good lawyer, they utilized prior trials and decisions to state their own case. Instead of writing a fictional account based upon a real criminal like Thomas Mann did in Felix Krull, they collected and disseminated as much information possible to the reader which pertained to an actual delinquent or criminal proceeding. While Mann desires to expose the traits shared by the artist and criminal in order to better comprehend the creative individual, the Auβenseiter volumes want the reader to imagine an artist in the place of the criminal, although it is not explicitly stated. For them, the nature of art is as indefinable as that of crime in the modern world. As the boundaries between the criminal and the noncriminal are disintegrating, so are the borders between artist and non-artist. To this extent, these writers empathize with the criminal. They too are put on trial by the government and by the public.

What is deemed legal versus unlawful for both is ultimately under the jurisdiction of the government. As is the case in the vast majority of the series, the guilt or innocence of the individuals examined is not important; rather, it is the process.

Just as was the case in Thomas Mann’s Felix Krull, it is the destruction and exposure of

the wall between the artist and the criminal which represents the necessary step in order to grasp

how they are similar. Herzog agrees in principle when he writes: “The series not only breaks

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down generic borders; it also interrogates the borders between the criminal and the noncriminal

that the traditional criminal case history normally patrols and defends—ultimately locating the

criminal squarely within society, rather than outside of it” (Herzog 2002: 36). What is surprising

about this claim is not the genre “border crossings” achieved by this groundbreaking series, but

the location of the criminal relative to the rest of society. Traditionally, anthropologists and

criminologists like Lombroso and Wulffen situate the deviant as an outsider; the authors of this

series maintain that the criminal is actually a part of society and not an Auβenseiter. In the

remainder of this chapter, I wish to analyze the points where the borders between the artist and

the criminal are revealed and how they expose characteristics of their own craft. My argument

will focus on three volumes from the Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft series: Eduard Trautner’s Der

Mord am Polizeiagenten Blau, Karl Otten’s Der Fall Strauβ, and Thomas Schramek’s Freiherr

von Egloffstein. I contend that these authors, who traditionally compose works of fiction, choose

actual criminals as a means to either defend their cause or to explain the nature of the artist.

What is at the heart of the discussion is not the answers that they might uncover; rather, it is the

questions derived from these case studies which should also be applied to the artist when

determining if one is criminal or not.

3.5 Discovering the Artist through Observing the Criminal

Before undertaking the inquiry into the third volume of the series, it is worth mentioning

the peculiarities of the title as first observed by Todd Herzog’s study. He points out the interesting construction created by the dual title—Die Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die

Verbrechen der Gegenwart. Following in the tradition of the historical collection of criminal

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cases, the Pitaval, the title at once focuses the readers’ attention on the criminals themselves and their status as outcasts of society. The remarkable part of the title is however its latter half.

Herzog calls attention to the ambiguity inherent in this genitive construct. It infers that the topic of the series either refers to crimes committed in that time period or to crimes caused by the current state of the world.34 Looking at the duality found in the title is pertinent especially in

discussing Trautner’s Der Mord am Polizeiagenten Blau. Although the introductory sections

deliberate what it means to be an outsider and set up the historical context in which the political

spy Karl Blau was murdered, the text is surprisingly not much concerned with the criminals, the

victim, or the crime. It is more a reportage of documents which is indicative of the turbulent political times of the Weimar Republic. Besides setting up the historical and political situation prior to the crime, Trautner includes posters, newspaper articles, legal documents, transcripts from the trial, and pamphlets which end up blurring the truth rather than bringing it to light.

Amidst the many suspects and testimonies, the reader is bombarded by an overabundance of

information without the ability to discern what really happened. In regard to what the reader can

find out about the accused, Trautner exclaims, “Wie die Rollen verteilt waren, ist nicht klar: klar

ist nur, was geschah: der Mord” (Herzog 2002: 67). Through the course of the text, all of the

individuals seem to disappear or blend into one another. What remains is the crime and a

collection of materials discussing it. Trautner allows conflicting materials discuss the homicide

“to map a battle,” Herzog continues, “among and between these various narratives” (Herzog

2002: 41). The boundaries of genre are being dissolved by Trautner so that the process and its

many voices are highlighted. The strategy employed by him mirrors that by Foucault in his

34 Refer to Herzog’s study for an even more detailed discussion of the title (Herzog 2002: 41). 122

study of Pierre Rivière. In each case, narrative coherency is sacrificed in order to underscore the

competition between various discourses.

Although various witness statements, trial documents, and materials related to the crime

account for roughly three fourths of this volume, the first quarter plays with the ambiguities in the series’ title and sets the tone for the remainder of the text. Trautner conceptualizes society being composed of the masses: groups of individuals which are governed by the forces of the era. In the beginning, he says, “man zweifelt, ob man Akteure vor sich hat, ob Statisten; den man erkennt weniger Individuen, als Funktionäre unsichtbarer Strömungen und Bewegungen”

(Trautner 1924: 7). He compares society to a “riesigen und sehr komplizierten Maschine”

(Trautner 1924: 11). At the edges of these groups, one may find “Künstler, Gelehrte,

Propheten,” who may also become “Feinden und Verbrechern” (Trautner 1924: 13). In Joachim

Linder’s essay on the series, the outsider is considered a “Störung” in relation to society, yet they

are the principle figures of change (Linder 1994: 253). Following this theory of society,

Trautner gives a short history of events from World War I to the present day, cataloging different

sets of people and their respective methods of group-think. He thus illustrates the mobilization

of Germany for war and the chaos that ensued afterward. In doing so, Trautner encourages a

discussion of whether the murder of the police agent Blau had been caused by the historical

political developments in the country or if it was merely a recent occurrence. Like the title of the

series, it raises more questions than answers.

Trautner’s text works simultaneously with and against Loos’s notion of art. Naturally, to

state whether or not this book would be a crime according to Loos’s definition in “Ornament und

Verbrechen” is purely an act of speculation. Basically, we need to ask if there is any

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ornamentation attached to this piece. Is there a tattoo or something unnecessary? Not

surprisingly, there is not a clear answer to this question. If Trautner’s purpose is to encourage

the reader to assume the position as a member of the jury or as a detective to try to re-create what

happened, then elements of this collage would make the collection of documents criminal for

Loos.. To accomplish this task the reader would probably only need the transcript of the trial.

The posters, pamphlets, newspaper articles and the remarks of the author are not necessary.

They decorate the statements made in the courtroom, but do not help in determining if the alleged criminals are telling the truth or not.

On the other hand, if Trautner’s purpose is for the reader to explore possible explanations

for the crime, then all of the materials play a role in giving a more complete discourse. In Der

Mord am Polizeiagenten Blau, the form does follow the function. Although this account

embraces a number of genres and documents, it serves the purpose of depicting the chaos of the

Weimar Republic and the competing narratives within it. Just as the reader is unable to identify

the criminal with certainty because of the many voices, the artist disappears as well. The only

evidence that remains is the crime, or in the case of the writer the art. By placing the artist

alongside the criminal at the edges of society, Trautner also calls the reader to pose the same

questions to the artist as are to the criminal. What influences and triggers each? Are they

products of historical circumstance or simply just made without any temporal influence? He

offers the reader more questions than answers. Art, like the crime committed in Der Mord am

Polizeiagenten Blau, is not something that can be easily explained if at all.

After reading Trautner’s account of the history of Germany, it appears that the criminals

(whoever they truly may be) or at the very least the crime itself can be considered a product of

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several variables. It is a result of the chaotic times which existed in the post war Weimar

Republic where no one can be trusted. Yet, what precisely causes the crime remains hidden— part of the undercurrent of the “Strömung.” The production of art can function in a similar manner; it can emerge from the tides of history, pushing segments of society from the peripheral in one direction or another.

The protagonist of the seventh volume of the series by Karl Otten, Der Fall Strauβ, is also subject to the pressures of the masses. Even the New York Times demonstrated a modicum of sympathy toward Emil Strauβ and his brother Erich in an article from January 22, 1921.

Included is Emil’s plea to the courtroom crowd, where he asks “who is to blame more, those who created the circumstances in which I grew up or myself personally?” Emil’s question was met with jubilation from the crowd despite the threats of the judge. It also represents the tone taken by Otten in his section of the series. Contrary to Trautner, Otten creates a more traditional narrative with his source material. Otten still mixes a variety of genres together in this volume, by the inclusion of an excerpt of Strauβ’s poetry at the beginning, journal entries, and other quotes throughout the text. But, his voice leads the reader on a chronological journey through the life of Emil, while interjecting his own along the way.

Much like Trautner’s reportage concerning the murder of Blau, Otten’s text imparts an analysis of the conditions of the time. Whereas Trautner scrutinized the historical political climate leading up to the homicide, Otten takes a more sociological approach. Here, the focus is entirely upon the criminal with whom the author seems smitten. In 1921, Strauβ is sentenced to fifteen years in prison for the murder of a Berlin constable. Despite this crime, which is not disputed, Otten calls him a “Gentleman-Verbrecher” who seems to be portrayed more as a victim

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of circumstance than as a killer (Otten 1925: 12). According to Otten, Strauβ was the “Ein- und

Ausbrecherkönigs:” a figure larger than life, both feared and beloved by the populous (Otten

1925: 10).35 At this point, Otten finds it necessary to discuss the current sociological structure of

the city. He works his way through the Groβstadt starting with the powerful and the wealthy, where there exists a “Psychologie der Grenze” (Otten 1925: 15). Otten divides the people of the city in a typical fashion: classes are separated by appearance, wealth, and names with most

people belonging to the lower classes or the masses. This group despite being made of

individuals differing from one another is the backbone of the city. Their sweat makes things

happen, be it industry or revolution, and is thus feared by the elite. Strauβ, however, does not seem to fit in the hierarchy of the city and enacts his revenge in a Kohlhaasian manner on the

“bürgerlichen Gesellschaft” (Otten 1925: 24). The misfortunes of Strauβ are portrayed as being

the fault of others and not of Strauβ himself. When it is not the city, it is his upbringing by a

drunken father and foster parents compelling him to commit crimes before the age of ten.

The link between the artist and the criminal is more direct in the case of Strauβ, for he is

also a writer of sorts. A poem of our criminal is featured at the very beginning of this study.

Thus, Otten does not hesitate to call Strauβ a “Dichter” and often postulates what would have

happened if this murderer would have read Goethe, Schiller, or Kleist instead of spending time in

jail (Otten 1925: 25-26). I would speculate that Otten would have been an advocate for the ideas

of Wulffen. If Strauβ would have only become an artist where he could sublimate his criminal

35 Otten seems to portray Strauβ in a flattering manner. He is feared by the shopkeepers but respected by the public. “Alle Kauflleute und Juweliere fürchteten ihn wie den Teufel, und die Gewölbe halten wider vom Schrecken, den er verbreitete. Die Masse aber nannte ihn voll Respekt und Verehrung, die Bürger lächelten voll verlegener Wut, und die Freigeister verfolgten seine Entwicklung voll Bewunderung” (Otten 1925: 10).

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tendencies into the form of art, then he would have had a much happier life. The social

conditions in which he was born compelled him to a life of crime instead of an artist. The

outpouring of affection for Strauβ by Otten almost makes the reader forget the heinous crimes he

committed. At the end of this volume, Strauβ appears to be a changed man, having converted to the church of Christian Science, has embraced learning, begun to teach other inmates, and has even applied for patents for electrical inventions. Apparently, his days as a criminal are over, as he now receives the “Anerkennung und Bewunderung” which had been missing his whole life

(Otten 1925: 103). Moreover, Otten maintains that the criminal is just one type of outsider who is “ein Opfer und ein Mitglied durch Schuld, die tief unter der Schwelle menschlicher Erkenntnis

lagert, an uns gefesselt” (Otten 1925: 108). By focusing on the artistic side of Strauβ, Otten

gives the criminal an alternative to breaking the law.

For Otten, the human is very much the product of the circumstances into which one is

born. He considers Strauβ a victim of his upbringing and his status as criminal is the fault of

society and the judicial system. In doing so, I argue that Otten is not only defending the criminal

as being a victim of society, he is standing up for artists as well. While Trautner’s artist is

difficult to locate and define, Otten’s is found as a result of history and social conditions. By

postulating that Strauβ could have been an artist, Otten does not consider the free will of the

individual. His criminality is defined and predetermined by the environment in which he lives.

If one is exposed to Goethe and Schiller, then according to Otten’s logic an individual is more

likely to become a poet. Perhaps, Krull is predisposed to a life of Hochstaplerei for being

exposed to the deceptive practices of his father. The status of art in society is also determined by

the political and social conditions in which it is produced. If the poems of Becher, for example,

would have been published in the Soviet Union instead of in the Weimar Republic, he would not 127

have been accused of treason. The communist government would have praised him instead of his being criminalized by the politically conservative elements within the Weimar government.

Not only is art a substitute for crime in the life of Emil Strauβ but also for Ludwig Robert

Oerthel. Linder contends:

Erst auf dieser Ebene werden die Täter bei Schramek wie bei Otten zu Opfern eines

Normsystems, das Abstieg bestraft und Aufstieg verhindert. Beide Texte verweisen

darüber hinaus auf die Kunst als Ausweg: Strauβ zumal wird im Gefängnis nicht nur zum

Anhänger der christlichen Wissenschaft, sondern auch noch zum Dichter dessen Text

“Schächerbitte” Ottens ‘Fallgeschichte’ einleitet. (Linder 1994: 258)

Oerthel is the criminal featured by the author Thomas Schramek in the volume entitled Freiherr von Egloffstein. This name was one of the many pseudonyms put to use by the notorious con artist, Oerthel, and, furthermore, was the title of nobility held by the family until Ludwig’s father married his mother, a “Bürgerliche” (Schramek 1925: 88). As a result of his marrying a woman not from noble descent, he and his entire family were forced to give up the title. Because of this,

Oerthel becomes a victim of the customs of society and turns to Hochstaplerei in order to be treated like a member of the noble class. The structure of Schramek’s work also utilizes a more traditional approach in writing a narrative. It begins with an introduction by Albert Ehrenstein and is followed with a retelling of Oerthel’s memoirs by Schramek. Reminiscent of the memoirs of Manolescu, Schramek’s work chronicles the adventures of Oerthel from birth. It proves to be highly episodic as Oerthel bounces from city to city, changing his identity and disguise to pilfer as many financial resources as possible or to tally high debts at a hotel before being captured (or escaping).

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Although perhaps not transparent at first, art is an integral part of Oerthel’s being. It

provides Oerthel with an escape. In the foreword, Ehrenstein broaches the relationship between the artist and the criminal in writing that “unter den Dichtern also sind mehr Hochstapler als sonstwo” (Schramek 1925: 11). He links the two chief professions in which Oerthel partakes in a direct manner like Thomas Mann did in the fictional memoirs of Felix Krull. Oerthel unabashedly swindles other people as a con artist, yet also is an artist who composed his own memoirs. Oerthel’s imagination is limitless in his writing and role-playing. “Auch

Unwahrscheinliches wurde übernommen – weil seine Art zu denken und zu sehen am besten seine hemmungslose Phantasie, eine Hauptursache seines kriminellen Verhaltens, charakterisiert” (Schramek 1925: 13). It is quite possible that Oerthel is repeating the pattern established by Manolescu two decades prior, in that the crimes described in the memoir are exaggerated or created. Without being accompanied by a study like Manolescu was with

Wulffen and without access to original documents, it is nigh impossible to corroborate Oerthel’s accounts. He is a Hochstapler after all whose tales were hardly believed by his own family.36 In regard to his stories, his sisters and their friends once commented that “er hätte sie in einem

Roman gelesen” (Schramek 1925: 36). Writing provides Oerthel with the ability to live a fantastic life of nobility, while still living under the value system of society, though he ironically might only be able to do this peacefully in a prison cell.

Even though Oerthel is able to lead a very intriguing life on the edge between artist and

criminal, Schramek provides a defense of the author from the negative claims of criminality.

There is no question that Oerthel demonstrates the creativity of an author and the smooth

36 It might prove to be interesting to fact check Oerthel’s legal transgressions and compare the veracity of them to those made by Manolescu. 129

demeanor of an actor to develop and act out a new identity. Like the fictional Felix Krull, this enables him to enter the ranks of high society and to essentially reclaim the family’s noble title, though it was always temporary and often a different name. It is not to be forgotten though, that

Oerthel is still a con artist and thus a criminal. He steals money from anyone who will believe his lies and even exploits his wealthy aunt who was still a member of the nobility. His artistic nature seems to be his only redeemable trait; for, he is not an honorable or honest man. Through the exposure of a quasi-artistic yet deviant individual, Schramek is advocating the innocence of the artist. A genuine work of art is not designed to swindle the public like a performance by the

Hochstapler; it is designed to communicate or to entertain the crowd at some level. Moreover, a real artist does not commit treason like Oerthel did when he donned an officer’s uniform under the guise of “Oberleutnant, Freiherr Lutz von Richthofen.” For Schramek, an author does not have malevolent intentions like the con artist. This figure is counter to the perception of author as a menace to society, asserted by factions of the Weimar Republic.

If we dismiss the simplistic and idealistic assumption that artists are generally good

individuals, it becomes much more difficult to distinguish the artists from the criminals in this

volume of the Auβenseiter series. As I previously remarked, Ehrenstein’s forward establishes a

connection between the two before Schramek begins delving into Oerthel’s life. In the form of a

Hochstapler, Schramek chooses a figure found on the fringes of society. A Hochstapler is

constantly creating and re-creating his identity, making this individual difficult to identify much

like it is arduous to classify what an artist is. What makes up each type is ultimately determined

by society. Whether the newest book is blasphemous or not is decided by those who are in

positions of power. Although the author is not destroyed as Barthes proposed, this figure is still

at the mercy of the lawmakers. While Thomas Mann harmlessly reveals the clout of the readers 130

have in determining if something is artistic or criminal, the authors of the Auβenseiter series explore the real dangers that exist for an artist. Just as the status of an artwork is established by the authorities of the Weimar Republic, so is Oerthel’s standing within society. His adventures illustrate, like Felix Krull and the Hauptmann von Köpenick before him, the importance of having a title signifying royal birth or a position of authority. Through Oerthel, Schramek is able to critique a culture obsessed with importance placed upon the illusion of Schein represented by the titles and clothing adopted in his deceptions. It is a rejection of the Wilhelminian era and its outdated social norms. In this sense, Schramek poses a cultural critique in the spirit of Adolf

Loos. Schramek portrays the problems a society faces when it is dependent upon the conventions of the past. In order for humanity to progress, this past needs to be discarded and more practical methods adopted.

3.6 Conclusion: Implementing the Model of the Criminal in Defense of the Artist

The lawbreakers portrayed by these authors receive a certain degree of sympathy, since they reflect the problems of the artists living in the Weimar Republic. It is intriguing that these artists are able to explore the nature of their own profession through composing works on contemporary trials and criminals. Through these real criminals, they expose their plight as artists endangered by the judicial system of the Weimar Republic. The freedom of speech is threatened by the laws created to protect this right. The cases of fellow artists like Johannes R.

Becher, Carl Zuckmayer, Carl Einstein et al. demonstrate that anyone can face criminal charges for a piece of literature. In response to these threats upon their livelihood, the authors of the

Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft turn to the narratives of actual criminals. They choose these true

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stories rather than imagining their own to emphasize their proximity to the problem. These authors are trying to tell the public that they are being treated by the juridical system in a manner similar to some of the most notorious criminals of the day. These works are not written in order to confirm or propagate the tradition of relating the criminal to the artist as established by Cesare

Lombroso. Instead, they attempt to illustrate the problems of the artist as reflected by the issues that surround criminals.

These writers face many of the same challenges from the law as criminals do, because their craft is being critiqued from its own members in addition to the legal community. Even though art as in the cases of Strauβ and Oerthel is therapeutic and quite possibly even preventative, the artist’s livelihood was still being threatened by the authorities. In Otten’s Der

Fall Strauβ, the author relates the societal pressures placed upon the artist to the criminal. This work portrays the criminal, a murderer, in a sympathetic light, by insinuating that he is a victim of chance and the forces of society. Although an unnerving depiction, Otten is able relate the current state of art to that of this violent offender. The artist like the criminal is a product of the era in which he is living. What this individual ultimately does with his life very much relies on their foundation and the societal forces at work. As discussed in the previous chapter, Thomas

Mann also questions the origins of the artist’s creativity in his works. He posits that artists and criminals have similar natures which are intertwined to the point where one might necessitate the other. What separates an act of crime from a piece of art is the audience. In Leonhard’s collection, the authors reveal that art is defined by those in power, as was the case in the Weimar

Republic. These ideas can be found in Schramek’s volume, but he places an added importance upon the symbolic nature of titles and to a lesser extent clothing. The titles of the nobility represent the decadence of the age. They are a Loosian ornament impeding the progress of 132

society by creating added separation between the classes. Both of these works function as

critiques of the culture of their day. Like Loos, they emphasize the importance of art to point to

the future and as a deterrent to crime. These authors take this literally as they seem to want to

encourage their protagonists to engage their creative abilities to remove their deviant tendencies.

The difficulty distinguishing between the borders of the criminal and the noncriminal in

the era of modernity as advocated by Herzog can be applied to the artist as well. For the most

part these texts do not attempt to neatly explain the crime or criminal; they would rather present

a more comprehensive view of the subject matter, realizing that a complete report is actually

impossible. The blending of several genres by Eduard Trautner is not employed to merely

attempt the impossible, but to illustrate the unexplainable nature of crime. He utilizes the

Loosian approach that form should follow function in order to expose the competing discourses involved in any criminal case. The borders between criminals and noncriminals are further made fuzzy by these texts, since each criminal also appears to somehow be a victim as well. Perhaps, it is the coping mechanism attached to victimhood which determines if one becomes a criminal or not. The disappearance of the coherent crime narrative and the resulting focus upon investigating the investigations allows these authors to use a different (nonfiction instead of fiction) form of art to explore art.

The editor of the series, Rudolf Leonhard, not only allows the individual authors and

volumes a voice, but also the series as a whole. The collection functions in the same fashion as

Trautner’s Mord am Polizeiagenten Blau. The fourteen authors of the series each have a voice

concerning the place of crime and thus art within the Weimar Republic. By no means do they

form a coherent outlook regarding the status of the artist; they, instead, illustrate the complex

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nature of the issue and the complications involved in trying to define the artist. The series is a product of its times as alluded to by the ambiguity found in dual title. In taking over the voices of actual criminals, these authors assume the voices of those who they are claimed to be. In many ways, these fourteen volumes share a similar goal with Mann’s Bekenntnisse des

Hochstaplers Felix Krull; they, like the character Schimmelpreester wish for the audience to try and better understand the eclectic nature of the artist. Moreover, they desire the acceptance of the public and those who decide what is art and what is crime. While I argue that Mann is trying to establish a better relationship between the author and the reader through Felix Krull,

Leonhard’s group of authors is struggling to retain artistic freedom and control. They display how the line that separates criminality from artistry and the resulting power bestowed upon the audience can be exploited and actually endanger the artist. By presenting true-life case studies of criminals, they are actually talking about themselves. This gives them a privileged perspective to explore their own nature as artists and to explore how they could be considered criminals by the juridical system of the Weimar Republic.

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4.0 Chapter 3 The Artist as Serial Killer

4.1 Like a Serial Killer: Repeating My Search for the Artist

In the first chapter, I considered the fascinating observation concerning the artist made by

Thomas Mann in the novel, Die Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull. Here, Mann uses the figure of the Hochstapler to reveal an unlikely kinship between the artist and the criminal.

Through the humorous adventures of the fictional Felix Krull, Mann shares with the audience the criminal nature of the artist. Next, I looked at the Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft series collected by literary activist Rudolf Leonhard. Instead of composing works of fiction, the writers of this series turn to contemporary criminals and trials that had captured the imagination and attention of the public. They did so not only to examine these remarkable cases, but also to expose the troubles of the artist; for, these artists faced the threat of legal actions just like the subjects they were examining. Like Mann, they explored the relationship between the artist and the criminal, but this time as a means to defend their rights against an oftentimes unjust and paranoid government. At this juncture, I would like to examine a different type of criminal as a way to better understand the artist—the serial killer. Doron Rabinovici’s Suche nach M is a strange piece of literature that is part crime novel, part thriller and romance. The story revolves around two Jewish-Austrian children Dani and Arieh and their “Identitätsprobleme als Erwachsene”

(Reichmann 2001: 247). They are both second generation survivors of the Holocaust burdened with the survivor’s guilt and hopes of the prior one. In this chapter, however, I wish to include some secondary characters in my discussion of the novel: Keysser and Sina Mohn. Not only does an analysis of these criminals provide the key to help unravel the problems of Dani and

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Arieh, it also brings to light interesting revelations about the nature of the artist. In the novel,

Dani and Arieh use repetitive methods reminiscent of a serial killer to deal with their identity

problems. I argue that this characteristic of the serial killer is also a trait that can be found in

both art and in an author coping with issues of identity. Rabinovici, a German speaking Jew

himself, explores the process of constantly forming and re-forming one’s identity to measure the

level of success it has for the individual and also for the author.

4.2 Searching for the Serial Killer in Fact and Fiction

Typically in a piece of crime fiction or even in a historical account of a serial killer like

Gilles de Rais or Jack the Ripper, the reader is called upon to participate alongside the detective

to uncover the identity of the perpetrator or to unmask a mythological being. Although the works of the contemporary Jewish-Austrian author, Doron Rabinovici, regularly deal with

questions concerning Jewish-German / Austrian identity after the Holocaust, many criminals can

be found there. In this chapter, I consider how his novel, Suche nach M and his collection of

short stories entitled Papirnik employ the conventions of crime fiction, most notably the

archetype of the serial killer, in an attempt to address the problems of identity formation for

Jewish-Germans / Austrians in the aftermath of the Shoah. Through this frightening figure, we

are able to identify what I call “serial characters.” They are persons who like a serial killer follow a somewhat predictable pattern and are compelled to commit the same action again and again. For Rabinovici, each serial character—both violent and peaceful—in his works concurrently reveals a global and personal quest for identity and consequently the process of forming and re-forming an identity that can even be applied to artists as well. Some like Thomas

Mann repeatedly explore the same theme through the course of their career. While Mann is 136

trying to discover and explain for himself what it means to be an author, others like Rabinovici

often return to the issues surrounding being a Jewish-German / Austrian a half a century after the

Holocaust. This repetitive process appears to be without end as the quest to fully comprehend

both the criminal and the artist is an impossible task. Even the Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft is a

series, representing continual attempts to investigate real criminals which is also not completed

due to Die Schmiede’s bankruptcy.

My analysis of Suche nach M will not only build upon the scholarship currently available

on this work and its relationship to the question of identity formation, but will also depart from it

by discussing two characters that are not often mentioned by literary scholars. Looking at the fringe characters of a novel can offer unexplored avenues in understanding and interpretation. In

Suche nach M, I would like to turn to these type of characters and examine the actual serial

killer, Helmuth Keysser, who Dagmar Lorenz calls “a marginal character” in her article, “In

Search of the Criminal-in Search of the Crime: Holocaust Literature and Films as Crime Fiction”

(Lorenz 1998: 37). The second overlooked character is the art historian and kleptomaniac, Sina

Mohn. While Lorenz deems Keysser a minor figure since he only is present in one chapter and

has no contact with any of the principle characters, Mohn is also not prominent but appears and

interacts with the main characters in the latter portion of the work. Yet, despite their limited time

in the novel, these two individuals, who are also criminals, can help provide answers to the other

troubled figures. Focusing on these two characters offers a fresh reading of Rabinovici and

another entryway to understanding his book. I wish to then show how this thread of the serial

killer is woven into Rabinovici’s other works and how it relates to the above mentioned

problems.

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Finally, I continue my discussion concerning the relationship between the artist and the

audience or the public; the reception of the serial killer and the artist / performer in the context of

Mark Seltzer’s “wound culture.” Art becomes the public space where the wounds and bandages

involved in the struggle for a personal and collective identity are displayed, where even the

repetition of producing art itself, might indicate a vague kinship with the serial killer in the

search for identity.

Although the term is a relatively modern one, the concept of the serial killer has not only

frightened, but has also fascinated the public at least since the unsolved murders of Jack the

Ripper in 1888. Ever since this series of homicides, the public has been inundated with factual

and fictional incarnations of this criminal which appear on a daily basis in the news, books,

movies, and television programs. At the heart of the audience’s enthrallment with the murders of

Jack the Ripper and other comparable beings is the quest for identity, which not only entails the

natural desire to solve the case and discover who Jack the Ripper really is, but to understand the

serial nature of such an individual. But as criminologist Kai Bammann points out in his article,

“Vom Werwolf zum Serienmörder: Über den Versuch, das Unfassbare zu verstehen,” the history of serial killing actually extends centuries prior to Jack the Ripper and speculates that it has merely been concealed by various myths such as the belief in the existence of the werewolf

(Bammann 2004: 330). In the period before the advent of science and the Enlightenment,

folklore and black magic were used to explain any form of social deviancy. Since those in the

past could not understand nor fathom how someone could commit so many violent acts, the true

identity of the perpetrator was lost, or purposely omitted, and then replaced with a mythological

version. Prior to Jack the Ripper, one of the first historically documented serial killers was

Gilles de Rais who gruesomely murdered more than one hundred young boys in the fifteenth

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century. His heinous deeds were largely forgotten, yet they were transformed into the realm of fiction, serving as the basis for Charles Peraullt’s fairy tale of Bluebeard written in 1697. Yet, this legend altered the identity of the murderous man by now claiming that only a few of his wives were killed instead of the large amount of youths. Even though his actions were not at the time linked to those of a werewolf, Bammann contends that they would have been had they occurred a century later (Bammann 2004: 334). It was in the latter half of the sixteenth century, when Peter Stump was convicted and executed for a series of murders in the area surrounding

Cologne. “Stump gestand unter der Folter, ein Werwolf zu sein und die Morde begangen zu haben” (Bammann 2004: 335). The manner in which this confession was arrived at casts some uncertainty as to the guilt of Stump because of the possibility of further torture. Thus, the identity of the criminal still remains unknown if the confession was only made because he was under extreme duress and had no other choice. It is not my objective to conjecture on the innocence of Peter Stump, but to call attention to this case as an example of where a society is looking for a perpetrator and turns to a supernatural explanation for brutal crimes, the werewolf.

In Suche nach M, Rabinovici employs this motif of mythological creatures to describe the serial behavior associated with the process of identity formation and held by a majority culture and their relationship to art. In the following, we shall see how Mullemann and the legend of the

“Wandering Jew” function as supernatural beings: one terrorizing Vienna with alleged murders using detailed letters published by the newspapers, the other shining light on the ignorant and silent acceptance of oppressive monuments and traditions. Whereas Leonhard employed a discussion of criminals to illustrate the suppressive attitudes of the government toward artists,

Rabinovici shows how art itself can participate in creating a threatening environment for others.

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Despite the gradual decline of credibility in the myth of the werewolf as a result of the

Enlightenment and advances in science, this and other mystical labels were still attached to the

serial killer into the twentieth century. Such was the case during the period of the Weimar

Republic in German history, which was witness to serial killers like Fritz Haarmann, “der

Werwolf von Hannover”, and Peter Kürten, “der Vampir aus Düsseldorf.” Many cases like these

were discussed by the authors of the Auβenseiter series in an attempt to explore their being and

explain their actions. In an era before the term “serial killer” had been coined, Bammann

considers these titles and others when he states, “Zugleich wird die Tat begreifbarer, wenn der

Täter seine eigene Menschlichkeit verliert” (Bammann 2004: 339). These monikers not only

confirm the stereotype of the serial killer as Außenseiter and illustrate the terror felt by the

public, but the perpetrators are shown to be inhuman in an attempt for the masses to comprehend

the heinous acts.

Roughly since the 1980’s, this relationship between the serial killer and the mythical

monster has undergone a reversal of roles according to historian, Philip Jenkins. In his article,

“Catch Me Before I Kill More: Seriality as Modern Monstrosity,” he argues that even though the

serial killer is a being whose existence can be verified by various forms of science, this murderer

“fulfilled all the mythical roles of the supernatural night-prowlers of old” (Jenkins 2002: 2).

Here, the serial killer replaced the imagined beasts of the past once feared to be lurking around the next corner and assumed the role of these mythical figures in society.

It was in this decade that the mythology and related misconceptions of the serial killer

began to develop. The term itself started to become prevalent in the news and in popular culture,

because of its repeated use by former FBI agent, Robert Ressler, although it had actually been

originally coined by Russell Wakefield in 1936. Many believed that serial killing was a new

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phenomenon which was only confined to the United States. 37 But as previously noted, the serial

murderer had already been around for centuries and in other parts of the world. The turning

point in the discussion about this criminal was not Gilles de Rais or the team of psychological

profilers led by Ressler, it was the unsolved homicides committed by Jack the Ripper. It was

then, as Mark Seltzer states, that serial killing “became a career option” (1). The popularity of

the serial killer exploded because of the unsolved killings of prostitutes in London. The world

became captivated with these abhorrent violent acts against an impoverished class within one of

the foremost centers of wealth. Everyone wanted to solve the crimes and find the person behind

them and still do to this very day.

The public’s enthrallment with serial killers is also fueled by fictional depictions found in

all forms of artistic media. Today, “serial murder and its representations,” have become in

Seltzer’s estimation “the most popular genre-fiction of the body and bodily violence in our

culture” (Seltzer 1998: 1). Artists are also interested in exploring the questions of identity that

these crimes exhibit. Like everyone else, they are interested in the process of detection and

finding out who these malevolent individuals are in society. They want to investigate what

compels this type of criminal to repeatedly commit such monstrous acts. Jack the Ripper in

many ways becomes the prototype for all representations of the serial killer. Seltzer attempts to

explain the attraction to Jack the Ripper and other like criminals: “That nothing reliable is known about the identity or motives of this London killer is itself a central part of the model: the endless rituals of noncomprehension that continue to surround the kind of person called the serial killer”

37 The origin of the term “serial killer” is often under debate. See Philip Jenkins for a further history on the term in the United States and his analysis of its impact on society as a result of its mythological connotations (Jenkins 2002). 141

(Seltzer 1998: 8-9). It is the search for the unknown and uncertain which stimulates the imagination of artists.

This so-called profession of the serial killer is one which has been explored by various canonical writers in German literature and film. Philip Simpson nicely summarizes the reasons why an author might write fictional works about serial killers:

And in our attempt to understand serial killers, we inevitably create myths about them—

works of fiction that may superficially portray the serial killer as the ultimate alien

outsider or enemy of society but which simultaneously reflect back upon society its own

perversions, fears, and murderous desires. (Simpson 2000: 1-2)

The makeup of the serial killer is not all that is being addressed by authors of this type of fiction; these works also serve to study the identity of a society. Seltzer calls this a “social mirror-effect” in which a serial killer “reflects back the commonplace anxieties and crises of his culture”

(Seltzer 1998: 126). In many instances, artists either had fictional incarnations of historical serial killers or characters based upon them appear in their works. The writers of the Auβenseiter series, for example, used contemporary criminals to examine the forces at play in their current society and culture. In the controversial play Die Büchse der Pandora by Frank Wedekind, Jack the Ripper unpredictably acts as a force against the main character Lulu who is “a reflection of the perversion to which society has succumbed” (Libbon 2000: 57). For Wedekind, the figure of

Lulu suggests the author’s belief that women were “creatures of overpowering sexual evil,” and societal order can only be restored with the destruction of this figurehead through the hands of

Jack the Ripper (Tatar 1995: 10). Here, Jack the Ripper represents a corrective device for a society being ruined by the emancipation of the woman. Prior to the ascension of Hitler and the

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Nazis to power, Fritz Lang directed his first film with sound, M in 1931. Most likely inspired by the cases of Kürten, Haarmann, Denke, and others, this cinematic masterpiece investigates the reactions of the masses to the threat of a serial killer walking amongst them. It focuses on the fear of society and the methods employed by the police and the criminal underworld to detect the child murderer. It depicts the aftermath of World War I with men displaying battle injuries, rampant crime and the paranoia of the populous.

While Rabinovici participates in this literary tradition of using criminals to reflect upon societal conditions, he differentiates himself by focusing on the serial aspect of the crimes. Such is also evident in the pieces by Thomas Mann and Eduard Trautner, who both show the pivotal roles the public and groups can play in society. Undoubtedly, Rabinovici also utilizes the masses in his stories similarly to Lang and other creators of detective fiction to portray contemporary problems and feelings as people react to a string of murders. While many of the authors of

Leonhard’s series contemplate the function of World War I on the creation of their contemporary criminals, Rabinovici’s attention is placed on the conditions of German speaking Jews living in

Austria in the decades following the Holocaust and the causes of seriality. Despite naturally allotting a majority of the novel to the discussion of its victims and how their lives unfold, it is an unrelated serial killer who deciphers their behavior. For example, the featured serial killer of

Suche nach M, Keysser, in the larger context of the novel is a tertiary character who has no direct contact with the main protagonists or even the social issues of the novel. As far as the reader knows, he is not Jewish nor has he any known connection to the Holocaust or with acts of bigotry, active or passive, in the present day. It is his repetitive killings, which bring to light the problems faced by second generation Jewish-Austrian Holocaust survivors from Vienna like

Dani and Arieh. Although they are not cold-blooded killers like Keysser, they share the same 143

proclivity for repeating their actions: they incessantly take on the role of the perpetrator through the absorption of another’s guilt or appearance despite being innocent.

Rabinovici is also among a select number of artists, who choose to employ serial murderers in their works to accomplish more than comment on the current living conditions— they use this type of deviant to talk about the identity of the artist. Published in 1819, E.T.A

Hoffmann’s novella, Das Fräulein von Scuderi: Erzählung aus dem Zeitalter Ludwig des

Vierzehnten, paints a picture of Paris, terrified by a chain of jewel thefts in which the victim was often also murdered. At the center of the tale is the portrayal of Cardillac, a master jeweler, who feels his identity as an artist is threatened by those who use his creations for illicit ends. This protagonist allegedly kills the recipients of his wares in an attempt to reclaim them and his sense of self. Detlef Kremer calls Cardillac a man, “der von der Autonomie seiner Kunst besessen ist und es nicht ertragen kann, seiner Kunstwerke als Teile seiner selbst entfremdet zu werden”

(Kremer 1999: 156). The opening passages of Patrick Süskind’s international bestseller, Das

Parfum. Die Geschichte eines Mörders, evoke Hoffmann’s Cardillac and Kleist’s Kohlhaas with the introduction of Jeane-Baptiste Grenouille: “ein Mann, der zu den genialsten und abscheulichsten Gestalten dieser an genialen und abscheulichen Gestalten nicht armen Epoche gehörte” (Süskind 1994: 5). Süskind’s protagonist is a master perfumer who kills young women in order to preserve the perfect scent. His identity is forever bound by his artistic endeavors since it is his only means for societal acceptance; for, his personal lack of any odor whatsoever causes others to reject him even as an orphaned infant. Unlike Hoffmann and Süskind,

Rabinovici does not give us a character who is both an artist and a serial killer, yet he is still able to give insights into his own craft. Through the attempts of his serial characters to establish an identity, I argue that Rabinovici also illustrates that the same process can occur for artists. Just 144

as Keysser repeatedly kills multiple victims or as Dani always accepts the guilt of others, artists occasionally repeat the same theme or plotline in order to explore an issue as Thomas Mann does in his literary attempts to define and re-define himself as an author. For example, Rabinovici and other Jewish-Austrian writers often publish works dealing with their unique position in the world. This is a method for artists to form and re-form their own identity throughout their careers.

4.3 Locating the Suche nach M

After 1945, it was hard for many to conceive of a Jewish author writing in German about the Holocaust. Many saw it as an unrepresentable event. Even sociologist Theodor Adorno made the statement, “nach Auschwitz, ein Gedicht zu schreiben, ist barbarisch,” which he later retracted (Adorno 1970: 30). Yet, some survivors of the Holocaust still utilized varying literary approaches to discuss their experiences of this atrocity. Poets like Paul Celan and Nelly Sachs looked to poetry to find a language to express their emotions concerning the Shoah. In poems like Celan’s famous “Todesfuge,” he was able to appropriate words and metaphors to convey the bleakness of life during the Holocaust and the resulting void afterwards. There were other authors, like Ilse Aichinger and Jurek Becker, who used other genres from the autobiographic to the fictional to relate their experiences during the Holocaust, but few had the influence of Celan and Sachs. Beginning in the 1980s and continuing into the 1990s, there was a renaissance in

Jewish-German literature. This cohort, however, consisted of second and third generation survivors of the Holocaust. These terms refer to those born after the Holocaust but still have a unique relationship to the prior generation. Ernst van Alphen notes that these terms suggest a

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continuity between the generations and imply that these successive generations are to be also

somehow considered “victims and survivors of the Holocaust” (Alphen 2006: 474). This surge of authors and filmmakers are dealing with the questions and possibilities of being Jewish and

German or Austrian, and then being a Jewish-German / Austrian. These contemporary writers are trying to find and articulate a Jewish-German identity. Led by Barbara Honigmann, Esther

Dischereit, Rafael Seligmann, Robert Schindel, Maxim Biller and Doron Rabinovici, their works foremost ask what it means to be Jewish after the Holocaust and then raise the complexities of living or being associated with German culture. At the center of the discourse on identity and victimhood is the guilt associated with being immediate descendants of the Shoah. This guilt, specifically the Überlebensschuld expressed by the characters in the works of such writers, proves to be a major obstacle in their identity quests. Reviews of some of these works criticize the role this guilt plays in the forming of a Jewish-German identity in them. In an article in the

Boston Jewish Advocate on a collection of short stories by various Jewish-German authors,

Jewish Voices, German Words, the reviewer states, “The Germans are described as ‘a schizophrenic people who hate their guilt feelings and those who occasion them. The Jews are guilty about living in Germany. Benjamin Korn in Shock and Aftershock claims that shame would be more appropriate than guilt.” In another review on the same work, Tom Reiss verbalizes his displeasure with these authors, and goes as far to comment on one in the collection by stating, “she does little more than reproduce clichés: ‘It’s always those who are kicked who are ashamed afterward, not those doing the kicking’” (Reiss 1994).38 Many of these Jewish-

German writers are being portrayed associating guilt with their Jewish-German identity to the

38 Here, Reiss vocalizes his displeasure when he states, “These writers wear the pain, frustration and anger of the endeavor on their sleeves, and the results are disappointing.” The author and story referred by “she” is Katja Behrens in her story, “Perfectly Normal” (Reiss 1994). 146

point of being a commonplace attitude. In criticizing the prevalence of such feelings in this genre, Reiss unknowingly acknowledges that the repeated occurrences can be perceived as a symptom of Seltzer’s “wound culture” and serial behavior.

The Jewish-German author Doron Rabinovici’s Suche nach M might also be considered

under Reiss’ genre of “reproduced clichés,” for the majority of the characters in this novel are all

dealing with their own feelings of Überlebensschuld by surviving the Holocaust. Rabinovici’s

work is in many ways a generational novel; for, it features how Jewish survivors of the

Holocaust and their children and grandchildren cope with these feelings of guilt while living in

Vienna. The plot of the novel revolves around two main protagonists Dani Morgenthau and

Arieh Scheinowiz who are both second generation Holocaust survivors and suffer from

Identitätsprobleme passed down from their familial constellations. This instability of identity is

evident in the first chapter of the novel, most notably when Dani’s grandmother, Tonja Kruzki,

meets Jakob Scheinowiz, Arieh’s father, at a friend’s Jewish holiday celebration. The meeting

which follows encapsulates the essence of the novel as commented by Wendelin Schmidt-

Dengler in a review for Die Presse: “Er handelt vom Täuschen und Getäuschtwerden, vor allem

aber von der Identitätsunsicherheit der Hauptfiguren” (Schmidt-Dengler 1997: V). Here, Tonja

mistakes Jakob for her former husband Adam Kruzki while Jakob plays along with this assumed

identity, but also recognizes his former wife Hannah in Tonja. Both of their spouses were killed

in the Holocaust and both wives had left their husbands. What makes their connection more

intriguing is that Jakob was once spared during the Holocaust because he was misidentified as

Adam Kruzki. For Jakob, “Überleben war eine Verwechslung” (Rabinovici 1999: 97).

This mistaken relationship between Tonja and Jakob establishes the families of

Rabinovici’s two main protagonists. Dani Morgenthau is the grandson of Tonja Kruzki and the 147

son of her daughter Gitta, while Arieh is the son of Jakob Scheinowiz who after his encounter with Tonja changed his name to Jakob Fandler. They both want to learn about their family history but are met with silence. Although the statement, “Die Vergangenheit des Vaters lag im

Dunkel seines Schweigens,” is meant to describe Dani, it is also applicable for Arieh as well

(Rabinovici 1999: 28). For both characters, “Schweigen war Teil der mündlichen Überlieferung seiner Familie” (Rabinovici 1999: 35). Through this silence, the Überlebensschuld is passed on from the elder generation to the children which manifests itself like an allergy which needs to be itched, but like most itches, scratching it does not solve the problem. From adolescence on, Dani admits the guilt of others when they refuse to admit it to themselves. Whenever he encounters someone who commits a crime who does not admit it, he immediately assumes the guilt and exclaims, “Ich war’s. Ich bin schuld. Ich hab’s getan” (Rabinovici 1999: 33). As an adult, this reaction progresses to include physical manifestations that would develop into a leprosy-like rash with “Pusteln, Risse, und Schrunden” (Rabinovici 1999: 85). This illness is especially noticeable when he is a witness for a murder trial involving a Turkish man named Yilmaz. Dani begins to cover his sores and lesions with bandages which provides him with the new moniker of

“Mullemann.”

Much like Dani, Arieh suffers from an allergy, but rather than taking the form of a seemingly incurable rash and absorbing the guilt of others, Arieh’s allergy allows him to transform into those who perpetrate crimes. This ability enables him to track the classmate who stole his calculator as a child. He fully realizes the potential of this gift years later when he tracks Herwig Wernherr, a neo-Nazi who assaulted a black man at a bar. In doing so, Arieh essentially becomes a shadow of Wernherr, imitating his attire and mannerisms. After pretending to befriend Wernherr, Arieh accidentally kills him, causing Arieh to flee the country

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to go to Israel. There, he becomes a secret agent for the Israeli government because they know

the crime he committed and wish to exploit his ability to protect the country from other

Wernherrs in the world. Because of his crime and his new profession, Arieh now changes his name and thus identity on a regular basis. By repeatedly changing his name, he is following in the footsteps of his father.

Years later, Arieh, now Arthur Bein, and Dani, now Mullemann, “meet” each other at a

hospital despite both being essentially incapacitated by their injuries and illnesses and being

confined to their respective rooms. Dani’s alter ego, Mullemann, sends messages to Arieh via

Morse code through the wall separating their rooms. Using his gift, Mullemann is able to recount

all of Arieh’s transgressions and thus presents an immediate danger to the spy. When he is able,

Mullemann escapes the hospital before Arieh is able to confront him.

Each chapter or episode of Rabinovici’s novel has a title named after one of the

characters in the story. This not only offers a hint as to one of the central figures in that section,

but as I will later show it reinforces the importance of names in identity formation. The next

episode revolves around the character of Helmuth Keysser. He is the statistical serial killer of

the novel; “the guy next door” who no one would ever suspect as such a threat to society who

lives peacefully with his wife and daughter. His first murder attempt on psychoanalyst Caro

Sandner was thwarted by a cell phone call from his wife, but he later found another woman for

his prey and killed her instead. Killing for Keysser was actually like an “Alptraum” and an

accident like the rest of his life (Rabinovici 1999: 123). His misdeeds, however, do not earn him

recognition because the mysterious Mullemann writes letters to the press in which he accepts

responsibility for the crimes committed by Keysser. These letters become the source of a media

frenzy which simultaneously anger and frighten Keysser. He like the rest of the city is looking

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for Mullemann because he believes that Mullemann is following him and poses a threat of

exposing him as the criminal. At the same time, Keysser is furious because he wants the

attention that Mullemann is getting. He wants his identity and actions to be recognized. The

series of murders is only stopped when he again stalks his first potential victim Caro Sandner.

Before Keysser attempts to kill her, she asks if he is the infamous Mullemann. He tells her his

name and she spells it correctly. It is at this moment that he loses his desire to kill. Keysser is

arrested while Mullemann still roams the streets of Vienna.

Even though the serial killings of Keysser were solved, many individuals are still

searching for Mullemann. After seeing himself reflected in one of his targets, Arieh needs to

find Mullemann so that he can safely leave the spy business and devote himself to his family.

Mullemann is also being searched for by the professional killer Antonov; for, Mullemann took the payment he was supposed to receive for eliminating a threat to former Nazi and crime boss

Rudi Kreuz. Mullemann obtained the money because he was able to describe the crime committed as he had done with past crimes was thus mistaken by Kreuz to being Antonov. Art historian and kleptomaniac Sina Mohn is also looking for Mullemann since he absorbs her guilt and takes credit for her shoplifting at a store. She is able to locate him before the police do,

because a witness saw him leaving the apartment of Rudi Kreuz who was murdered shortly

thereafter by Antonov seeking payment and recognition for his professional services.

While Arieh, Antonov, detective Siebert and the police look for the phantom that is

Mullemann, Sina hides him in her apartment. But more importantly, she takes care of

Mullemann’s gauze and dressings, helping to itch his rash, which results in Mullemann

temporarily getting better. Ironically, she also discovers the painter Otto Toot who

coincidentally “Vermummte und Einbandagierte, Schmerzenmänner in Mull malte,” though his

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paintings are simply self-portraits and not meant to capitalize on “Mullemann fever” (Rabinovici

1999: 198). In debating the painting Ahasver with Navah, Arieh’s wife, Sina reveals that the artwork reminds her of her lover who can “die Schuld der anderen sehen” (Rabinovici 1999:

205). Navah also sees her husband in the painting and believes she is having an affair with

Arieh, because he dresses up like Mullemann in order to find him. When Navah confronts Arieh about this alleged affair, she gives him the breakthrough he needs to find Mullemann. The police however are able to locate him first by finding Sina’s business card at the scene of a crime.

Here, Otto Toot was mistaken for Mullemann by Antonov because of the uncanny and coincidental resemblance in his artwork to him. Antonov’s attempt at a misplaced revenge fails and is killed when Toot stabs him with a paint brush.

Mullemann is found by Siebert and is taken into custody to figure out who this man really is and for his own safety. Remembering the words of family friend Leon Fischer, Arieh is able to identify the bandaged man as Dani Morgenthau and brings him again in contact with his parents. In the meantime, Mullemann, still under police supervision, uses his allergy to help

Siebert solve crimes and gain confessions from various criminals. He is hailed by the public as an expert criminologist and is treated like a pop star with children running around in

“Mullmasken” and getting love letters from unknown women (Rabinovici 1999: 252). He becomes not only a national hero but an international icon for the guilt held by others. He is a scapegoat and spokesperson for what everyone else cannot admit.

The novel concludes during the first Gulf War with Arieh’s attempts to write Dani a letter in which he tries to persuade him to abandon the Mullemann persona and the dependence on others required with it, and to go to Sina Mohn and settle down with her. Arieh has given up his career as a secret agent and is about to finally go on a trip with Leon Fischer and his family to

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Kraków to learn about his father’s past. At the very end of the book, Mullemann disappears

from the Berlin-Moabit prison and perhaps another search for him is about to begin. As his

superiors frantically try to ascertain the situation, all commissioner Siebert can do is shrug his

shoulders and smile while looking out the window into the distance.

4.4 Situating the Suche in Scholarship

In surveying the few pieces of secondary literature on Rabinovici’s Suche nach M, it is

not surprising that the majority of them highlight the question of identity formation for German

speaking Jews. What is significant for each is how they approach their reading of the novel. In

the end, every critic is trying to figure out the implications of Dani and Arieh’s behavior. For

example, Matthias Beilein uses the first chapter as a means to understand the central issues of the

novel. “Die Tonja-Episode ist die Exposition zur zentralen Problemstellung des Romans. Es ist zwar das Thema der Identität, das in einer Fülle von Spielarten den Text durchzieht, in denen die

Figuren mit ihrer Identität konfrontiert werden” (Beilein 2005: 252). The confusion of the

dinner scene experienced by Tonja and Jakob hints at the problems of identity their offspring

will have in the future.39 It is interesting to note that while each piece of scholarship on Suche

nach M deals with the issue of identity, they largely focus on how identity is discovered through

the other and seeing oneself reflected in them.

Matthias Beilein and Doerte Bischoff refer to the importance of the other as a means of

elevating the discussion of Jewish-German identity to a universal one. The key moments

39 Dagmar Lorenz’s also contemplates the numerous cases of identity change and mistaken identity in Rabinovici’s novel. She argues that these instances propel the story of the novel forward. She writes: “Rabinovici’s plot development derives much of its momentum from mistaken or hidden identities, name changes, deliberate deception, errors and memory lapses” (Lorenz 1998: 44). This discussion is also taken up by Schmidt-Dengler’s review, “Der andere Name” (Schmidt-Dengler 1997:V). 152

according to these critics are not the interactions of Tonja and Jakob at Leon Fischer’s home, but

are occasions where Dani or Arieh recognize themselves in others. Bischoff aptly suggests that

the Wendepunkt of the novel occurs when “das Fremde als Eigenes erscheint,” or when the

borders between one’s own identity and the identity of others break down (Bischoff 2004: 274).

Beilein agrees that the turning points in the quests for identity for the two protagonists take place

when they recognize themselves in the form of the other. He asserts that “der Weg zu ihrer

Identität als Jude führt über die Solidarität mit einer anderen Minorität in Österreich, die zugleich die eigene Miβachtung anderer aufdeckt” (Beilein 2005: 254). The catalyst for this disovery is crime. Both Dani and Arieh realize their identities as Jews through transgressions committed by or against other minorities, which affirms their status as Jews living in Austria after the

Holocaust. Arieh feels threatened when a black man is assualted by neo-Nazis, and Dani feels a kinship with the Turk Yilmaz who assumes the guilt for the actual murderer, his wife Gülgün.

Here, Beilein underscores the tenuous position minorities occupy in present day Austria and the two faces of Schweigen that accompany it as illustrated by Rabinovici’s novel and his political

activism.40 Furthermore, he claims that Suche nach M “ist ein Roman über die verletzte

Integrität von kulturellen Minderheiten unter österreichischer Bedingungen,” in which Austrian

and Jewish identity are at the center of this debate (Beilein 2005: 262). The novel depicts the

need for the silence of both the Täter and Opfer to end so that the marginalized in society are

able to create a healthy feeling of identity. Suche nach M gives not simply a model of identity

formation for Jews of the Diaspora but rather the Diaspora offers “eine Zukunft für viele” in

40 It is also interesting to look at Beilein’s discussion on Rabinovici’s speech concerning the inauguration of Kurt Waldheim in 1986 and the reemergence of the theme in Suche nach M. Note Beilein’s statement: “Das Schweigen hat als literarischer Topos (und ebenso als soziales Phänomen) zwei Gesichter, das Schweigen der Täter und das Schweigen der Opfer” (Beilein 2005: 250). Here, Beilein considers the common motif of Rabinovici’s critique of silence in his political addresses and fictional writings. 153

which Austrians are living in Paris and Spaniards are in Sweden (Beilein 2005: 264). The novel

is participating in a discussion that does not halt at the physical borders of Austria or the cultural

borders of being Jewish, but instead transcends them expressing a postnational Europe where

anyone can be a member of the minority culture.41 A sense of universality is achieved,

according to Bischoff, through the character of Mullemann who provides a “neuen Ethik” which

includes the marginalized positions in society (Bischoff 2004: 271). This character reveals the

unique position of the Jews in constructing a bridge to make the Holocaust a universal event in

everyone’s history.42 “Es [Auschwitz] kann aber gleichsam als Herkunft aller erinnert werden, insofern es die Überschreitung der Grenze des Humanen im 20. Jahrhundert markiert, die zu schützen fortan nicht allein den Opfern und Tätern bzw. deren Nachkommen, sondern allen aufgegeben ist” (Bischoff 2004: 279). For both scholars, the crimes of the Holocaust signify a unifying event for all the disenfranchised peoples of the world.

Günther Scheidl has a similar approach to the novel focusing on the main characters’ relationship to the other. He calls it “das Motiv des ‘Spiegels,’ bzw. das Prinzip der

‘Spiegelbildlichkeit,’” that “eine wichtige Rolle spielt” (Scheidl 2003: 141). Not only do Dani

and Arieh see a reflection of their minority status in others like Yilmaz, they reflect the deeds

and guilt of criminals as well. This reflection exposes the role reversal that these characters have

undertaken when they morph into or absorb the guilt of the perpetrators. It is this upside down

world in which the victims feel like criminals and the Täter are permitted to run free that is the

41 For example, an Austrian living in London would make the Austrian part of a minority culture among a dominant British one. 42 Bischoff traces the development of the Jewish people and demonstrates how the Holocaust has not only become the centerpoint of their culture, but also shows how this event can be regarded as one that is shared among all people (Bischoff 2004: 271-279). Especially note the following passage: “Die besondere Position des Juden besteht hier also gerade darin, daβ er aufgrund seiner partikularen Erfahrung die Brücke zu einer Universalität herstellen kann, in der die jeweils unterschiedlichen Partikularitäten nicht ausgegrenzt oder ausgelöscht werden”(Bischoff 2004: 279). 154

focus of Robert Lawson’s discussion. Like Beilein, Lawson implicates Austria’s silence

regarding its involvement in the Holocaust.43 In addition, Lawson recalls the central elements of

carnival: masquerade, role reversal and grotesque realism, and applies them to his analysis of

Suche nach M. This alternate reality, in which “die Welt steht Kopf,” is represented by the

Flummiball with which the daughter of Arieh’s target Sayid plays (Lawson 2007: 39). In this

reality, Arieh and Dani have the potential to do more than just reveal Austria’s injustices by

switching identities. “The dressings that cover Dani’s body are the trademark of his Mullemann persona and have a twofold connotation implying both sickness and healing” (Lawson 2007: 42).

This bandaged avenger stands at a metaphorical intersection where both silence and atonement of a nation meet. According to Lawson, Rabinovici aims “not to provoke laughter but rather to reflect that which is indescribable using other more traditional aesthetic formulations, namely the horror of the Holocaust, the postwar failure of justice, and the inability of survivors and their descendants to cope with unimaginable trauma” (Lawson 2007: 45-46). Rabinovici, like Mann and Leonhard, is trying to portray something that is ultimately impossible to describe or completely comprehend. Thus, the conventions of carnivalism are not being employed by

Rabinovici to evoke its comical nature but to utilize it as a tool for social criticism which is made possible by the temporary elimination of classes traditionally associated with this event.

Dagmar Lorenz takes a different approach in her examination of Suche nach M; for, she

considers the role of the novel’s genre. Instead of revealing the disguises of masqueraders in the

upside down world of Lawson’s literary carnival, Lorenz focuses on unmasking the mystery of

43 Lawson compares the governmental response to characters who are victims of the Holocaust to its perpetrators living in Austria after the Shoah. He writes: “Contrasting with our conventional notions of justice, victims in Suche nach M, such as Mosche Morgenthau, continue to see their horrendous wartime injuries unrecognized by the state while perpetrators like the Nazi spy Rudi Kreuz remain free and unpunished” (Lawson 2007: 39). In the articles by Beilein and Konzett, they provide a more detailed account of the controversy of Austria’s silence and responses to it (Beilein 2005: 250-253; Konzett 1998). 155

Mullemann and the relationship of the work’s genre to this search. She views Suche nach M in the context of other contemporary Austrian writers such as Robert Schindel, Robert Menasse and the filmmaker Ruth Beckermann; each has implemented the conventions of the detective novel or Krimi to explore the questions of Jewish-Austrian identity in the post-Shoah world. The genre of the detective novel, Lorenz remarks, “traditionally unmask(s) hypocrisy, pretense and other defects of individual characters or society at large” (Lorenz 1998: 37). The search for the alleged serial killer Mullemann illustrates this as shown by the other critics.

This novel is not only a vehicle of social criticism; it follows the formula of a customary detective novel and represents, according to Lorenz, an attempt to re-create the horrific crime of the Holocaust. In her analysis, Lorenz calls to mind some of the scholarship on various forms of

crime fiction, most notably Ernst Bloch’s essay “Philosophische Ansicht des Detektivromans.”

At the core of Bloch’s blueprint for this genre is a pre-existing crime whose mystery is to be

unraveled by the detective through the course of the novel. This is Rabinovici’s main agenda for

fashioning Suche nach M after the model of the detective novel. Here, the crime to be solved is

not committed by a bandaged man or even by a serial killer, it is the Holocaust itself. Lorenz

states “In Suche nach M. only that which remains untold, the already-committed crime that the

reader must reconstruct is the genocide with whose traces and effects the reader is confronted

throughout the narrative” (Lorenz 1998: 45). By employing this genre, Rabinovici and his

contemporaries are able to express the incomprehensible nature of the chaos and the atrocities

that occurred during the Holocaust and also the struggles of those who are living after the tragic

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event. In doing so, Rabinovici also illustrates the inability to conclusively define the identity of the artist.44

Like Lorenz, many scholars have understood Suche nach M through the generic conventions of the detective novel and have shed light on the process by which Rabinovici uses these conventions to address questions of identity—specifically post-Holocaust Jewish-Austrian identity. Rabinovici considers I too will consider this nexus, but wish to shift our concentration away from the problems of Dani and Arieh and toward Keysser and Sina Mohn, two fascinating supporting characters. In this way, we will gain new insights into the role that crime plays in identity construction in the novel in a similar fashion as the previously discussed authors did to delve into their identity as artists. Through the figure of the con artist, Mann is able to portray where the artist and the criminal intersect to show how similar these professions are. Leonhard’s collection of writers offer the reader actual criminal cases to protect their own identity as artists from being criminalized by the government of the Weimar Republic. With his serial characters,

Rabinovici sheds light on the repeated attempts of the artist in the construction and re- construction of one’s own artistic identity.

4.5 Helmuth Keysser: The Seriality of Identity

At this point, I would like to turn to a minor character who is for the most part ignored or overlooked by Rabinovici scholars, Helmuth Keysser. As demonstrated in my discussion of

44 Lorenz claims: “Like the traditional crime novel, Suche nach M., as other post-Shoah crime novels, trace the origins, the effects, and the meaning of the genocide. As with the detective novel, much of its vitality is based on the motif of the chase. The main difference between traditional and postmodern crime narratives lies in the fact that dénouements and clear solutions, still common in English and American mystery fiction as well as in German trivial representatives of the genres, cannot be offered. The truly significant crimes post-Shoah societies are struggling with are inconceivable and the perpetrators too numerous” (Lorenz 1998: 45).

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Felix Krull, the secondary characters are essential to interpreting the protagonist of the novel. It

is figures like Müller-Rosé, Andromache, and Schimmelpreester who expose the criminality of

Krull and of the artist. Thus, it is advantageous to look at Keysser before the rest, because I

argue that an understanding of this individual makes it possible to ascertain the true nature of what is ailing the identity search of the main characters. Through Keysser, we are able to gain a unique point of entry to Dani and Arieh. Keysser is an anonymous other and mirror who reflects the problems faced by the novel’s major protagonists, despite only having indirect contact with them in the story. In her analysis of the novel which emphasizes the importance of reading it as a detective story, Dagmar Lorenz enters into a rare discussion of Keysser and the other genuine serial killer found in secondary literature on the novel. She describes them as the following:

Rabinovici’s novel does feature such serial killers, one a seemingly loving family father

by the name of Keysser, whose activities alternate between his office work, family

errands, and stalking and murdering women, and another by the name of Rainer Sender.

Bland and trivial, neither one of them amounts to more than a marginal figure (Lorenz

1998: 43)

Indeed, Keysser would remain a figure of little to no consequence in the novel except for his

extraordinary acts of murder. Without them, he would indeed be a fairly boring and forgettable

person. For the most part, he seems to be going through the motions of being your everyday

father and husband: he has a boring job at an insurance company, he is responsible for picking up

his daughter at ballet, and he pays electric bills and is invited to the company Christmas party.

Yet, he rejects his average and mundane life by becoming the actual serial killer in the work, having murdered six people. Upon first inspection, it appears that he commits acts of what

Maria Tatar calls Lustmord, since he murders and rapes five women. Although Tatar’s study

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concerns sexual murder in Weimar Germany and not post-Holocaust Vienna, some of her observations on both artistic depictions and actual crimes committed by men against women are worth mentioning in respect to Keysser. While he is not dealing with all of the male traumas experienced by soldiers readjusting to life after World War I, he still shares some of their fears.45

“Fantasies of sexual assault on women,” Tatar writes, “might be driven by the combination of resentment, self-doubt, and vulnerability experienced by several generations of German men”

(Tatar 1995: 12). Keysser’s crimes against women seem to fit this mold, since they illustrate his need to have power and control over members of the other gender. Perhaps, the numerous murders signify an opportunity to reassert the dominance of the masculine in a world being changed by the increasing power gained by women as is in the society of Weimar Germany described by Tatar. What we do know is that something in these unknown women excites him.

They all represent a chance for him to exert power over them.

Frauen zu erwürgen, hieβ die Beherrschung seiner selbst mit jener über die Opfer zu

tauschen. Sobald die Leichen unter ihm lagen, er sich in ihnen verströmt hatte, erwachte

er aus einem Rausch, denn Leblose lieβen sich von ihm nicht mehr quälen, sie waren

seiner Macht entzogen. (Rabinovici 1999: 133-4)

This is a power he does not have with his wife as exhibited in our first glimpse of Keysser. His stalking of Caro Sandner is interrupted by a phone call from Hilde Keysser, asking Helmuth to pick up their daughter Petra at ballet. Even when he does exercise control over his wife in bed,

45 Tatar highlights the numerous anxieties men faced in Weimar Germany, many of which were attributed to World War I. Men had to deal with the “psychic fall-out” of the war which included coping with defeat, physical dismemberment or injuries incurred through combat, and the mental anguish from experiencing the horrors of war. Added to these issues was the emergence of women in society, whose bodies “escaped the shells and shrapnel” of battle. Women were gaining more important roles in the economy as they had to replace the men fighting on the front and would then “slide into the role of a covert enemy” upon the return of the men after the war (Tatar 1995: 12). 159

in a similar manner as with his victims, he feels shame, guilt, and fear the next morning.46

Unlike Dani and Arieh, Keysser does not even attain a momentary sense of relief when he

commits these crimes. He immediately feels empty, because he no longer has the opportunity to

control these women, and in the case of his wife, he no longer has control over her in the

morning.

Keysser has been seeking control over his life, but allows others do it for him. Like

Trautner and the other authors of the Auβenseiter series postulate what forces are behind the

creation of lawbreakers, Keysser wonders what compels him to kill. He comes to the conclusion

that he is a product of chance much like his murders. “War er ein Frauenmörder, bloβ weil er

einmal getötet hatte? Hatte er die Unbekannte denn mit Vorsatz umbringen wollen? Nein, ein

Unfall schien ihm alles” (Rabinovici 1999: 124). He meets his wife accidentally and marries her

because he does not know what else to do. He is very much a nonperson and chameleon-like

character in the novel. Such characteristics call to mind some similarities with Mark Seltzer’s

“statistical person,” one, “who, in its most radical form experiences identity, his own and others

as a matter of numbers, kinds, types, and as a matter of simulation and likeness” (Seltzer 1998:

4). Keysser participates in Seltzer’s classification insofar as he is an anonymous person in the

crowd who does not experience individuality.47 He is basically a normal person who leads a

relatively uneventful life. Most of the stress in his life is derived from his controlling wife and the constant misspellings of his name on minor documents such as an invitation to an office holiday party, his bills and pay stubs. Although he claims that “Namen sind Schall und Rauch,”

46 In this scene, he does pretend she is another woman. One can speculate that this is the reason he feels such guilt, because he treats her like his other victims which she enjoys (Rabinovici 1999: 131). 47 Reflecting upon Fredric Jameson’s work Marxism and its Forms, Seltzer considers the statistical person as a “mass-man, the anonymous and faceless crowds in the streets and factories of the world” (Seltzer 1998: 237). These aspects of a lost sense of identity in regard to the serial person are more applicable to Keysser than a “remodeling” of the faceless. (Seltzer 1998: 237). 160

one increasingly gets the sense that names are more important to this family man than he initially discloses to his wife and others (Rabinovici 1999: 125). While Keysser requires to be recognized by others through the correct spelling of his name, Felix Krull, on the other hand, relishes the fluidity in name changes. It provides him with the opportunity to have multiple identities, whereas Keysser struggles to have a single identity.

His lack of identity contributes to his murders and comes to the forefront in the case of

Seefried. He desires distinction and his own identity. I believe that Mark Seltzer’s Serial Killers brings a complex reading of serial killers which can offer some insights into Rabinovici’s

Keysser and his issues of identity. Seltzer locates the figure of the serial killer at the center of what he calls America’s “wound culture” at the end of the twentieth century, which he defines as: “the public fascination with torn and opened bodies and torn and opened persons, a collective gathering around shock, trauma, and the wound” (Seltzer 1998: 1). It is a society that convenes around the site of “the fallen body, the wrecked machine, and the wound,” which we find just another ordinary occurrence (Seltzer 1998: 22). A culture which is bombarded by violence on a daily basis through news reports, car accidents, and replayed sports injuries. The most popular television show is CSI where the focus is on the hyper-reality of detecting the criminal through autopsies of the victims48. Others tune into reality television where individuals expose their lives and innermost secrets to the world. Whether real or fictional, today’s culture convenes around open bodies. It is a collective spectacle where public and private spheres meet. It is a fascination exploited by Leonhard, who is trying to capture the sentiment of the masses for the defense of the artist against the legal institutions of the Weimar Republic.

48 Seltzer uses the television program of ER to illustrate the “half meat and half machinery” world in reality and fiction (Seltzer 1998: 22). 161

Seltzer’s concept of the serial killer stands at the center of this intersection. The serial killer as celebrity draws the attention of the wound culture by causing one, taking the lives of others. Yet, at the same time, this criminal fuels the public fantasies to produce crime documentaries and fictional representations for the consumption of the masses. Concerning the uncertainties of trauma and its role in delineating these borers, Seltzer comments:

The notion of the trauma has thus come to function not merely as a sort of switchpoint

between bodily and psychic orders; it has, beyond that, come to function as a switchpoint

between individual and collective, private and public orders of things. The wound and its

strange attractions have become one way of locating the violence and the erotics at the

crossing point of private fantasy and collective space: one way of locating what I have

been calling the pathological public sphere. (Seltzer 1998: 254)

It is this place where the serial killer is created; for, this type of individual is unable to recognize the blurry boundaries between reality and fantasy. Seltzer’s serial killer, thus, transforms private desires into public actions and performs the ideas of others. The serial killer undergoes the constant process of identification in order to establish an identity, which has tragic results:

The identification with others, in this fashion, makes for the destruction of others—that

is, destruction for fuller possession. The stakes of the murder are thus not finally the

possession of an object of love or pleasure but self-possession: the repeated and

repeatedly failed attempt, to pass through identification to identity. (Seltzer 1998: 274)

The mimetic nature and inability of an individual to distinguish the boundary between the self and others ends in the murder of others. The identity of the serial killer is in essence a failed one,

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because individuals are not able to separate themselves from society: they get lost in the

pathological public sphere. A serial killer becomes a “mass in person” and tries to kill the self in

order to attain a sense of identity.

In the murder of Seefried, Keysser deviates from his traditional female targets and instead

kills the tobacconist Gunther Seefried as an experiment, because he believes that Seefried is

Mullemann. The purpose of this homicide is to eliminate the individual taking credit for his crimes and mistakenly assumes that Seefried is the one who is sending letters detailing both past and future crimes of Keysser. His drive to kill Seefried is not necessarily an attempt “to be somebody” or to become famous which are common perceptions of the serial killer made by the public as summarized by Seltzer (Seltzer 1998: 135). I believe Keysser simply wants his existence to be recognized by somebody not everybody and that this wish is threatened by

Mullemann’s confessions delivered to and by the press.

For Keysser, everything seems to be a result of an accident or of chance. As previously

stated, even his murders are viewed as an accident. The life of Caro Sandner is spared at the

beginning of this chapter because of a phone call from his wife which momentarily distracts

Keysser long enough for Caro to slip away. Caro’s initial reprieve coupled with Keysser’s

outlook of the world reinforces this notion of chance as depicted in the life of Jakob. Alive only

because of a case of misidentification during the Holocaust in which he was believed to be Adam

Kruzki, he tells his friend and fellow Holocaust survivor Leon Fischer that, “Unser Überleben

war immer bloβ eine Verwechslung” (Rabinovici 1998: 96). They believe that their identities

and especially in the cases of Jakob and Caro their survival is attributed to chance. Keysser is

under the false premise that his identity is a product of fate, because he is controlled by others in

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his life such as his wife and also simply because he did not have the ability to choose his last

name Keysser. In contrast to Dani and Arieh, Keysser does not change his name in his search for

identity, yet he is driven to madness because of it. Despite dismissing the importance of names,

he is constantly enraged when it is spelled incorrectly. By asserting his physical power over

strange women, Keysser tries to formulate an identity of masculinity and strength through his

murders. The anger displayed toward the countless misspellings of his name and his killings

demonstrate both a dependence upon others for his identity but also an inability to distinguish

between the boundaries of the public and private spheres. In contrast, Krull views having a

singular name and being dependent on others as impediments to his freedom. The central problems of the chapter are solved when Caro Sandner appears again at its end. Whereas she poorly spells the names of her patients at the onset of this section, Caro Sandner correctly spells

Keysser’s name after first establishing that he is not the assumed serial killer Mullemann. In that moment, he is able to discover his own identity not by repeatedly killing women but by being recognized by another. Something even his wife would not do. He is Helmuth Keysser.

4.6 Sina Mohn: Detecting the Ignorance of Art

Like Keysser, the character of Sina Mohn is another interesting figure in Rabinovici’s

Suche nach M, but is not given much consideration by literary scholars. Her two professions are

overlooked in favor for her role as Mullemann’s lover and the one who could help cure him of

his rash and thusly his crisis of identity.49 Her character represents an instance in Rabinovici’s

work where the paths of crime an art overtly intersect, since she is a “Kulturtheoretikerin und

49 Sina’s role as Dani’s lover and potential “cure” should not, however, be ignored and agree with Freund’s ideas on their relationship, and I will briefly address this issue at the end of this section (Freund 2001: 188). 164

Kunstmanagerin” but also a kleptomaniac (Rabinovici 1998: 181). While the sort of her criminality is mostly harmless, it is similar to the serial killing of Keysser because of the urge to steal goods over and over again. In the reader’s first encounter with this intriguing woman, we see her through the eyes of Mullemann as she steals cosmetics in a supermarket. “Er spürte, wie aufgeregt und ausgelassen sie war, als sie losstürmte und im Seitenblick Ausschau hielt, verstohlen” (Rabinovici 1999: 170). He is a witness to her emotions as she takes the lipstick, but again offers up his own confession when she is confronted by the establishment’s security officer, allowing her to escape in the confusion. After this unique experience, Sina is compelled to search for this strange bandaged fellow, “Sie wollte ihn wiedersehen, ihren Kavalier, den

Komplizen ihrer geheimen Leidenschaft” (Rabinovici 1999: 176). She does succeed where the police and Arieh initially fail and is the first to find the elusive Mullemann whom she adopts as her lover and shelters from the authorities.

In this novel where the act of searching plays a central role, Sina Mohn is credited with

not only finding the alleged criminal Mullemann but it is her job as “Expertin und Managerin der

Avantgarde” to discover promising artists. Because of this position and her influence in the field, she has the ability to make or break an artist’s career. While scouting the works which resemble Mullemann by the enigmatic artist Otto Toot, she inadvertently leads the police and

Arieh to her lover and accidentally causes a rift in Arieh and Navah Bein’s relationship.

Sina Mohn accomplishes more for the novel than merely acting as the final clue for

Mullemann’s eventual discovery; she unintentionally reveals the role art can play in exposing the

negative serial behavior in culture and a nation. When Arieh’s wife Navah stumbles across the

exhibition of Otto Toot’s works while looking for a bank, she ends up having a rather heated

conversation with Sina about Toot’s painting Ahasver. This painting moves Sina because how 165

“er ihren Blick wiedergab”and thinks that it is “eine Art Spiegel” (Rabinovici 1999: 201). For

her, this work of art has the ability to reflect one’s innermost thoughts. Furthermore, she

confesses to Navah that this portrait is a very good representation of her new lover. According to

Sina, like the painting her lover “kann die Schuld der anderen sehen” (Rabinovici 1999: 205).

This conversation upsets Navah on several levels. First, she believes that her husband is

having an affair with this art manager since she sees Arieh dress in bandages like Mullemann

while he scours the streets of Vienna. Moreover, she is angry because of the ignorance displayed

by Sina and the artist, Otto Toot, in regard to the infamous legacy of the figure of the

“Wandering Jew.” In response to Navah’s question as to why she thinks the painting is named

Ahasver, she replies: “Vielleicht, weil er uns mit der Schuld konfrontieren wollte. Mit dieser

jüdischen Gestalt der Reue” (Rabinovici 1999: 206). Navah reacts irately to this suggestion and

begins to correct Sina’s misconception of Ahasver, explaining how it is an anti-Semitic figure

created by Christians. While Navah confuses her husband for Mullemann, Sina is at the onset of

this discussion misinformed as to the identity of Ahasver. Through this artwork and its title,

Rabinovici uncovers the threatening environment Jews and other minorities are confronted with

on a daily basis in Austria. This is partly caused by ignorance as exemplified by the case of Sina

who is educated on her erroneous understanding of the painting’s title by Navah. Sina applies

this newfound knowledge when she confronts Otto Toot with an inquiry behind the meaning of

his title. Here, I believe Otto displays more than ignorance as to the implications and significance of this title, he shows his indifference. Her suspicion of his cluelessness is confirmed in his defensive retort: “Warum sollte ich mich schuldig fühlen? Gibt es eine Kollektivschuld? Darf ich keine Gestalt der jüdischen Überlieferung zeichnen?” (Rabinovici 1999: 211). Like Mullemann,

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art has the power to reveal unspoken guilt and an ignorance of a majority to the creation of a

hostile environment for its minorities.

4.7 “Die Welt steht Kopf”: The Guilty Victims

The accidental meeting between Sina Mohn and Navah has a twofold effect on

Rabinovici’s narrative: it overtly exposes the kinship between Dani and Arieh and the complexities Jewish-Austrians face in forming a healthy identity. Based upon the conversation regarding the painting of Ahasver by Otto Toot, Navah incorrectly deduces that Arieh is having an affair with Sina. This is rooted in Sina’s admission that she has fallen for a man who, like

Toot’s portrait, is covered in bandages and can reflect the guilt inside of others (Rabinovici1999:

205). This description matches Arieh’s allergy and his current practice of dressing up in gauze as he searches for Mullemann. The connection between Arieh and Dani is however sealed in the opening chapter of the novel. Here, Jakob is confused for Adam for the second time, in a chance meeting with Kruzki’s widow, Tonja, in 1963. By being mistaken for Adam by Tonja, grandmother of Dani, and thinking she was his former wife, Hannah, they both had sons who had problems with parental guilt and establishing a sense of self. Like Mullemann, Arieh would employ his allergy to change his identity so that he could ease his feelings of guilt. These

“virtual brothers” are further linked by the subject of their lovers’ debate over the painting of

Ahasver. The identities of Dani and Arieh are affected by the misperceptions created by this controversial figure. Both of the protagonists and their families are burdened by guilt for being

Jewish and surviving the Holocaust despite being its victims. Ahasver functions in a similar fashion: the Jewish people who are victims of discrimination from this legend are portrayed as

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the perpetrators—and the perpetrators as victims. I wish to examine the families of the two main

characters to locate the origin of their guilt because it is this guilt which prohibits Dani and Arieh

from developing a stable identity by compelling them to act like serial killers.

The contradictory condition whereby a feeling of guilt is accompanied by a claim of

victimhood is indirectly considered in Mark Seltzer’s study on serial killers. In respect to these criminals, Seltzer contemplates the converse assertion occasionally made by them that they are the victims despite being guilty of multiple murders. The rationale behind such a contention maintains that they are only a serial killer because they were a victim of some trauma as a child.

This is the claim made by Strauβ in Otten’s case study. Here, the convicted murderer and lifelong criminal argues that he is the true casualty, believing his crimes to be the consequences of the horrible conditions experienced as a child. As Seltzer notes, this supposition that childhood trauma is always to be found as the impetus for one to commit acts of compulsive violence is canonical (Seltzer 1998: 256). Criminological and popular texts on these criminals are so saturated by this hypothesis that it is now implicit that any case involving a social deviant must have some connection to a past trauma even where evidence pertaining to such an event is nonexistent. Take the common example of a sex offender: it is assumed that the crimes perpetrated by this individual are a result or reenactment of similar offenses undergone as a child. Likewise, Seltzer posits the serial killer’s place in such an assumption: “On this model, the killer-victim is one link in the chain of traumatic repetitions: abused and victimized as a child, abusive and victimizing as an adult” (Seltzer 1999: 257). Although Seltzer is not completely convinced that childhood trauma is a necessary component for the makeup of a serial offender, it can be applied to Suche nach M. Rabinovici employs the same approach to an

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understanding of the central characters, but adjusts the “killer-victim” to the “victim-culprit.”50

In the novel, the survivors and victims of the Holocaust transmit emotions of guilt to their

children.

The first child I shall examine is Dani Morgenthau, alias Mullemann. He is the character

who upon first inspection corresponds to Reiss’ characters who feel ashamed when they are

being kicked or an inverted version of Seltzer’s serial killer as victim. His mantra admitting guilt

to crimes he did not commit, “Ich war’s. Ich bin schuld. Ich hab’s getan,” which is echoed

throughout the course of the book helps to propel this apparent clichéd character to a

mythological status (Rabinovici 1999: 33). To understand his guilty conscience, we should, as

Seltzer suggests, first look at his upbringing. Both of his parents and his grandmother who lives

with them are survivors of the Holocaust while he is born decades later. For the most part, his

family is incapable of talking about this event. The past of Dani’s family is only to be found in

their silence. This trend continues when he describes the relationship between his mother and

grandmother: “Zwischen den beiden herrschte ein einmütiges Schweigen” (Rabinovici 1999:

28). Like any child, Dani was naturally curious about the world in which he lives and would ask

questions, especially about what had happened to his parents and grandmother during the

Holocaust. His mother would answer him quite quickly and abruptly with short phrases such as

“Stehende” and “In Viehwaggons” (Rabinovici 1999: 31). These inquiries to his mother were viewed by his father as agitating and tormenting and would reprimand his son. Occasionally, his grandmother, Tonja, would break the silence and mention something from this time period to

50 Seltzer questions the certainty of trauma in such cases where trauma is claimed to be a cause to a series of crimes (Seltzer 1998: 257-8). I feel that this assumption has now become clichéd for Seltzer and presents this case because of its prevalence among fictional and criminological texts. 169

offer Dani advice for his future or would reveal why his parents were afraid of narrow rooms

(Rabinovici 1999: 30).

Despite the few and short glimpses elicited from the females in the Morgenthau family, silence still ruled any discussion concerning the past. The literary scholar Günther Scheidl highlights this void when he states, “In der Familie von Dani Morgenthau herrscht ein beredtes

Schweigen. Ihm wird klar, daβ das Schweigen ihre Form der Erinnerung darstellt” (Scheidl

2003: 140). This silence pervades every aspect of their lives to the extent that any occurrence in the newspapers or on television that has any relation to the Holocaust is turned away from by his parents. Although Dani had learned about the Holocaust by the age of eight, he was in denial that his family could have been there, just as he was in denial of his parents having sexual relations (Rabinovici 1999: 32). Although the terse responses of Dani’s mother, Gitta, provided sparse details about her life during the Holocaust, she rendered more information than her husband Mosche. Instead of giving Dani one word answers to his questions, he would begin to tell a story which would allow the silence of the family to permeate the realm of fairy tales. His father would often begin his stories, “Es war einmal ein kleiner Junge, und der hieβ Dani...”

(Rabinovici 1999: 27, 30). But the story would often stop there and Dani would refuse to listen and would say, “Ich will eine richtige Gesichte” (Rabinovici 1999: 27). Whereas most children find great joy in being the central figure in a fairy tale, Dani wants to learn about his parents and grandparents. He wishes to hear about their past, so that he can figure out who he is and where he came from.

Dani’s “Gesichte” is really the only story his family has left after the Holocaust especially since his uncles Danek and Marek were victims of the genocide. Dani’s sense of identity is not only threatened by the reluctance of his family to disclose their past but is also

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haunted by his murdered uncles. His family’s oral tradition of silence and their expectations placed upon the young Dani eventually become too much for him to bear. He carries the silent trauma of the family and their Überlebensschuld. “Dani war ihnen seit seiner Geburt als

Reinkarnation verschiedener Verwandter, als Wiederkehr in mehrfacher Gestalt erschienen, als

Triumph und Rückerstattung dessen was zerstört und umgebracht worden war” (Rabinovici

1999: 71). He is in essence the resurrection of his slain relatives, especially of his uncles Danek and Marek. Discussion of them represents the rare occasion when Dani’s elders would actually abandon their silence regarding the past. Dani’s visage is compared to that of his uncle Danek who according to Tonja was “ein Charmeur” and was sought after by all the women in town.

This story is quickly halted by Dani’s mother who whispers, “Erschossen. Im Wald”

(Rabinovici 1999: 31). Dani is also likened to his uncle Marek in that Dani’s abilities in school were associated with Marek’s ability to memorize anything he heard (Rabinovici 1999: 36).

Dani adopts habits that his family would not participate in such as going to the Synagogue and abstaining from pork “Ganz wie Onkel Marek” (Rabinovici 1999: 71). For his parents and grandmother, Dani is the spiritual and physical incarnation of his uncles. Because of having a

“Gesicht” similar to Danek, Dani’s story and identity symbolically become intertwined in the eyes of his family. This prompts Mosche to even begin one of his fairy tales by saying “Es war einmal ein Frauenverführer, und der hieβ Dani” (Rabinovici 1999: 31). The trauma of those missing and the guilt accompanied with surviving the Holocaust are transferred to the young

Dani. The weight will prove too much for him to handle which will preclude him from establishing an identity as he attempts to find it by continually absorbing the guilt of others.

Following Seltzer’s model of childhood trauma, Arieh’s violent search for identity can be attributed to his father. As in the case of Dani, Arieh is unable to establish a stable identity

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because the residual trauma received from his father. He, however, is encouraged to become strong and tough. First, his father encouraged Arieh to fight back against those who hurt him.

Jakob told him: “Dich soll keiner ungestraft schlagen, Arieh, Hörst du? Dich nicht” (Rabinovici

1999: 49). Arieh would later don the clothing of the enemy; his new appearance resembling that of neo-Nazis, prompting his father to say, “Besser mit Stiefeln, als getreten werden” (Rabinovici

1999: 56). Conversely, Dani could never wear the clothing of a neo-Nazi for fear of terrorizing his family and breaking their hearts, nor could he harm anyone physically.

The Scheinowiz family did behave in a fashion akin to the Morgenthau’s. In both families, silence in regard to the families’ pasts reigned which helped cause the ailments of the children. Arieh was clueless to the fact that his father also took on many different names and identities. His father, Jakov Scheinowiz was also known as Jakob Fandler and was often confused as Adam Kruzki. The first time allowed him to survive the Holocaust which caused him much guilt throughout his life. He too felt guilty for surviving the Holocaust, because he had done so only by chance, through a case of mistaken identity and by changing his name to

Jakob Fandler. In this manner, Arieh is like Felix Krull who follows in the deceptive ways of his father Engelbert. Krull and Arieh are both capable of taking on new identities. While Krull does so for his personal pleasure, Arieh changes transforms into others out of necessity. Arieh follows his father’s example by altering his identity in moving to Israel as part of his job as a secret agent there. Besides the numerous aliases he had in this profession, Arieh changed his name to Arthur Bein when he sought refuge in Israel. Jakob’s Überlebensschuld was passed on to the son. “In Arieh sass eine geheimnisvolle Schuld, von der er nichts ahnte, die aber seinem blossen Dasein, der Gegenwart schlechthin, anhaftete” (Rabinovici 1999: 49). Jakob buries his feelings of guilt in his silence. Whenever Arieh would ask his father about his history, Jakob

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would respond, “Wer ich war, wird auf meinem Grabstein stehen. Ein wenig Geduld, mein

Sohn” (Rabinovici 1999: 42). This response gives the second generation even less information than Mosche and his wife would confer to Dani. Such silence translates into the extraordinary behavior by the children as they try to cope with the unspoken guilt and pressures of their elders.

The feelings of guilt held by these Jewish characters are further complicated by their situation living in Austria. In Rabinovici, we not only find the contradictory construction of victim-culprit but also Seltzer’s standard version of killer-victim. As shown through the ignorance of Mohn and Toot in regard to the figure of the “Wandering Jew,” Rabinovici reveals the ambivalent and silent attitude held by many non-Jewish Austrians toward the Holocaust and

Austria’s relationship to it. Recall that the “Wandering Jew” implies a victim-culprit status for the Jewish people—they are victims of an anti-Semitic program started by Christians who placed guilt upon the Jews for one who allegedly taunted Jesus on his path to crucifixion. We can apply the label of killer-victim to the Austrians; since 1945, Austrians have traditionally remained silent regarding complicity with the National Socialists in the Holocaust. Moreover, Austria actually claimed to be the first victim of Hitler through the Anschluβ. Suche nach M is

Rabinovici’s critique on Austria’s refusal to acknowledge its collaboration with the Nazis in the atrocities of the Holocaust and to a lesser extent the lack of reparations given by the government to the survivors. The story portrays the difficulties of Jews living in Austria where there are landmarks which silently mark the anti-Semitic policies of Austria’s past. Just as Toot’s Ahasver inadvertently reaffirms the undercurrent sentiments of Austria, Rabinovici further signals the hostile topography Jews must face every day living in Austria. Already on the first page, we find

Jakob at Café Prückel which stands across from the “Monument eines Antisemiten von

Weltrang” (Rabinovici 1999: 7). This refers to the former mayor of Vienna Karl Lueger who

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was the first to bring anti-Semitism to modern politics.51 The author is playing the role of Navah

Bein, detecting and unveiling the hidden symbols of anti-Semitism. Mosche Morgenthau

embodies the role reversal of the perpetrator-victim relationship as is demonstrated by his

speech. When he talks, he constantly replaces periods with question marks so that all of his

statements sound like questions.52 This tic, according to his wife, developed when Mosche tried

to gain confirmation of his suffering during the Holocaust. It is his own version of nonviolent

serial behavior. He has no desire for monetary reparations; he just wants to show Dani an

admission of guilt on behalf of Austria, so that Dani would stop absorbing the guilt of others—

proving that Dani is indeed innocent. Like Mosche, Rabinovici is calling for an end to Austria’s

silence on the Holocaust and recognition of the anti-Semitism that is still present in its society.53

While Loos called for a modernization of the cultural attitudes to stifle isolationist sentiments of

Austria at the beginning of the twentieth century, Rabinovici demands an awareness and

tolerance for minority cultures in Austria at the end of the century.

4.8 Seriality: Repeated Attempts to Cope with Trauma and Establish an Identity

Burdened with the trauma of the previous generation and the silence accompanying it,

Dani and Arieh are prevented from developing an identity. Since they are unable to turn to their

family, they rely on others to find themselves. In this section, I desire to illustrate how these

characters unknowingly adopt the methods of Keysser, the serial killer, to establish an identity.

51 Beilein mentions other references to this monument via Café Prückel a frequent gathering place for Austrian- Jewish intellectuals such as Rabinovici. Notably, this tribute can be found in Rabinovici’s short story, “Noémi” (Beilein 2005: 251). 52 This passage provides an example of Mosche talking and an explanation of his “allergy” by his wife (Rabinovici 1999: 241-242). 53 As Beilein points out, Rabinovici has been calling for Austria to end its silence since the election of Waldheim in 1986 (Beilein 2005: 250). 174

Being unable to learn about his family’s tortured past and being viewed as the reincarnation of

his murdered relatives are two of the factors which limit Dani’s ability to form a healthy sense of

self. For Scheidl, Dani is not treated as an individual, “Vielmehr muss er als Projektionsfläche

für die Wünsche der Eltern herhalten” (Scheidl 2003: 141).54 Even though the task of living up

to the expectations of his family is basically impossible, he does his best not to disappoint them.

Except for a few minor acts such as his refusal as a child to lie on his father’s belly or his

rejection to being fed by his mother as a baby, Dani unlike Arieh did not show evidence of

rebelling against his parents. Instead, “Dani verbarg alle Gedanken an Revolte und Befreiung,”

because he realized the consequences if he did resist them (Rabinovici 1999: 83). To do so,

“schien ihm eine Vernichtungsdrohung gegen die Überlebenden, gegen die Opfer, gegen seine

Eltern” (Rabinovici 1999: 83). He would not do anything against his family because it would

entail “sie im Stich, sie endgültig allein zu lassen in dieser Fremde” (Rabinovici 1999: 36). His

personal growth as an individual is impeded because of his (justifiable) fear of leaving his family

behind. Dani cannot articulate his own desires but rather becomes an outlet for others. Instead

of pursuing his own path, Dani is called upon to fulfill the wishes of his ancestors. This prompts

Winfried Freund to remark: “Auferlegt ist ihm, die Sehnsüchte und Wünsche der frustrierten

Vatergeneration zu erfüllen” (Freund 2001: 186).

It is not surprising that the pressure to live up to the expectations of his family and of society is overwhelming for the young Morgenthau.55 In her chapter “Unresolved Identities in

54 Also note Scheidl’s preceding sentence, “Wie Schindels Katzs wird Dani nicht als Individuum behandlet, das eigene Vorstellungen vom Leben hat und seinen eigenen Weg finden muss” (Scheidl 2003: 141). Here Scheidl even acknowledges that the character of Dani Morgenthau is not even treated as an individual who can determine his own fate. This emphasizes how Dani is a product of others and is unable to define himself. 55 Dani was torn by the contradicting pressures placed upon him by his family and society. No matter the outcome, he could not appease everyone (Rabinovici 1999: 82-3). This is briefly discussed by Günther Scheidl when he writes, “Dani soll der Geschichte zwar gedenken, aber dennoch unbeschwert von ihr aufwachsen können. Er soll 175

Roth and Rabinovici: Reworking the Crime Genre in Austrian Literature,” Marieke Krajenbrink

notes that, “The burden of the past weighs heavy on Dani Morgenthau, who under the pressure of

parental expectations develops peculiar forms of behavior” (Krajenbrink 2009). Under

enormous stress and unable to truly define and express himself, the child Dani creates a mantra:

“Ich war’s. Ich bin schuld. Ich hab’s getan” (Rabinovici 1999: 33). His only friends as a boy

were the mischievous brothers Peter and Manfred. While the brothers constantly got into

trouble, Dani, who only tagged along without committing any offenses, would readily accept

blame for their transgressions despite his own innocence. His confessions of guilt were met with

laughter and amusement as everyone knew he was innocent.

Dani forms an identity by continuing to repeat his mantra of guilt as a child but without

breaking the law. What had started as something viewed as cute eventually developed into his

identity of Mullemann. He recognizes the feelings of Überlebensschuld in his parents and grandmother and absorbs their guilt.

Die Eltern sagten nie, daβ sie bloβ für ihn überlebten, doch er hörte ihr Seufzen, sah in

den Augen des Vaters, daβ sein Sohn der Vorwand ihrer Existenz hätte sein können,

wenn die Toten dereinst fragen mochten, warum sie beide nicht ebenfalls umgebracht

worden waren, und nachts, soviel wuβte Dani Morgenthau, tauchten die Ermordeten in

den Träumen seiner Alten auf und fragten sie aus. All ihre Gefühle der Schuld – er sog

sie auf. (Rabinovici 1999: 8)

wie alle anderen Jungen in seiner Klasse sein, aber doch seine Herkunft nicht vergessen, soll beweisen, dass Juden auch Deutsch können, ja womöglich sogar besser als Nichtjuden, soll sich die deutschen Dichter und Denker aneignen, doch zugleich auch Hebräisch lernen und die jüdische Kultur kennen und pflegen. Zwischen diesen zum Teil widersprüchlichen Erwartungen wird Dani schliesslich zerrieben” (Scheidl 2003: 141).

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As David Kassner states, “Dani übernimmt die verschwiegene ‘Schuld’ seiner Eltern wie die

geleugnete der Täter und bekennt in der Folge – ein Fall von Überkompensation – alle

uneingestandenen” (Kassner 2001). As a result, he develops a sense of self based upon the guilt

of others; his identity now becomes dependent upon others, namely those who are guilty. This

condition progresses to become pathological, to the extent that Dani’s reliance on confessing his

adopted feelings of guilt eventually manifests itself physically in the form of a rash. He becomes

allergic to the silence of the guilty. The only way for him to quell the pain and itchiness of the

rash is to confess his guilt to a crime he did not commit.

After participating in the trial of the Turk Yilmaz as a juror, the person known as Dani

vanishes and reappears as Mullemann.56 This figure creates a frenzy in which all of Vienna is

searching for him because of his unique talent; for, his confessions of guilt have evolved from the childhood pranks of his so-called friends to admissions of murder. He is sought after by

Arieh because he reveals the dark deeds Arieh has committed as an agent of the Mossad.

Mullemann sends letters to the press claiming to be the serial killer who has struck fear in the hearts of the Viennese, while the nondescript Keysser is the actual culprit. This causes both the police and Keysser to search for him, the latter wanting to be acknowledged for his crimes. The hit man Antonov is also looking for Mullemann, because Mullemann has been mistaken for the assassin and has taken the payment for Antonov’s work. Dani seamlessly roams the city covered in “Mullbinden” because of his skin ailment while admitting the guilt of the silent perpetrators.

Essentially, Mullemann is a serial killer minus the murder. He operates in a similar

manner to Keysser—both employ repetition in the search for their own identity through others.

56 Beilein contends that Dani’s encounter with Yilmaz represents the Wendepunkt for Dani because it provides him with a mirror in which he can see himself in others. The Jewish Dani is able to recognize his status as a member of a minority living in Austria like Yilmaz the Turk. It is after this point that the personality known as Mullemann appears (Beilein 2005: 254). 177

In doing so, Mullemann, loses the ability to distinguish between themselves and others just like

Keysser. Here, Seltzer discusses the potential importance of this disintegration of barriers:

It may provide one way of understanding the foundational status of trauma in

psychoanalysis (trauma as a failure of distinction between inside and outside, private and

public registers) and, in turn may provide one way of understanding how private trauma

itself has emerged as public culture on the contemporary scene: how the

psychopathologies of shock, trauma, and the wound have emerged as the very model of

the public sphere. (Seltzer 1998: 113)

Without these boundaries, Dani cannot separate the unspoken guilt of others from himself, and is therefore able to detail and declare the crimes and desires of others to the world. Although

Mullemann is not a serial killer per se, he, having lost the aforementioned distinctions, brings the private trauma of others into the public sphere and is a living display of the wounds of others.

He becomes more than a display, he becomes a public spectacle who is lauded as a criminological expert in the newspapers, appears on talk shows and makes public speeches.

Just like the alleged serial killer Peter Stump, Mullemann takes on a mythological role.

Both were thought to be serial killers with supernatural powers. However, in the end Peter

Stump is executed for supposedly being a werewolf while Mullemann is ultimately revered for being an expert criminologist who expresses the guilt society feels. This inspires Winfried

Freund to call Mullemann, “der Schmerzensmann und der Sündenbock, beladen mit aller Schuld der Welt, Opfer und Täter in einer Personen” (Freund 2001: 186). Despite Mullemann being

Jewish many scholars, such as Lorenz, discuss him in terms of being a Christ figure, both taking on the guilt of the world:

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Mullemann is the detective figure…who intuits the crimes planned and committed

around him and feels compelled to confess to them while his body registers his

contemporaries’ villains by developing festering sores and boils, occupies a position of

almost mythical proportion: he is an avenger, a victim, and, by assuming the crimes and

suffering of everybody, a Jesus figure. (Lorenz 1998: 43-44) 57

He stands for all minorities who are persecuted whether one is Jewish, Turkish, or even

Austrian.58 Even though Mullemann is being searched for by everyone, he, as Lorenz points out

above, is actually the master detective in the work uncovering crimes past and present. Kai

Bammann intimates in his discussion on the history of serial killers that such mythical beings

were implemented to make the unknown more intelligible. As the werewolf was once hunted to help explain the existence of a serial killer, Mullemann is also an attempt to make the incomprehensible somewhat more understandable, just like Mann utilizes the criminal to help explain the artist. Rabinovici is by no means trying to decipher the impossible question of why the Holocaust occurred, but is trying to convey the complex feelings held by the first and second generation survivors of Auschwitz. As illustrated in Dani’s family and as will be shown in

Arieh’s, Mullemann articulates the guilt complex they still feel and are unable to voice. The

importance of the unknown having a face for Bammann is so that it “bekämpft werden konnte”

(Bammann 2004: 340). According to Robert Lawson, the silence and cover-up by Austria in

relation to its past is also symbolized by Mullemann (Lawson 2007: 42). In doing so, Rabinovici

gives us something to fight against.

57 Bischoff provides another example of viewing Mullemann as a Christological figure (Bischoff 2004: 255-261). Lawson also points out that the character of Mullemann and the novel itself reverses the stereotype of the figure of the Wandering Jew (Lawson 2007: 42). I include a discussion of the painting Ahasver in the section on Sina Mohn and the role of the masses in respect to art and crime. 58 As mentioned earlier, Mullemann is considered by some scholars like Beilein to be seen as a universal figure exposing injustices to all, especially to those committed against minorities (Beilein 2005: 254-264). 179

Although Rabinovici’s Mullemann does fall prey to Reiss’ critique regarding the portrayal of cliché Jewish-German characters as victims who yet feel shame and guilt,

Rabinovici is able to turn this character in a direction which reaches mythological proportions.

Dani and the others, I call serial characters, are akin to Seltzer’s cliché serial killers. A serial character is an individual like Keysser who commits a repetitive action which does not necessarily have to include violence. The nature of this repetition should also be read in conjunction to Seltzer’s psychological understanding of serial killers. The serial activities of such an individual represent an attempt to define one’s identity through others due to a breakdown of their psychological boundaries between the internal and external world.

Mullemann is created from the previous generation, namely his parents. His fate had been sealed even in early childhood because of the silence of his parents. By not grieving and acknowledging the Holocaust, they ended up transferring their memories, hopes and their survivor’s guilt upon the young Dani, which conditioned and traumatized him. Thus, he was compelled to absorb the guilt of others for much of his life. This repetitive response of

Mullemann was prefigured by the trauma of his childhood. Mullemann nicely fits both Seltzer’s critique and vision of understanding a serial killer.

Mullemann’s virtual brother in this story is Arieh Scheinowiz. Why is he a virtual brother? Both of these characters have the same gift or “allergy.” When Arieh is recruited into

Israel’s secret police, he says, “Meine Intuition, das ist eine Art Allergie, ein Symptom, eine

Überempfindlichkeit, die ich hier kurieren möchte” (Rabinovici 1999: 66). Like Dani, his identity is defined through others. The family friend Leon Fischer, who seems to unravel every mystery and problem in this novel, uncovers Mullemann’s identity when he speaks with Arieh.

“Mullemann ist dir nicht unähnlich…aber wie dieser Mullemann glaubst du, du könntest dich in

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anderen finden. In fremden Verbrechen suchst du dich.” (Rabinovici 1999: 187). Arieh also displays a sense of seriality because he has this need or itch to seek out criminals and become them.

To scratch this itch, they repeatedly look to the guilty in order to temporarily quell their personal problems of identity inherited from their families. Arieh and Dani employ what Robert

Lawson calls “supernatural characteristics” in order to locate the guilty (Lawson 2007: 43).

Their talents allow them to find and identify criminals like master detectives, but are ultimately instrumentalized by others. “Ariehs spezielle Fähigkeit wird ebenso ausgebeutet, wie die

Danis,” comments Eva Reichmann (Reichmann 2001: 42). Dani’s Schuldkomplex is exploited by the Viennese police much like Arieh’s is by Israel’s Mossad. Not only are they continuously looking for a solution to their identity crises, but they are being partially robbed of their own

identities through service to various governmental agencies.

Despite their similarities, these “brothers” pursue the guilty in different manners. While

Dani takes a nonviolent approach in which he absorbs the pain of guilt from those who refuse to confess, Arieh does the exact opposite. Instead of assuming the guilt of others, he punishes the guilty. He makes the perpetrators into victims, his victims. According to Krajenbrink, “Like

Dani, Arieh displays an unusual investigative talent, which is connected to an identity disorder that complements Dani’s compulsive contrition. He is capable of surmising who is guilty of a crime by unconsciously assuming the perpetrator’s demeanour” (Krajenbrink 2009). Arieh not only attempts to enter the minds of others, he also transforms his physical appearance to match

theirs, while his counterpart Mullemann remains anonymous under yards of gauze and bandages.

It is here that the boundaries between public and private, other and self break down.

Arieh takes on a further trait of Seltzer’s account of the serial killer, termed “mimetic 181

compulsion.” The drive of the chameleon character “enacts a hypertelic imitation not merely of

an indeterminate number of others but also to the determining conditions of place” (Seltzer 1998:

45). The contrast between the two “brothers” is best demonstrated in Arieh’s metamorphosis

into the neo-Nazi, his first prey. Arieh wears the boots and the coat mimicking the criminal,

while Dani knew, “warum er keine schwarze Lederjacke, keine Schafstiefel tragen sollte”

(Rabinovici 1999: 30). By transforming into those who become his victims, he in a sense

becomes a victim of himself.

It is clear from this incident when Arieh is attempting to enact some sort of vengeance

against the neo-Nazi Wernherr for his assault on a black man. As Dani first recognizes his status

as a minority at the trial of the Turk Yilmaz, Arieh too sees himself as a member of a minority

threatened by others through the victim of a hate crime. Arieh takes an active or extroverted

approach to confronting those who threaten his minority group and those who are guilty of a

transgression of the law. In the case of Herwig, Arieh accidentally kills him while trying to

teach him a lesson. Arieh is then forced into service of the Mossad when he attempts to flee

from the Austrian authorities and heads to Israel. They know what he had done and they immediately recognize his gift of becoming the perpetrators in order to expose them. He would continue to transform into his targets like Sayid, the presumed Arab agent whose life appears to mirror Arieh’s until he discovered the identity of Mullemann and retired from the service to spend more time with his wife and child. Dani, on the other hand, is an introvert who is a medium for the desires and guilt of others.

Like his father before him, Arieh risks alienating his young daughter through his constant

parade of identities and his work related absenteeism. Günther Scheidl calls attention to this

point of comparison between Arieh and his father: “Arieh wollte er selbst sein und wird dazu

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verdammt, ständing in die Rolle eines anderen schlüpfen zu müssen. Er wiederholt damit das

Leben des Vaters….der für seine Tochter ein Unbekannter bleibt” (Scheidl 2003: 142). There is a fear that this process of distancing oneself from the past and of silence might continue in the next generation. Arieh comes to this realization when he is tracking the Palestinian Sayid and

recognizes himself in his target, another member of a minority group in a different country. His ability to assume the physical traits of his prey causes Arieh to be mistaken for Sayid by his wife.

This small Arab family resembles Arieh’s own. Sayid’s wife and child remind him of his own

Navah and Jael. The children even make the same observations of the Flummiball. “Die ganze

Welt steht kopf” (Rabinovici 1999: 158). For Krajenbrink, the similarities present between the enemy and himself in this episode illustrate the morally and politically questionable issues of his job as a spy:

Thus, Arieh’s ability to find the culprit by becoming like him is turned against itself. By

implication, bound-aries of the self again appear permeable. The investigative device of

slipping into the adversary’s mind, a typical feature of crime and spy writing, is exploited

in a highly unusual way that questions notions of stable identity and radically undermines

simplistic ideologies of good and evil. (Krajenbrink 2009)

Not only does she call to mind the moral dimensions of his profession and the use of his guilt,

Krajenbrink points out the real danger that Arieh faces in his job. He too could be (and probably is) a target for execution by some foreign entity which would in turn leave his wife and child alone. Navah and Jael however already feel alone because of Arieh’s occupation and constantly shifting identities causing Navah to even have an affair with his partner. These represent potential casualties of a serial character which affect or could affect the two generations of the

Scheinowiz’s.

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Just as in the case of Mullemann, substitution is occurring for Arieh. As I have just

shown, both characters are using this mimetic compulsion but in slightly different manners which are directly related to their respective childhoods. Not only is substitution taking place, it has become an addiction or an allergy as Rabinovici calls it in the novel. It is the manifestation

of an “illness” which requires healing. In the breakdown of the inner and outer boundaries, the

serial killer (or in our case character) desires “tearing apart and reassembling others in the drive

to reassemble himself” (Seltzer 1998: 173). Both characters are trying to find their identity

through others. The borders between the self and others do not exist for them. Since they are

unable to express their own personal feelings of guilt and shame, they take them on from others.

The respective attempts of these “brothers” represent not only individual pursuits for identity formation, but are also somewhat representative of a broader search for identity formation as already alluded to in the discussion. These two characters are not serial killers, but

they do show both the stereotypical profile of one as well as Seltzer’s updated version.

Rabinovici created these characters to portray the difficulty of identity formation for two

generations of Holocaust survivors and a sense of seriality that follows them as well, and as I

will later discuss how seriality follows the identity of the artist himself.

4.9 Fritz Lang’s M and the Ghosts of War

Besides these three serial characters, I would like to also consider an additional one, Hans

Beckert, the serial killer from Fritz Lang’s film M. When trying to figure out what the “M” is in

Suche nach M, there is no doubt that allusions are being made to this classic film. Rabinovici

directly references the movie during Mullemann’s interrogation. “Er bekannte alles; auch einen

Kindesmord, jammerte dabei: ‘ich kann nichts dafür!’ Das Verbrechen hatte im Berlin der 184

dreiβiger Jahre stattgefunden – lange bevor Mullemann geboren worden war” (Rabinovici 1999:

233). This is a crime Beckert commits in the movie and confesses to the kangaroo court at the

conclusion of the film: “Ich kann nichts dafür!” (M 1988).

At the heart of each story is the search for a serial killer, but in the case of M, the criminal

being sought is actually guilty. Both Hans Beckert and Mullemann interact with the media by

writing letters to the press announcing their crimes to the world. While Mullemann’s

confessions act more as a temporary Linderung for his allergy which absorbs the guilt of others,

Beckert’s correspondence appears to be focused on garnering media attention for himself since

he had already asked the police to publish his letter, but is now writing to the media outlets

directly instead. Just as Mullemann is the focus of the attention of the police and the criminal

world of Rainer Sender, Helmuth Keysser, and Rudi Kreuz; Beckert has also attracted the

interest of the underworld since their sordid and disreputable businesses are suffering under the

intense scrutiny from law enforcement officials trying to find the child murderer. Beckert unlike

Mullemann is apprehended first by the gang of lawbreakers and is brought before a kangaroo

court. This scene provides us with a manner in which to approach the serial nature of

Rabinovici’s serial characters. In this court of criminals, Beckert is forced to defend himself and when they ask him if he has to murder, he replies:

Always, always, there's this evil force inside me. It's there all the time, driving me out to

wander through the streets, following me silently, but I can feel it there. It's me, pursuing

myself, because I want to escape, to escape from myself…And I am pursued by ghosts.

Ghosts of mothers. And of those children. They never leave me. They are there, there,

always, always! Always except, except when I do it, when I .... (M 1988)

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According to his defense, Beckert murders in order to quiet the demons in his head. The ability

to recognize and admit the crimes he commits points to a possible explanation via Seltzer. Since

Beckert shows that he is cognizant of his murders and is seemingly helpless when he commits

them, we can again see an instance where the inner and external boundaries breakdown. This is

also evident in the scene where Beckert is making insane faces in the mirror. Is it Beckert

pursuing himself? This brief scene is inserted in the midst of a discussion concerning the

detection methods of the police and their attempt to categorize and profile him. It can be argued

that Beckert, like the other serial characters, is addicted to substitution and is trying to kill

himself through others in order to stop these phantasms. Dani, Arieh, and Keysser all commit

their serial acts to quell their respective sicknesses. Dani admits his guilt to relieve his rash and

Arieh transforms himself into the perpetrator in order to quench his allergy. Both do it to sublimate their feelings of guilt. Keysser is closer to Beckert in the sense that they both commit acts of Lustmord. I believe Keysser becomes a serial killer in a vain attempt to gain power and to assert a sense of identity upon women and also upon the world, while it is unclear as to the origins of Beckert’s homicidal voices. Beckert himself is declared to be a sick man by his defense counsel because of these uncontrollable impulses in his head. Perhaps, it should come to no one’s surprise that a psychoanalyst, Caro Sandner, is the one who stops Keysser’s murderous rampage. By having this character momentarily “cure” his sickness, Rabinovici, in the spirit of

Beckert’s defense counsel, is asserting that serial killers are mentally ill and need professional help. Now, all four of our serial characters need to be healed of some condition. They need to

re-establish the boundaries between themselves and the external world to halt their respective

serial behaviors.

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Reminiscent of an underlying theme in the volumes of the Auβenseiter der

Gesellschaft, these two works of art also explore the time in which they are set. Consequently, an explanation to the cause of the malady shared by these serial characters may be found through such an undertaking. While Leonhard’s compilation examines the conditions in Weimar

Germany after World War I just as M does, Suche nach M considers the aftermath of World War

II. Dagmar Lorenz comments on the relationship between war in these two works in stating,

“Angespielt wird auch auf Fritz Langs ‘M.’ ‘Suche nach M’ skizziert ein Wien der

Nachkriegszeit, in dem Naziopfer täglich in Kontakt mit den Tätern kommen und weist nach, wie beide Gruppen zu dem Entstehen einer undurchschaubaren, doppelbödigen Gegenwart beitrugen” (Lorenz 2002: 152). The two main familial constellations in the novel are all dealing with the results of the Holocaust and World War II, while Beckert, according to Anton Kaes, is viewed as coping with the trauma from World War I. 59 The main difference lies in the fact that in Suche nach M, Arieh and Dani (and their families) are both victims who adopt the mannerisms

of the perpetrators, while Beckert is a criminal who portrays himself as a victim. One could

argue that he is a victim of the voices in his head which are possibly left over from his days as a

killing machine in World War I, while Rabinovici’s protagonists are plagued by a legacy of guilt

which hinders their attainment of a sense of self.60 The artists and their creations are products of

the era in which they exist. Rabinovici, like Lang and Leonhard before him, is delving into the damages caused by the prior war.

59 Based upon Freud’s work in 1918 on war neurosis, Kaes contends that Beckert’s murders are committed as a result of a conflict between a “war ego” and a “peacetime ego” (Kaes 2000: 68-9). “He (Beckert) repeatedly restages the crime in order to reclaim the moment of the original trauma” (Kaes 2000: 68-9). Thus, the repetitive nature of the crime is a necessity to quiet the voices in his head. What also could be explored further is the missing scene involving World War I. 60 For a further explanation of Beckert’s Kriegsneurose, refer to Kaes. It should also be noted that Beckert could also be viewed as a victim of society as is represented by the studies of Kaes and Maria Tatar. 187

4.10 Papirnik: Repeating the Search in “Ich schreibe Dir”

Just as Thomas Mann repeated his pursuit of trying to define the artist through various

works, Rabinovici’s Suche nach M represents a second attempt to explore the identity problems

of a Jewish-Austrian through literature. At this point, I would like to bring attention to another

strand of Rabinovici’s serial killer / character which more explicitly links the process of writing

to the repetitive nature of crime. His short story “Ich schreibe Dir,” which appeared in a

collection of short stories entitled Papirnik, three years before his first novel, Suche nach M, is a

short yet complex and perplexing tale in which the perpetrator demonstrates psychological tendencies and behavior similar to Rabinovici’s future fictional offspring. In this section, I wish to implement what we have learned from Seltzer and Rabinovici’s serial characters in order to decipher the mysterious “Fluβmörder” and the letters he pens to a woman. I will show that the repetitive content of the letters mimics the odd behavior of characters like Dani and Keysser.

These writings are confessions of guilt permeated with the desire to destroy oneself but because of the breakdown of internal and external barriers theorized by Seltzer and found in Suche nach

M; the murderous author ends up killing others instead of himself. This compilation of short stories with plots dealing with love, criminals, and growing up Jewish has received sparse attention from literary scholars and the aforementioned “Ich schreibe Dir” even less. They regularly concentrate their readings on two stories “Der richtige Riecher” and “Noémi” with

more emphasis on the former rather than the latter. The common themes discussed in

conjunction to these stories concern Rabinovici’s literary attempts to push the boundaries of

Jewishness, especially in the context of those generations born after the Holocaust living in

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Austria as he does later in Suche nach M.61 In contrast to those two stories and to Suche nach M,

“Ich schreibe Dir” does not explicitly deal with questions of Jewish identity, but takes into

account issues of guilt and seriality which plague the characters in Rabinovici’s novel.

The bizarre contents make it difficult to read and to comprehend what is actually

occurring in it. The narrative begins with a letter, or perhaps it is a series of letters from

someone to a recipient yet to be named. After reading the text of this individual, it is difficult to discern if it is indeed a single lengthy letter or several. Although the writing does contain only one instance at the end where there are closing remarks by the writer and the use of the singular

to describe the reader’s response and actions with the letter by the third person narrator, I believe

there is a possibility to interpret this apparent complete composition as multiple ones. The

repetition of the phrase “Ich schreibe Dir, weil es an der Zeit ist” by the author of the letter(s)

seems to occur at natural breaks where the discussion of one topic ends and another begins and is

accompanied by a larger than normal space between paragraphs (Rabinovici 1994: 74, 75, 83,

86, 87).

Equally strange is the content of the letter(s). The author claims to have met the reader

two weeks prior at the library where he eyed her reading Jean Améry’s “Hand an sich legen”

which is a treatise on suicide. Améry a Jewish-Austrian writer tortured and sent to various

concentration camps by the Gestapo is the only mention of Jewishness in the story.62 The anonymous author continues his writing by telling the reader about his own life and his desire to end hers. Accompanying this uncanny wish, he discusses his own personal history in which he

61 For further discussions on Jewishness on other topics in Papirnik, I encourage one to look at Sander Gilman and Lisa Silverman’s work. 62 Améry did eventually take his own life in 1979. 189

tells about his ownership of a shipping company along a river where he and his family lived.

Refusing his wife’s request to move away from the river to the city, he watches his family drown in a flood apparently hearing their final screams. Previously his rival, Peschl generously buys the writer’s devastated house and business and helps him get through this extremely difficult time. Despite this kindness, the sender of the letter eventually murders Peschl because he has been limiting his activities in and around the house and believes him to be insane. Peschl tries to hit him during a dispute but is met with a hammer from the garden and is killed.

The author finally admits to being the Fluβmörder from the papers and identifies himself as a “Serienmörder.” He persists in his demand to help her by killing her and offers a date and a place to meet where he can complete this task but will not do so against her will.

However, if she does not show up, he states that he will commit suicide. It is at this point where the letter ends. The reader, Carmen Stuart, is confused but not flustered by such an odd piece of correspondence. The narrator explains that Carmen has actually not been to a library in several months, nor has she ever heard of Jean Améry. To confuse matters even further, the return address is for a Cindy Läufer but according to Carmen the handwriting of the letter is that of a man. Additionally, Carmen’s address is not even listed. It appears to Carmen that the letter is actually meant for Cindy and that it is only by chance that the writer actually guessed the name and address of someone in a foreign country; for, he simply wants the letter to be returned to

Cindy. The final twist in an enigmatic story is that Carmen is actually planning a trip to a place she has never been before on the same date that is mentioned in the sender’s deal.

The motif of seriality connects this short story to Rabinovici’s first novel. The author of the eerie letter(s) and so-called Fluβmörder has much in common with the nature of the

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characters in Suche nach M. First, both narratives have more than just serial characters; they

feature actual and alleged serial killers to some degree. Beyond this simple comparison, the

Fluβmörder kills mostly women, “die mich so sehr an Celia erinnerte – in ihrer stillen,

schweigsamen Art” (Rabinovici 1994: 84). I contend that he commits the homicides reported by

the press for similar reasons as Lang’s Beckert. Instead of hearing the phantoms of the dead

children’s mothers, the author is trying to silence the screams of his dead family which

constantly haunt him.63

In one of many curious twists, Rabinovici’s letter writer also mentions the existence of

several serial killers, even groups of them and adds that their numbers are growing. In this

manner, the Fluβmörder is identifying himself with others in society through his claim that there

are others like him in the city. In his description of them, he writes: “Sie aber sind auf der

Suche” (Rabinovici 1994: 85). This line is made even more powerful when one considers it

along with his novel with a similar title—Suche nach M. It is more fascinating to reflect upon

what the serial killers and characters are searching for than the traditional conventions of this

genre in which the reader focuses upon finding the criminals. In this part of the letter, the

Fluβmörder mentions that some of them even meet in a “Selbsthilfegruppe anonymmer

Serienmörder” and that they had begun to fight with each other as to the purpose of their lethal

pastime. “Ein Teil von uns suchte einen Weg, um Schluβ zu machen mit dem Töten. Einer aber,

der ‘Bleistiftsmörder’ hatte seinen widerwärtigen Essay mitgebracht: ‘Morden ohne

Schuldgefühle’” (Rabinovici 1994: 86). The first group makes some semblance of sense in the

world of serial killers in that their serial nature results from their attempts to make peace with the

dead. Such is the case of Beckert and most likely the Fluβmörder who kill to make the ghosts of

63 The Fluβmörder hears and mentions the phantom screams of his family throughout the letter on each page from 76-79. “Nachts höre ich ihre Schreie. Dani und Cilly rufen dann nach mir” (Rabinovici1994:76). 191

their previous victims, their families, or even possibly the carnage of World War I (if we were to

assume such a potential history for Beckert) disappear. Meanwhile, a member of the other

group, the so-called Bleistiftmörder, apparently causes an uproar with his treatise on murdering

without remorse. It is not made known to the reader as to why this essay is so offensive, since

this section of the letter reaches an end point and the Fluβmörder begins again with his mantra of

“Ich schreibe Dir…” The repetitions of this phrase recall Dani Morgenthau and his continuous

confessions of “Ich war’s. Ich bin schuld. Ich hab’s getan.” In the individual of the

Bleistiftmörder, the artist and the criminal collide, if we can assume that this person is indeed an

author. The nature of his essay raises several questions as to its content and the purpose behind

this text. Is he trying to rid guilt from murdering or from writing? In the end, one can only

speculate the message Rabinovici is trying to convey with this figure. I will posit my

interpretation of this character in the conclusion of this chapter.

The Fluβmörder is also reminiscent of Dani and Arieh in that he too has lost the

distinction between inside and outside registers. He is projecting his private trauma of the loss of

his family on others in the outside world. He ultimately blames himself for the passing of his

wife and children and wants to destroy himself, but because of the disintegration of these borders

he attacks others instead. His desire to destroy himself is most evident in the deal offered to the

letter’s recipient. “Wenn Du in vier Wochen, am 24., nicht zu unserem vereinbarten Stelldichein

erscheinst, werde ich Dir nie mehr anbieten, Dich zu morden; dann werde ich ‘Hand an mich

legen’” (Rabinovici 1994: 87). As in the style of many stories of Romanticism, the ending of the

work is left to the imaginations of the readers which to an extent is also the case in Bekenntnisse

des Hochstaplers Felix Krull: Der Memoiren erster Teil. The extended version of Mann’s title implies that the adventures of Felix are to continue as he leaves Lisbon for South America.

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Although Mann had outlined ideas of what was to come next, Felix’s fate like Carmen’s is

unknown. They are serials without end as Carmen’s impending vacation corresponding with the

appointment scheduled by the Fluβmörder leaves the reader in suspense as to the fates of these

two characters.

4.11 Conclusion: Searching for a Cure and the Pathological Condition of the Artist

Each character, thus far, commits acts of seriality in order to obtain a moment of peace but the problem remains: How do we cure these pathological conditions? Conceivably, Beckert and Keysser (Is it a coincidence that “Keysser” is so close to “Kaiser?”) can be healed by professionals like Caro Sandner, but what about our other serial characters? Keysser’s relationship to the virtual brothers of Dani and Arieh is a key connection according to Freund:

Im Falle des Frauenmörders Keysser sind die psychische Obsessionen, die das Ich

zerstören. Überwältigt von seiner destruktiven Triebenergie, scheinen dem Triebtäter alle

Wege zur Selbstfindung verschlossen. Erzählerisch sind beide Fälle durch die Figur Dani

Morgenthaus, des Sohns Gittas und Mosches, und des Enkels Tonjas mit der

Haupthandlung verbunden. (Freund 2001: 185)

Perhaps, Keysser is more than a character that gives the reader access to the serial nature of Dani

and Arieh. It is also quite possible that he does indeed aid our understanding of the other

characters in the book through which his healing process proves to be pivotal. He is cured by

having his name correctly spelled by Sandner; thus, his identity is being recognized. The

seemingly simple concept of establishing an identity enables one to put up the boundaries which

Seltzer claims to be missing. Dani and Arieh need to cease defining themselves through others

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and to find their own identity. They must heed the advice of Leon Fischer and the old saying:

“Wenn du du bist, weil du du bist, und ich ich bin, weil ich ich bin, dann bist du du, und ich bin

ich; wenn aber du du bist, weil ich ich bin, und ich ich bin, weil du du bist, dann bist du nicht du,

und ich bin nicht ich.” (Rabinovici 1999: 185). All of the serial characters should not rely on

others to define the self. Accomplishing this should end their unhealthy serial behavior. They

too need to put up the boundaries between other and self in the hope of establishing or re- establishing a sense of identity.

To conclude a study of this novel, I believe that its title is by no means insignificant and

enhances a reading of Rabinovici’s work, and more important to my project, it offers an

interesting and surprising outlook on the artist. To do so, we shall continue to examine what the

“M” could possibly mean in the title? When Arieh is asked why he went to Israel, he replies,

“Ich wollte und will hier keinen suchen – nur mich” (Rabinovici 1999: 66). Rabinovici is

illustrating the difficulty that the survivors of the Holocaust and the generations which followed

have in finding a healthy sense of self and provides possibilities as to why some of them often

feel a sense of guilt and shame. Moreover, he gives his prescription to help heal the trauma.

This is, again, best exemplified in the wisdom of Leon Fischer: “Der einzige Weg aus der

Vergangenheit in die eigene Zukunft führt über die Erinnerung” (Rabinovici 1999: 188). Each

person needs to find his or her own identity and move into the future. The way to this future is

not through repression of the trauma, but by confronting it and accepting who you are.

Rabinovici, himself, said that the novel was “eine Suche nach M.ir. Aber die ‘Suche nach M.’ ist

abgeschlossen, die Suche nach R. nicht” (Hanselle 1997). Through the serial characters,

Rabinovici is trying to reveal that the search for identity is a constant and never-ending process

much like a movie serial. Authors will Like Arieh and Dani, Rabinovici and many others are 194

still searching for their identity. At the end of the novel, both Arieh and Dani have begun the

process of healing. Arieh left the government agency and devoted himself to his family, while

Dani left the police to spend time with Sina Mohn. She was the first character to accept Dani for who he was and helped heal his allergy. Though these characters, just like Rabinovici himself,

are not finished in finding their identity, they appear to be going in the right direction to make a

recovery and find their own identity. Just as in the case of Beckert, it is not the murder of the

phantasms or the end that is of utmost importance, because the end is ultimately not satisfying.

It is the search itself that matters. The seriality of his characters reveal more than the author’s

search for identity, they reveal the serial nature of writing. This is evident in the Fluβmörder

repeating the first line of his letter throughout Papirnik. The Bleistiftmörder is also an

interesting case because of his mysterious treatise on killing without feelings of guilt.

Rabinovici is trying to expose the guilt felt by the surviving generations of the Holocaust and the

lack of guilt and moreover ignorance to the threatening practices of a dominant culture to a minority group. It is not the clichéd product despised by Reiss which is important but the process of getting there. Just as in the case of identity formation, writing can be a serial process.

This could possibly explain the quantity of artworks which repeatedly feature similar depictions of Überlebensschuld that are at the center of Reiss’ critique. Other Jewish-German / Austrian

authors are dealing with the same questions of identity that trouble Rabinovici and continuously

write about them to aid in their quest to formulate and re-formulate their own personal identity.

Here, it is possible to appropriate private trauma and make it public exposing personal wounds to

the world. Like a serial killer, authors might engage in mimetic compulsion and repeat a theme

throughout the course of their career. This recalls the troubles of the first author analyzed in this

project: Thomas Mann. His career as an artist is often defined by its serial nature. From the

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earliest stages until his last novel, Die Bekenntnisse des Hochstaplers Felix Krull, Mann

contemplates the role of the artist in society. As Keysser is unable to quell the urge to murder

again, Mann is compelled to revisit this issue over and over again. Not only is this evident in the

amount of time it took him to complete Krull, but also in the other numerous artistic figures invented to explore this topic. Mann is a willing participant in Seltzer’s “wound culture;” for, he brings his private issues concerning his position as an artist into the public sphere. With Krull,

he even exposes the power of the audience to delineate what separates art from crime. Writing

becomes a means for Mann to define and re-define his identity as an artist. It remains to be seen

if Rabinovici will carry on like Mann and delve into variations of the same theme for the entirety

of his writing career. Rabinovici’s latest novel Ohnehin shows that he continues to thematize the

relationship between a dominant and minority culture as the multiethnic Naschmarkt of Vienna

serves as the centerpiece of the action. Guilt is again a major topic as a patient of the protagonist

suffers from a rare condition that forces him to relive his days as an SS officer in 1945. As was

the circumstances for Mann’s career and the results of Rabinovici’s interview with Hanselle: the end of one work usually does not create a coherent, stable, and final answer; it generates more searches by others and the author himself. Thus, the search continues indefinitely.

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5.0 Conclusion

Throughout the course of history, there have been several attempts by people of various

professions to define what an artist is and how this specific individual fits into society. Among

others, they have been labeled as imitators, geniuses, communicators, and entertainers. The

artist, or more specifically the author, has even been declared dead putting the focus of the

meaning of an artwork strictly on the shoulders of the audience. I too have struggled with trying

to understand this figure and have also participated in adopting such aforementioned terms to

articulate the identity of the artist in society. My search for the artist took an unexpected turn when it led me to a label which I had never seriously considered before—that of the criminal.

Certainly, artists had been arrested, exiled or imprisoned by countless regimes for works challenging the authorities or the status quo, but they were for the most part not murderers or thieves and not really criminals. Upon reading Thomas Mann’s novel Die Bekenntnisse des

Hochstaplers Felix Krull, I realized that instead of looking at the artist simply as the traditional creator of beauty, that it is also valid to turn to the criminal to comprehend this figure. Felix

Krull’s profession as a con artist is the perfect place to initiate a fresh discussion of the artist because of what the confidence man represents by simultaneously taking part in both worlds: his penchant for role-playing and acting depict his artistic side which are utilized for criminal acts in swindling the victim for personal gain. Because of this dual nature, the Hochstapler embodies a clear point of departure for discussing the artist in the same breath as the criminal.

As previously stated, artists have in the past been linked to criminals through genetics,

atavistic tendencies, and illnesses by nineteenth and twentieth century anthropologists,

criminologists, and philosophers from Cesare Lombroso to Friedrich Nietzsche. Rather than 197

taking part in this controversial debate as to whether or not there are biological connections

between the two, I believe it is fruitful to look at how fictional and actual criminals can be portrayed to reveal aspects of being an artist. By examining a work like Mann’s Felix Krull, the

reader is able to gain insight into the process of creating art and its affect on society. Mann

exposes the artist as nothing more than a charlatan and a master of deception who has the

audience under his spell. No matter the similarities between the artist and the trickster, the

former is permitted and encouraged to dupe the masses while the latter is placed in jail.

Basically, what separates the two is the permission of the audience.

Criminality found in literature can also illustrate the difficulties of an artist. The series

edited by Rudolf Leonhard, Auβenseiter der Gesellschaft. Die Verbrechen der Gegenwart, can

be viewed as representative of the plight of artists living in the Weimar Republic. Here, fourteen

authors noted for their fictional works undertake an endeavor to write about real criminals.

These artists were under constant threat of being considered actual criminals because of their

works while some of their contemporaries like Johannes R. Becher were even indicted and

placed in jail. The many voices as a whole indirectly reveal this threat in their treatments of

historical cases. The questions they posit about the criminals can be also applied to artists as

well. These inquiries often compel one to ponder the causes of crime and art in a veiled

reference to the duality of the series’ title as to whether they are results of societal conditions or

if they just happen to occur during a specific time period.

For Doron Rabinovici, crime is a medium which allows him to explore the issues of

being an Jewish-Austrian writer and a second generation survivor of the Holocaust. The

criminals in his Suche nach M not only offer suspense for the novel but also help illuminate its

198

protagonists and their identity problems of being both Austrian and German. The serial killer of the story demonstrates the fruitlessness of repeatedly trying to establish one’s identity through others. The kleptomaniac and art historian in this thriller also reveals a problem of art and its relationship to society. The ignorance of many to pieces of art like that of the painting of the

“Wandering Jew” or to monuments like the former anti-Semitic mayor of Vienna can create a threatening environment for the Jewish people living in such a location. Rabinovici calls for dominant cultures to be aware of such symbols of oppression in order to avoid repeating the past.

In conclusion, when I began my inquiry into the nature of the artist I did not anticipate

the strange journey upon which I would embark. I expected to find artists to describe their own

craft with variations of conventional responses: genius, creator, performer, teacher, and societal

critic. Although I assumed there would be some who would even consider that being an outsider

would be a condition of the profession, I never fathomed that this would also include the

confidence man, the thief, and the serial killer. Thomas Mann’s Felix Krull opened my eyes to

the idea that the criminal can offer access to a new and exciting way in which to think about the artist. With this novel, Mann discloses the illusory quality which is present in the work of both

fields causing him to even intimate that crime is a necessary component of art. Meanwhile, the

Auβenseiter series illustrates that authors can even reflect upon their own livelihood through a discussion of actual criminals. Their attempts individually and collectively demonstrate the parallel complexities involved in trying to understand the nature of both professions. It also surprised me that stories of serial killers such as Rabinovici’s Suche nach M could also be included in the conversation on the artist. His characters exemplify the serial nature of writing whereby an author continuously incorporates the same constructs or problems in his or her works. 199

What proved to be even more unpredicted and astonishing was the insight gained into the

relationship between an artist and his or her audience. It was surprising to discover the pivotal

role it plays for Mann in determining whether an act is a work of art or delinquency. Not only

does Leonhard’s group of writers want to explore the makeup of the criminal and judicial

system, they want to bring attention their hardships working under the auspices of the Weimar

Republic to the reader. Likewise, Rabinovici beckons his public to be informed to prevent the

creation and promotion of a hostile environment for minorities. The naïveté of Sina Mohn

toward the painting of the “Wandering Jew” illustrates that even art can unknowingly threaten a group but also perpetuate the mistreatment of others.

There is no question as to the important role the reader plays in crime literature as

participating alongside the detective in trying to decipher the evidence and solve the case. A

relationship is being uncovered and developed between the artist and the audience in which the

artist simultaneously reveals the nature of it through the portrayal of crime. Perhaps, Barthes is

correct in asserting the power a reader has over a text, yet I do not think Mann would agree that

the author is now dead. These case studies do admit the control the audience has over them, but

without the artist there is no content. Without the author, there is nothing to interpret.

Furthermore, the author also plays a destructive role in this liaison. They choose to turn to the

darker elements of society in order to discover new ways to discuss what it means to be an artist.

Acquiring a new identify, however, requires the destruction of the old one and thus the self.

The most startlingly thread that runs through each case study is this concept of seriality.

At its most basic level, we find the repetitive behavior of these authors to explore their own

identity. Here, we can see Thomas Mann constantly trying to describe himself as an artist

200

through countless works exploring the same theme again and again. Thus far in Doron

Rabinovici’s works, we see the potential for him to continue in his own repetitious actions as he attempts to define and re-define his own identity as a Jewish-Austrian author living in Vienna decades after the Holocaust. Unfortunately, the search for identity is ultimately fruitless because it will most likely never come to a satisfying conclusion when one adheres to the traits of seriality. Each attempt will always end in a cliffhanger which will try to entice one back with the hope of an exciting resolution next time. In each case examined, the quest to define the artist through the criminal continues indefinitely: Felix Krull is eternally awaiting his departure to

South America, the public is still waiting for the planned volumes in the Auβenseiter der

Gesellschaft series, and Doron Rabinovici is still searching for his own identity while we do not know the status of Dani and Sina Mohn’s relationship. Likewise, there will never be a conclusive definition for the artist or the criminal. We can only hope that other authors will continue to look to the criminal element in an attempt to understand and describe their role as an artist to carry on this fascinating discussion.

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