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Those other Orientals: The Muslim Orient in the works of Else Lasker-Schiiler, Friedrich Wolf, and Franz Werfel

Heizer, Donna Kay, Ph.D.

The Ohio State University, 1992

Copyright ©1992 by Heizer, Donna Kay. All rights reserved.

UMI 300 N. Zeeb Rd. Ann Arbor, ME 48106

THOSE OTHER ORIENTALS: THE MUSLIM ORIENT IN THE WORKS OF

ELSE LASKER-SCHÜLER, FRIEDRICH WOLF, AND FRANZ WERFEL

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fullfillment of the Requirements for

the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of

The Ohio State University

By

Donna Kay Heizer, B.A., M.A.

*****

The Ohio State University

1992

Dissertation Committee: Approved by Barbara Becker-Cantarino

Mark Roche Advisor Marilyn Waldman Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures Copyright by Donna Kay Heizer 1992 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have many people to thank for their support of this dissertation. My committee members— Mark Roche, Marilyn

Waldman, and especially my advisor, Barbara Becker-Cantarino

— have generously imparted consistent encouragement and helpful advise throughout the doctoral process. Abundant financial assistance has been provided by the Department of

Germanic Languages and Literatures at the Ohio State

University in the form of teaching and research positions and by the DAAD (German Academic Exchange Service) for a grant to pursue research in Berlin during the summer of

1991. Special thanks go to Frau RoBl (Friedrich Wolf

Archiv, Lehnitz) and Frau Horn (Akademie der Kiinste,

Friedrich Wolf Archiv) whose archival assistance went far beyond the call of duty, and to Michael Berkowitz, who was always willing to share his research. My sincere gratitude for their many years of confident support goes to

Professors Henry Remak and Walter Sokel, whose scholarship

and teaching have been truly inspirational. Profound thanks

go to my wonderful colleagues at Kenyon College and Central

Michigan University— whose names are too numerous to list

here— for their friendship and the countless ways they have

ii assisted me in this endeavor. An especially heartfelt and grateful acknowledgment goes to my family for its undying and loving commitment to my academic pursuits through the years. Most important of all, I thank my spouse, Vernon

Schubel, who has always believed in my work and has shared with me a most extraordinary life: it is with love and the deepest appreciation that I dedicate this dissertation to him.

Ill VITA

January 5, 1962 ...... Born: Fort Worth, Texas

January, 1985 ...... B.A., University of Virginia, Charlottesville

May, 1987 ...... M.A., Indiana University, Bloomington

Spring, 1988 ...... Instructor, Dept, of English, Central Michigan University, Mount Pleasant

1991-Present ...... Visiting Assistant Professor, Integrated Program in Humane Studies, Kenyon College, Gambler, Ohio

FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field: German

Studies in: German Studies, German Linguistics

IV TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS...... ii

VITA...... iv

CHAPTER

I. Introduction...... 1

II. Else Lasker-Schiiler's Orientalist Imaginings.. 46

III. The Function of Mohammed in Friedrich Wolf's Mohammed; Ein Oratorium...... 77

IV. Representations of Orientals in Franz Werfel's Die vierziq Taae des Musa Daah...... 114

V. Conclusion...... 150

BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 165

V CHAPTER I Introduction

This is a study of the Orientalist literature of Else

Lasker-Schiiler, Friedrich Wolf, and Franz Werfel.^ My research focuses on two of Lasker-Schiiler ' s collections of short stories and poems entitled Die Nachte Tino von Baodads

(1907) and Der Prinz von Theben (1912), Wolf's play

Mohammed; Ein Oratorium (1922), and Werfel's novel Die vierziq Taae des Musa Daah (1933) . The disparate concerns of each author are mirrored in these texts, which were written in, and influenced by, distinct periods of rapid

^By "Orientalist literature" I mean literature written in the German language which employs Oriental themes, decorations, or settings. I use the term "Orient" the way most Germans have used it throughout their history. For centuries, the German concept of the Orient focused primarily on those regions and peoples encompassed by Western, Central, and South Asia, as well as North Africa. (Today it also includes East and Southeast Asia.) I only examine German notions about the Muslim (i.e., Islamicate) Orient, because it is just beginning to receive serious attention, despite its pervasiveness in the history of German literature. Furthermore, although they are challenged as constructs throughout this study, I have elected (for aesthetic reasons) not to put quotation marks around such concepts as Orient, Oriental, West, Western, East, Eastern, exotic, etc. However, these terms should be read at all times as though quote marks enclosed them. 2 historical change.^ i explore the ramifications of the historical and literary contexts for the constructions of the Orient presented in these texts. I concentrate on how these authors— who often were seen as Jewish, Oriental

Others by the German-speaking societies in which they lived and wrote— depicted Muslims and Islamicate cultures while coming to terms with their own cultural identities.^ By studying representations of Otherness in these works, I seek to reveal an understanding of the self-perceptions of the authors. My purpose is two-fold: first, to understand the social constructions of Difference experienced within the

German-speaking Jewish community in the early twentieth century; and second, to illuminate these constructs within a larger German context through an analysis of Orientalism.*

^In addition, these works represent different formalistic literary genres.

have adopted the term "Islamicate" from Marshall Hodgson, who distinguishes between it and "Islamic" in the following way: There has been... a culture, centred on a lettered tradition, which has been historically distinctive of Islamdom the society, and which has been naturally shared in by both Muslims and non- Muslims who participate at all fully in the society of Islamdom. For this I have used the adjective "Islamicate." I thus restrict the term "Islam" to the religion of the Muslims, not using that term for the far more general phenomena, the society of Islamdom and its Islamicate cultural traditions. (58)

^Edward Said refers to three different uses for the term Orientalism: the changing historical and cultural relationship between Europe and Asia, the scientific discipline in the West specializing in the study of various Oriental cultures, and European ideological suppositions. 3

Ultimately this dissertation reveals how these authors came to terms with their multiple identities as Germans and Jews by writing Orientalist literature.^

The complex nature of the identities of German Jewish authors in the period 1900-1933 presents a challenge to any analysis of constructions of identity and Otherness in the

Orientalist literary works of Lasker-Schviler, Wolf, and

Werfel. Indeed, German literary and cultural attitudes towards the Orient have always been complicated, because they have been formulated over centuries of contact— intellectual and otherwise— with the Islamicate world. This study explores the diverse perspectives about the Orient

images, and fantasies about the Orient (Said, "Reconsidered” 90). I will be exploring only the third definition of Orientalism as it applies to German fictional depictions of the Muslim Orient.

^I have chosen in this study to use the blanket term "German Jew” to designate those Germans who were considered to be ethnically and culturally associated with the Jewish faith community. For most non-Jewish Germans, this was viewed as a fairly undifferentiated minority group. Among German Jews, however, questions of identity were more complex. Issues surrounding one's ethnic (Western or Eastern/ German, Yiddish, or Hebrew-speaking), religious (Orthodox, Conservative, Reform), and cultural identity (secular, practicing, pious) were important. Since especially between 1900-1933 German Jews had different ideas about what being a Jew meant (i.e., different definitions for being Jewish), I have tried to let the authors I examine define what they mean by this themselves, rather than the other way around. Furthermore, I have elected not to distinguish between German-speaking peoples from different geographical regions. In this study I refer to all German- speakers as Germans because, until recently, German-speaking peoples have usually felt they shared a (broadly defined) common cultural identity— especially since the regions of Central Europe were relatively fluid. 4 held by Lasker-Schüler, Wolf, and Werfel, while examining their Orientalist literature in three contexts: the long history of German Orientalist literature, the newer tradition of German Jewish Orientalism, and the specific artistic and cultural concerns which emerged out of the turn of the twentieth century.^ This study traces how Lasker-

Schüler 's, Wolf's, and Werfel's visions intersect with and diverge from these various cultural agendas. In addition, I analyze each author's image of the Orient, and what these representations indicate about their perspectives on their own identities as German Jews.

Methodological Approach

This dissertation, while clearly maintaining a theoretical methodology informed by the work of Edward Said, returns to the (lost) art of close reading. This is not to say that I analyze the texts through a "New Critical" approach. Indeed, I constantly strive to keep the historical and cultural contexts of the authors, as best as

I can understand them, in the forefront of my interpretations. Too much of today's literary criticism is

®For example, German avant-garde art was experimenting with the exotic during this period; the result was that many German authors wrote Orientalist literature. At the same time, German Jewish authors, during the critical period of 1900-1933, were significantly conflicted about identifying themselves primarily as Jews (and Orientals) or as assimilated Germans; this cultural debate manifested itself in the diverse attitudes towards the Orient reflected in many of their works. 5

overly obsessed with theory: the result is that much of it has moved away from actually listening to what the text has

to say. This disturbing preoccupation with meta-theory— one

by-product of post-modernist theory, to which much of my

work is indebted— serves, in the most extreme cases, to

silence the texts by imposing upon them what the critic

believes they should be saying.? It is as if these

scholars have decided upon using one theoretical model to

analyze all texts, and are determined to force this model on

the material, whether it is appropriate or not. In this

dissertation I have struggled to avoid this approach; as

much as possible, I have let these texts suggest to me how,

when, and why my theoretical suppositions need to be

amended. In the hope that this work may some day be of

interest to scholars from many fields (literature, history,

religion, etc.) I have also refrained from employing the

jargon which is fashionable in a great deal of literary

criticism today. Whereas some may see my insistence on

doing close-reading and my refusal to use esoteric language

as old-fashioned, my hope is that this dissertation will

result in the kind of truly interdisciplinary dialogue which

I find ultimately progressive.

^For example, a much-respected colleague told me the other day that she wishes she did not constantly have to exclude information from texts which does not support her argument; she wishes instead that these texts would better conform to her theoretical models. 6

Theoretical Background

The methodological insights of Edward Said, whose

Orientalism (1978) broke new ground in the study of comparative literature, provide a point of departure for my analytical framework. In short, Said contends that Western literature has colonized the Muslim world in its texts, as it did in reality. One challenge directed at Said, however, concerns the usefulness of his arguments about European

Orientalist discourse for German literature. After all, the

German relationship with the Orient has been unique and unlike that of either the British or the French, whom Said discusses in his book. Though it is demanding to test

Said's theories for their pertinence to German Orientalist literature, it is doubly so for German Jewish literature: while German Jews were classified as Orientals by some non-

Jewish Germans and Jews, others saw them primarily as

Germans. Furthermore, although the Germans did not actually colonize the Orient, they did "colonize" the German Jews by systematically discriminating against them and excluding them from the rights and benefits enjoyed by other Germans.

The methodological question I investigate is: If Said's arguments are valid, how does German Jewish Orientalist literature function in constructing representations of

Germans, Jews, and Orientals? In other words, is the

Orientalism of German Jews unique? 7

In order to determine whether a Saidian approach to

German literature is useful, I distinguish between several lines of argumentation in Orientalism. First, Said argues that, from the eighteenth century on, Europeans (especially the French and the British) have laid claim to different parts of the Muslim world. Theirs is a purely imperialist enterprise, which has succeeded (in varying degrees) in giving them concrete power over that region. In order to justify their position of superiority over the Muslim world, these Europeans— consciously or unconsciously— create a specific discourse which bolsters their claims. This discourse encourages the systematic stereotyping of Muslims as Other and erects an artificial boundary between West and

East, which has traditionally privileged the former over the latter: "the essence of Orientalism is the ineradicable distinction between Western superiority and Oriental inferiority" (Said, Orientalism 42). The ensuing polarization mirrored in colonialist representations of the Orient results in what Abdul JanMohamed describes as "the manichean allegory": "a field of diverse yet interchangeable oppositions between black and white, good and evil, superiority and inferiority, civilization and savagery, intelligence and emotion, rationality and sensuality, self and Other, subject and object" (JanMohamed 82). 8

Said further argues that, when Europeans "promoted the difference between the familiar (Europe, the West, 'us') and the strange (the Orient, the East, 'them')" (Said,

Orientalism 43), they have two goals: to justify their

political and economic agendas, and to clarify their own

sense of self, by shaping an identity in opposition to what

is deemed alien (54-5). According to Rana Kabbani, the

direct and indirect result of this discourse is that.

In the European narration of the Orient, there was a deliberate stress on those qualities that made the East different from the West, exiled it into an irretrievable state of "otherness." Among the many themes that emerge from the European narration of the Other, two appear most strikingly. The first is the insistent claim that the East was a place of lascivious sensuality, and the second that it was a realm characterized by inherent violence. (Kabbani 6)

In other words, whereas the East is portrayed as being full

of savages, both noble and ignoble, the West epitomizes the

advantages and disadvantages of civility. More

specifically, in European literature, the Oriental is

presented as feminine, seductive, dangerous, and backward,

whereas the European is masculine, rational, progressive,

and civilized (Said, Orientalism 206-7). Since these

constructs serve to reinforce the idea that the Orient needs

to be civilized, they also justify European imperialism.

The other result of the use of these stereotypes is that,

for many centuries, the West has seen the East in terms of

curiosity and longing on the one hand and fear and loathing

on the other; it has been both attracted to and repelled by 9 what it considers to be the splendor and horror of distant

secrets (Pollig 16).

Another line of Said's argument is based upon a more

universal axiom (and here he is borrowing from Foucault):

knowledge equals power.® That is, the person who can claim

to possess expertise about a given culture, is (consciously

or unconsciously) attempting to exercise power over that

culture, especially when that person suppresses all real

dialogue which might challenge their claim to expertise

(Clifford 258). When the West claims to have greater

knowledge about the East than its inhabitants, it succeeds

in intellectually colonizing that region on yet another level. Therefore, even those European countries which did

not have actual colonies in the Orient can nevertheless

intellectually colonize that region in their discourse about

it by creating constructions based upon the supposed

differences between East and West. These constructions

®James Clifford best sums up the connection between Foucault and Said; Said extends Foucault's analysis to include ways in which a cultural order is defined externally, with respect to exotic "others." In an imperialist context definitions, representations, and textualizations of subject peoples and places play the same constitutive role as "internal" representations (for example of the criminal classes in nineteenth-century Europe) and have the same consequences— discipline and confinement, both physical and ideological. Therefore "the Orient," in Said's analysis, exists uniquely for the Occident. His task in Orientalism is to dismantle the discourse, to expose its oppressive system, to "clear the archive" of its received ideas and static images. (265) 10 often serve to contrast the ahistoricity of the (primitive)

Orient with the historicity of the (educated) West; "The very possibility of development, transformation, human movement— in the deepest sense of the word— is denied the

Orient and the Oriental" (Said, Orientalism 208). In a sense, the Orient is akin to putty, ready to be molded by the hands of European imperialists or by the minds of

European scholars and authors who shape it according to their needs and desires.

Finally, Said argues, the depiction of the Orient in

Western literature is really a narrative of European constructs which are based upon projections determined by ideological agendas shaped by specific European cultural interests. These interests often as not coincide with a

"latenten Wunsch nach Selbstreflexion" (Pollig 16); that is,

"der 'Diskurs' mit dem Fremden mag sich als Diskurs mit sich selbst erweisen, da in der Auseinandersetzung mit dem

Fremden erst einmal eine Definition des Selbst stattfinden mu6" (Gunther 17). Hence the incongruities which appear in

European representations of the Orient— for example, that it is simultaneously wondrous and disgusting— point to the contradictions which Europeans experience about their own cultural identities:

Schreckbild und Wunschbild: beide machen deutlich, daJi der Blick auf das Fremde immer auch einen Blick auf das Selbst miteinschliefît, ja daB sich im scheinbaren Abbild Selbst und Fremdes unmerklich vermischen bis hin zur Ununterscheid- barkeit. Und zwiespaltig wie das Verhaltnis zur 11 eigenen Zivilisation 1st daher auch das Verhaltnis zur fremden. (Ammann 42)

Therefore, what one really learns about when reading Orientalist literature is not the Orient, but European cultural definitions of self.

It seems to me that, in a broad sense, Said's conclusions are useful for analyzing German Orientalist literature. When one surveys the long history of German attitudes towards the Islamicate world, some of the patterns, which Said has pointed out, emerge. Although the

German-speaking countries never actually colonized the

Orient, they had a long and often contentious history of relations with that region. One characteristic of the

German depiction of the Orient has remained constant over

time; Asia is exotic. Sometimes this assessment has

focused on its positive aspects (sensuality, poetry, wealth,

ornateness), sometimes on its negative aspects (despotism,

brutality, danger), often on both. From the Crusades to the

conquests of the Ottoman Empire in Central Europe, Germans

frequently entered into conflict with Muslims; the Turks,

especially, have long been regarded as fascinating but

dangerous neighbors to the South. It is therefore

noteworthy that the first European academic Department of

Oriental Studies was established in Vienna in the eighteenth

century, not long after the Austrian Empire turned back the

Ottoman invasion of its lands at the gates of Vienna ("die

porta Orientis") itself (Kohler 40). The connection between 12 these events is clear: in order to defend themselves against future attacks from the Muslim world, German­ speaking countries would have to "know" their enemy. Yet the body of knowledge the Germans produced about the Orient is based upon years of socially constructed representations which often have distorted the historical realities of that region of the world. Like other Europeans, German culture has often drawn the rigid line between what it considers to be itself and its Oriental Other.

Taking my cue from Said, in order to uncover German attitudes towards the Islamicate world I have turned to its depiction in German literature. Literature reflects the plurality of concerns, issues, attitudes, and opinions of a culture at a particular point in time. A review of

Orientalist themes in German literature also provides a valid, historical source for tracing that country's cultural trends. As Said has shown, these depictions always say less about the "real, historical" Orient, than about German values and concerns. The history of notions about the

Orient in German literature has always been a history of

German projections about itself (its norms, values, desires) onto what it has decided is its Other.^

^It is especially important to note that, as I examine German literary perceptions of the Islamicate world, I exclude questions about the accuracy of the information conveyed about the Orient, because such an analysis would require years of training in other disciplines: I am interested in exploring German literature and culture, not the Muslim world. Specifically, I am interested in learning 13

And yet, Said's conclusions are not unproblematic.

First, the fact that Germans did not physically colonize the

Orient is significant. Can one argue that German authors make imperialistic claims on the Orient when the German governments did not? And do all German Orientalist authors necessarily "colonize" that region in their literature? The problem with Said's argument is, of course, that not all

Orientalists are necessarily imperialistic. The distinction between hegemony and imperialism is a fine one and deserves further consideration than Said gives it. German

Orientalist literature may be said to be hegemonic when it

(inappropriately) appropriates images of the Orient for its own purposes, heedless of the negative impact its distorted representations make upon an understanding of Oriental culture. This, however, is a far cry from the imperialistic occupation of Algeria by the French or the production of imperialistic propaganda by supporters of the French occupation. Second, since Germans have often questioned their cultural identities vis-a-vis the rest of Europe, is it meaningful to lump them in with the rest of the West?

Central Europe has not always identified itself with all

Western traditions; there have been periods in the history what is revealed about German and German Jewish culture through their depictions of what they consider to be the Oriental Other. In fact, most German authors writing Orientalist fiction are probably not terribly concerned about the accuracy of their depictions; as artists, they do not necessarily have the same ideology of truth possessed by the experts who study Asia. 14 of the German-speaking regions where they saw themselves as linking East and West. If Germans draw distinctions between the Orient and the Occident, where, how, and why do they do this?

Keeping the merits and shortcomings of Said's analytical approach in mind, the questions that I address when analyzing German depictions of the Orient are; What were the social and historical situations in Germany that influenced these constructions? What are the authors trying to achieve by representing the Oriental Other in their texts? And are these the same constructions used by other

Europeans, or even other Germans?

Previous Scholarship on German Orientalist Literature

Relatively little attention has been paid to German

Orientalism until recently. In the past, much of the literary scholarship has focussed on non-Islamic Asia or has practically ignored the Muslim presence in the region altogether. Other scholars have recognized the importance of the influence of Islamicate culture on specific German authors. They tend to concentrate on uncovering the sources for, and evaluating the authenticity and accuracy of, German Orientalist literature.^ On the

^°For example, see A. Leslie Willson's A Mvthical Image: The Ideal of India in German Romanticism.

^^See,1 for example, Katharina Mommsen's Goethe und 1001 Nacht. 15 whole, I have found these works neither particularly useful nor relevant for this dissertation, because they address a different set of issues.

More recent studies of exoticism in German literature have directed their attention more to the cultural significance of German constructions of identity and

Otherness. These works have primarily served to help me clarify my own methodological approach. Henry Remak's article "Exoticism in Romanticism" (published in Comparative

Literature Studies) argues that, since constructs of the exotic have always been relative and flexible, scholars need to take these facts into account when they attempt to analyze them in literature. A collection of essays entitled Die andere Welt; Studien zum Exotismus explores the possible reasons why certain German authors found different parts of the world to be exotic, and why this exoticism was appealing to them in particular historical contexts. The important publications which accompanied the 1987 Stuttgart exhibit entitled "Exotische Welten, Europaische Phantasien"

(the book by the same title and Exotische Fiauren und Motive im europaischen Theater^ contain over thirty essays which examine sundry aspects of European constructions of the exotic. These publications have been extremely useful to me as reference guides, providing me with easy access to the various theoretical positions espoused by the essayists represented therein. 16

Reacting to Said's work, a new generation of literary critics has concentrated more on the relationships between the representations of Muslim Orientals found in German literature and the cultural contexts in which the works were written. Andrea Fuchs-Sumiyoshi's Orientalismus in der deutschen Literatur; Untersuchunaen zu Werken des 19. and

20. Jahrhunderts. von Goethe's West-ostlichem Divan bis

Thomas Manns Joseph-Tetraloaie attempts to prove that— since

Germans did not colonize the Orient like France and Great

Britain— German authors did not necessarily "colonize" the

Orient in their literature, even though they may have appropriated it. Ingeborg Solbrig's article on

"Orientalismus in der Expressionismus" (published in the volume entitled Im Dialog mit der Moderne) illuminates the connections between the concerns of the Expressionist literary movement and its interest in the Orient. Cornelia

Kleinlogel's Erotik-Exotik; Zur Geschichte des Türkenbildes

in der deutschen Literatur der frühen Neuzeit (1453-1800) uses a Saidian framework to examine the Sittenaeschichte of

Germany through an analysis of its literary representations

of Turks. Christiana Gunther's Aufbruch nach Asien;

Kulturelle Fremde in der deutschen Literatur um 1900

examines the intersections and divergences between German

imperialistic aims and literary constructs of the East. And

Ludwig Ammann's Ostliche Suieael; Ansichten vom Orient im

Zeitalter seiner Entdeckuna durch den deutschen Leser 1800- 17

1850 explores the cultural and artistic reasons why German

Romanticism was drawn to experimenting with Oriental culture.The insights provided by these studies have given me a useful overview of the history of German

Orientalism and have influenced many of my own readings.

A Brief History of German Orientalist Literature

It is important to understand that the Orientalist literature of Lasker-Schiiler, Wolf, and Werfel arises out of the separate but related contexts of twentieth-century literary conventions and older traditions of German representations of the Orient. What follows are brief reviews of the larger history of German literary depictions of the Orient and the more specialized history of German

Jewish Orientalism in the early twentieth century. It is essential to recognize that these histories of cultural attitudes towards the East are discrete yet related phenomena, since German Jewish authors are not only Jews, but also Germans.

In the Middle Ages, the first extensive German contact with the Muslim world came through the crusades. German interests lay in "protecting" Christianity from the growing influence of Islam and in preserving the Christian world- order in Europe (Fuchs-Sumiyoshi 19). One important motif

^%any of these scholars raise objections to Said's arguments; I review these, as well as more of my own, in the conclusion of this dissertation. 18 in literature, and in the history of German literature, concerned the figure of Mohammed. From this period up until the Enlightenment, Mohammed was represented in an almost universally negative way. He was usually described as a

"false prophet," a great "Betrüger," an anti-Christ (Fuchs-

Sumiyoshi 13-14). The reasons for this perception were two­ fold: first, Mohammed— proclaiming himself to be God's latest prophet in the Judeo-Christian tradition— was himself considered a threat to Christian doctrine. Second,

Mohammed, through the message of Islam, had revolutionized the social order wherever converts were made; the establishment of powerful and successful Muslim empires were a potential threat to the Christian political and social order of Europe. Therefore, literary works from this period, such as the epic poem Konia Rother (1200) or Pfaffe

Konrad's Rolandslied (1180), tended to encourage a German religious polemic against what it understood to be the capriciousness and despotic gruesomeness of the Muslim

Orient.

And yet European contact with the Orient also produced another, more positive reaction: it evoked in Europeans a fascination for the marvels of the highly developed

Islamicate world. In fact, the Orient generated an appreciation for (and envy of) the many technological and artistic achievements which it had produced, and which

European culture had not yet developed. Texts like Konrad 19

Fleck's Flore und Blancheflur (1220) described the wonders of the Orient, accentuating at the same time its decadence.

And the epic poem Herzoa Ernst (1170) goes so far as to claim that the Orient is such a fantastic place that it contains entirely different species of humans than Europe, the cultures of many of whom are amazing. And yet, even in these depictions, the Orient is still seen as a potentially dangerous place, where one needs to guard against being enchanted and deceived by its magnificence: all that glitters is not gold, is one of their subtexts.

With the Ottoman invasions of Europe (1453-1683), the image of the Oriental— and especially the Turk— grew decidedly more one-sided: the "Angst und schreckliche

Befürchtungen" of the Europeans towards the Turks set the tone in German Orientalist literature (Pollig 18). Andreas

Gryphius' Catharina von Georgian (1657) represents those

German negative attitudes towards Muslim culture espoused during this period. It tells the story of a kidnapped

European queen who martyrs herself for the honor of her

Christian faith and country rather than submit to the sexual advances of a Persian ruler. Her character traits contrast sharply with those of her Muslim admirer: whereas she is

"bestandig," "tugendlich," and "jenseitsgerichtet," he is

"wankelmutig," "grausam," and "diesseitsgerichtet." In this text, Gryphius plays upon German fears of a Turkish (i.e.,

Muslim) invasion to construct a Muslim character who serves 20 as a foil to the Christian values the author wishes to instill in his public. His message is that Germans should be like Catharina, who is a good Christian rewarded in heaven for her faith; those who lead worldly, decadent lives based upon the vanities of life are as bad as Orientals. As Kleinlogel points out, German images of Oriental sensuality were used at that time as a counterpoint to the values of chastity and purity espoused by Europe's churches; hence the depiction of the "lustful Turks" arose from projections of those sexual desires which were repressed in Germany (10).

By the time the Ottomans were driven out of part of

Europe at the turn of the eighteenth century, the

Enlightenment and its values began to take hold in Germany.

Both these events positively impacted the reception of

Muslims, Islam, and Mohammed in Europe. Because the Turks were out of Europe, they, their religion, and their religion's founder were no longer considered so threatening

(Fuchs-Sumiyoshi 27). At the same time. Enlightenment values of religious tolerance— combined with critiques of

Christianity— and a search for universal human ideals cleared the way for a more positive reception of the Orient

(Pollig 19-20). The introduction of the 1001 Nights to

European culture had the positive effect of reasserting the view that the Orient is a romantic and wondrous place.

^^See especially Wolfgang Kohler's study for the impact of 1001 Nights on German Orientalist literature. 21

Furthermore, contact with and interest in the region

increased dramatically as Germans began to travel to the

Orient while other Europeans colonized it (Ammann 15).

These developments often had the effect of considerably

changing the tone in German Orientalist literature.

In his poem "Mahomets Gesang" (1774), Goethe sings the

praises of Mohammed, who is described as a vital, young

Genie who matures into a powerful figure and changes world

history; but it is his universal, generic greatness— and not

his teachings— which is underscored. Goethe thereby does

much to promote the values of the German Storm and Stress

literary movement (Solbrig, "Rezeption" 112). In his Ideen zur Philosophie der Geschichte der Menschheit (1776), Herder

claims that, because the birthplace of humanity took place

in the Orient, it deserves greater respect and

consideration. He believes that Western study of Eastern

culture could lead to greater understanding between all

peoples and a rejuvenation of the West (Fuchs-Sumiyoshi 44). Lessing's drama Nathan der Weise (1779) promotes the idea

that Islam, Christianity, and Judaism are equally valid and

uniquely related religions. He thereby champions the ideals

of tolerance and unity between Western and Eastern peoples.

And Mozart's opera. Die Entführuna aus dem Serail (1782),

presents a new version of the old story of "Western women

kidnapped by lusty Muslim rulers": the ruler is depicted in

a positive light (as opposed to his assistant and foil, who 22 is a stereotypically "bad" Turk). The message conveyed is that even supposedly bad cultures can produce good people.

In sum, during the eighteenth century a positively depicted

Orient became a means for writers to criticize their own societies by showcasing alternative ideals (especially those of the Enlightenment) made attractive by their exotic trappings.

By the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries, a Romantic view of the Orient began to take shape. Friedrich Schlegel’s influence on this

Orientbild was very significant. In Geschichten der alten und neuen Literatur (1815) he propounds the notion that the

Orient is a timeless, geographically boundless place of spiritual and creative renewal.Like Herder, he believes Germans need to "return" to (i.e., learn from) the

Orient to rejuvenate their decadent culture: Oriental poetry, in particular, represents "das Hochste Romantische"

because of its mystical and mythical qualities (Fuchs-

Sumiyoshi 54). Novalis' Heinrich von Ofterdinaen (1802)

^“^This is not meant to prove that, from the 1700's on, depictions of the Orient were all positive. In fact, the long and contentious history with the Muslims and the new­ found fascination for the "wonders" of the Orient ("die gleichzeitige Existenz von Ablehnung und Zuneigung") characterizes the conflicted attitude of German writers towards the Orient, "die fur die gesamte weitere [literarische] Entwicklung bestimmend sein sollte" (Ammann 15) .

^^This coincides with the Western idea that Europe has a history, whereas the Orient does not. 23 supports this notion. In it, a young German man (Heinrich) learns from an Arab woman (Zulima) that the Orient is characterized by magic and wonder; he learns that the highest ideals of Romanticism (mystical and mythical experience) are illustrated in its poetry. And in the West- ostlicher Divan (1819/27), Goethe assumes the persona of

Hatem and writes (imitation) Oriental poetry. He does so out of his appreciation of Persian poetry, and because he wishes to synthesize the best of Eastern and Western poetic traditions to revitalize European literature.

Yet, the Orient remained for the Romantics little more than a source of artistic inspiration, and therefore little more than a product of their imaginations and longings. As

Henry Remak explains, for the Romantics "Exoticism is not only the discovery of a peculiarly profiled foreign civilization, it is a state of mind" (56). After all, what enchanted (with both its positive and negative connotations) the Romantics was really nothing more than what they perceived to be the exoticism of the Orient, not the historical realities of the region:

One may tentatively conclude that however much the Romantics championed the unique coloring of national, ethnic, or cultural identities. Romantic exoticism arose from and served primary purposes other than accurate in-depth discovery of specific cultures. Rather, it furnished diversely combinable geographic and cultural backgrounds that served as outlets for Romantic frustrations, nostalgias, for different options. (Remak 62) 24

Like the other German writers before them, the Romantics projected onto the Orient what they wanted to see.

Given the fact that many artists in the beginning of the twentieth century looked back to the Romantics for inspiration, it is not surprising how many German-speaking authors wrote Orientalist literature. Added to this was the fact that many of these artists were also encountering the

Orient for themselves through Europe's colonization of the region, which intensified in the nineteenth century.

Germans were greatly influenced by the trend of using Orientalist decoration in art, which was all the rage in literary and artistic circles throughout Europe around

1900.16 Partially because of recent archeological

"discoveries," ancient and modern "Egypt" had become the subject of many German novels, plays, poems, and the like in the nineteenth century;!? and Friedrich Rückert's free translations of Persian poetry made that genre more accessible to the German public (Fuchs-Sumiyoshi 108). Many avant-garde artists also used Oriental decoration in their works to explore new ideas about art and society in a mythical Eastern setting. These artists sought non-Western inspiration in hopes of finding new possibilities for

l6por a discussion of the influence of Orientalism on French experimental literature, see Beryl Schlossman.

i?In Germany, the "Egyptian" novels of Paul Scheerbart and Georg Ebers were particularly popular (Bauschinger, Else 101) . 25 expression in a society which they felt had become

increasingly oppressive:

Um 1900 griff solch eine tiefgreifende Unruhe um sich. Aus einer Période scheinbar stabiler Sicherheit heraus wandten sich Dichter vor 1914 an die au6ereuropaische Fremde, um von dieser Losungen fur individuelle und überindividuelle, europagewachsene Problems zu finden und sich an der kulturellen Fremde neu zu definieren. Diese Dichter fühlten die unterschwellig sich anbahnende geistige und reals Katastrophe der europaischen Zivilisation; ihre Unruhe, die unter dem Begriff •Kulturkrise der Jahrhundertwende' in die Literaturgeschichte singing, ist auch durch diese Vorahnungen zu begründen. (Gunther 286)

To this end, artistic movements in the early twentieth

century, such as German Expressionism, experimented with a

general Oriental style (Kreidt 96). These artists can also

be placed within a larger tradition in European literature

which had adopted an Oriental voice in order to revitalize a

literature supposedly rendered ineffective by the cliched

use of l a n g u a g e . IB This so-called Eastern style was

characterized by European artists as containing flowery,

poetic language, esoteric, mysterious references, and

mystical motifs— all of which contributed to the idea that

Oriental literature provided a non-rational and emotional

counterpoint to a rational. Western tradition characterized

by unimaginative language (Bauschinger, Else 106).

Deeply influenced by these Orientalist literary trends

and an admirer of the lOOl Nights. Hugo von Hofmannsthal

^®Goethe's West-dstlicher Divan stands out as an example of this phenomenon in German literature. 26 wrote the Marchen der 672. Nacht (1895) in this context. In this short story, Hofmannsthal explores what he considers to be the magical, mythical aspects of the Orient. Actually, the exoticism of the text serves as decoration and is a means for the author to work out and advance his ideas about aesthetics. His fairy tale merely combines cliched positive and negative stereotypes about the Orient which function as

a backdrop for Hofmannsthal's dismay about the emotional

oppressiveness of, as well as his sadness about the decline

of, the K.u.K. society in which he lived (Kohler 50-2) .

Similarly, Rainer Maria Rilke's poem "Mohammeds Berufung"

(1907) also discloses a fascination for the Orient and

experiments with a new aesthetic form. By using the

structure of a sonnet to tell Mohammed's story, Rilke

attempts to synthesize Oriental content and Western form,

emphasizing the positive aspects of each (Solbrig, "Da" 42).

His poem focuses on what was to become the most profound

experience in the Prophet's life: the moment when Gabriel

reveals to him that he will be God's messenger, and Mohammed

(who is illiterate) discovers that he can read and recite

God's words. The significance of this experience for the

entire Islamicate world allows Rilke to connect the

importance of mystical experience to the power of language

so that he can advance his understanding of the role of the

artist in society. And yet, Mohammed's message is excluded

in the poem; what is fascinating to Rilke is what he, as an 27 artist, can learn from this remarkable story. Like Rilke, Klabund also wishes to advance the ideals of a particular aesthetic agenda by telling an Oriental tale. His Mohammed;

Roman eines Pronheten (1917/27) underscores German

Expressionist desires for universal love, justice, and communion. Although he refers to the Islamic classical sources of Mohammed's biographies in his novel, Klabund shows no interest in accurately depicting these; instead, he concentrates upon writing an exotic myth to showcase his own values and aspirations. Indeed, his depiction of Mohammed conforms to the concerns of German Expressionism in two respects: it shows "erstens eine Vorliebe fur Exotismen verschiedener Art, die im Mohammed-Thema mit dem

Prophetismus ein Erlosungsbediirfnis ansprachen, und zweitens die Bereitschaft, vitalistischen Kraftgestalten zu huldigen"

(Solbrig, "Literarischer" 247-8).

As has been shown, the Orient has always been depicted as the realm of the Other in the German imagination from the medieval tales of Herzog Ernst up to Mohammed: Roman eines

Propheten. The depictions of the Orient in these texts roughly conform to the kinds of stereotypes about this region which Said describes. And yet, different emphases were placed upon these stereotypes at different times, because these representations were determined by the historical contexts out of which they emerged. For example, during the seventeenth century, when German literature 28 generally devalued the body and sexuality, it is noteworthy that Turks were described as being overly lusty. One critic explains that German notions about Oriental "Sinnlichkeit" actually reveal a great deal about German ideals of

"Sittlichkeit": German authors were simply ascribing to the

Other that which they wanted to repress (or express) about themselves (Kleinlogel 3). Therefore analyzing German

Orientalist constructs actually provides one with a

Sittenqeschichte of this period. Indeed, understanding

German notions about the Orient provides one with new insights into German issues of self-perception in all historical periods.

A Brief History of German Jewish Orientalist Literature in the Twentieth Century

For many reasons, a large number of the early twentieth century authors who wrote Orientalist literature were

Jewish. A representative list of German Jewish authors and their Orientalist works includes: Franz Kafka's "Schackale und Araber" (1917), Else Lasker-Schiiler ' s Die Nachte Tino von Baqdads (1907) and Der Prinz von Theben (1912), Carl

Reinhold Raswan's Im Land der Schwarzen Zelten (1934),

Joseph Roth's Die Geschichte der 1002. Nacht (1939), Franz

Werfel's Die vierziq Taqe des Musa Daah (1933), Fritz

Wittels' Der Juwelier von Bagdad (1926), Friedrich Wolf's

Mohammed: Ein Oratorium (1922), and Arnold Zweig's De Vriendt kehrt Heim (1932). 29

To my knowledge no one up to now has examined the phenomenon of German Jewish Orientalist literature. Whereas

Steven Aschheim's excellent book Brother and Strangers traces the Orientalist overtones of the conflicts between the Westiuden and the Ostiuden. and Michael Berkowitz's brilliant study "'Mind, Muscle, and Men': The Imagination of a Zionist National Culture for the Jews of Central and

Western Europe, 1897-1914" interprets the Orientalist aspects of Zionist visual arts, no one has systematically undertaken the task of understanding the cultural and literary significance of this other phenomenon. In this dissertation I address two important questions: Why did

German Jewish authors feel particularly compelled to write about the Orient? And could Said's theoretical suppositions be applied to the literature of German Jewish authors? This second question is especially complicated. Although between

1900-1933 Jewish Germans shared many of the cultural assumptions of the larger German-speaking community, because of anti-Semitism, they were also discriminated against by

German society. This means that they were victims of non-

Jewish German racism and were subsequently marginalized in

German society. Because their roots were perceived to be in the East (ie. Eastern Europe or even ancient

Israel/Palestine), Jews had, for a long time, been considered Oriental by non-Jewish Germans. The designation

Oriental was meant pejoratively and served to highlight 30 differences between the Jewish and the non-Jewish German cultures and religions: since Jews originally came from the

East, then they must be inherently Oriental (as opposed to

German) in their cultural attitudes.

It became important for German Jews in the early twentieth century to explore the notion that they may indeed be Orientals. This had to do with the problems arising from the large influx of Jews from Eastern Europe, the complex of issues surrounding the problematic assimilation of German

Jews, and the growth of the Zionist movement (Aschheim 76) .

German Jews wrestled with the notion of being Oriental in an attempt to position themselves in German society. For some, it was important to deny that they were Oriental in any way; they wanted to be able to assimilate fully into German society and therefore needed to make sure that they were seen as fully German, and not as marginal people, in that society. They saw themselves primarily as Europeans who were no more Oriental than the Christians, whose religion

(after all) had also originated in the East. For others, it was important to affirm, in some way, a connection with

Oriental culture. They wanted to find a way of coming to terms with the fact that they were treated as Others by non- Jewish Germans, and felt they could do so not by deemphasizing their Jewish (and therefore Oriental) identity, but by fostering pride in this identity by emphasizing positive aspects of Oriental culture. This 31

Jewish-Oriental question manifested itself in a variety of responses to the Orient, which were mirrored in numerous essays, debates, and literary texts produced roughly between

1900-1933.

Therefore, while it was stylish for authors in the early twentieth century to experiment with an Oriental

aesthetic, it was also fashionable for German Jews to

experiment with the notion that they themselves were

Orientals. For example, Meir Wiener, a German Jewish

cultural critic, offers the following telling definition of

Orientals in an essay from this period: "Unter 'Orientalen'

sind hier neben den Semiten jedenfalls auch die Perser und

Inder gemeint, unter 'Okzidentalen' die Trager der

europaischen Kultur, sofern sie die Erfüllung der

griechischen ist" (179, emphasis added). Some

assimilationist Jews wished to counteract this idea, because

they did not want to be perceived as different from other

(non-Jewish) Germans. Some Zionists, on the other hand,

welcomed and celebrated this notion, because they wanted to

preserve a unique cultural identity within German society.

In Central Europe great debates arose between Zionists and

assimilationists, between Eastern and Western Jews, and

between Jewish and non-Jewish intellectuals who, depending

upon their ideological agendas, either accepted or rejected

the idea that Jews are Orientals. Whereas some Zionists—

and, ironically, anti-Semitic Germans— claimed that both the 32

Ostiude and the Westiude are united by a common Oriental heritage, assimilationists indignantly maintained that

German Jews are proudly, thoroughly Western, and therefore superior to Eastern Jews.^^ Aschheim best sums up those images of Jews presented by German society that were often debated in these discussions:

While it is true that ultimately the Volkish representation of "the Jew" was used to describe both the emancipated and the ghetto Jew— they were linked in this description by a common grasping materialism, lack of ethics, and lack of creativity— there were differences in the stereotypes. While the caftan [ie. Eastern] Jew embodied a mysterious past, the cravat [ie. Western] Jew symbolized a frightening present. The Ostjude was too primitive, the Western Jew too modern. It was the function of [German] racism to resolve this apparent dichotomy by uniting the two Jewries in an indivisible fashion. (76)

It became one of the aims of Zionism to unite a fragmented

European Jewry to counteract these stereotypes.

The emergence of the Zionist movement in Central Europe played a major role in bringing to the fore the debates about "der Jude als Orientale. In two fascinating studies, Michael Berkowitz claims that, beginning in 1901

^®The supposed differences between the Westiuden and Ostiuden are illustrated in a description of the two groups provided by a German Jewish cultural critic at the turn of the century: the Ostiuden are depicted as Orientals— passionate, wild, spiritual, vivacious, but in need of structure— whereas the Westiuden are rational, civilized, secular, stagnant, and in need of rejuvenation (Schach 583- 4) . 2°This is also the title of an important essay written by Jakob Wassermann about this subject. See below for a discussion of this essay. 33 with the start of the Jewish National Fund for the settlements in Palestine, there was a proliferation of images, commercials, and calls for money which linked Jews and Arabs. Even the most assimilated German Jews were affected by this, because they could not escape the pervasiveness of the Zionist images. The goals of the

Zionist artistic movement were two-fold: to shape "a national soul for Jewry" and to determine the relationship between this cultural identity and that of its co­ inhabitants— Europeans on the one hand, and Muslims on the other (Berkowitz, "Art" 19). Because Jews could not "be expected to attain the cultural level of other peoples if they live on soil that is inherently alien or even hostile to them, where they are excluded from national traditions and history," Martin Buber and other Zionists argued that

European Jews needed to return to their roots— in Palestine

(Berkowitz, "Art" 21). Their goal was to establish in the minds of European, assimilated Jews (even those who did not agree with Zionism) specific images of the landscape and of the Jewish settlements in Palestine. By 1914, their success at this had been so great that the impact of these artistic visions on Central European Jewry became one of Zionism's

"most significant, concrete achievements" (Berkowitz, "Mind" 236-7).

What specific images of Arabs were presented to the Central European Jewry? In other words, how were Arabs 34 defined as Orientals along with and against Jewish definitions of self? The need of Jewish settlers to find a way to live peacefully in Palestine produced contradictory attitudes towards Arabs in Zionist art. On the one hand, some Zionists argued that Jews and Muslims were "naturally suited to co-exist, due to their 'Semitic' bonds"

(Berkowitz, "Mind" 241). These Zionists maintained that

Islamicate culture was magnificent and should be assimilated along with the Western ideals of the Jewish settlers (240).

The distribution of images of Orientalized Jewish settlers

("Jews who had successfully adopted some of the ways of the

Arabs in fulfilling their new lives") reinforced the idea that the two cultures were positively linked (247).

Berkowitz explains that "this aspect of the Zionist projection may be seen as a sort of positive orientalism"

(247) .

Other issues on the Zionists' agenda, such as the colonization of the Arabs' land, strengthened the negative aspects of Orientalism. Although depictions of Jewish settlers as the upholders of positive, European, bourgeois values served to counteract traditional, anti-Semitic stereotypes, these images reinforced traditional European stereotypes about Orientals. "Arabs were, by and large, made to appear as less than vital elements of the

Palestinian society" and were characterized as uncivilized, ill-educated, lazy, and even immoral (Berkowitz, "Mind" 239- 35

40, 243). Arabs and Sephardic Jews, who were deemed culturally closer to the Arabs, were often oppressed and relegated the worst jobs in the Jewish settlements (243,

256). The attitudes expressed by those Zionists who believed that Arabs should be grateful for the efforts of

European Jews who were transforming their (supposedly) poverty-stricken land into a prosperous one (241) conform to the kind of imperialist point of view which characterizes much of European Orientalism:

Early Zionism asserted, through its visual sensibility, that Jews would attain sovereignty in Palestine by being the bearers of a progressive. Western culture. If the Zionist project was actualized, the Arabs, and the remainder of the Near East, would be compelled to hail the Zionists as their friends and champions. Certainly, one may label the Zionists' pretension of being a "guide" for the Arab population as a variety of imperialism; as Europeans, the early Zionists saw themselves as culturally superior to the Arabs. Nevertheless, such condescension was tempered in part by a sincere desire to live in friendship with the Arabs, and win over their hearts to [an] acceptance of a Jewish national regeneration in Palestine. (Berkowitz, "Mind" 259)

The patronizing attitude of even well-intentioned Zionists towards Eastern cultures is embodied by Theodore Herzl's vision of building a Jewish hospital in Palestine "which the whole of Asia will pour into and [which] will prepare the way for the elimination of disease in the Orient" (260). No matter how Orientalized European Jews in Palestine would become, because of their Western backgrounds they would still be in a better position to civilize the region than their Arab counterparts. 36

In the context of the debates about the relationship of

Jews to Western and Eastern cultures, the question arose as to whether German Jews produced a different "type" of art than non-Jews: Did Jews as Orientals produce art with a distinctly non-Western aesthetic? Many essays were written by both Jewish and non-Jewish cultural critics trying to prove that this was the case. For example, some cultural

critics from this period, among them Moritz Goldstein, maintained that Jewish art is not only "Asiatic," but that

Jews themselves are more poetically inclined than

Westerners, precisely because they are Orientals

(Bauschinger, "Ich" 89-90). Echoing and modifying

sentiments expressed in the past, these critics argued that

Oriental-Jewish art could revitalize a Western tradition

grown stale (Mattenklott 295-7). The consequence of this

line of reasoning was that the Jewish artist was hailed as the opposite of the decadent. Western one.^i

A definition of Jewish art was partially demarcated by

the appearance of Jakob Wassermann's essays "Der Literat

Oder Mythos und Personlichkeit" (1909) and "Der Jude als

Orientale" (1918), as well as a collection of essays

entitled Juden in der deutschen Literatur (1922). All of

^^Gert Mattenklott points out that one of the dangerous consequences of this line of reasoning was that it played into anti-Semitic sentiments expressed by the German public: "Der Jude als Wegweiser zur Weisheit des Ostens ist in dieser polemischen Konstellation eine Figur der Kulturkritik an der westlichen Moderne, die dem Antisemitismus Rechnung tragt, indem sie einen Über-Juden vor Auge stellt" (299). 37 the influential texts listed above grapple with the issue of

German Jewish authors being both marginal and central in

German culture, and they explore Jewish ties to "Western" and "Oriental" cultures.In his essays, Wassermann propounds the theory that, because of their tragic history of oppression and destroyed traditions, Jews have developed split personalities. Wassermann describes the European Jew this way:

Er ist entweder der gottloseste Oder der gotterfüllteste aller Menschen; er ist entweder wahrhaft sozial, sei es in veralteten, leblosen Formen, sei es in neuen utopischen, das Alte zerstorenden, oder er will in anarchischer Einsamkeit nur sich selber suchen. Entweder ist er ein Fanatiker oder ein Gleichgiltiger, entweder ein Soldner oder ein Prophet. (28)

In order to reconcile this, Wassermann argues, the Jewish people have become a type of "Literatenvolk." Jewish writers, he explains, are of two types: "Der Jude als

Europaer, als Kosmopolit ist ein Literat; der Jude als

Orientale, nicht im ethnographischen, sondern im mythischen

Sinn, als we1cher die verwandelnde Kraft zur Gegenwart schon zur Bedingung macht, kann Schopfer sein" (29). On the one

22it is worth noting that, as Gert Mattenklott demonstrates, many of these cultural critics borrowed Nietzsche's categories of the Dionysian and the Apollonian and applied them to the Ostiuden and the Westiuden. respectively: Jedenfalls ist die...Deutung der ostjüdischen Vitalitat im Sinne des Orientalisch-Dionysischen, dessen machtige Energien der westlichen Zivilisation die notige Erfrischung bringen, eine um 1900 unter jungen zionistischen Intellektuellen verbreitete Auslegung Nietzsches zugunsten der nationalen jüdischen Emanzipation. (296-7) 38 hand, Wassermann continues, the Jew as European is an assimilator who follows trends, has forgotten his history, and believes in the dichotomy between "us" and "them" (29-

30). On the other hand, the Jew as Oriental is secure in his identity because he recognizes both his roots and his historical function in Europe as a bridge between Western and Eastern cultures. Because of this, Wassermann sees for these Oriental Jews, especially as authors, a special purpose in contemporary German society:

Durch ganz Europa geht seit einiger Zeit, wie in alien Epochen groBen Umschwungs, die das Abendland bewegten, eine wunderliche Sehnsucht nach dem Osten. Seherische Geister prophezeihen Erneuerung von dorther. Ich kann mich der Uberzeugung nicht verschlieBen, daB der Jude, dieser representative und zugleich fiktive Jude...als Trager einer Weltanschauung und stiller Bildner noch chaotischer Krafte von weitreichendem EinfluB, berufen ist, dabei eine Rolle zu spielen. (32)

Similarly, many of the essays in the important volume

Juden in der deutschen Literatur argue that Jewish writers express an Oriental (i.e., religious, passionate, unrestrained) style and perspective in their works, but that they fuse this with Western (i.e., worldly, intellectual, highly crafted) sensibilities (Poeschel 77-78):

Der Orientale will sein Erlebnis mit glitzerden Wortedelsteinen zweifrei schmücken, er ist in einem tiefen Sinn Romantiker....Der Okzidentale schildert das Erlebnis exakt, wie es ist,...er erstrebt Realitât....Der Orientale ist mehr Asthetiker,....[d]aher seine Begabung fur das Transzendente....Der Okzidentale muB sich in Gotteskunde vom Orientale belehren lassen, weil sich ihm siene Gotteserkenntnis gleich im Keim durch seine messenden Berichtigungen zersetzt....Kurz: das ostliche Gleichnis [dh. die 39

Kunst] will weltabgewandt, in sich verschlossen verhüllen, das westliche weltzugewandt enthüllen; das erste will zweckfrei (unsachlich) schmücken, das andere zweckvoll (sachlich) entblofien. (Wiener 180-1)

Illustrating this, Erwin Poeschel describes Wassermann's literary style as presenting a "Vollkommenes Bild einer

Epoche abendlandlicher Zivilisation, aber darunter Strome aus ostlicher Feme, die vielleicht die Erneuerung von

Morgen sein werden" (99). Alfred Wolfenstein echoes this characterization of Jewish literature in his essay "Das neue

Dichtertum des Juden" when he proclaims, "Es ist Frühling im

Abendlande. Die Dichtung mit zwei Gesichtern [dh. ein deutsches und ein jüdisches] singt Untergang und Aufgang.

Vielleicht verkündet sich hier eine Vereinung von Orient und

Occident" (357). The categories of Orient and Occident are never challenged, and neither are the attributes ascribed to them. Instead, as the editor of this collection suggests, the purpose of the essays is to describe the difficulty

German Jews have in being Oriental Westerners and then to initiate a discourse "wo der Deutsche im Juden den MitbUrger gerade...wegen seiner Andersartigkeit schatzt" (Krojanker

12): German Jews can and should be admired for representing the best of Eastern and Western cultures.

The Roles of Lasker-Schüler, Wolf, and Werfel in the German Jewish Orientalist Discourse

The works of Lasker-Schüler, Wolf, and Werfel are examined in the contexts of the long tradition of German 40

Orientalist literature and the German Jewish debates about

Orientalism. I have specifically chosen to write on the

Orientalist works of these authors because they were very influential writers between 1900-1933. In addition, every one of them was associated with German literary

Expressionism, each had a fascination for the Orient, and all three were conscious of the fact that they were writing not only as Germans, but also as Jews.^^ These common points of reference make a comparison of their literature engaging. And yet the differences between these authors are also significant. Because they had dissimilar ideological perspectives (liberal, leftist, conservative), attitudes towards assimilation (negative, positive, mixed), and ideas about spirituality, Lasker-Schüler, Wolf, and Werfel sought and found different things in the Orient. Furthermore, they were themselves regarded, in varying degrees, as Orientals by the public. For example, in 1917 the critic Kasimir

Edschmid used Orientalist notions to compare Lasker-Schüler and Werfel as artists:

^^In addition, they were all acquainted with one another. Lasker-Schüler admired the work of Werfel, whom she knew from the coffeehouses of Leipzig and to whom she wrote love-letters (Jungk 31). Wolf, who was also a doctor, treated Werfel for his heart problems when they were in exile together in Sanary-sur-Mer, France, in 1939; they also socialized with one another in this period (Jungk 290). Although there is no documentation of an actual meeting between Lasker-Schüler and Wolf, it is highly likely that their paths crossed in the literary circles of Dresden, Leipzig, and Berlin. Given the political, religious, and philosophical differences between these authors, their conversations must have been quite extraordinary! 41

Dann kommt die Lyrik; Franz Werfel, der groBte. Seine Musik donnert; Liebe. Unmittelbar und groBartig im Gebaren des Gedichts, wie man es jiidischer Dichtung nicht geglauben hâtte, unmittelbar fast wie jene der Lasker-Schiiler, wo schon Gleichung einsetzt zwischen Vers und Blut. Sie ist eine der groBten Dichterinnen, weil sie zeitloser ist als alle, sie tritt dicht neben das Hohelied. Man glaubt, ganz Asian sei in der seltsamen Schau ihres Gedichts Lyrik geworden. Werfel dagegen ein Prophet aus dem Osten, der ein europaisches Ethos trâgt. Werfel ist machtiger mit der fanatischen Flamme, die Lasker-Schiiler ist nur Gedicht. Sie ist unmittelbarer. Werfel ist Dichter, verstrickt in die Zeit. Die Lasker hat nichts um sich. Vielleicht wird sie spater die groBere sein. (Raabe 105-6, emphasis added)

An article in the Volkischer Beobachter from 1931 refers to

Wolf as "einer der gemeingefahrlichsten Vertreter ostjiidischen Bolschewismus"^'^— which clearly represents him as an Oriental, despite the fact that he was a Westiude.

Precisely because the cultural identities of these three authors were complex, they serve as a natural starting point for my analysis.

^^From the Volkischer Beobachter. Berlin, 27 February, 1931 (Müller 10). 42

Works Cited

Aitimann, Ludwig. Ostliche Spiegel; Ansichten vom Orient im Zeitalter seiner Entdeckunq durch den deutschen Leser 1800-1850. Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1989.

Aschheim, Steven E. Brothers and Strangers; The East European Jew in German and German Jewish Consciousness 1800-1923. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1982.

Bauschinger, Sigrid. Else Lasker-Schiiler : Ihr Werk und ihre Zeit. Heidelberg: Lothar Stiehm, 1980. iMjch bin Jude. Gott sei Dank,' Else Lasker-Schiiler." Im Zeichen Hiobs: Jiidische Schriftsteller und deutsche Literatur im 20. Jahrhundert. Ed. Gunter Grimm, Hans- Peter Bayerdorfer, and Konrad Kwiet. Konigstein/Ts.: Athenaum, 1985.

Berkowitz, Michael. "Art in Zionist Popular Culture and Jewish National Self-Consciousness, 1897-1914." Art and Its Uses: The Visual Image and Modern Jewish Society. Studies in Comtemporarv Jewry. An Annual (Vli. Ed. Ezra Mendelsohn and Richard I. Cohen. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

. ’"Mind, Muscle, and Men': The Imagination of a Zionist National Culture for the Jews of Central and Western Europe, 1897-1914." Diss. U of Wisconsin (Madison), 1989.

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Fuchs-Sumiyoshi, Andrea. Orientalismus in der deutschen Literatur: Untersuchunaen zu Werken des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts. von Goethe's West-ostlichem Divan bis Thomas Manns Joseph-Tetraloqie. Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1984.

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Wassermann, Jakob. "Der Jude als Orientale." Daimon 1,1 (1918): 28-32. 45 Wiener, Meir. "Else Lasker-Schiiler." Juden in der deutschen Literatur; Essays über zeitaenossische Schriftsteller. Ed. Gustav Krojanker. Berlin: Welt- Verlag, 1922.

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Wolfenstein, Alfred. "Das neue Dichtertum des Juden." Juden in der deutschen Literatur: Essays über zeitaenossische Schriftsteller. Ed. Gustav Krojanker. Berlin: Welt-Verlag, 1922. CHAPTER II Else Lasker-Schüler's Orientalist Imaginings

In this chapter, I investigate some of the possible reasons why Else Lasker-Schüler was motivated to write

Orientalist fiction and how these interests manifested themselves in two of her prose works: Die Nachte Tino von

Baqdads (1907) and Der Prinz von Theben (1912).^ Lasker-

Schüler 's choice of an Oriental playground for her imagination must be understood in a variety of contexts, each of which contributes to an understanding of her aesthetic vision and perceived cultural position. Attempts to find a single reason for this choice— for example, she was trying to escape her problematic Jewish identity

(Hessing 86), her limitations as an author writing in the

Western tradition (Kuckart 82), or her oppression as an

impoverished woman in German society (O'Brien 4)— do not do

^Both of these texts underwent minor revision when they were reissued. Die Nachte Tino von Baqdads was reissued in 1919 as Die Nachte der Tino von Baqdads; Der Prinz von Theben was reissued in 1920 as Der Prinz von Theben: Ein Geschichtenbuch. Although I have all the versions of these texts at my disposal, I use the later versions because the earlier versions contain more mistakes (misspellings, etc.). Whereas some of the poems in the original version of Die Nachte were omitted in the second version, the differences in the stories themselves in both Die Nachte and Der Prinz are negligible.

46 47 full justice to the complexity of her motives. Because the

Orient was understood by Germans as being the land of the

Other, Lasker-Schiiler used it as the setting where her

Difference could be taken for granted, explored, and then celebrated. The Orient became the space where she could define her role as an artist, a Jew, a unique individual— and be accepted by German society for it.

Else Lasker-Schüler's life began rather unremarkably, but it quickly became extraordinary. She was born into an assimilated German Jewish family in Elberfeld, Germany,

(Bauschinger, "Ich" 84). She married Bertold Lasker, and they moved to Berlin where she became involved with the literary and art scenes. Bertold was an assimilated Jew who believed in the ideals of the Enlightenment and used them to become accepted by German bourgeois society; they divorced because of personal and political (she was more liberal) differences (Hessing 72). Lasker-Schüler meanwhile became a bohemian and a darling of the avant-garde literary and art circles; she helped establish the important literary journal

Der Sturm (Bauschinger, Else 89-90). She married Herwarth

Walden, an assimilated Jew who was a socialist; they divorced as well because of personal differences (Hessing

72). While Lasker-Schüler never cared for Orthodox Jews

(Bauschinger, "Ich" 84), it seems she also did not believe

Jews should assimilate fully, no matter how attractive assimilation may seem: Jews need to remember their history 48 (Hessing 47). Although they were ideologically very different, part of the problem Lasker-Schüler had with her husbands was that they were both totally culturally assimilated (Hessing 72). As far as her attachment to her

Jewish roots was concerned, Lasker-Schüler loved and identified with the stories from the Hebrew Bible (O'Brien

4), and she unsystematically read Kabbala (Cohn 129-30) , but she never learned Hebrew— not even when she was living in

Jerusalem during the Nazi period (Hessing 102). And while she was celebrated as the bohemian German artist par excellence, she was also praised as a great German Jewish poet (Bansch 58). Unfortunately, and despite her fame,

Lasker-Schüler lived much of her life after her divorces in dire poverty, sometimes eating next to nothing and sleeping in hallways for days. Although she probably would have preferred not to have had constantly to beg friends and admirers for hand-outs, she thought that living comfortably would ruin her art (Bauschinger, Else 30). She was, in many ways, a rebel with a cause— an artistic one.

Like her life, Lasker-Schüler's art was unconventional.

Her literature was greatly influenced by the trend of using

Orientalist decoration in art, which was popular at that time. Some critics argue that Lasker-Schüler, like other avant-garde artists of her time, used Oriental decoration in her works simply because it was fashionable for artists to explore new ideas about art in a mythical Eastern setting 49

(Bansch 65-6). Many of these artists sought non-Western inspiration in hopes of finding new possibilities for expression; this was especially the case for the German

Expressionists, with whom Lakser-Schviler was closely connected (Kreidt 96). In this vein, some critics maintain

"nicht der Geist des Orients ist es, der in [Lasker-

Schiilers] Dichtung Ausdruck findet, sondern der Geist ihrer

Zeit" (Hessing 136). Indeed, both Die Nachte and Der Prinz are collections of short stories reminiscent of the 1001

Arabian Nights, which was quite popular at the time.^ A great admirer of Goethe (Hessing 28), Lasker-Schüler was clearly aware of this tradition: "Das alte, müde Volk konnte der Dichterin nicht mehr geben, was sie von Anfang an gesucht und in ihren orientalischen Phantasien zunachst gefunden hatte, eine neue Sprache" (Bauschinger, "Ich"

87).3 Like Goethe in his West-Ost1icher Divan (1815), she used the Orient as the setting for her own artistic

^However, neither Die Nachte nor Der Prinz contain a coherent frame story, which makes them quite different from 1001 Nights. For more on the influence of 1001 Nights on German literature, see Wolfgang Kohler.

^This aesthetic stance played into a phenomenon documented by Rana Kabbani (among others) as particular to experimental European artists: If the language of ordinary description has been overworked and overburdened, then the only outlet is figurative language, the substitution of metaphor and reverie. The Orient becomes a pretext for self-dramatisation and differentness; it is the malleable theatrical space in which can be played out... egocentric fantasies.... It affords endless material for the imagination and endless potential for the Occidental self. (11) 50 exploration of the origins of poetic language and attempted to overcome the limitations of her native tongue.

And yet the ways in which Lasker-Schüler creatively used German, and even concocted her own Oriental language, make her style unique among other authors who used

Orientalist decoration in their works. For example, she believed she could speak a language she called "Asiatisch"

(Bauschinger, Else 1 0 5 ).^ This is the "Asiatic" language she uses throughout Die Nachte and Der Prinz. It resonates with Arabic, Turkish, and Hebrew sounds and appears convincing to non-speakers of those languages: Lasker-

Schüler was actually arrested in a church in Prague for giving a sermon in her version of "Arabic" (Bauschinger,

Else 123). The phrases "cha machalaa" (DN 63) and

"abbarebbi... lachajare. Hu hu uu..." (DP 133) approximate some Arabic words. "Machalaa" sounds like "Masha'llah," which in Arabic means "whatever God wills." Similarly, "Hu"

(meaning "He") is the final syllable in "Allahu" and is used in Sufi zikr. But her "Asiatic" phrases are otherwise completely unintelligible. The importance of this

"language" to Lasker-Schüler, however, lies in her wish to trace poetic language back to its roots; she believed that the language she invented approximated a "wilde Ursprache"

(Bauschinger, Else 105). This "wilde Ursprache" corresponds

In real life, however, Lasker-Schüler spoke only German and never learned either Hebrew or Arabic, even after she moved to Palestine. 51 to her interest in approximating the language of the

Biblical Jews whom she calls the Wildjuden. It also reflects the general notion, popular in Germany since the late 1800's, that the East is the site of the "Ursprung allés Entstehens" (Mattenklott 299).

Her experimentation with an Orientalized German language was even more complex. She uses neologisms peculiar to this Oriental style ("Sichelaugen, mandeIgoldene, zimtfarbene, Schwarme von schillernden

Nilaugen" DP 102-3) and subverts syntactical structures

("Alle goldenen Bilder küBten die Moschee, da sie den

Derwisch gebar" DP 102)— thereby turning prose into poetry.

She also converts language into a kind of dance. The first story in Die Nachte is called "Ich tanze in der Moschee" and the reader is caught up in the rhythmic, swirling, visual language of the "Arab" poet Tino. Tino's poetic dance determines the tone for the entire text:

Eine Sternjahrige Mumie bin ich und tanze in der Zeit der Fluren. Feierlich steht mein Auge und prophetisch hebt sich mein Arm, und über die Stirne zieht der Tanz eine Schmale Flamme und sie erblaBt und rotet sich wieder von der Unterlippe bis zum Kinn. Und die vielen bunten Perlen klingen um meinen Hals....oh, machmede macheii....hier steht noch der Schein meines FuBes, meine Schultern zucken leise— machmede macheii, immer wiegen meine Lenden meinen Leib, wie einen dunkelgoldenen Stern. (DN 59)

In dance, Tino experiences a kind of freedom from conventions and is able therefore to express what is normally inexpressible. Dance takes on a spiritual 52 dimension: "Tanz lafit als Korpersprache die Grenze zwischen Korper und Geist durchlassig warden. War tanzt, geht jeden

Tag in seinen eigenen Temple" (Kuckart 7 7 ).^ The

spirituality of dance lends a religious air to the language

Lasker-Schüler uses throughout these stories.

By evoking this mood, Lasker-Schüler seems to be

playing with the image and movements of the whirling

dervishes, an order of Muslim mystics founded by the great

Persian poet Jalaluddin Rumi. With the help of trance-

inducing music, the ecstatic dancing of the dervishes whirls

them into another state of consciousness, which brings them

closer to God. Lasker-Schüler's rhythmic use of sound and

language is designed to have a similar effect on the reader.

In the passage quoted above, the repetition of the "Asiatic"

phrase "machmede macheii" calls to mind the chants of

dervishes. Lasker-Schüler invokes this technique to bring

the reader into her own (often esoteric) imaginative realm:

"In ihrer eigenen Un-Zeit hat das, was sich Expressionismus

^Judith Kuckart further explains: Es lieBe sich eine Verwandtschaft zwischen Else Lasker-Schülers Art zu schreiben und den getanzten Ausbruchs-versuchen aus einer spezifisch abendlandischen, dem griechischen Logos verpf1ichteten Kultur denken; ein anders Denken als Bewegung gegen die Kategorien ohne Ambivalenzen, in dem die Denkende eigentlich nicht denkt, sondern sich und ihre Sprache zur Bühne von oft unaussprechlichen Erfahrungen macht. (82) Although one could certainly deconstruct Kuckart's own stereotypical notions about the nature of Western and Eastern expression, her observations correspond to Lasker- Schüler 's intentions. 53 bei Else Lasker-Schiiler nennt, etwas von einer militanten

Ekstase, die geweckt wird, wenn sich die Dichterin den Kopf stoBt an der Realitat” (Kuckart 21). By using language this way, she is attempting to break down the barriers between the reader and herself, and therefore also between the

familiar twentieth-century, Western world of the reader and the mysterious, fantastic. Oriental world of her

imagination. She is thinking in another language about another reality and is compelling the reader to do so as well.

In the context of discussions about the supposedly

Oriental character of Jews, Lasker-Schüler's interest in

experimenting with Orientalism is not surprising. Indeed,

in an intriguing article about her artistic merit, Meir

Wiener examines what it is about Lasker-Schüler that made

Peter Hille proclaim her "die jüdische Dichterin"; in doing

so, she evaluates the Orientalism of her art. She begins by

saying that, since Lasker-Schüler's works contain the same

kind of abstract images and tropes as those found in

Oriental art, her style appears even more Jewish than

Heine's (Wiener 186). But, Wiener argues, Lasker-Schüler is

really just a dilettante who resorts to the use of

stereotypes and cliches because she has no real mastery over

the genre (188-9). She cannot pull off this charade, Wiener

maintains, because it is neither authentic nor does it speak

to a larger audience: 54

Daruiti sind die Gedichte der Lasker-Schiiler so persbnlich, fast intim, und setzen beiiti Leser so viel Verhaitnis zu den Erlebnissen voraus. In ihrer Unausdriickbarkeit verkannt, sollen Erleb- nisse, von schwachen Handen lose geformt, wirken; sie sprechen aber nicht aus eigener Kraft....Sie sind nicht mit allem Notwendigen ausgestattet, um sich selber den Weg zum Verstandnis zu bahnen....Oft nur neckische Spielereien, witzig, liebenswiirdig, für einen Privatkreis gedichtet, also keine eigentliche Kunst. (191-2)

She ends her essay by suggesting that Lasker-Schüler's works therefore do not exemplify great Jewish art, not because of her Orientalism, but because she is too much of a dilettante about it (192). Other critics echo this sentiment, claiming that she was actually trying to escape the harsh realities of her Jewish existence by adopting Arab guises; beyond this, her Orientalism was empty (Hessing 103).

Interestingly, Wiener blames the influence of Oriental art itself on what she perceived as an epidemic of dilettantism, which was supposedly spreading throughout

Western art:

An der Dichtung unserer Zeit haften Züge des tragischen Dilettantismus in seinen hervor- stechendsten Kundgebung, die da sind: Unbe- herrschtheit, Launenhaftigkeit, Skurrilitat, Eigenwille, unbestimmtes übertriebenes Wollen.... Zum Teil ist dies wohl auf den immer mehr überhand nehmenden EinfluB orientalischen Geistes zurückzufinden, der in ungemaBer Umgebung entartet. Der rein okzidentale, objektiv- künstlerische Geist weicht einem Mischlings- ausdruck, der auch Orientalisches in sich hat. Die Erfüllung solcher Tendenz ware das Ende der Kunst. (191)

Although Weiner clearly believes the cliches about the differences between Western and Eastern art (and therefore 55 devalues the latter, even while she sings its praises) what she finds most offensive is that people should try to integrate the two. This is certainly a strange position for someone who believes that great Jewish art is Oriental and, yet, does not seem to be comfortable with European artists experimenting with Eastern styles; What kind of art should a European Jew produce? Would all German Jewish authors be relegated to the status of dilettante? Weiner's confliction about this issue mirrors precisely the kind of identity crisis being experienced by German Jewish authors, including

Lasker-Schüler, at this time.

Whether they are a sign of her dilettantism as an artist or not, the masks worn by Lasker-Schüler allowed her to shape for herself a positive identity as an Oriental,

German-speaking Jew in an often hostile environment.&

Lasker-Schüler's friendships with people representing diverse points of view on the debates about Jews as

Orientals placed her in the middle of these discussions; the fact that she tended to disagree (in one way or another)

®0f course, to a certain extent, Wiener's characterization of Lasker-Schüler's style is correct. In both Die Nachte and Der Prinz. she often makes excessively cryptic references, and her representations of Oriental culture often border on kitsch. But it does not follow that these works cannot be regarded as art: these traits are found in most of the German Orientalist art from this period, and Lasker-Schüler's is certainly some of the most poetic and moving literature of the genre. I am interested in what Lasker-Schüler believes she is expressing when she employs this "dilettante" style, and how this relates to the larger context of German Orientalism. 56 with everyone on this issue also marginalized her from the debates. On the one hand, Lasker-Schüler never championed the assimilationist position that German Jews should fully integrate themselves into non-Jewish German society (Hessing

127). On the other hand, she came under attack from some cultural Zionists when she advocated the creation of a "new

Jewish" literature which synthesized Eastern and Western impulses (Bauschinger, "Ich" 89). She also argued bitterly with Martin Buber and his vision of Zionism, which maintained that all Eastern and Western Jews could unite on matters of Jewish interest and thereby synthesize the best of what the East and West could culturally offer. She believed this was impossible for most Jews, because they had such disparate interests; only special people like herself could manage such a synthesis (Hessing 84, 135).

In order to express the goals of a "new Jewish" type of literature— one which explored her ancient. Oriental roots and distinguished her vision as unique in contemporary

Jewish concerns— Lasker-Schüler invented the concept of the

Wildiude; the "wild Jew" is a poetic metaphor for her

longing to return to an "original" Jewish culture, because the contemporary Jewish culture treated her with disregard

(Hessing 102). These "wild Jews" are modeled on the great heroes of the Hebrew Bible and are intended to serve for both Jews and non-Jews as proud examples of the Jewish past and as role-models for the future. Interestingly, for 57

Lasker-Schüler they are not only exceptional human beings, but also "Künstlerrevolutionâr[er]" (Bauschinger, "Ich" 94).

For example Jussuf, the Wildiude king ("Melech") and hero in

Der Prinz. creates works of art which are considered

"Sehenswürdigkeiten aller Zeiten" (DP 120). This

"wildness," which Jussuf possesses, sets Jews and Muslims

(in their "natural" state) apart from Westerners; it is supposedly an inherently Oriental quality characterized by passion, bravery, and the ability to produce great art.?

Lasker-Schüler's choice of personas in both Die Nachte and Der Prinz is fascinating in this regard.® Although her first person narrators are almost always Arabs, her third person narrators empathetically tell the tales of Jewish characters ;® she never focuses on Christian characters or adopts a Western persona. The narrative forecloses a discussion between Christians and Orientals; unity is

?It is interesting to note that, with her concept of the Wildiude. Lasker-Schüler also plays into parts of the European "noble savage" tradition.

^Although it is normally considered taboo to assume the narrator and the author are the same person, I do so with Lasker-Schüler because she assumed the personas of her narrators in her own life. In other words, when she was writing the stories of Tino and narrating them through Tino's voice, she was also going by the name Tino and dressing like her in everyday life.

®It is unclear who the narrator of the story "Der Temple Jehovah" is. While it is probably Tino, the Jewish theme would be inconsistent with her religious identity as a Muslim. 58 established between Jewish and Arab traditions while

Christians are silenced: Die Fremdheit zwischen der orientalischen, jüdisch-mohammedanischen und der christlichen Welt kann aber auch durch die Liebe nicht aufgehoben werden. Der Unterschied ist wesentlich. Ihm zufolge unterliegen die Christen verstandiicher- weise im Kampf, denn sie sind die Gezahmten und Geschwachten, denen es auch an der natiirlichen Wildheit gebricht. (Bauschinger, Else 115)

In fact, the European Christians mentioned in these texts are depicted rather negatively. The English women in

"Der Dervish," who are curious onlookers at a pious, Muslim ritual in Cairo, are inappropriately dressed: "Die zarten

Halse der Abendlanderinnen heben sich aus dem Rand ihrer

Durchsichtigen Kleider..." (DP 101). Like the English women, the Europeans in "Der Kreuzfahrer" are beautiful and seductive— the narrator (Tino) is friends with Christian women and has an affair with a crusading knight— but they are also destructive: " [die] kampfen mit der Taube

Mohammeds, die will meinen Schleier zerpfliicken" (DP 129) .

Lasker-Schiiler protrays these Westerners as a dangerous threat to the Oriental way of life. Although Tino is attracted to them, she recognizes that their insensitivity to the cultural values of Orientals poses the threat of a disruption in the fabric of her culture. Lasker-Schüler's negative depiction of Christians in these texts expresses an uneasiness with European society. It is interesting that

Lasker-Schüler seems to reverse the roles normally played by

Westerners and Orientals in European literature: normally 59 the Oriental is seen as feminine, seductive, and dangerous, whereas the European is masculine, rational, and benevolent.

However, in Die Nachte and Der Prinz. the European assumes these normally Oriental characteristics. And like the portrayal of Orientals in European literature, which denies the actual people who live in the Orient a voice in the discourse about their culture, Lasker-Schiiler silences

Christian Europeans in her texts.

Instead, Lasker-Schüler focusses on how Jews and Arabs share a common, non-Western understanding of the world.

Interestingly, she almost never chooses to use a Jewish narrative voice in either Die Nachte or Der Prinz. S h e uses this distance alternately to symphathize with the

Jewish characters in her stories or to be very critical of them. On the one hand, she asserts in the story "Der

Dervish" that Jews are less fanatical in their relgious practice than Muslims: they correctly consider the bloody

(Lasker-Schüler's interpretation) Muslim rituals of Muharram

"ein Greuel" (DP 102). And yet, while the three Jewish kings in Der Prinz are admirable figures, in the story

"Tschandragupta," Lasker-Schüler also exposes the fanatical orthodoxy of a rabbi who refuses to allow an Indian to worship Jehova in his temple: the rabbi's daughter "bittet

ihren Vater, die fromme Gabe seines Gastes [Tschandragupta] nicht zu verachten; der ehrwürdige Knecht Jehovas aber

^°See footnote number four, above. 50 wendet sein Gesicht" (DP 98). And the Jewish sultan in "Der Scheik" may be a highly educated, fascinating companion for the Muslim ruler, but he was also "kein Menschenfreund" (DP

94). By assuming either an Arab or a neutral (i.e., an unidentifiable third person) voice, Lasker-Schiiler could distance herself from her ethnic identity as a Jew, thereby gaining a more "objective" perspective on Jewish culture.

Yet by adopting an Arab persona, she still maintained a common. Oriental bond with her Jewish heritage; assuming a

Christian or Western voice would have forced her to identify with a culture which, she believed, had different values than her own. Hence her "new Jewish" type of art focussed primarily on Orientals: Jews (especially Wildjuden) and others, including Arabs and Turks.

Since the Orient has often been depicted as the realm of the Other in German literature, it makes sense that it becomes the setting for Lasker-Schüler's attempts to explore and (perhaps) exploit her own Otherness. To this end,

Lasker-Schüler not only adopted an Oriental persona in her prose, but also in her actual life, claiming she was born in

Thebes (she was not), insisting she could speak Arabic (she could not), and adopting the identities of her fictional protagonists in her dress and correspondence. Many scholars have suggested different explanations as to why she lived out her Oriental fantasies: in order to cover up the hardships of her impoverished life (O'Brien 3), to protest 61 an oppressive German monarchy, to compensate for possible mental illness (Kuckart 91), or to overcome those restrictions placed on her as a woman living in Germany at that time (O'Brien 4). Certainly being an impoverished,

Jewish, leftist, eccentric, woman artist in Germany at the beginning of the twentieth century made her a marginal figure. Lasker-Schiiler became first Tino and then Jussuf, "weil sie nicht von dieser kiihlen, niichternen, technischen

GroBstadtwelt des 20. Jahrhunderts sein wollte, sondern aus uralten Vorzeiten, an die sie sich noch errinnern zu konnen glaubte und deren Sprache sie noch sprechen wollte"

(Bauschinger, Else 104). For all the above reasons, Lasker-

Schüler chose an Oriental setting for her works and an

Oriental persona for herself in order to show how foreign she felt in German culture.

Dressing as an Oriental or speaking in an Oriental's voice in Germany differentiated her not only from non-Jewish

Germans, but also from assimilated, German-speaking Jews as well. In the process of writing texts about her Difference, she made her body into a text as well. The adoption of the

"Arab" persona of Tino allowed Lasker-Schüler to distance herself from German cultures. Being "Arab" meant she was not German; this emphasized Lasker-Schüler's marginality in

Germany and provided her with a vantage point from which she attempted to create art free of Western social restrictions.

11 See Wieland Herzfelde's essay. 62

This tactic gave her certain advantages, but also alienated her from her own German-speaking culture. What made her an

Other in German society, Lasker-Schiiler believed, was that she was a misunderstood, mystical visionary. She sensed that she was special early in her life: "For Lasker-

Schiiler, being different was a double-edged sword; it was the source of great pride and perhaps even greater loneliness" (O'Brien 2). Growing up as a gifted, sensitive,

Jewish child in the Wuppertal, she was perceived as an outsider among her schoolmates (Hessing 44). This situation led Lasker-Schiiler to look for role models who had experienced the same alienation. In the Biblical figure of

Joseph she found someone she could identify with and look up to: he was the ultimate Wildiude. S h e identified with

Joseph's having been initially shunned by society, and marveled at the fact that he had nonetheless managed to become a hero through his ability to look into people's souls and interpret their dreams (Bauschinger, Else 88). In her personal life Lasker-Schiiler therefore adopted the persona of Jussuf, a Wildiude who became the Prince of

Thebes and whose name is the Arabic (not the Hebrew) equivalent of Joseph.Although only one of the stories

i^in the Old Testament Joseph is put through many trials, but overcomes all hardships in the end.

^^The standard transliteration from Hebrew is Yossef. Giving Jussuf an Arabic name and Jewish identity establishes him as a bridge between the two cultures, thereby underscoring the unifying role Joseph plays between the 63 in her prose works focusses on him ("Abigail der Dritte"), and although Tino, the Princess of Bagdad, is the major narrative voice in both Die Nachte and Der Prinz. Lasker-

Schiiler wore the mask of Jussuf in her own life from 1910 until she died in 1945:

Ein Doppelleben führt sie, der Prinz von Theben. [Ein] Versteckspiel hinter der Maske des Prinzen schafft Freiraum für ihre chaotische Kreativitat im Schreiben. Ihr ernsthaftes Kunstspiel im fernostlichen Kostüm garantiert— trotz alien Spotts— exotische Unberührbarkeit. (Kuckart 23)14

Why did Lasker-Schüler never adopt Jussuf as her persona in either Die Nachte or Der Prinz? Perhaps adopting his voice in her literature would have associated her too closely with supporting a specific Jewish agenda, which she wished to avoid at that time. In the character of Tino, the

Egyptians and the Israelites in the Hebrew Bible.

l4Lasker-Schüler initially adopted the persona of Tino in her real life (between 1900-1910); however, the name was given to her by Peter Hille. Jussuf was the name she chose for herself. For a discussion of the possible gender implications of this switch, see Mary-Elizabeth O'Brien's essay. For an explanation of the significance of cross- dressing for women, refer to the interview with bell hooks in which she explains: It was a form of ritual, of play. It was also about power. To cross-dress as a woman in patriarchy meant, more so than now, to symbollically cross from the world of powerlessness to a world of priviledge. It was the ultimate intimate voyeuristic gesture. (Juno 79) Certainly cross-dressing for Lasker-Schüler meant not only wearing the costume of another gender, but also of another culture. It is therefore significant that in real life she choose to both access the "world of priviledge" by dressing as a man while simmultaneously denying herself a position of power in it by living in German society as an Oriental. 54 shunned visionary, poet, and "Princess of Bagdad," she found a tangible model of unconventionality. In the story "Der

GroBmogul von Philippopel," Tino becomes the wise advisor of, and poet for, a powerful Turkish king who has grown mute. "In den groBen Saal des Reichpalastes werde ich geführt, dort nehmen Schreiber vom Amte meine erdichteten, wundertatigen Worte auf, und die Staatsmanner bilden einen

Chor um mich" (DN 77), Tino reports, "Und es strahte die

Mondsichel mit dem ersten Stern über Konstantinopel" (DN

78). The parallel of Tino's experience to that of the

Biblical Joseph is unmistakable. But unlike the Pharaoh, the king becomes jealous that Tino, and not he, has turned his country into a success, "und vertrieben werde ich [Tino] aus dem Garten des Reichpalastes [...] und ich deute mein

Geschick" (DN 80). Her talents misunderstood and unappreciated both here and throughout the texts, Tino is forced to flee for her life. Tino, like Joseph, lives in a state of constant exile, and this mirrors the feeling of being exiled from German society which Lasker-Schüler felt throughout her life.Unlike Joseph's story, however,

Tino's does not necessarily end happily.

Tino, like Lasker-Schüler, is an artist who longs to be accepted by society, and yet realizes her importance as a

liminal figure in it. Liminal figures, as defined by Victor

i^of course, this feeling was concretely realised when Lasker-Schüler had to go into exile, first to Switzerland and then to Palestine, under the Nazis. 65 Turner, are people who exist "betwixt and between" those categories ordered by "past and future mundane social existence" (202). They occupy a precarious, but important, position in society in that they are sometimes regarded as wise, or holy, and othertimes seen as crazy, or dangerous.

This is illustrated in "Der Sohn der Lilame," where Tino teaches her blue-haired cousin to appreciate his Difference; unfortunately, he misinterprets this, takes it to an extreme, and comes to be regarded as a foolish freak. Yet

Tino understands the difference between creating a spectacle of one's self and being appreciated for one's uniqueness.

In her own life, however, Lasker-Schiiler sometimes crossed that fine line.

For Lasker-Schiiler, the liminal experience is often one of disjointedness. In order to underscore the liminality of her experience, Lasker-Schiiler employed three devices in her texts: she wrote collections of disjointed short stories which fit into no fixed genre, she constantly changed the identity and voice of the narrator in these texts, and she imitated important themes from Sufi poetry, a liminal

Islamic literary tradition. First, the stories contained within Die Nachte and Der Prinz form a collection, as one might find in a book of poetry, rather than a linear story.

By writing a text that is neither strictly prose nor poetry, she makes it liminal: just as she made her body a text, she made the text to be like her body. The fact that there are 66 no frame stories, that characters jump forwards and backwards in time, and that stories are episodic rather than continuous contributes to a disjointed and fragmented experience for the reader. Lasker-Schiiler thereby helps the reader gain access to the kind of experience which liminal figures have when dealing with society; this also mirrors the fragmented view of the Other which societies tend to have of liminal figures.

Second, the constant switching of voice in Lasker-

Schiiler 's texts serves further to emphasize her insistence that the reader experience the often disjointed liminality of the artist. In Die Nachte and Per Prinz. the narrative voice changes from first person (singular and plural) to third person, from male to female, from old to young, from one location to another. By blurring the lines between things which are normally considered distinct and even opposite, she undermines the reader's fixed notions about categories. She thereby challenges the reader to see and experience things from multiple perspectives. As Lasker-

Schiiler herself did in real life, the reader accordingly participates in a type of multicultural cross-dressing while engaging these texts.And the Orient provides the

^®The significance of this is illuminated by bell hooks: "Cross-dressing, appearing in drag, transsexualism, are all choices that emerge in a context where the notion of subjectivity is challenged...where identity is always perceived as capable of construction, invention, change" (Juno 80). In this context, it is the readers' notions of subjectivity which are challenged. 67 perfect setting where lines can be blurred, since the Orient has often been depicted in European literature as a place where Western categories do not apply. Indeed, the Orient presented in both Die Nachte and Der Prinz defies European conceptions of time and space. The reader never knows what the historical time-frame for the stories is supposed to be; likewise, geography plays no role in separating cultures.

Lasker-Schiiler's Orient is a contradictory, amorphous mass.

Tino, the liminal artist whose voice the reader adopts most often in these texts, is also contradictory. In this regard, she shares much in common with Sufi mystics. Sufis

(known in different parts of the Muslim world as qalandars, malangs, fakirs, or dervishes) are liminal figures in their own societies: they are considered poetic, mystical, androgynous, powerful, and contradictory. Since they defy

Western categorization, Sufis are often conveniently used in

European literature to epitomize all Orientals. Tino possesses many of the same characteristics as Sufis and embodies various contradictions: she is both rich and poor, recognized and misunderstood, spoiled and abused, happy and sad, old and young, dressed like men and women, and, above all, is exceptional because she's a visionary and poet.

Jussuf, both in the text and in Lasker-Schüler's adoption of his persona in her actual life, also shares many of these characteristics. Like ideal Sufis, these two characters, taken together and separately, "form a composite of the 68 androgynous visionary set apart from others" (O'Brien 13), which exemplifies Lasker-Schüler's own view of herself as an

artist.

Third, in many ways the voice of Tino (and, to some

extent, of Jussuf) seems to echo the great Sufi poets. The

estatic, mystical, and often esoteric Sufi poets write about

the longing they feel for their true love or home; these

motifs serve as metaphors for the separation from God which

Sufis hope to overcome.1® They accept alienation from

society as necessary, and they see their art as a secondary

result of their mystical search for God. It is significant

that one of the major themes running throughout both Die

Nachte and Der Prinz is Sehnsucht. Indeed, Tino is the

loving "Dichterin Arabiens" (DN 70) whose "Leidenschaften

übersteigen die der anderen" (Bauschinger, Else 108-9);

likewise, Jussuf ("Abigail der Liebende" DP 122) sings his

songs "so wie sie, fernab, allein" (Bauschinger, Elsel79).

However, in these texts Lasker-Schüler emphasizes the idea

that Sehnsucht serves primarily as a source for artistic

l^However, Lasker-Schüler's descriptions of "actual" Sufis in the stories "Der Fakir von Theben," "Der Derwisch," and "Der Fakir" paint them as mean, hypocritical, and dangerous. In so doing, she illustrates the problem presented by any mystical system; whereas Tino and Jussuf represent what a Sufi should be (a mystical ideal), the access to power afforded by their position in the religious community corrupts the practice of the "real" Sufis in these texts.

^®See, for example, the poetry of the great Persian poet Rumi. 69 inspiration, which therefore must not be satisfied; were it not for her Sehnsucht, Tino might have been happier, but she would not have been a great artist. This mirrors how

Lasker-Schüler felt about her role as an artist; "Fur die niemals assimilierte, an ihrem Judentum leidende Else

Lasker-Schüler...ist Erlosung stets etwas anderes gewesen: nicht ewige Verheifiung, sondern ewige Sehnsucht" (Hessing

127) .

By forcing the reader to step inside the shoes of exotic Others, and irregularly change voices, Lasker-Schüler brings about two reactions in her readers. First, she confuses them, so that they must rethink what is usually taken for granted. She thereby constantly decenters the reader's position, encouraging the reader to explore the fringes of society and literary tradition with her. Second, she evokes a kind of empathy between her readers and the exotic Other in her texts. In this way, Tino serves the same function as Zulima in Novalis' novel Heinrich von

Ofterdinaen (1801): she convinces the readers that the

Orient is a wonderful place, and thereby evokes in them a new-found appreciation for the Other.In this way,

Lasker-Schüler empowers those figures who would normally be disregarded as fremd, while she simultaneously attempts to

^^Indeed, Lasker-Schüler seems to be playing with the German Romantic tradition, which was also interested in a mythical "Orient" and, in to this end, employed Sehnsucht as one of its major themes. 70 convince her readers of the value of the misunderstood artist and visionary for society and art. By doing so,

Lasker-Schüler promotes her own position as an eccentric,

German Jewish artist living in a German society which often did not recognize her worth.

One of Else Lasker-Schüler's goals, which is expressed throughout Die Nachte and Der Prinz. was to be appreciated as a unique Jewish artist and visionary who was developing a new type of art which bridged the cultural gap between East and West. One of the major themes of Lasker-Schüler's work as a whole is "Die Erkenntnis das Anderen, das gleichwohl fasziniert als auch ... aufgehoben werden kann in einer

Verwandtschaft, welche die Kunst und die Kunstverstandnis stiften" (Bauschinger, "Ich" 90); in so doing, the task of these texts "[ist] eine Welt aufzubauen, die sich von der

[abendlandischen] Wirklichkeit unterscheidet" (Bauschinger,

Else 108). The Orient therefore provided her with a space where she had more room to play with her ideas than she believed she could find in Germany, and where she could let her imagination freely wander. It is also a place where she could work out the various facets of her personality and reassure herself that she was a creative force who was not crazy, but simply different from most Germans. In her

Orient she was in control of her situation and could see to it that she received some of the respect she deserved for her talents: "Im SelbstbewuBtsein nah der Eigenliebe werden 71

Dichterkranz und Prinzenkrone zu austauschbaren Insignien ihrer Erwahltheit" (Kuckart 26).

And yet, what are the ramifications of Lasker-Schiiler's use of the Orient as a space for the expression of her

Otherness? Is she celebrating Difference or deconstructing it? Does she succeed in making the margins the center?

Although she was attempting to do all these things, Lasker-

Schiiler nevertheless reproduced many of the stereotypes about the Orient found in European literature: it "was a place of lascivious sensuality, and...it was a realm characterized by inherent violence" (Kabbani 6). Her view of this region is fraught with stereotypes and racist attitudes which betray her ignorance about the Muslim world.

For example, in "Ached Bey," dervishes dance in a mosque (DN

63); in reality, dervishes do not dance in mosques but in special buildings called tekkes. During the Shi'i commemoration of Muharram in "Der Dervish," she shows the entire city of Cairo engaged in a bloody "MenschvergieBen"

(DP 102); actually, the Shi'i population in modern Egypt is very small, and Lasker-Schiiler grossly exaggerates the intensity of the self-flagellation used during their ritual practices.And Blacks are depicted throughout Die

Nachte and Der Prinz only as slaves occupying very

^°Although Cairo had once been the capital of the Shi'i Fatimid empire, it is unclear whether these Fatimid Isma'ilis actually engaged in self-flagellation during their ritual practices at all. 72 subordinate positions, despite the fact that slavery on the basis of race was a rare occurrence in the Muslim world.

Over and over, the Orient is presented as being timeless and contextless; for example, mummies pop up all over Western

Asia (in Constantinople in DN 76) and Northern Africa. And most Arabs and Turks are described as being overly obsessed with luxury, sex, violence, or all of the above. For example, in "Bin Brief meiner Base Schalome," Tino reports the following, sadistic harem scene, which incorporates all these elements:

Meine besessene Tante in der überweiten Brokathose beginnt sich zu entkleiden; neugierig folgen die anderen Frauen den Belehrungen des Eunuchen. Bin groBes Buch mit grausamen Bildern breitet er auf dem Teppich hin. Seine Stimme schlangelt sich ein liisterner Bach urn die fiebernden Sinne der Frauen....Ich bebe, der Bunuche ergreift eine der vielfaltigen Peitschen; in Bleikugeln endet jeder Riemen; er wetzt sie einige Male wagerecht in der Luft, laBt sie dann langsam herab auf den weiten überweiten allerwertesten Vollmond meiner fiebernden Tante prallen, die ihn, ich schwore es bei Allah, nach alien Seiten hin ihm zuwendet, morderisch aufschreiend, kokett die Zahne zeigend. (DP 106)

Perhaps it also goes without saying that such notions are more often based on the projection of European fantasies than on any grain of historical "truth."

Because the Orient is her playground, and her persona is as an Oriental Other, Lasker-Schüler is not concerned with the historical accuracy of her depiction of the Orient.

Her very lack of reflection upon this matter causes her to mirror many of the biased descriptions of the Orient which 73 were (and are) prevalent in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Her descriptions replicate many of those nineteenth-century stances towards the Orient which, according to Said, were rooted (consciously or unconsciously) in an ideology of imperialism. Although

Lasker-Schiiler is not an imperialist, her adoption of these stereotypes discloses an assertion of power over this culture. Indeed, being able to define an Islamic Orient totally subjectively empowered Lasker-Schiiler in a way which she never experienced in real life: she determined how an entire culture thought and felt and saw to it that her own artistic and personal goals were carried out. And she could do this because most of her German readers at that time had never been to the East, or uncritically believed German cultural assumptions about that part of the world, or both.

For them, as for Lasker-Schiiler, the Orient was nothing more than an imaginative space.

Afterall, Lasker-Schiiler is not so different from other

European artists who thought they were coming to terms with different cultural values by experimenting with exoticism, but who were actually coming to terras with themselves:

Der Exotismus sagt wenig Realistisches aus iiber die fremde Welt, er sagt aber viel aus iiber die eigene Welt. Der Europaer braucht Allegorien und Symbole, um Verbindlichkeiten auch dort zu erzeugen, wo die Bezugsebenen nicht eindeutig geklart und faBbar sind, wo Vieldeutigkeit existiert, wo UngewiBheit kompensiert werden muB. Es soli eine Verallgemeinerung herrschen, die als Versatzstiick gebrauchsfahig und iibertragbar ist. Symbolik lichtet die europaische MaBstabe und 74

vernichtet das Authentische des Frentden, das Unwegbare und Unwagbare. Symbole und Allegorien leben von einer ausgekliigelten Doppelbodigkeit, die ethische, gesellschaftliche und auch asthetische Normen nach verschiedenen Seiten hin befriedigen will. (Osterwold 30)

Kurt Pinthus realized this was also the case for Lasker-

Schiiler who, as he maintained, was not attempting to flee the realities of her world by escaping to a highly ahistorical Orient, but was actually describing and coming to terms with her own world (Mattenklott 330-331). Because

Lasker-Schüler saw herself as an Oriental Jew who was nevertheless firmly grounded in the German literary tradition, her intention in Die Nachte and Der Prinz was to create an aesthetic that would bridge the gulf, which she believed existed, between herself and German society.

However, instead of establishing a common humanity between all people in the East and West, Lasker-Schüler emphasized only those aspects of the Orient which could be appreciated by other "special" artists like herself. In the end, by reproducing those European stereotypes about the Orient which were designed to establish it as totally alien, she further widened the gulf between herself and those from whom she sought acceptance and praise. 75

Works Cited

Aschheim, Steven E. Brothers and Strangers; The East European Jew in German and German Jewish Consciousness 1800-1923. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1982.

Bansch. Dieter. Else Lasker-Schüler: Zur Kritik eines etablierten Elides. Stuttgart; J.B. Metz1er, 1971. Bauschinger, Sigrid. Else Lasker-Schüler: Ihr Werk und ihre Zeit. Heidelberg: Lothar Stiehm, 1980.

III Ich bin Jude. Gott sei Dank,' Else Lasker-Schüler." Im Zeichen Hiobs; Jüdische Schriftsteller und deutsche Literatur im 20. Jahrhundert. Ed. Gunter Grimm, Hans- Peter Bayerdorfer, and Konrad Kwiet. Konigstein/Ts. : Athenaum, 1985.

Clifford, James. The Predicament of Culture. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1988.

Hessing, Jakob. Else Lasker-Schüler: Biographie einer deutsch-iüdischen Dichterin. Karlsruhe: von Loeper, 1985.

Herzfelde, Wieland. "Else Lasker-Schüler. Begegnungen mit der Dichterin." Sinn und Form 21,6 (1969): 1294-1325.

Juno, Andrea, "bell hooks." Angry Women. Ed. Andrea Juno and V. Vale. San Francisco: Re/Search, 1991.

Kabbani, Rana. Europe's Mvths of Orient. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1986.

Kohler, Wolfgang. Hugo von Hofmannsthal und "TausandeineNacht": Untersuchungen zur Rezeption des Orients im epischen und essayistischen Werk; Mit einem einleitenden Überblick über den EinfluB von "Tausandeine Nacht" auf die deutsche Literatur. Frankfurt/Main: Peter Lang, 1972.

Kreidt, Dietrich. Exotische Figuren und Motive im europaischen Theater. Stuttgart: Institut für Auslandsbeziehungen, 1987.

Kuckart, Judith. Im Spiegel der Bâche finde ich mein Bild nicht mehr: Gratwanderung einer anderen Asthetik der Dichterin Else Lasker-Schüler. Frankfurt/Main: S. Fischer, 1985. 76

Lasker-Schüler, Else. Die Nachte der Tino von Bagdad. Der Prinz von Theben und andere Prosa. München: DTV, 1986. This text is designated by the abbreviation DN.

. Der Prinz von Theben: Ein Geschichtenbuch. Der Prinz von Theben und andere Prosa. München: DTV, 1986. This text is designated by the abbreviation DP.

Mattenklott, Gert. "Ostjudentum und Exotismus." Die andere Welt: Studien zum Exotismus. Ed. Thomas Koebner and Gerhart Pickerodt. Frankfurt/Main: Athenaum, 1987.

O'Brien, Mary-Elizabeth. "'Ich war verkleidet als Poet...Ich bin Poetin!!': The Masquerade of Gender in Else Lasker-Schüler's Prose." Manuscript for Div. on Women writing Men: Female Authors and Male Protagonists. MLA Convention. Chicago, 30 Dec. 1990.

Osterwold, Tilman. "Faszination und Zerstorung — Anpassung und Unterwerfung." Exotische Weiten Eurooaische Phantasien. Ed. Tilman Osterwold and Hermann Pollig. Stuttgart: Institut für Auslandsbeziehungen Württembergischer Kunstverein, 1987.

Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Vintage, 1978.

Schlossman, Beryl. The Orient of Style: Modernist Allegories of Conversion. Durham; Duke UP, 1991.

Turner, Victor and Edith. "Religious Celebrations." Celebration. Ed. Victor Turner. Washington, DC: Smithsonian, 1982. 201-220.

Wassermann, Jakob. "Der Jude als Orientale." Daimon. 1,1 (1918): 28-32.

Wiener, Meir. "Else Lasker-Schüler." Juden in der deutschen Literatur; Essays über zeitaenossische Schriftsteller. Ed. Gustav Krojanker. Berlin: Welt- Verlag, 1922. CHAPTER III

The Function of Mohammed in Friedrich Wolf's Mohammed; Ein Oratorium

Friedrich Wolf's earliest play, Mohammed; Ein

Oratorium. was written while he was fighting in the trenches of Flanders in 1917.1 This drama tells the story of

Mohammed and his struggle to establish the religion of

Islam. Contrary to the older tradition in German literature of depicting Mohammed as a devil or a false prophet, Wolf—

like Goethe and Rilke before him— praises Mohammed not only for being a prophet and founder of one of the world's major religions, but also for being someone whose message has universal appeal. While basing his version of Mohammed's biography upon German Orientalist accounts of traditional

Muslim sources,2 Wolf emphasizes those incidents which he

^Three versions of Wolf's Mohammed drama exist. A scene from the first, which was originally entitled Der Lowe Gottes. appeared in the periodical Der wesentliche Leser in 1919. Wolf made minor changes in this, and the second version, entitled Mohammed: Ein Oratorium. was published by the Chronosverlag in 1924. The final version, entitled Mohammed: Ein Schauspiel. was modified for the Aufbau Verlag in 1951. In this dissertation, I cite Mohammed: Ein Oratorium because it is the most complete version which reflects Wolf's earlier concerns and perspectives.

^Wolf's two primary sources on Islam and Mohammed are Friedrich Delitzsch's Die Welt des Islam (1915) and Max Henning's introduction to his translation of the Qur'an (Der

77 78 thinks particularly apply to the European context in which he finds himself (i.e., in the middle of the first World

War). Wolf therefore depicts Mohammed as especially concerned with peace and justice, the two things which elude

Europe (and particularly Germany) at the time he was writing his play.

It is important that Wolf chose someone outside of both the Judaic and Christian traditions to be the proponent of a positive alternative to what he was experiencing in German culture during World War I. It is further noteworthy that, along with works by Tolstoy, a German translation of the Qur'an was one of the few books Wolf took with him to the front (Schnabel 40). In this chapter, I consider the possible socio-historical and biographical reasons for

Wolf's attraction to Mohammed and his message; I also examine both how and why Wolf seeks to depict Mohammed as a positive role model for Europeans by fostering Western empathy for Oriental culture. Specifically, I demonstrate why it is significant that a German Jewish doctor fighting in the first World War wrote a drama which eulogizes

Mohammed— who is depicted as an advocate of non-violence and anti-imperialism— as its hero.

Wolf's Mohammed; Ein Oratorium traces the Prophet's life from his youth until his departure from Mecca for

Medina. In the prologue, a young Mohammed learns from the

Koran. 1901). 79

Syrian monk Bahirah that he will be God's prophet; examples of miraculous events in Mohammed's life and the fact that he has the birthmark of a prophet on his back support Bahirah's claim. In the first act, which takes place many years later, more is revealed about the character and situation of

Mohammed. We learn he is a very successful businessman who

is criticized for freeing his slaves and giving away his money; he also agonizes about whether he is actually

"chosen" or not. He rejects the advise of both Chadidjeh

(his employer and future wife), who counsels him to live an entirely worldly life, and Waraka (Chadidjeh's monotheistic

cousin), who urges him to live an ascetic one. In the

second act, Mohammed's relationship to the citizens of Mecca

is explored. Mecca's socio-economic and religious systems

are in a state of chaos because the clans which govern the

city are no longer cooperating. In one of the inter-tribal

disputes, Mohammed proves himself a fair arbitrator between

these clans but is unwilling to become a political figure,

because he believes he is simply expressing God's will. He

also resists the temptations of an evil jinn, who tries to

persuade him to misuse his power. In act three, God reveals

himself to Mohammed on Mt. Hira. Mohammed learns to trust

in God's will, just as his cousin Ali swears allegiance to

him as God's prophet. After he returns home, his house is

stormed by angry members of a rival clan who claim that

Mohammed's teachings about social justice have jeopardized 80 their power; they demand he recant in order to restore

order. He refuses, repels their violent attacks with non­ violent tactics, and converts people in his own clan in the

process; the attackers are driven out of the house. The

final act deals with the so-called Satanic Verses and

Mohammed's break with Mecca. Resisting pressure from the

other clans and reversing a statement he had made earlier,

Mohammed refuses to acknowledge that his God is simply one

among the other deities worshipped in Mecca. Instead he

tells the Meccans that they must smash the idols and

recognize the one, true God, for whom he is the messenger.

Although this message is received with hostility from the

Meccans, he instantly converts those people who have come on

pilgrimage from Jathrib (Medina), who then convince him to

bring his message to their city. The play ends with

Mohammed's preparation for his departure in the face of

adversity but with the knowledge that God is on his side.

In many ways. Wolf's agenda in Mohammed reflects the

same concerns voiced by other German Expressionists: Wolf—

like Ernst Toller, Georg Kaiser, and others— places his

hopes upon a great individual whose compassion for the

oppressed will result in a transformation of society. The

form and language of Mohammed also conform to that used by

other Expressionist writers at that time. Rejecting the

classical form, the play consists of a Vorspiel and four

acts, the third of which is comprised of two scenes (which 81 are not clearly demarcated as such). The language is very passionate and Angst-ridden, reflecting the "0, Mensch" themes in this type of drama. For example, when Mohammed and Chadidjeh discuss the possibility of marriage,

Mohammed's warning to her about his precarious situation mirrors the pathos and anguish typical of heroes in

Expressionist drama:

Begreife dies, Chadidjeh! Nicht besitz ich mich; wie bedarf ich da vergeben, was ich nicht besitze? Geheimnisvoll. Ich bin Sklave meiner Traum' und Schatten, die mich bei lichter Helle jagen! Mich jagen Geister, schlimme..,schlimme; will ich sie denken, weichen sie wie Dunst...sag's keinem, keinem...Dir nur trau ich's! Die Furcht, mich zu enthüllen, meine Not, das ist mein Hochmutl Baumt sich in Qual. 0 fliehe mich, Chadidjeh! Ich bin ein Besessener! (1.30)

Accordingly, most of the secondary literature on this play dismisses Mohammed as nothing more than a typical,

Expressionist Ideendrama. Wolf's two major biographers,

Werner Jehser and Walther Pollatschek, have been especially influential in disseminating this point of view. This is understandable since, as East German literary critics, they had much at stake in giving short shrift to Wolf's earlier

(Expressionist) works in order to concentrate on his later

(Socialist Realist) ones.^ Breaking ranks with these

^Reflecting his later literary concerns, in 1951 Wolf re-edited Mohammed in order to strengthen some of its political implications and to weaken its mystical, religious ones. For example, he substitutes the epigraph "Willst du kein Sklave sein, steh auf!" for the one used in the earlier versions ("Wer kann schweigen, wenn die Seele brennt!"); thus the emphasis of the play shifts from issues of truth and individual action to class struggle. It is important to 82 critics altogether, Hans Rodenberg, the editor of the latest collection of Wolf's letters, takes issue with these attacks on Mohammed. He refers to it as "wohl den poetisch reichsten Stuck Wolfs (hier sind Menschen, nicht nur

Vorwande für Programmentwicklung des Autors)" and claims,

"hatte Wolf konsequent so weitergearbeitet, dann ware er vielleicht schneller und tiefer zum Ziel gekommen" (459).

Despite its mixed reviews from critics, Mohammed is an captivating play which— although it was never performed^— reveals many of the specific concerns of a German Jewish author attracted to the exotic Orient. Indeed, like Else

Lasker-Schüler's Die Nachte and Der Prinz. Wolf's drama

note, however, that the quote about slavery already existed in the earlier version. Indeed, Wolf did not make any significant additions to the play. Instead he deleted sentences and even whole sections, occasionally changing some of the words. On balance he deleted a fair amount of the hyperbolic, Expressionistic language as well as references to the importance of recognizing God's revelations. Gone, therefore, are such phrases as "es ist kein Wissen ohne Offenbarung!" (51). Ingeborg Solbrig, who also refers to Mohammed as a "typically expressionistic 'scream play,'" is one of the few critics who comments on the differences between this later version and the earlier variants of this play. She prefers the earlier version, claiming that the last version "lacks the energy and immediacy of the original version" because it harps on social issues while adhering to the principles of Socialist Realism (2018). I find this perspective odd because the 1951 version of Mohammed differs very little from the 1924 version in both its commitment to social issues and its style.

was unable to find out why Mohammed was never performed. Wolf writes to his wife Else, in a letter dated April 4, 1925, that he has received a request from Bruno Schonfeld to stage Mohammed at the Anhalter Landestheater. Why this never happened remains unknown. 83 reveals the author's need to identify positively with the

Orient in order to make sense of his position as a German

Jew in European society. And yet, Wolf reaches very different conclusions from Lasker-Schüler not only about his

identity, but also about his relationship to the Orient.

Because of this, Mohammed provides a fascinating counterpoint to her work and should, therefore, not be

discarded as just another (uninteresting) Expressionist

drama.

Wolf's biography of Mohammed mostly derives from

versions provided by the two turn-of-the-century German

Islamicists Wolf was reading at the time, Max Henning and

Friedrich Delitzsch. It is worth noting that Henning and

Delitzsch were not unanimous in their conclusions about

Mohammed. Henning, like Delitzsch, talks about Mohammed's

humble beginnings, his connection to the Judeo-Christian

traditions, his intelligence and diplomatic skills, and his

appeal to those seeking social justice. However, Henning

paints a more negative picture than Delitzsch, also

accentuating the conflicts between Mohammed and various

Jewish communities and implying that Mohammed became rather

power-hungry (25). Delitzsch, on the other hand, emphasizes that Mohammed was "ein Sieger von auBerster Milde" (747) .

He laments the fact that Mohammed is misunderstood in the

West as a false prophet (66), and praises him as a great

reformer of the customs of both pagan Arab and Judeo- 84

Christian cultures. Writing in 1915, Delitzsch explains that his motivation for providing such a sympathetic account of both Mohammed and his message stems from the fact that the Germans are allies of the Turks, and they therefore have a duty to understand Islam. He claims it is imperative that the Germans appreciate Islamicate culture so they can better comprehend why the British and the Russians' "Eroberungs- gier" must be prevented from further colonization of the

Muslims (8-9). Whether Wolf agrees with this line of argumentation or not, he certainly praises Delitzsch. In a letter to his mother. Wolf describes Delitzsch as "ein feinsinniger und gelehrter Kenner und begeisterter Freund des Islamismus" and refers to Die Welt des Islam as "eine geschichtlich abgeleitete Darstellung über Mohammeds Lehren und den Koran in besonderen." He then advises his mother to buy the book.^

Since these German Orientalists seem to base their accounts of Mohammed's life upon traditional Muslim sources,® Wolf's drama faithfully recreates the life of the

Prophet in a way which has been praised by at least one

5Letter from July 31, 1915 (Wolf, Auf wieviel Pferden 95) .

®See A. Guillaume's The Life of Muhammed; A Translation of Ibn Tshaa's Sirat Rasul Allah for traditional sources of the Prophet's biography. 85

Muslim reader.7 Indeed, throughout Wolf's letters and diary entries at the time he was writing the play, it is clear that Wolf wanted to depict Mohammed in as accurate and positive a light as possible. Nevertheless, Wolf does use poetic license from time to time to heighten the dramatic effect of the story. He creates conversations between characters which are not found in the traditional sources, but are essential for giving voice to Mohammed's personal struggles on stage. For example, on Mount Hira Chadidjeh and Mohammed discuss the conflict between their relationship and his loyalty to God. It pains Mohammed to inform her that his love for her cannot be as central to his life as his love for God: "Ihm gab ich mich seit Mond und Sonnen, ihn harrte ich in letzter, ungeteilter Liebe.... Vertraut dein Herz...verlaB mich!" (III.48). This dialogue serves to illustrate the inner struggle Mohammed faces in balancing his worldly concerns as a human and his spiritual demands as

God's prophet. Wolf also develops the dramatic motif of

Mohammed being the "Lion of God"— a motif which Muslims usually associate with Ali, rather than the Prophet. But it

^In two letters to Wolf, Dr. Said Imam, who read the play when he was in Berlin, sung the praises of Mohammed. On April 2, 1930, he wrote the following from Damascus: "Durch Ihr Mohammed haben Sie mich sehr erfreut. Nicht nur wenn ich Ihr Mohammed sehe oder lese, werde ich an Sie denken, sondern auch dann wenn ich an meinem Mohammed denke...." On April 19 he wrote again, proclaiming, "Meine Freunde, viele Mohammedaner, streiten sich immer noch iiber Ihr Mohammed; ...viele meinen, dass [sic] es sehr bedauerlich sei, daB dieses Stuck nicht aufgefiihrt werden konnte1" 86 is understandable why Wolf would be attracted to this image for his hero: the lion is majestic and powerful, attributes important for the messenger of God. Thus Bahirah urges the people of Mecca "Folget— dem— Lowen— Gottes!" (16) in the beginning of the drama; and at the end, when the rival clans still refuse to believe him, Mohammed is transformed into a wrathful lion before whom "die grimmen Presser wie Lammer weichen!" (IV.67). This image underscores the fact that

Mohammed functions as the medium for God's judgment: unprovoked, he reflects God's love and patience; provoked, he reveals God's wrath.®

These additions to Mohammed's story serve to enhance the project of the drama, which Wolf describes as an exploration of the "Aufrichtigkeit eines groBen Mannes" who meets the challenge of his fate.® Wolf, who has been

"fated" to fight in a gruesome war, is keenly intrigued by what it was about the person of Mohammed which helped him to persevere under difficult circumstances. Mohammed becomes a role model for Wolf, who focuses on those traits in the

Prophet which he considers universally admirable. Mohammed

is depicted as an intelligent, decent person who becomes a prophet. As such, he exhibits all the characteristics of a

®However, it is interesting that Mohammed never does anything violent to his detractors. Wolf ends the play before we see Mohammed engaged in violent struggle against his enemies.

®Diary entry from July 28, 1918. 87

Genie; he is a passionate, tortured loner who is both poetically gifted and a remarkably utopian thinker. The people of Mecca do not know what to make of him. They wonder if he is a magician, a poet, or— in a wonderful play on the concept of Genie— is merely possessed by a jinn

(IV.60). But, unlike the typical German literary concept of a Genie. Mohammed is also very human, struggling with his decisions and hoping he is living up to God's expectations.

Just as he is otherworldly, he is also very much concerned to live in and change the material world around him; when

Waraka tries to convince him to renounce secular life,

Mohammed rejects this, concerning himself with practical things— like making a living (1.22-23). Mohammed is decidedly unelitist. He chastises Waraka for calling the

Meccans "ein Mückenschwarm" and telling Mohammed that he is better than they ("Wir sind von diesem Volk, Waraka!" 1.23).

For someone who is so rooted in spiritual experience,

Mohammed is anything but otherwordly. Because he has practical concerns, he declares that the godliest type of person is "ein Mann, der Wohltaten erteilt" (1.28). In keeping with this philosophy, part of the function of being a prophet for Mohammed is also being a successful person of action whose message and deeds eventually transform the world ("Bin ich Prophet, so werdet Glaubige! Doch nicht im

Stein und Zeichen, nein, im Herzen!" IV.69). This makes him markedly different from the tragic heroes of Expressionist 88 dramas, who are usually defeated by forces of ignorance or evil. Instead of just being an inaccessible, "chosen" person, the character of Mohammed also becomes someone all people (and especially Wolf) should try to emulate.

It is significant that Wolf chose an Oriental prophet to be a role model. As such. Wolf addresses issues about German cultural understandings of the Other when he tells the Prophet's life history. In this context, Friedrich

Delitzsch's reference to Europe's colonial ambitions towards the Islamicate world raises an important question: what

German attitudes towards the colonized Orient were prevalent before and during the first World War? More specifically, how were these perceptions expressed in German literature, and what influence might these have had on Wolf as an author? In the thought-provoking study Aufbruch nach Asien:

Kulturelle Fremde in der deutschen Literatur um 1900.

Gunther contrasts the colonial politics of Germany with the intensive exploration of Asian cultures conducted by German intellectuals. She explains that, as a result of Germany's having become a minor colonial power (in Africa and China) and having enjoyed rapid technological and industrial development at home, German writers around the turn of the century began to express a growing identity crisis as a result of these historical changes. From the Symbolist to the Expressionist movements, German authors began to experiment with foreign settings, styles, and philosophies. 89 which signified a "Fluch aus der Zeit" as a "Suche nach dem

Eigentlichen" (Gunther 12). And yet this literary use of the "exotic" gave rise to an ironic situation:

Das groJ5e und faszinierende Paradoxon dieser Epoche vor dem Ersten Weltkrieg liegt also in der Tatsache, dafi sich an der 'geistigen Situation der Zeit' Verzweifelnden in ihrer Suche nach Sinn gerade an den beherrschten, ausgebeuteten Osten wandten— daB sie mithin Hilfe von der 'Fremde' in einem Zeitalter suchten, in welchem sich das Phanomen der 'Entfremdung' in bisher nicht gekanntem AusmaBe bemerkbar machte. (Gunther 12)

Indeed, many authors expressed in their works an ambivalence towards the Orient which arose out of this paradoxical context. On the one hand, many German authors who wanted to empathize with and relate to Asian cultures maintained a critical stance towards colonialism; on the other, what they actually wrote about the East often revealed their inability to recognize their own submersion in the colonial mentality of their age (Gunther 284).

Wolf's depiction of Arabs is relatively free from the stereotypical characterization of Orientals to which many of these authors resort. He never depicts even the "bad" Arabs as stupid or irrational: all the characters in his play are represented as intelligent people whose motives are every bit as rational and understandable as those of any German.

Wolf's remarkably unbiased attitude towards his "exotic" characters seems to reflect a deep-seeded respect for

Islamicate culture. This respect may also point to 90

something even more significant: a desire on Wolf's part to really learn from the Other. Certainly, for many authors the literary "flight" to

Asia represented more than just a form of escapism for which

it is often dismissed in secondary literature. There

existed among many members of the German intelligentsia a

genuine interest in learning about Asian civilizations,

which manifested itself in numerous translations and studies

of Asian religious and cultural texts on the one hand and

actual journeys to the East on the other (Gunther 15).

Following this trend. Wolf, who was unable to travel to the

Orient, nevertheless intensively studied Hindu philosophy,

the Epic of Giloamesh. and the Qur'an before and during

World War I (Jehser 17-19).Wolf, like the others,

seems to have turned towards the East in search of solutions

to his personal and cultural problems and in order to

redefine himself through an exploration of the Other.

Gunther describes the characteristics of the discourse which

arose out of this phenomenon:

Im Kontext anderer zeitgenossischer Aufbruchsbewegungen zeigen sie sich als neue, originelle Form der Europakritik, die die fremde Kultur zum AnlaB nahm, zukunftshaItige

^°Wolf writes in his diary on a couple of occasions about his desire to travel to Asia. For example, in the fall of 1925, he planned a trip to what he called "der erwachende Orient." The trip was to have included stops in Alexandria, Jerusalem, Konya, Ankara, Azerbaijan, and Moscow. Although he finally made it to Moscow, where he lived in exile during the Nazi period. Wolf never got to visit these other places. 91

Alternativen zum Ideengehalt und zu den gesellschafts-politischen Gegebenheiten der eigenen Kultur aufzuzeigen und deren Potential neu zu iiberdenken. In diesem dialektischen Dreischritt der Kritik— 'Europa-Asien-Europa'— erweist sich Asien als Schauplatz einer europaischen Debatte über sich selbst, über Versaumtes und zu Erhoffendes, das man in Synthèse mit den asiatischen Alternativen Oder in Abgrenzung davon zu erreichen hoffte. (284-5)

Wolf's play Mohammed can therefore be seen as part of a discourse in Orientalist German literature which sought to understand the cultural Other in order to propose alternatives to what was going on at home.

By the end of the war, Wolf had plenty to criticize about European, and especially German, culture. As a doctor on the front, he had started World War I as an enthusiastic supporter, but began questioning the war as early as

1 9 1 6 . The real turning point came in 1917 when his friend Paul Bender was killed at his side in the trenches of

Flanders. From this point on. Wolf seriously criticized the validity of the war, and also began to question the meaning of life; "Auch ich war bis 1917 ein wilder Hurrakrieger und habe dann unter schweren Krisen mein Damascus erlebt und alle Folgerungen daraus gezogen."^^ Having already grown up in a social-democratic household (Müller, WeltbUraer 8),

^^See especially his long letter to Gustav Gerstenberger from October 12, 1916, where he expresses anger about the senselessness of the war (Wolf, Auf wieviel Pferden 121-127).

^^Quote from Friedrich Wolf in "Die Fahne Tragen" (1929) (reprinted in Hohmann 67). Note the wonderful religious (albeit Christian) imagery. 92

Wolf's experience of the war made him even more of a leftist; by the end of the war, he had joined the revolutionary Workers' and Soldiers' Council (Pollatschek

40)• It was in this context that he wrote Mohammed. a play in which he takes a stand against violence and injustice.

In the play, Mohammed's political message focuses on three primary areas of concern: a demand for social justice for those who have been oppressed, an advocacy of non­ violent solutions to conflict, and a critique of the materialism which produces imperialistic behavior. Mohammed propounds these positions at a time when the greed of

Mecca's powerful clans has lead to uncooperative tribalism which, in turn, has lead to political and social chaos.

Wolf underscores this situation in the second act by drawing on an event described in classical Islamic sources: the inter-tribal conflict over the Kaaba. Each of the clans wants the sole honor of moving the holy black stone in order to bring blessings on them, and each is prepared to fight with the others to get it (II.32-3). Mohammed finds a way for them to cooperate and move the stone together, but they do not understand the lesson he is trying to teach them. He explains the lesson to Ali, "Doch da wir an uns selbst das Gut nur ehren, nicht das Gute," we mistakenly dwell on how to acquire more wealth instead of thanking God for our existence (II.36-7). This blind materialism leads to a lack 93 of regard for the value of other people's lives; this posture results in slavery and violence.

Mohammed values the well-being of others over his own material gain. He explains to the incredulous Chadidjeh that he has freed his slaves, because he could not risk their lives, which they would be forced to lose, defending his (actually, her) caravans on dangerous journeys. He tells her, "ein einziger Tropfen [Blut] der Linken meines

Sklaven, er gait mir mehr denn aller Güter dieser Karawane!"

(1.22), and, "Ich achtete der Sklaven Leben, nichts welter"

(1.23). Mohammed's action angers the wealthy Meccans, who recognize it as a potential threat to the order of things. He is accused of harming society, to which he replies "0 Adu

Djahl, was weiBt du, der in Sanften auf Sklavenrücken durch die Gassen schwebt, von deines Volkes Not!" (III.56). But he has given the slaves hope, and the slaves approach him to ask him to free all the slaves in Mecca. They tell him them want to be free to be happy and rich ("Bedenket: RoB und

Knechte halten und den Handel dehnen bis zum Meer!" III.42).

Mohammed explains that this is not the point of freedom:

Mohammed steinern: Willst du kein Sklav sein, so steh auf! Niemand braucht Sklav sein, der sich nicht selbst bestaubt; niemand kann frei sein, der sich nicht selbst erldst! Zweiter [Sklave]: Du spottest, Herr! Wie sollen wir uns selbst die Nacken losen, da unsere Sackel leer und unsere Lenden Schwertlos? Mohammed: 0 ihr Volk, ihr wiBt nur was ihr wiinscht und nicht was not! Nicht gilt's die Nacken losen, eh ihr die Herzen nicht gelost von Blutdurst, Wahn und Gier! Dann fielen eure Ketten, ihr rachtet euch an euren Herren und 94

knechtet die VerhaSten, und war't ihr reich, gleich werbt ihr neue Sklaven und schindet sie aufs Blut urn eurer Machtl (III.42)

Mohammed wants to change the mindset of the people and not just have them reverse roles; otherwise, there is no real possibility of realizing justice.

Mohammed, however, has to face the consequences of his radical position vis-a-vis slavery when the slaves threaten to revolt violently. He is accused by the Meccans in act three of having told the slaves to do so, and the rival clans storm his house. He responds to their charges by telling them "Gewalt verwarf ich!"— the slaves have misunderstood his revolutionary message (III.54). A fight breaks out, and Mohammed refuses to defend himself physically: "Ich brauche nicht die Faust, ich brauche...den...Willen..." (III.58). The fact that he remains non-violent, even when he is in danger, deeply impresses one of his clansmen, who breaks up the fight and proclaims Mohammed "der starkste unter uns" (III.59). His insistence on non-violent means to resolve conflicts reinforces his message about valuing life and, therefore,

God's creation. Since Mohammed believes he is only relaying

i^Note that Mohammed's analysis of the slaves' situation hinges on the belief that it is primarily their perspective which needs to be changed, not necessarily their material conditions. This stance indicates that, while Wolf's anti-bourgeois sympathies were left-leaning, he certainly had not yet adopted a Marxist perspective. 95

God's will, it is also clear that God does not condone violence.

Ultimately, Mohammed condemns violence and the oppression of others as symptoms of a poverty of soul: the more people want, the more they will resort to oppression and violence, and the less fully realized they become as humans. In a key scene, Mohammed sums up the outcome of rampant materialism in a debate with the wealthy leaders of

Mecca:

Mohammed eisern: ...zuviel habt ihr und langt im Vielen nach dem mehr, jagt euch den kleinsten Vorteil ab, Klugheit wird List, List wird zur Tiicke, Kraft Gewalt, Gewalt wird Vergewaltigung, Fehde wird, Blutrinnt, Geschlechter morden sich und aus der Jagd nach Mehr wird endlich nur das groBe Grab des Nichts! Abu Djahl: Lammsgeblock! Ein starkes Volk braucht Land und Macht, so wie der Leib die Nahrung, sonst's leidet's Not! Mohammed aufflammend: Not! WüBtest du, woran wir leiden! Die Not des Volkes, das ist die Not der Herzen! Wahnt nicht das Volk zu stillen mit Land und Brot, mit Schwert und Gold! Nicht wieviel es braucht an Macht und Habe, wie wenig es bedarf, urn groB zu sein, ist eines Volkes MaB! Seht hier zwei Schalen einer Wage! Auf einer lieget Gold, Land, Krieg, Macht, Blut und Frevel, doch auf der andern euer Herz in Armut und in Einfalt; seht das Gesetz der Wage: eine Schale kann nur steigen, wenn die andere sinkt! Darum vernehmt's, was ihr nicht horen wollt, daB Armut Reichtum, daB eines Volkes Herz mit Macht ihr weder stillt, noch fesselt! (III.56-7)

In a direct manner, Mohammed's plea for peace and justice becomes an indictment of the imperialism which results from unbridled materialism. He argues that expansionist goals lead to unjust wars in the short run and the self- destruction of people in the long run. 96 Clearly the contentious tribalism and violence of Mecca in Mohammed's time mirrors for Wolf the situation of Europe leading up to, and during, the first world war. In letters to friends and family written during this period, Wolf draws parallels between the themes in Mohammed and the conclusions he is reaching about the war and Germany's position in it. For example, on the subject of German imperialistic war-aims he writes;

Alle Verbreiterungsgelüste sind fur uns Selbstmord....Im Mohammed steht: "Nicht wieviel ein Volk begehrt und aucherhalt, nein, wie wenig es bedarf, urn groB zu sein, ist eines Volkes maJ3." Das soil heiBen, alle Verbereiterung geht auf kosten der Vertiefung, alle Machtpolitik auf kosten der inneren Kraft und Gesittung!^^

Wolf rejects the violence of the war, and becomes a pacifist at this time— for which he is temporarily sent to a sanatorium (Rodenberg 455). As a doctor and a soldier, he witnesses first hand that the Eroberunasaier of countries, fed by the materialism of their citizens, leads only to death and destruction. Wolf's critique of the war, and the attitudes that produce it, develops primarily out of his own tragic, personal experiences, as well as out of his intensive study of Tolstoy and the Qur'an (Schnabel 40).

Wolf decides that he has much to learn from the Prophet, since he emerged out of a difficult historical period as one of the world's most important and admired figures. Wolf saw

^'^Letter to Gustav Gerstenberger from August 1, 1918 (Wolf, Auf wieviel Pferden 180). 97 in Mohammed a religious and social reformer who became the epitome of the non-violent revolutionary. He found in

Mohammed an Oriental Other whose message had relevance for, and even solutions to, the crises German culture (and Wolf) were facing. Wolf felt energized by this;

Es ist ein Jammer, dafi die au&eren Verhaltnisse zu schwierig sind, um an meinem Mohammed zu arbeiten. Er wird nun schon zu machtig und qualt mich. Es brennt mir, grade unserem Jahrhundert mit seinem bidden Wissensdünkel, dem Stolz auf das 120-km- Geschütz den Menschen in seiner alten Keuschheit und Reine entgegen-zustellen, das Ringen einer Prophetenseele, die aus ahnlichem Wust und Wirrsal wie heute notgedrungen zuerst in das vdllige Nichts geschleudert wird, um dann um so herrlicher und reiner zu Gott und dem Weltensinn sich zu erheben.

Mohammed becomes for Wolf not only an example to emulate, but also a mouthpiece for his own emerging opinions.

And yet, was Wolf only attracted to this Oriental because he believed him to be presenting a totally foreign perspective? Or is it possible that Wolf culturally identified with Mohammed somehow? In other words, did the fact that Wolf was a German Jew writing during the debates about Jews as "Oriental" impact his decision to write a play about Mohammed? After all. Wolf wrote this drama in the context of much discussion about the identity of Jews in

Germany: when he was a university student, representations of Jews as Orientals were prevalent in such student

^^Letter to Gerstenberger from April 16, 1918 (Wolf, Auf wieviel Pferden 171). 98 publications as the popular Blau-Weifi Blatter. A n d

Mohammed was written after the appearance of Jakob

Wassermann’s essay "Der Literat oder Mythos und

Persdnlichkeit" (1909), was completed the same year as

Wassermann's "Der Jude als Orientale" (1918), and was revised after the appearance of Juden in der deutschen

Literatur (1922). Mohammed might have symbolized for Wolf both a foreign solution to contemporary German problems and the vindication of an Oriental (and, hence, Jewish) perspective, with which he as a German Jew could identify.

By presenting Mohammed's teachings to German society in order to foster a respect for Eastern culture, a critic like

Jakob Wassermann might argue that Wolf ascribes to an

Oriental Jewish perspective; while he sings the praises of

Mohammed's Difference to a Western readership, Wolf also celebrates his own Difference as a German Jew.^^ Could this have been one of his intentions? In many references to his play, Wolf emphasizes the connections between the

^®This information comes from an interview with Dr. Michael Berkowitz (Department of History, Ohio State University) on June 5, 1992. Berkowitz maintains that, because these periodicals (and others like them) were readily available in the Jewish students' reading rooms at the universities in Germany (and because most Jewish students frequented these rooms), it was unavoidable for them to come into contact with images of Jews as Orientals.

l^it is intriguing that Wassermann's description of Jews in "Der Jude als Orientale" mirrors the issues of character that Wolf examines in Mohammed. Whereas Wassermann finds certain positive attributes representative for the "Oriental" Jew, Wolf ascribes these same characteristics to Mohammed. 99

Islamic and Jewish religions. In a rush of enthusiasm after reading the Qur'an, he writes to his mother:

"Gott— es ist kein Gott als Er, der Lebendige, der Bestandige," welches den sogen. [sic] "heiligen Threnvers" des Koran (2, 256) darstellt, ist eine Paraphrase unseres "Schema Isroel" (zumal in der Fortsetzung). Die Erzahlung aber, wie Ibrahim (Abraham) Zwiesprache mit Sonne, Mond und Sternen halt und als erster den einen, einzigen Herren anbetet, iibertrifft das Alte Testament noch weit an Gestaltung und Klarheit.^®

In fact. Wolf was so taken with this verse from the Qur'an, that he incorporated it into his drama: with the hope that

Mohammed will be converted to monotheism, Waraka reveals to

Mohammed the story of how Abraham became convinced of the singularity of God (1.24). References to the Hebrew Bible are frequently made throughout Mohammed. For example, when

Bahirah recognizes Mohammed as God's prophet, he tells

Mohammed, "Lege deine Hand auf mein Haupt...und sprich: Ich bin der Lowe von Ismaels Stamm, der Gesippe Judas, Davids

Wurzel, aufzutuen das Buch und zu brechen die sieben Siegel"

(14); Bahirah thereby directly connects Mohammed to the heroes of the Hebrew Bible. The pilgrims from Medina initially wonder whether Mohammed is really a prophet of God and ask, "So kann er, was die Juden ihren feurigen Propheten rühmen?" (IV.61). After they become convinced that he is the genuine article, they proclaim, "Das ist des Gesandten

Stimme, der das goldne Kalb zerschlug!" (IV.69), thereby

^®Letter to Ida Wolf from July 31, 1915 (Wolf, Auf wieviel Pferden 97). 100 figuratively tracing Mohammed's lineage back to Moses.

Indeed, later in his life, Wolf implied that he was working through many issues about his Jewish heritage and about religion in general, which manifested themselves in his interest in Islam and in writing Mohammed.

Friedrich Wolf had been raised in a family which had actively sought to make him appreciate the accomplishments of Jewish culture and the history of his Jewish ancestors.

Given Wolf's interest in Islam, it may be of no little consequence that his ancestors were Sephardic Jews who emigrated first to the Netherlands and then to the German

Rheinland because of the Spanish Inquisitions (Müller,

Weltbürger 8). Living as a Jew in the liberal Rheinland, Wolf was brought up to be "immun gegen unbedachte

Vorurteile, Fremdenfeindlichkeit und gegen jegliche Form des

^^To be sure. Wolf was being true to the traditional sources in having Bahirah and the pilgrims from Medina make these connections. Bahirah was a Christian monk and would have naturally placed Mohammed in a Judeo-Christian context. Similarly, because Medina had a large Jewish population, the Biblical stories and tenants of their faith were familiar to the non-Jewish people of that city. However, Wolf did not need to emphasize these points or make numerous, specific references to the Hebrew Bible in telling Mohammed's story. The fact that he did must therefore be understood as significant.

^°In a letter to Herrmann Lewy (January 3, 1949), Wolf writes that he acknowledged his ancestors in two of his literary works: Das Heldenlied des alten Bundes and Mohammed. 101

Rassismus" (Müller, WWW 49) Wolf attended a Jewish elementary school and, because of his interest in religious issues as a youth, had the intention of becoming a Rabbi

(Rodenberg 454). And yet, despite the pride instilled in him for his heritage. Wolf officially renounced the Jewish faith in 1913 (Hohmann 55). This caused a falling out with his father (E. Wolf 58), and his favorite uncle (Moritz

Meyer) wrote Wolf a series of letters designed to convince him not to renounce his religious roots. In one of these letters, Wolf’s uncle reminds him, ’’Eine viertausendjahrige

Stimme ist Dir erschollen" (Meyer 1 2 8 ) Still, Wolf remained committed to what he called the "Ethik und Moral aller WeItre1igionen” (Müller, Weltbürger 48), and not just to Judaism.While reading the Qur'an, he formulates

Indeed, his grandmother boxed his ears once when Wolf and his young friends made fun of a group of refugees from Bessarabia — Ostiuden. Wolf claimed that this experience left a lasting impression on him (Müller, WWW 49-51). This incident also discloses the fact that Wolf experienced firsthand the tensions between the Westjuden and Ostjuden described by Steven Aschheim.

^^Meyer's twelfth letter, entitled "Vom Leben und Toten," provides an interesting discussion about how it is sometimes justified to break the commandment "Thou shalt not kill"— for example, in the event of war. Meyer contradicts himself in this section, sometimes glorifying war, and sometimes bemoaning it. What he definitely condemns, however, are those who initiate war for greedy and base reasons. Because this last sentiment reverberates throughout Mohammed. it strikes me that Wolf might have referred to this letter while writing his play.

^^After divorcing his Jewish wife (Kathe Gumpold), Wolf married a Christian (Else Dreibholz) in 1923, which caused another family crisis— this time with his mother (Hohmann 135) . 102 what he considers to be the universal basis of all religions: "Wenn wir auch nicht das Grofite leisten, aber etwas leisten, was mit der Ewigkeit zusammenhangt, das ist jedem vergonnt. Dieser Gedanke, ins moralische iibertragen, bleibt der Grundgedanke jeder Religion. It is important to note that, despite the more eclectic direction his religious convictions took. Wolf still entertained dreams of emigrating to Palestine after the war to work in the Zionist settlement camps (Pollatschek 38)

Wolf works through his personal religious questions and his identity as a cultural member of a Jewish faith community in Mohammed. In the play, Wolf depicts Mecca as a place where not only the political and social systems are dysfunctional, but religion has also become meaningless.

Worship of the gods has become self-serving and shallow— a way of insuring success in business. Recognition of and respect for the gods from the other clans guarantees diplomatic relations; as long as all the gods are regarded as equals, then all the tribes can be equal partners in trade. Therefore, it is crucial to the citizens of Mecca that Mohammed renounce his claim that there is only one God,

^'^Letter to Kathe Gumpold, December 18, 1915 (Wolf, Auf wieviel Pferden 108).

^^According to Berkowitz, this is not a contradictory position to take. Many German Jews— including agnostic, atheistic, and culturally assimilated ones— nevertheless sympathized, and even identified, with the Zionists who had gone back to the Holy Lands. 103 instead proclaiming Him to be merely one among others. They do not seem to care what Mohammed really believes, just that he make this diplomatic gesture to keep the peace. This is where the so-called "Satanic Verses" enter the story. In the final act, the audience learns from rival clans that

Mohammed had agreed to make a public pronouncement that his

God is an equal among the others. El Walid, one of the powerful leaders of the opposing tribes, bluntly expresses what this gesture will mean for Mecca: "Seht seine Sipp, breitlendig, reich an Sam und Gold! Wir werden unsren

Handel wieder frischen, wir werden unsre Hande wieder einen!" (IV.62), and "Friede wird, Eintracht, Gluck, Habe... wenn Mohammed sein Volk und seiner Vater Gotter neu erkennt!" (IV.63). Mohammed has supposedly also agreed to stop teaching about his God. Even the members of Mohammed’s clan are thrilled with this decision, because it will restore good tribal relations. Mohammed's uncle, Abu Talib, congratulates him for being reasonable. He reassures

Mohammed that he is doing the right thing in upholding his people’s traditional understanding of religion; "Der beste

Mann steht tief in seines Volkes Schuld" (IV.63), Abu Talib reminds him.

Nevertheless, Mohammed cannot go through with it.

Unlike the others, his faith is real, and he cannot compromise it:

Was steht ihr gaffend? Wunderts euch? Wollt ihr ein Schauspiel? Wollt sehen, wie ein Mensch von 104

seinem Gotte fallt, wie Flammen prasseln um ein zuckend Herz und sprechen: wohl uns? — Weh euch! weh euch und euren kalten, sichern, harten Herzen, die nicht mehr bluten, nicht mehr gluten wollen! Was seht ihr bei dem Schein und steht auf sichrem Stein? Blind steht ihr, blutlos! (IV.64)

He tells them he cannot remain silent about the truth ("Wer kann schweigen, wenn die Seele brennt!" IV.65), which has been revealed to him by God. Mohammed reveals to the

Meccans that the tribal religion reflects the shallowness of the people ("Was doch sind eure Gotter! Was Ihr seid!"

IV.65). He declares that, if they really want to find God, they must smash the idols and listen for Him in their hearts

(IV.66). He explains to his uncle that he has no choice but to break with tradition and family to follow his own religious convictions: "Tief, sind die Bande eines Volkes,

Abu Talib, doch hoher ist des einzigen Gottes Ruf und unsere

Sendung!" (IV.70).

In this scene, Wolf clearly rejects the notion that one

should refrain from challenging one's religious traditions

just to keep peace in the family and community. He also

rejects the notion that religious beliefs can provide easy

solutions to the complex questions of human existence.

Understanding God is an intense, personal experience, which

requires patience and courage. Simply accepting pat answers

from one's community of faith leads one astray; being smug

about one's religion— because questioning its tenants and

effects might produce turmoil— is equally misguided. Wolf

directly challenges his audience on three levels to 105 reexamine their presuppositions about their religious beliefs while watching this play ("Wollt ihr ein

Schauspiel?" IV.64). First, he anticipates a desire on the part of the Western audience to see Mohammed proven a fraud

("Wollt sehen, wie ein Mensch von seinem Gotte fallt"); for this, they are chastised accordingly. Second, he accuses the audience of blindly following their religions and of being as intolerant as the Meccans. Finally, he condemns them for having grown cold, dispassionate, and heartless because they have no real religious convictions. As

Mohammed implores the Meccans to look into their hearts and find God, so does Wolf ask this of his audience. At the same time. Wolf's plea is for the Western (especially, one assumes, a mostly non-Jewish German) audience to have respect for genuine followers of other religions, including

Oriental ones. In this way. Wolf addresses two issues at once. He asks the Jewish community to be tolerant of his independent exploration of his religious beliefs, including those outside the tradition (like Islam). And, because connections have been made between Judaism and Islam (and

Jews and Orientals), Wolf asks the Christians in the audience to be tolerant of the Jews. Wolf is thereby able to secure his place— albeit as a dissident— both within the

Jewish community and within German culture as a whole.

Fighting in a senseless, gruesome war. Wolf personally encounters real questions about the nature of God and 106 religion. By tracing Mohammed's struggles with his religious identity, Wolf himself is able to wrestle with the answers to his own religious questions: what is the nature of revelation, God's plan and will, and the purpose of life?

The difficulties Mohammed faces in the process of learning about God underscore the seriousness of Wolf's concerns. At first, Mohammed cannot make sense of God's communications.

He confides to Chadidjeh, "Ich rede in Verwirrung, was ich nie gewuBt; erhalte Antwort auf Fragen, die ich nie gestellt. Vielleicht ist's Wahn und Krankheit?" (1.24). As he becomes more certain that it is indeed God who is directing his actions, he still wonders who God is and what it all means (III.43-4). When God reveals himself to

Mohammed, it is through the written word, which is emblazoned in the sky above Mt. Hira (III.4 9 ) . Mohammed finally grasps the significance of God's revelation: "es ist kein Wissen ohne Offenbarungl" (III.51). The purpose of revelation is to give people access to God's will and, hence. His plan ("Er ist unser Vater, sein Wille schlagt in allem Willen, und wollend sind wir, da wir seinen Willen schaun!" III.51). Believers should have faith in God's plan and therefore open their heart to Him.

But trusting God is not always comfortable for

Mohammed. Just because Mohammed has faith in God and His

^®It is unclear in the play whether Gabriel transmits this to him or whether the words have been written directly by God into the clouds. 107 plan, does not mean he understands God's actions. Indeed,

God seems to test Mohammed's faith throughout his ordeals. On Mt. Hira, God seems to strike Ali dead, and Mohammed

cries out "Nein! Nein! Das Kannst du nicht...das nimmst du

nicht!" (III.52). Afterward, as a fight breaks out between

the tribes, Mohammed cries out again, "O Herr, o Hochster,

was tuest du mit deinem Menschen! Frieden wollt ich bringen

und bring das Schwert! Dein Wort wollt ich entziinden und

zünde Wahn!— Und doch ist es dein Wille!" (III.57). He

struggles to balance his trust in God's plan ("und ist dein

Wille Wirbel und Vernichtung...ich spüre deinen Willen auch

im Bosen!" III.51) and his compassion for the fate of other

human beings ("o Herr, ich kann den Menschen nicht

vergessen!" III.52). In other words, Mohammed comes to

understand that he must listen to God in order to transform

the world according to His will, and yet he cannot forget

that his actions affect people's lives. This is not just a

personal, mental exercise for Mohammed: spiritual encounter

must manifest itself as social action.

Mohammed's struggle mirrors Wolf's effort to have faith

while friends (and others) die around him. Through engaging

in the act of writing Mohammed. Wolf himself seems to be

looking for a revelation from God which will make sense of a

senseless situation. Wolf, like Mohammed, needs to strike a

balance between trusting that the awful things that happen

are part of a larger plan and doing something about trying 108 to prevent the unnecessary suffering caused by oppression and violence (which manifests itself in wars). Mohammed resolves this conflict in part by taking courageous stands against those who would use religion for petty reasons or personal gain. He teaches the Meccans that religion should help them become more ethical and socially committed people, proclaiming "Nicht gehts um Volk und Schar, nicht um das

Reich; es gehet um das Herz! Um jedes Herz, das aus der eigenen Tiefe hinaufquillt; denn heilig ist, wer heilig werden kann!" (11.39). Mohammed further informs them that understanding God's will can help them transcend the unimportant things in life; "Sehet, ich reiBe diese Binde fort von euren Augen, sehet nur, was war euer Leben, Sinnen, trachten? Um Reichtum, Ehre, Land und hohes Alter, und allés Dinge, die vergehen!...Sehet, Euer Herz ist das groBte

Wunder!" (IV.69-70). As such, faith in God can be liberating, because it forces one to concentrate on changing both one's life, and the social world, for the better.

This message is ultimately comforting, because it assumes that— even if one does not understand the reasons why things happen in the world— there is a purpose to life, after all. That purpose is to struggle to do the best one can to live a positive, meaningful life in this often

incomprehensible world.At the end of the drama.

^^Wolf's earlier enthusiasm for the existential aspects of Friedrich Nietzsche's philosophy resonates throughout this drama and confirms his connection to the Expressionist 109

Mohammed challenges people to "Wagt euer Herzen in den Tod wie in das Leben; doch wagt's mit ganzem Herzen! Sehet, euer Herr gab euch ein ganzes Herz!" (IV.71). Mohammed ends with the Prophet's converts promising to do so (IV.71).

Wolf, like Mohammed's converts, also spreads his message.

But Wolf's version of the message transcends an understanding of Islam or Islamic history. He extracts out of these a central idea which is universal in scope and, therefore, applicable to anyone who reads his play. In the process, he clarifies for himself his own beliefs and challenges others to examine theirs.

Wolf needed to write Mohammed for several reasons. He needed to come to terms with his religious concerns and the cultural issues related to them; he wanted to base his rejection of the war upon the moral framework he constructs from his resolution of these issues. In Mohammed Wolf, a

Jew, wrestles with these issues by encountering the leader of another religion: Islam. He depicts Mohammed's tribulations and triumphs in order to teach both his readers and himself many lessons. The lessons he learns from the figure of Mohammed include trusting one's heart to reveal

God's plan and speaking the truth in the face of overwhelming danger. Most of all. Wolf learns from him to be courageous and have hope. This allows Wolf to criticize

literary movement. 110 the war he is participating in and find religious meaning in

it at the same time:

Gestern habe ich III,i des Mohammed. die Offenbarung auf dem Berge Hira, beendet. Die Front blitzte den Geist der Vernichtung hinein, meine Holzbude bebte gewiB nicht minder wie der Berg vor Mekka; aber ich durfte nach ehrlichem Ringen von jenem hochsten Wesen, das wir schauen sagen: "...Entweiche nicht, und ist dein Wille Wirbel und Vernichtung, ich spüre deinen Willen auch im Bosen!" Ich hoffe in Mohammed; Bein von meinem Bein und Fleisch von meinem Fleisch; ich habe mich selten so glücklich gefühlt wie hier draussen in meiner Einsamkeit (Bretterbude in einem verlassenen, verfallenen Infantriegraben) und gefunden, im Schaffen ist die einzige Bejahung des Lebens, weder im GenuB noch im vitalen Leben.

Mohammed is an exotic Other from whom Wolf learns a new

perspective, which helps him make some sense out of the

crisis of meaning produced by the war. At the same time,

Mohammed is presented as a relative, someone with whom Wolf

can identify on a deeper level, because their histories are

linked through their cultural and religious traditions. By

identifying with Mohammed, Wolf can simmultaneously affirm

and evaluate his cultural identities as a Jew and a German.

Ultimately, it is not Mohammed's exoticism that Wolf finds

attractive; instead, those aspects of Mohammed's character

and message which resonate universally are praised by Wolf.

Indeed, this perspective is what makes Wolf's drama

exceptional: unlike most German Orientalist literature from

this period, Mohammed challenges the dichotomies between

^®Letter to Gerstenberger, May 4, 1918 (Wolf, Auf wieviel Pferden 173-4). Ill West and East, underscoring instead the similar issues

(i.e., war, justice, faith, etc.) that all cultures face.

Perhaps in the process of developing this stance— that one can recognize cultural Difference while simultaneously identifying common ground— Wolf also found a way to become comfortable with his own German Jewish identity. 112

Works cited

Aschheim, Steven E. Brothers and Strangers; The East European Jew in German and German Jewish Consciousness 1800-1923. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1982.

Delitzsch, Friedrich. Die Welt des Islam. Berlin: Ullstein, 1915.

Guillame, A. The Life of Muhammed: A Translation of I bn Tshag's Sirat Rasul Allah. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1978.

Gunther, Christiane C. Aufbruch nach Asien: Kulturelle Fremde in der deutschen Literatur um 1900. München: iudcium, 1988.

Henning, Max. "Einleitung.” Der Koran. Trans. Max Henning. Leipzig: Philipp Reclam, 1901.

Hohmann, Lew. Friedrich Wolf. Bilder einer deutschen Biographie. Westberlin: Das europaische Buch, 1988.

Jehser, Werner. Friedrich Wolf. Sein Leben und Werk. Berlin; Volk und Wissen, 1968.

Krojanker, Gustav, Ed. Juden in der deutschen Literatur: Essavs über zeitgenossische Schriftsteller. Berlin: Welt-Verlag, 1922.

Meyer, Moritz. Sinai Briefe: Eine moderne Glosse von einem Rechtsgelehrten. Neuwied: J. Meinckes, 1910. Müller, Henning. Friedrich Wolf; Weltbürger aus Neuwied. Neuwied: Peter Kehrein, 1988.

Wer war Wolf?. Koln: Pahl-Rugenstein, 1988.

Poeschel, Erwin. "Jakob Wassermann." Juden in der deutschen Literatur: Essavs über zeitgenossische Schriftsteller. Ed. Gustav Krojanker. Berlin; Welt- Verlag, 1922.

Pollatschek, Walther. Friedrich Wolf. Leben und Schaffen. Leipzig: Philipp Reclam, 1974.

Rodenberg, Hans. "Der Weg Friedrich Wolfs." Auf wieviel Pferden ich geritten... Der iunge Friedrich Wolf: Eine Dokumentation. Ed. Emmi Wolf and Brigitte Struzyk. Berlin: Aufbau, 1988. 113

Schnabel, Manfred. Ed. Autorenportrat; Friedrich Wolf zum 100. Geburtstaq. Berlin: Zentralinstitut für Bibliotekswesen, 1988.

Solbrig, Ingeborg. "Friedrich Wolf." Critical Survey of Drama: Foreign Language Series. Vol. 6. Pasadena: Salem, 1986. 2013-2025.

Wassermann, Jakob. "Der Jude als Orientale." Daimon 1,1 (1918): 28-32.

Wolf, Emmi. "Der frvihe Wolf. Friedrich Wolfs weltanschaulisch-philosophische Entwicklung 1888-1914." "Mut, nochmals Mut, immerzu Mut!": Protokollband "Internationales Wissenschaftliches Friedrich-Wolf- Symposium". Ed. Volkshochschule der Stadt Neuwied und Friedrich-Wolf-Archiv Lehnitz. Neuwied: Peter Kehrein, 1989/90. Wolf, Friedrich. Auf wieviel Pferden ich geritten... Der iunge Friedrich Wolf: Eine Dokumentation. Ed. Emmi Wolf and Brigitte Struzyk. Berlin: Aufbau, 1988.

. "Der Loewe Gottes." Der wesentliche Leser 2,7 (Dezember 1919): 1.

. Mohammed: Ein Oratorium. Ludwigsburg: Chronosverlag, 1924. Acts are represented by Roman numerals, page references follow in Arabic numbers.

. Mohammed: Ein Schauspiel. Dramen Vol. 1. Ed. Else Wolf and Walther Pollatschek. Berlin: Aufbau, 1960.

Wolfenstein, Alfred. "Das neue Dichtertum des Juden." Juden in der deutschen Literatur: Essavs über zeitgenossische Schriftsteller. Ed. Gustav Krojanker. Berlin: Welt-Verlag, 1922. CHAPTER IV

Representations of Orientals in Franz Werfel's Die vierzia Taae des Musa Daah

Written on the eve of the Nazi Machtergreifung. Franz

Werfel's novel Die vierzig Tage des Musa Dagh retells the history of the pogroms by the Ottoman Turks against the

Armenian peoples in Southwest Asia. By recounting this history in 1932-3, Werfel on one level seems to draw prophetic parallels between Turkish policy and actions against the Armenians and Nazi policy and actions against the Jews (Metz1er 337).^ However, Werfel's depiction of these Orientals is complex and thus problematizes any interpretation that draws simplistic parallels. Such a simplistic reading is challenged by an analysis of Werfel's constructions of cultural difference. This chapter

1Evidence suggests, however, that Werfel did not have the precarious situation of the German Jews in mind when he wrote Musa Dagh. After the fact, both he and his wife Alma claimed the novel had been an unconscious reflection on what was to come for German Jewry. Yet his original intention had been to accurately portray the plight of the Armenians and the world in which they had lived (Steiman 75). Indeed, he was so preoccupied with writing his Armenian novel that Werfel failed to take serious notice of the rise to power of the Nazis. During this period he was reported to have predicted that things might get bad for the Jews under the Nazis, but that this would only be temporary; compared to what had happened to the Armenians, the world was in good shape (Steiman 75).

114 115 investigates how these constructs turn on Werfel's ideas about the religious aspects of culture, as well as how these beliefs illuminate Werfel's sense of his own position as a

Jewish Other in German society. I explore how Werfel's perceived Difference corresponds with German cultural assumptions about Orientals at that time.

The plot of this very lengthy novel is rather simple:

Gabriel Bagradian is a forty-year-old Armenian who has been living in France for 23 years. He has a French wife

(Juliette), a French son (Stephan), and mostly French friends. Upon learning that he needs to take over the family business, he packs up his immediate family and heads for home in Ottoman-ruled Syria. There he learns that World

War I has broken out, and the Turks have begun a pogrom against the Armenians. It seems that Ittihad (the Young

Turks' Party) is using the Armenians as scapegoats for their problems and has begun deporting or exterminating them under the cloak of nationalism. The leader of the Young Turks,

Enver Pascha, ignores protests from representatives of both their German allies (Pastor Johannes Lepsius) and of Turkish dervish orders (Agha Rifaat Bereket). With no hope of help in sight, Gabriel organizes a plan of resistance for the

Armenians in his region. These Armenians set up camp on the mountain of Musa Dagh and manage to hold out against the

Turkish army until they are finally saved by French warships. By the conclusion, both Gabriel and Stephan are 116 dead, and Juliette is both mentally and physically ill. Yet

Gabriel has found meaning for his life and has become a hero to his people.

Like Friedrich Wolf's Mohammed. Werfel's novel criticizes imperialism, calling instead for religious renewal and community action as antidotes against it. Also like Wolf's drama, Musa Daah recounts an historical event from the Orient which has relevance to the author's own position as a German-speaking Jew in Europe. Just as it was to Wolf, it was extremely important to Werfel to research the event as thoroughly as possible (Steiman 75). As a result, much is made of the historical accuracy of Werfel's account of the Armenian genocide, prompting one critic to proclaim that this work sticks to the facts more than any other historical novel of the twentieth century (Abels 94).

At the same time, the personal struggles of the Armenian

Gabriel reflect those concerns of Werfel as a Jewish author, which are described by Rudolf Kayser:

Da ist...jenes Mittelpunkts-Erlebnis der Entzweiung, das im Individuum und im Volk unser altes jüdisches Schicksal bezeichnet. Von der Zerspaltenheit zur Geschlossenheit, von der Zerrissenheit zur Einheit: diese Sehnsucht und dieses Gebot von Jahrhunderten jüdischen Lebens— sie fanden in Werfels Dichtung den besonderen Ausdruck dieser Zeit. (26)

Finally, like Mohammed. Musa Daah's themes and style owe much to the legacy of literary Expressionism. Although

Walter Sokel argues that Werfel's involvement with literary

Expressionism ends with his 1923 Verdi; Roman der Qper 117

(222), Musa Daah's themes of revolt, father-son conflict, and messianic social communion— not to mention the pathos and urgency of its style— indicate Werfel's continued connection with this movement.

Yet Werfel's novel approaches the Orient very differently from Wolf's play. Werfel brought his distinct perspectives on religion and society to his depiction, and these are quite dissimilar to Wolf's. Werfel's views arose out of his unique experiences in these arenas. He was born into a prosperous, German Jewish family in Prague, but had a very close relationship with his Catholic, Czech nanny.

Although his family prided itself on being assimilated,

Werfel was nonetheless taken to the synagogue on high holy days and was bar mitzvahed (Jungk 4, 10). At the same time, his nanny took him to mass every Sunday and impressed upon him that Jews should not mock the cross (Jungk 4-5). Prague was a very tense place for both non-Jewish and Jewish

Germans around the turn of the century, because all Germans were regarded with resentment by the Czech people, over whom they ruled (Grimm 260). At the same time, since the

Christian Germans based their German nationalism on racial exclusiveness, German Jews also were regarded with suspicion by their compatriots (Steiman 10). Therefore, Werfel's

early identity was shaped by a sense of not fitting in anywhere: he was a Jewish child attracted to Catholicism, a 118 member of a hated minority of Germans, who was not always considered "German" enough because he was a Jew. This feeling of alienation grew as Werfel matured. He moved to Germany and then to Austria, where he was deemed an outsider. Although he considered himself a bohemian and socialist of sorts, he married the wealthy and conservative socialite Alma Mahler; their relationship was further complicated by the fact that she was, by all accounts, openly anti-Semitic. In fact, Werfel had to quit the Jewish faith officially before she would agree to marry him.^ And even though most of his friends were German Jews from the literary scene, Werfel increasingly presented himself as a

Christian writer and found fault with Zionist ideology

(Jungk 4 8 -9 ).3 Rebelling against the fashion of identifying with the Jews of Eastern Europe which was prevalent among some of his intellectual friends, Werfel admitted that he felt nothing in common with them. Werfel disliked these Oriental Jews, despite the fact that his favorite childhood literature had been the Orientalist novels of Karl May, with which he did identify (Jungk 7,

^On June 27, 1929, Werfel officially stopped practicing Judaism; on July 8, he married Alma (Jungk 122).

^In 1916, Werfel published "Die christliche Sendung" in order to publicly proclaim himself a Christian author. After this, his friend Martin Buber spent a week trying to bring him back to the fold of Judaism. Werfel then reassured Buber that "his feelings as a Jew were 'completely nationalistic' even if he was vehemently opposed to certain •Zionists of Prague'" (Jungk 48-9). 119

10).4 He proclaimed himself an assimilated, Christian,

German-speaking Jew and was preoccupied with trying to wear all these hats at once.

In many ways, what brought these issues to a head were the two trips Werfel and Alma took to the Orient in 1925 and

1929. Here Werfel had to confront his attitudes towards the

Jews, and towards Orientals in general. At first he could not understand why European Jews would want to live in

Palestine; why would such a civilized people want to live such a primitive lifestyle, he asked. He was also distressed by the zeal of the Zionists, who he felt were repeating the mistakes of those countries they had despised for their nationalism: "Und jetzt die Juden! Sie, die im

Europa so sehr voraus sind, jetzt mils sen sie zeigen, daJ5 sie dasselbe konnen, was sie an andern Volker so verlacht und verachtet haben" (Werfel, "AT" 706). And yet Alma's anti­ semitism made Werfel feel that he must defend the Zionists

(Werfel, "AT" 739) to the extent that, by the next trip, he had become genuinely appreciative of all the Zionists had accomplished in Palestine (Jungk 126).

Indeed, his attitude towards the entire region was mixed. On the one hand, he found the exotic landscape

^In fact, Karl May's novels influenced Werfel to the extent that, when he was in Egypt, he referred back to May's depictions of the Orient when learning about the culture (Werfel, "AT" 711). Werfel himself wrote other Orientalist works of fiction besides Musa Daah; "Esther, Kaiserin von Persien" (1915) and "Der Dschin" (1919) are representative of these. 120 inspiring. On the other, he considered the Muslims to be fanatical— although he knew very little about Islam (Werfel,

"AT" 7 1 4 -5 ).5 The one exception to this were the Sufis, with whom he was quite taken, and whom he described as holy and noble (Jungk 107) . In the wake of the Arab massacres of

Jewish settlers in 1929, Werfel's respect for and sympathy with the goals of Jewish nationalism grew; and he became convinced that the Jews would need to arm themselves in preparedness against future pogroms by the Arabs. And yet, his major sympathies lay with those Jewish organizations which worked to establish peace with the Arabs through non­ violent means (Jungk 126). His perception of Muslims was further complicated by his encounter with Armenian refugees in Damascus in 1929, where he heard first-hand accounts of their tragic history under the regime of the Young Turks.

It was from this experience that he got the idea to write a novel about the Armenians' plight (Abels 92).

^Werfel's ignorance about Islam is evident in many passages in the "Agyptisches Tagebuch." That he merely buys into centuries-old German stereotypes about the religion is illustrated in the following passage: Die Tragik des Islams scheint es zu sein, dafî er gar keine theologische Entwicklung gehabt hat. Er entspricht noch immer der Welt der Kreuzziige, in welcher Zeit sein geistiger Weg versandet sein muB. Wo ist seine mystische Epoche, wo seine innere Kampfepoche? Bin einziges Schisma hat ihn entzweit, das der Schiiten. Ich glaube, der Islam ist das Schreckbild eines geistigen Oder weltlichen Reiches, das daran zugrunde geht, daB ihm die Opposition fehlt, jenes revolutionare, auflosende Element, ohne das kein LebensprozeB zu denken ist. (Werfel, "AT" 734-5) 121

That the Orient is both repulsive and attractive to

Werfel is revealed in his characterization of the people in

Musa Daah. At first glance, Werfel appears to construct a hierarchy of Otherness based upon his categorization of certain human qualities as inherently Eastern or Western.

This categorizing determines the place of each character in the structure. Werfel seems to pursue an argument advocating the assimilation of Oriental culture into Western culture by making the most positively depicted character an assimilated Oriental. Gabriel combines an Oriental, spiritual passion for his people with Western-trained rationality:

Er, der Pariser, Juliettens Gatte, der Gelehrte, der Offizier, der die Wirklichkeit des modernen Krieges kennt...er ist zugleich der Knabe, der sich mit uraltem BluthaB auf den Erzfeind seiner Rasse [d.h. auf den Türken] wirft. Die Traume jedes Armenierjungen. (24)

Because Gabriel possesses the best qualities of Eastern and

Western cultures, he is the hero of the novel and becomes the hero of his people.

However, the perfect integration of these characteristics does not come easily for Gabriel.

Throughout the novel, he struggles to overcome the alienation he experiences as someone who does not seem to belong anywhere. He longs to feel he is a member of a community and yet has problems doing so. In his quest for social identity, Gabriel continually weighs the advantages and disadvantages of revitalizing his ties to Armenian 122 culture or rejecting that culture in favor of the Western ways he had adopted.® In the process, he contends with what he perceives to be the opposing Oriental and European traits he possesses. Indeed, as one critic has noted, the hero of Musa Dagh "is mainly in combat with the two cultures within his own self"; therefore, "the search for cultural and national identity in Bragadian is Werfel's poetic complement to the Armenian-Turkish struggle" which the novel describes (Davidheiser 61, 63).

How does Gabriel describe the opposing cultures within himself? That part of him which he considers European is frustrated with Orientals. He resents the fact that he is constantly reminded of his bond to them: "Jesus Christus, konnte man denn nicht ein Mensch an sich sein? Frei von diesem schmutzigen feindlichen Gewimmel...?" (40). He considers himself above their petty squabbles (17) , finds he cannot understand them (57), gets angry with their passivity

(97), is often disappointed by their ability to measure up to his standards (240), and privledges the needs of

Europeans (like his wife Juliette) over theirs (369). In sum, he experiences a deep ambivalence about his connection to a people whom he has come to regard as inferior:

®James Davidheiser points out that, in an attempt to heighten the internal conflicts of Gabriel, the narrator refers to him as "der Pariser," even as the hero believes he is becoming increasingly more Armenian. In addition, the narrator constantly underscores Gabriel's tenuous position by referring to him as a foreigner among both the French and the Armenians (62-3). 123

Armenier! Uraltes Blut, uraltes Volk war in ihm. Warurn aber sprachen seine Gedanken ofter franzosisch als armenisch, wie zum Beispiel jetzt?...Blut und Volk! ...Geldwechsler, Teppichhandler, Juweliere. Dies also waren seine Briider? Diese verschlagene Gesichter, diese irisierenden Augen, die auf Kundschaft lauerten? Nein, fur diese Bruderschaft dankte er, allés in him wehrte sich dagegen....Er ging, mit Widerwillen geschüttelt, weiter. (40)

It does not surprise him, then, that he must assume the role of leader among the Armenians; "die Überlegenheit seiner

Erziehung und westlichen Erfahrung" made him the only one qualified for it (256).

And yet, he admits that part of the reason for his alienation from his people is "daB er manches schon mit den

Augen Juliettens sah" (40). Returning to his homeland has filled him with awe as he remembers how ancient and Biblical it is (20). Learning about the Turks’ plans for the

Armenians makes him feel guilty about his negative sentiments towards his people: "Peinliche Scham! Er, der noch vor kurzer Zeit mit Blicken des Widerwillens an den armenischen Handlern des Bazars voriibergegangen war, fühlte sich nun verantwort1ich und in das Schicksal dieses Volkes hineinverwickelt" (43). As he explores his Orientalness,

Gabriel discovers that, "das lange Leben in Europa hatte in den Seelen der beide Bagradiens [dh. Gabriel und Stephan]

Asiens Leben zwar gedampft, nicht aber erstickt" (273) . He grows to resent his French wife's haughty attitude towards the Armenians (268), and he finally rejects her for Iskuhi, who— because she is an Armenian— has a more ancient claim on 124 him (827-8). By the end of the novel, Gabriel has come to the conclusion that he has found his identity by having

linked himself to the fate of his people (973). As a final

act, he chooses an "Armenian death over [a] French life"

(Davidheiser 63).

What characteristics do the Orientals in Musa Daah

possess? The Armenians living in Syria are characterized by

Werfel as "good Orientals": they are well-meaning and lovable ("verlaBliche und schatzenswerte Menschen" 22), but

somewhat naive and irrational. For example, unlike European

children, "diese orientalische Kinder vergaBen ihre Plane

meist schon vor der Ausführung, sie wurden von ihren

kurzatmigen Einfalien, von ihrer dumpfen Triebhaftigkeit

herumgewirbelt wie Laub im Wind" (407). Nonetheless, the

fact that they are a naturally sensitive, skilled,

industrious, civilized "Intellektrasse" (397) is repeated

throughout the novel. And yet their intellectuals are

clearly unsophisticated compared to Europeans; the

apothecary Krikor, one of the most learned men on Musa Dagh,

"muBte sich mit einem sparlichen armenischen Kenntnisbrunnen

abfinden" (69). Because they understand this, their

attitude towards Westerners is somewhat subservient.

Feeling unworthy of Gabriel's love, Iskuhi reflects;

Was war sie, was war Aram, was waren all die andern fur nichtige Fliege gegen ihn? Rohe, schmutzige Bauern, ohne Gedanken im Kopf, ohne Gefühle im Herzen, die nicht ahnten, wer zu ihnen herabgestiegen war....Was konnte sie leisten und 125

opfern, um Gabriels würdig zu sein? Nichts! (755)

They therefore idolize Gabriel, recognizing his superiority, even if they sometimes resent or envy him for it: "Man erwies ihm als Befehlshaber Gehorsam, Achtung, ja

Dankbarkeit" (729), and yet what arouses their ire is "das

Unerbitt1ich-Ordnunghafte, das 'Europaische' in Gabriels

Reden" (261). Because of this they can not entirely accept him as one of their own.

When Gabriel decides it is important for his son

Stephan to learn all he can about his heritage (193), his teachers make out of him a true Armenian (196). The descriptions of Stephan's transformation from a European to an Oriental are very revealing. Gabriel notices "daB sein

Sohn, seitdem er die [armenische] Schule besuchte, seine europaische Gesittung mit Sturzgeschwindigkeit einzubüBen begann" (219-20). Indeed, the more Oriental he becomes, the less civilized Stephan becomes. He grows wild and his fine

French cultivation and learning falls away until "es war, als habe er niemals ein zivilisiertes Leben kennen gelernt "

(405-6). And yet the Armenian children cannot quite accept him either, because his European traits set him off as different from them. Despite his attempts to revert entirely "ins Primitive," Stephan cares about keeping himself clean, successfully comes up with and executes plans, rejects superstition and mystical experience, and 126 demonstrates the ability to lead (406-8) . In many ways, he is still quite the opposite of his Armenian counterparts.

That Werfel prefers Armenian over Turkish Orientals manifests itself in their comparisons in Musa Dagh. Unlike the other Orientals in the region, Armenians are quiet and respectable ("die Armenier sind im Gegensatz zu den Araber und andern Larmzeugern des Ostens in der Offentlichkeit still und verschlossen" 100); their villages are tidy and

"waren mit jenen elenden Siedlungen [der Türken] nicht zu vergleichen" (56). Whereas the Armenians are smart and hard-working— and therefore successful in commerce, agriculture, and industry— the Turks are lazier and less intelligent (163-4). And Armenian women, unlike the

"Weiber-Mischmasch des Islams," are pure and modest (613).

Werfel's preference for Armenian Oriental culture over the others is even apparent in his description of the landscape: he goes so far as to claim that the honey made in the

Christian Armenian region tastes better, because their land is blessed; the Muslim regions, on the other hand, make the bees sick (55-6).

Indeed, the Turks represent the "bad Orientals": they are barbaric, ignorant, and brutal, destroying those cultures they colonize. Words associated with filth,

laziness, deception, and greed are constantly used to describe Turks in this text. For example, the office of a

Turkish bureaucrat is depicted in terms which illicit 127 disgust; "Ein saulicher Juchtengeruch von SchweiB, kaltem

Tabak, Tragheit und Elend erfüllte den Raum" (33). Even seemingly friendly Turkish officials are slaves to their

"Ehrgeiz" (129) and can be bought off (141); they are therefore deemed untrustworthy. Turkish men behave in stereotypically abominable ways towards women: when they encounter Iskuhi on a deportation march, one Turk tries to purchase her for his harem (128) and others gang-rape her

(129-30). Because of their supposedly naturally sensuous natures, Turks exhibit a ridiculous "Prachtsucht des

Asiaten" (501), which leads them to shamelessly plunder the

Armenian villages repeatedly (297). Because they realize that they are "schlechtrassig" and uncultivated (314-5), their hatred of Gabriel and the Armenians for their success in the world is emphasized. In general, Werfel's characterization of Turks contains the type of polarities used to describe Turkey's two great leaders, who also happen to be brothers; "Enver Pascha war aus dem leichtesten

Stoff, Dschemal Pascha aus dem schwersten Stoff der Welt gebildet. War an jenem allés traumerisch launenhaft, so an diesem allés leidenschaftlichen wiist" (501) . Turks are represented as either frivolous or brutish.

Their religion, Islam, appears to reinforce the negative traits in the Turks.^ It is clearly dangerous for

^This also applies to the Arabs, who are occasionally mentioned. A group of people of mixed descent (Arab and Turkish) are even described as "die niedrigsten Parias des 128

the Armenians that they are forced to live "am Rande des

Islams" (336). That Islam does not teach the Turks to be pious is illustrated by the fact that they spend their

Fridays looking for mosques and "Weiber und Lustbarkeit"

(323). In fact, the Muslims are associated with having

loose sexual morals (741). Furthermore, their religious

convictions do not run deep. After plundering Gabriel's

village,

Reich gewordene Araber und Türken verbrüderten sich. Niemals hatten sie schonere Hauser gesehen....Aus den Kirchen hatte man in Handumdrehen Moscheen gemacht. Schon am ersten Abend fand ein Gottesdienst statt. Die Mollahs dankten Gott fur den neuen herrlichen Besitz, den freilich noch ein Schatten trübe, das freche Leben der unreinen Christenschweine dort oben auf dem Berg. Es sei die Pflicht jedes Glaubigen, sie zu vertilgen. Dann erst würde man sich des üppigen Gütes in gerechter Frommigkeit erfreuen dürfen. Die Manner verlieBen mit funkelnden Augen die Moscheen. (507)

Their religion actually allows the Muslims to justify the

barbarous acts they commit.

However Werfel did not want to paint an entirely black

and white depiction of Turks and Armenians. He tried to

keep in mind that he needed to show that there were good

Turks, including those who disagreed with the policies of

Ittihad (Jungk 143). Even Gabriel admits "Es gibt unter

ihnen wunderbaren Leute. Ich habe schlieBlich im Krieg auch

das niedere Volk kennen gelernt, in seiner Geduld und Güte.

Propheten" (298) 129

Sie sind nicht Schuld..." (82).® Werfel claims that it is the Turkish middle class who supported the Young Turks, not the peasants (180). Indeed, "hunderte von gutherzigen

Türken rings im Land, denen das unmenschliche Elend der

Deportierten [Armenier] das Herz zerbrochen hatte" risked their lives to try to help them (705). And yet most of these same peasants are repeatedly characterized as described above. In an attempt to find something else he can praise Turks for, Werfel emphasizes that "der Türke und ins besondere der Anatolier ist ein berühmter Soldat" (388).

This nevertheless functions as a backhanded compliment.

Whereas the Armenians are an "Intellektrasse," the Turks are a "Militarrasse" (397); the one group has brains whereas the other has only brawn. In fact, the Turkish sense of self- worth is so caught up with military conquests that Gabriel believes "wenn [die Armenier] sie nur ein einziges Mai schlagen, vergiften wir ihren Hochmut, so daB sie sich davon nie wieder erholen werden" (278). Therefore, even Turks who possess seemingly positive traits are somehow suspect, if not simply inferior. Orientals.

Just as Orientals are divided into two groups— the

"good" and the "bad"— Europeans also come in two varieties.

The first group is suspicious of Eastern culture and therefore comes across as ethnocentric. For example.

®As a soldier himself, Werfel may have actually met and trained with Turkish troops, some of whom were stationed in Austria during the first World War (Abels 92). 130

Juliette constantly refers to Orientals as primitives. She claims that the Armenians may be an ancient people, but they are not a "Kulturvolk" like the French (210). Because of this, she believes that her suffering on Musa Dagh is more significant than that of the others (377). Nevertheless,

Juliette is surprised to learn that, even though she is an

Armenian woman, Iskuhi is both beautiful and educated; in order to make sense of it, she reasons that Iskuhi cannot really be Armenian: "WeiBt du, daB ich im Grunde die

Orientalinnen mit ihrer Faulheit und ihren schlaffen

Bewegungen alle verabscheue....Aber du bist ja gar keine

Orientalin, Iskuhi. Wenn du so gegen das Licht sitzt, hast du ganz blauen Augen..." (208). Likewise, the American

Gonzague Maris is amazed to find "im trostlosen Orient" a village as beautiful and as full of civilized people as

Gabriel's (73). And yet, he cannot fully empathize with their plight, because they are clearly an inferior people:

"Diesen Armeniern ist nicht zu helfen, denn sie sind und bleiben feierliche Narren" (313). He sees his role amongst them in setting a good example: from him perhaps the

Armenians could learn to be more refined (373-4). It is important to note that, while these Europeans are not painted in the best light, empathy for their positions is established along with a critique of their intolerance: they are by no means the villains of the story. 131

The second group of Europeans may not really understand

Oriental culture, but they nevertheless prove that they can have empathy for the Armenians. Indeed, they strive to be moral saviors of them. The German pastor, Johannes Lepsius, intervenes three times on behalf of the Armenians; he speaks with the Turkish government, the German government, and an order of Turkish Sufis. Although his mission fails, his pleas on behalf of the Armenians are passionate.

Lepsius argues that, because he is German, he cares about the sufferings of ethnic minorities— after all, the Germans are in the minority in Europe (646). And his conscience pricks him for not knowing anything about Islam (except that it is "den fanatischen Feind des Christentums" 654-5) when

Turkish dervishes reach out to him in friendship and in the common cause of helping end the genocide (660). Similarly, what is emphasized about the French admiral who rescues the

Armenians from Musa Dagh are his compassion and his sense of moral mission: "denn es bestehe kein Zweifel dariiber, daB ein franzosicher Admiral einen so tapferen Stamm des miBhandelten armenischen Christenvolkes nicht einfach seinem

Schicksal iiberlassen werde" (941) . The fact that both men

seem to want to help the Armenians only because they are

Christians— and not just any persecuted group— is deemed unproblematic.

By characterizing the people in his novel according to

such a hierarchy of preference, Werfel reproduces those 132 stereotypical representations of Orientals constructed by

German culture over a long period of history— constructions which privilege Western culture over what was considered

Eastern culture. Whereas Westerners are seen as rational, self-controlled, civilized, and progressive, Orientals are depicted as irrational, overly passionate, backwards, and potentially dangerous.^ The differences in the characters of Lepsius and Enver Pascha perfectly mirror these paradigms. Therefore the debate between them over the fate of the Armenians is as equally significant in establishing the "correct" and "incorrect" positions on this subject as it is in reinforcing the supposed differences between the two cultures. While Lepsius is the epitome of Western enlightenment, Enver Pascha embodies stereotypical Oriental despotism.

Complicating a clear hierarchy of preference for

Western culture over its Eastern counterpart, in Musa Daah Werfel erects two other paradigms about the Orient which he advances through a religious perspective. These paradigms, which reflect both admiration and disgust for the Orient,

®In his "Agptisches Tagebuch," Werfel sums up the differences between Western and Eastern workers— "Die europaische Arbeit ist gleichmaBig, statisch, zweckhaft, provident, die orientalische stoBweise, dynamisch, auf gut Gluck, durch Ekstase getrieben" (709). He projects these supposed differences onto both cultures, and yet he identifies himself as "in dieser Hinsicht ein ahnlicher, ein orienta1ischer Arbeiter" (709). 133 are found in much Orientalist writing.The first paradigm presents a pristine, idyllic Orient: it is a fanciful representation of the classical, Islamicate world.

This ahistorical fantasy is filled with religious mystics, romantic scenery, flowery poetry, ancient traditions, and blissfully contented people; these Orientals are non­ threatening and are thus worthy of Western respect.

Gabriel's friend the Agha— who is an old-fashioned, mystical

Turk— serves as the embodiment of these values. The second paradigm paints an entirely opposite view of the region: the historical Orient is a powerful and dangerous place. In this scenario, the Orientals adopt the worst traits of

Western civilization, and this causes them to become even more monstrous barbarians. In Musa Daah. civilization has made the noble savage ignoble. Instead of treasuring the

"old ways," these Westernized Orientals are driven by materialism, nationalism, technology, and atheism.

According to Werfel, where the Young Turks have erred is in trying to be "modern"— a condition he equates with being secular and progressive (Steiman 77) .

Although Werfel does not explicitly criticize the West for having modern values, he does condemn those Orientals who have brought these ideas to the East. Therefore he suggests, by way of a conversation in the novel between

^°These paradigms are discussed at length in Edward Said's Orientalism. 134 Turkish Sufis and Lepsius, that the Armenians, who have served as a conduit between East and West for years, are partially to blame for their own persecution. The argument goes like this: The Europeans are ultimately to blame for the ascendancy of Ittihad. For their own material and political gain, the Europeans brought "progress" to the region, using the Armenians as their middle-men. In the process, while the West bought up "Allah und den Glauben," the people neglected their religion and culture, adopting instead Western "values": the secularism, materialism, and nationalism which becomes championed by the Young Turks.

Whereas all Islamic peoples had lived together in peace, and people of all religions lived in harmony with them, nationalism and Western values had rendered the various peoples asunder. This is the reason for the pogroms against the Armenians. They helped bring this on themselves: if the Armenians had not encouraged the Turks to become more

Western in their thinking, then the Turks would not have been able to persecute them so thoroughly; indeed, the Turks might never have come up with the idea at all. However, their collusion in this scenario does not justify the persecutions of the Armenians (663-71). What is particularly shocking about this passage is, although Werfel asserts again and again his belief that the Armenians are an unjustly universally oppressed people, he also accuses them of having paved the way for their own colonization and 135 genocide. The East is better off if left unsullied by the corrupting ideas of the West.

In Musa Daah. the determining factor in whether characters are judged positively or negatively is their religiosity (i.e., a personal allegiance to God). Those characters depicted as having strong religious convictions are considered morally superior people, regardless of their ethnicity. For example, pious Turkish Sufis and Muslim peasants are praised and are depicted as working to counteract the pogrom against the Armenians: the Agha is one of the most important spiritual forces in the novel, and the Turkish peasant who rescues Stephan is devoutly religious (718). At the same time, the Armenian priest from

Musa Dagh (Ter Haigasun) provides the most insightful and ethical guidance to his people. And the two Europeans who risk the most to try to save the Armenians are a German pastor (Lepsius) and a staunchly Catholic French Admiral.

Being truly committed to God— and not just paying lip service to Him— makes one genuinely human and humane

("Beten Sie...Aber man muB Gott auch unterstützen!" 98).

Secularized people, and particularly secularized Turks, are characterized most negatively. In fact, the members of the Ittihad party are portrayed most critically. They have supposedly led their people away from Islam by adopting an atheistic stance and/or by perverting the religion for their own purposes. The Agha explains his dislike of them: 136 "Diese Verrater, diese Atheisten, die das Weltall Gottes vernichten, nur um selbst zu Macht und Geld zu kommen? Das sind keine Türken und keine Moslems, sondern nur leere

Lasterer und Geldschnapper" (48). Similarly, those

Protestant Armenian pastors who cared more about their personal reputations than listening to God, wind up making choices that adversely affect many people; most of the

Armenians who chose to wait with Pastor Aram Tomasian for deportation, instead of following Gabriel up the mountain, died horribly. Furthermore, thoroughly secularized

Europeans, like Juliette and Maris, are less and less sympathetically portrayed, until they become some of the least respected members of the community on Musa Dagh. They become consumed with self-pity, feeling only bitterness about their personal situations instead of displaying a

Christian sense of compassion towards the Armenians (442).

In Musa Daah Werfel projects onto the Orient what he considered the ills of Europe. Those foreign evils introduced by the Ittihad party— modernism, nationalism, the perversion of religion, and racism— are precisely the maladies Werfel had diagnosed in Europe at the time he was writing his novel (Steiman 77). In fact, he delivered two lectures in several German-speaking cities during this time which emphasize the evils of materialism and the importance of spirituality. The first of these, entitled "Kunst und

Gewissen," argued that the path of blind glorification of 137 technological progress, encouraged by the U.S. and U.S.S.R., was leading Europe to a spiritual crisis. This was the underlying reason for the support of the Nazis in Germany;

"only a recovery of what was 'wondrous' in man could save him from worldwide brutalization, and as an antidote Werfel proposed a revolution of the spirit" (Jungk 130). The second lecture, entitled "Kann die Menschheit ohne Religion leben?", proclaimed that Catholicism represented the true path to salvation in an age cursed by the twin evils of communism and Nazism; awakened spirituality was the only remedy for the empty secularism offered by these ideologies

(Foltin 73-4) .

Werfel worked out for himself a spiritual understanding of the meaning of his life over a period of many years. But his first trip to Palestine reawakened in him a sense of connection to the Jews (Turrian 90). After this trip, his interest in his Jewish heritage spurred him on to spend many months intensively studying Jewish history, sacred texts, and culture, as well as Hebrew. Despite this, his studies

"had not brought him closer to Judaism, as he had perhaps hoped, but rather reinforced his rejection of Orthodox

Judaism and his support for a Christian world view" (Jungk

108-9). Indeed, he became quite critical of those Jews he regarded as obsessed by law, incapable of love, and lacking the courage to give up the Torah in exchange for the "Liebesreligion" they really long for: Christianity 138

(Turrian 90) . And yet Werfel believed that Jews have an important role to play in the religious order of things:

"Only through the witness of the Jew and his eternal persecution is the truth of the Messiah [Jesus Christ] attested" (Buck 94). Those Jews who are able to integrate a secure sense of their Jewish heritage with an acceptance of the teachings of Christianity (especially Catholicism) have the best of both worlds.As Jews their "historic mission" is "to serve as the inroad to the West for the mysticism...of Asia"; unfortunately, Werfel contends, most

Jews who come to the West lose their spiritual equilibrium and become increasingly secular and materialistic (Steiman

177). However, those Jews who accept the historical truth of Christianity are able to regain their balance and understand the need for religiosity as an antidote to the

^%erfel does not argue that Jews should renounce their origins and convert to Catholicism. Lionel Steiman explains: Without the Jews as a continuing witness in the flesh to the truth of Christ, Jesus the Savior would sink to the realm of mere myth. Nor can the Jew escape this historic role through baptism and conversion, even though Werfel concedes his individual rights to 'conceal' his true situation if he so wishes. For even if his Christian belief is sincere, the convert from Judaism 'is as tragically barred from the profundity of the facts from being a Christian as he is from being a German or a Russian.' (168) This quote wonderfully illustrates Werfel's own struggle to integrate his adopted religious identity and his culturally determined religious identity. That he wanted to be seen both as fully assimilated into Christian German society and as someone with a unique position as a German Jew in that society is reflected throughout his writings. 139 ills of the West (Jungk 134). In other words, Christian

Jews, like Werfel, find meaning in life as religious individuals who have come to terms with their Oriental origins and Western dispositions, thereby integrating the best of both cultures. These people have special insight and can therefore make a real difference in the world.

One discovers in Gabriel's struggles to move towards a reconciliation with his people and against the Turks

Werfel's plea for a spiritual understanding of the meaning of life: "Der Entfremdete bleibt fur Werfel stets der Gott-

Entfremdete, derjenige also, der es aufgegeben hat, nach einem [religiosen] Sinn zu fahnden" (Abels 96). Because religiosity is important to Werfel, Gabriel can represent the virtues of assimilation, and the Young Turks can embody the horrors of the same thing. Werfel understands religiosity as a moral force that constantly renews the spiritual ties to one's heritage and thus centers the

individual in an otherwise confusing world (Steiman 9 3 ).

Hence Gabriel is deemed heroic because he comes to recognize the importance of belonging to a particular culture with a particular tradition and religion. He puts his Western training to use in self-sacrifing service to his people.

^^Ironically, Werfel's notions about the function of a religious worldview— which he uses to critique Nazism— are similar to those shared by German conservative thinkers, who were writing about concepts like das Volk at the time. 140 because he rediscovers their importance to him in a grander, spiritual scheme of things:

Vater und Sohn im Morgenland! Das laBt sich kaum mit der oberflachlichen Beziehung zu Eltern und Kindern in Europa vergleichen. Wer seinen Vater sieht, sieht Gott. Denn dieser Vater ist das letzte Glied der ununterbrochenen Ahnenkette, die den Menschen mit Adam und dadurch mit dem Ursprung der Schopfung verbindet. Doch auch, wer seinen Sohn sieht, sieht Gott. Denn dieser Sohn ist das nachste Glied, welches den Menschen mit dem jiingsten Gericht, dem Ende aller Dinge und der Erlosung verbindet. (25-6)

He thereby saves their lives and his; Gabriel is renewed and strengthened in the knowledge that his destiny is shared with that of all Armenian history. He successfully and positively assimilates what he has learned from the West into his understanding of himself as an Armenian. In the process, he overcomes much of his feeling of alienation and attains a sense of meaning in his life: becoming receptive to God allows Gabriel to work for and with his community.

Werfel contends that the problem with the Young Turks is they selectively focus on only those parts of their history they can exploit for their political agenda, which has been shaped by foreign, secular forces. Agha Rifaat

Bereket explains that they therefore emphasize a history of

Turkish martial success, but downplay the Islamic tradition

i^This is perhaps the meaning of cryptic motto on the Armenian coin which the Agha gives Gabriel and which gives him strength on the Musa Dagh: "Dem Unerklarlichen in uns und über uns" (47, 335). 141 of tolerance for other cultures and religions; indeed, their newly adopted way of thinking excludes the Islamic tradition altogether (48). Even those Ittihad supporters who think they are religious are only practicing a perverted form of

Islam, one which has been corrupted or manipulated by the

"NationalhaB" of the Young Turks (297). They have recklessly adopted Western "progress" without really understanding it. The Agha proclaims that only those Turks who have remained firmly committed to authentic religiosity and cultural tradition— and have, therefore, rejected the policies of Ittihad— can lay claim to being truly Turkish (48) .

It is important to note that the reader is never introduced to a Muslim equivalent of Gabriel. That is, the heroic Turks presented in the novel are those who have been entirely unaffected by Western culture. As members of a powerful empire, they can either be admired in their

"pristine" state, or deplored in their "corrupted" one— there is no other alternative. In creating such dichotomies, Werfel reproduces much of the same imperialistic logic that the West was espousing at a time when it was actively colonizing the Muslim world.

^%erfel's attitudes towards the Jewish settlers in Palestine also mirror the sometimes contradictory logic of the imperialistic European powers towards this region. While he expresses disdain for the technological achievements of the West, and the Jews he believes were at the forefront of them, Werfel paradoxically comes to appreciate the Zionists for their development of Palestine. 142 Although the Germans did not actually colonize it, their attitudes, like those of other Europeans, toward the Muslim world often mirrored an imperialistic mentality (Schick 347) .

In fact, in a fascinating article, Maria Berl Lee argues that Werfel's personal biases led him to write an account of this period which was historically inaccurate.

In his zeal to side with a group with whom he could identify— people who were both victims of persecution and

Christians— Werfel ignored all Turkish accounts of the

Armenian genocide. Lee argues that the Armenians certainly were not deserving of their fate, but they were not the innocent scapegoats taken by surprise as Werfel claims.

According to both Turkish and Armenian sources, she maintains, Armenian groups had sided with European powers (especially Russia, but also Great Britain and France) against their Ottoman rulers. As the war broke out, the

Turkish government decided it had to protect itself against treasonous acts on the part of these groups and began deporting them from sensitive areas.Lee's article

Likewise in Musa Daah. Werfel condemns the Armenians for bringing Western ideas to the Orient while making it clear that their ability to do so proves that they are superior to the other Orientals.

^^Lee even goes so far as to produce Turkish documents which attest to the fact that the official policy towards those Armenians being deported was that they should be treated well, that the atrocities at Zeitun did not occur as Werfel reports, and that proportionately as many Turks died at the hands of Armenians as the other way around. This 143 suggests an interesting paradox in Werfel's logic: whereas he condemns the imperialism of the Young Turks, and even the

Western ideas they have imported and cultivated, he offers no criticism of those European imperialists with whom the Armenians have sided. Perhaps it is not generic imperialism

Werfel wishes to critique, but only a hybrid,

Oriental/Western variety of it. It is therefore not surprising that none of the Turks in Werfel's novel are able to arrive at the same kind of positive integration of

Western and Oriental values that Gabriel achieves.

The story told in his novel reveals the issues Werfel was struggling with as a Jew living in a German-speaking culture in the early twentieth century: "The Forty Davs of

Musa Daah is a great indicator of Werfel's complex identity as a Jew amidst a 'host' culture, and of his highly ambivalent relationship to that culture and its dominant religion" (Steiman 76). Certainly, parallels do exist between the historical situations of the Armenians and

German Jews like Werfel— and Werfel was not unaware of these. One critic explains:

Die nationale Bindung des Helden wird in der religiosen Determination rassisch erklart. Wie der Dichter in der armenischen Geschichte Parallelen zur jüdischen Geschichte fand, so vermittelt er den armenischen Gestalten seines Buches, hauptsachlich den Intellectuellen, Ziige, part of her argument certainly borders on being offensive; it is clear that a genocide did occur and— no matter what the Turkish government's intentions or reasons might have been— genocides can never be justified. 144 die seinem geschichtlichen Bild des Juden entsprechen. Hinzu kommt in der Behandlung des Geschehens auf dem Moses-Berg der Gebrauch einer reichen religiosen Symbolik mit Elementen aus den altestamentaschen "Büchern Mose." (Metzler 340)

Other critics have also pointed out similar p a r a l l e l s , as well as the fact that Werfel modeled many of the important Armenian characters after specific Jews he had known in Prague (Jungk 142-3). Indeed, Werfel made the connections between these groups quite explicit in the novel. Like the Jews, "Armenier [zu] sein ist eine

Unmoglichkeit" (62) and "Armenieraugen sind fast immer groB, schreckensgroB von tausendjahrigen Schmerz-Geschichten"

(93); they are like the "Kindern Israel in der Wüste" (327).

Certainly, Werfel seems to be working out his own issues of identity through the character of Gabriel Bagradian.^^

Like Werfel, Gabriel is an assimilated Oriental living in Western society, who is married to a European woman. In the beginning, Gabriel is subjected to European prejudice, and yet does not feel entirely comfortable with his own

iGpor example, Gunther Grimm states: In diesem, übrigens erfolgreichem Roman,...gibt es deutliche Parallelen zwischen unterdrückter armenischer Minderheit und verfolgter Judenschaft- -nicht nur das gemeinsame Schicksal, sondern auch kiinstlerisch-strukturelle Elemente verweisen auf das symbolische Integration jüdischer Geschichte. (262)

^^Interestingly, it may well be Gabriel with whom Werfel identifies, but the Agha and Lepsius often serve as mouthpieces for the author's opinions about religion and ethics. 145 cultural heritage. As such, he experiences a sense of alienation and would like to find a way to make sense of his life. On the one hand, he tells Juliette, "Wir gehoren weniger dorthin, wo wir herkommen, als wo wir hinwollen!"

(379); on the other, he tells Iskuhi, "Mein Lebtag habe ich immer das Fremde gesucht. Es hat mich verführt, doch niemals gluck1ich gemacht. Und auch ich habe das Fremde verführt und nicht glücklich gemacht" (732). He is conflicted about how he ultimately fits into the larger scheme of things; are his roots important or not? Gabriel finds the solution to his identity problems in an increasing awareness of the importance of spirituality: by gaining a mystical re-understanding of his roots and the significance of belonging to a persecuted group, Gabriel finds meaning in his existence. Indeed, he inspires other members of the community through his example. By the end of the novel,

Gabriel has come full circle, fulfilling a destiny about which he had prophetically fantasized as a child:

Die wilden Phantome jedes Armenierjungen... .Der blutige Sultan Abdul Hamid hat einen Ferman wider die Christen erlassen. Die Hunde des Propheten, Türken, Kurden, Tscherkessen, sammeln sich um die grüne Fahne, um zu sengen, zu plündern und das Armeniervolk zu massakieren. Die Feinde aber haben nicht mit Gabriel Bagradian gerechnet. Er vereinigt die Seinen. Er führt sie ins Gebirge. Mit unbeschreiblichen Heldenmut wehrt er die Übermacht ab und schlagt sie zurück. (24)

However Gabriel's understanding of himself and his

Oriental heritage is, to a large extent, determined by his identification with a Western worldview which is supposedly 146 implicated for trying to colonize him through the Young

Turks. Whereas Werfel and Gabriel see themselves as empathetic to the values and traditions of their minority groups, they nevertheless do so through the filter of the values and constructs of a majority culture— in Werfel's case German, and in Gabriel's case generic Western. In fact, Gabriel's and Werfel's attitudes towards Armenians are often downright patronizing. While they are able to criticize Western culture for not being tolerant of Oriental culture, they nonetheless often evaluate the Orient through distorted European constructs. After all, Gabriel is not just an Armenian, but a French Armenian; and Werfel is not simply a Jew, but a German as well. It is therefore not surprising that in the novel Werfel makes fun of a Swiss

Armenian who falsely prophesies that the Armenians are not really in any danger ("Die Sonne der Zivilisation werde nun auch über der Tiirkei aufgehen" 67) while, as he was writing

Musa Daah in 1932-3, Werfel failed to grasp the magnitude of the "temporary setback" that lay ahead for the Jews under Hitler (Jungk 141). Werfel simply could not imagine that

"his" German Kulturvolk could act as barbarically as the

Turks had (Steiman 70).^®

^®Ironically, this sentiment echoes the attitude of Juliette, whom he criticizes in the novel for being so narrow-minded. 147

Werfel's attitude about the Orient is ambivalent, not unlike that of many Orientalists at that time.He implies that, whereas Western culture can benefit those

Orientals who can keep it in proper perspective and remain deeply religious, not all Orientals should be privy to

Western ideas, because they might become too unpredictable and thus dangerous. My reading of Die vierzio Tage des Musa

Daah indicates that, because he had internalized some of the negative stereotypes about Orientals, Werfel felt the same ambivalence toward his own Jewish heritage at a time when

Jews were considered Oriental by portions of the German society (Aschheim 76). Indeed, his later statements about the participation of the Jews in their own genocide (Steiman

173-8) echo the arguments Werfel was making about the

Armenians in his novel. Werfel's celebration of culture as a religious experience ends up reproducing— rather than challenging— the values of the dominant culture in which he was living as a member of an oppressed minority. His inability to evaluate Oriental culture by any means other than those constructed by a hostile German society leaves him in a quandary: while using the language and the logic of the German "colonizers" who silence and oppress people by defining them as inferior or Other, Werfel reinforces his own "colonization" as a German Jew.

19See Edward Said's Orientalism. 148

Works Cited

Abels, Norbert. Franz Werfel mit Selbstzeuanissen und BiIddokumenten. Reinbek bel Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1990.

Aschheim, Steven E. Brothers and Strangers: The East European Jew in German and German Jewish Consciousness 1800-1923. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1982.

Buck, George C. "The Non-Creative Prose of Franz Werfel." Franz Werfel: 1890-1945. Ed. Lore B. Foltin. Pittsburg: U of Pittsburg P, 1961. Davidheiser, James C. "The Quest for Cultural and National Identity in the Works of Franz Werfel." Perspectives on Contemporary Literature 2 (1982): ,58-66.

Foltin, Lore B. Franz Werfel. Stuttgart: Sammlung Metzler, 1972.

Grimm, Gunter E. "Ein hartnackiger Wanderer. Zur Rolle des Judenturas im Werk Franz Werfels." Im Zeichen Hiobs: Jiidische Schriftsteller und deutsche Literatur im 20. Jahrhundert. Ed. Gunter Grimm, Hans-Peter Bayerdorfer, and Konrad Kwiet. Konigstein/Ts.: Athenaum, 1985.

Jungk, Peter Stephan. Franz Werfel; A Life in Prague. Vienna, and Hollywood. New York: Grove Weidenfeld, 1990.

Kayser, Rudolf. "Franz Werfel." Juden in der deutschen Literatur: Essays über zeitqenossische Schriftsteller. Ed. Gustav Krojanker. Berlin: Welt-Verlag, 1922.

Kleinlogel, Cornelia. Exotik-Erotik; Zur Geschichte des Tiirkenbildes in der deutschen Literatur der frühen Neuzeit. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1989.

Lee, Maria Berl. "Agony, Pathos, and the Turkish Side in Werfel's Die vierzia Tage des Musa Daah." West Virginia University Philological Papers 31 (1986): 58- 64.

Metzler, Oskar. "Franz Werfel." Osterreichische Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts. Ed. Horst Haase and Antal Madl. Berlin: Volk und Wissen, 1988.

Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Vintage, 1978. 149

Schick, Irvin Cemil. "Representing Middle Eastern Women: Feminism and Colonial Discourse." Feminist Studies 15, 2 (Summer 1990): 345-380. Sokel, Walter. The Writer in Extremis: Expressionism in Twentieth-Centurv German Literature. Stanford; Stanford UP, 1959.

Steiman, Lionel B. Franz Werfel — The Faith of an Exile: From Prague to Beverlv Hills. Waterloo, Canada: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 1985.

Turrian, Marysia. Dostoiewskii und Franz Werfel: Vom ostlichen zum westlichen Denken. Bern: Paul Haupt, 1950.

Werfel, Franz. "Agyptisches Tagebuch." Zwischen Oben und Unten. Ed. Adolf Klarmann. München: Langen Müller, 1975.

. Die vierziq Taae des Musa Daah. Frankfurt: Fischer Taschenbuch, 1990. CHAPTER V

Conclusion

Seven years after his ground-breaking but controversial Orientalism. Edward Said modified and defended his conclusions in an article entitled "Orientalism

Reconsidered" (published in Cultural Critique). Said argued again that "the line separating Occident from Orient...is less a fact of nature than it is a fact of human production, which I have called imaginative geography" (90). Europeans nevertheless project the status of the Other onto the Orient and view its inhabitants as mere "communities of interpretation" (93). Western scholars and authors express a "flat assertion of quality" when they assume they can speak for Muslim culture by virtue of the fact that they are white, non-Muslim, Europeans (97). In this discourse, the

Orient is "not Europe's interlocutor, but its silent Other"

(93), objectified and de-historicized by European authors:

...even so relatively inert an object as a literary text is commonly supposed to gain some of its identity from its historical moment interacting with the attentions, judgements, scholarship, and performances of its readers. But, I discovered, this priviledge was rarely allowed the Orient, the Arabs, or Islam, which separately or together were...confined to the fixed status of an object frozen once and for all in time by the gaze of Western percipients. (92)

150 151

In other words, while it is stereotyped "as primitivity, as the age-old antetype of Europe, as a fecund night out of which European rationality developed, the Orient's actuality receded inexorably into a kind of paradigmatic fossilization" (94) . The underlying subtext of Orientalist literature is therefore not a genuine desire to understand, and learn from, another culture: "it is a statement of power and a claim for relatively absolute authority" (97) born of the interests, claims, projects, and ambitions of

European imperialism (93).

And yet Said also admits that the supposed division between West and East is neither static nor purely fabricated: cultural differences do exist, and these differences are emphasized, deemphasized, or distorted according to the historical context of European-Muslim relations (90). However, he wants to make his readers aware of the fact that concepts like Orient and Occident are social constructions— not manifestations of natural or divine orders. It is therefore equally as important to scrutinize the people representing the Orient as the constructions themselves. This, Said claims, is "a fact basic to any theory of interpretation, or hermeneutics" (90).

Indeed, it is precisely this aspect of Said's argument to which he pays the least attention in Orientalism. His tendency to use sweeping generalizations often obscures the 152 fact that, since not all Europeans are alike, their agendas towards the Orient may differ. Furthermore, since Western writers have differing understandings of what constitutes their cultural identities, they may have conflicting ideas about what they consider alien. James Carrier therefore maintains that it is essential to understand the dialectical nature of Orientalism:

Seeing Orientalism as a dialectical process helps us recognize that it is not merely a Western imposition of a reified identity on some alien set of people. It is also the imposition of an identity created in dialectical opposition to another identity, one likely to be equally reified, that of the West. (197)

Hence the corollary of Orientalism is Occidentalism: "the essentialistic rendering of the West by Westerners" (199).

Just as the content of the Other is dialectical, its form is fluid, contracting and expanding along with definitions of self (197); and "since people within a society have differing interests, perspectives, and resources, they will differ in the representations they find appealing and in their ability to promulgate those representations" (198).

Because of this, there exist as many Orientalisms as there are Occidentalisms.

The omission of this important point in Said's argument has lead critics examining German Orientalist literature to challenge his suppositions. For example, Andrea Fuchs-

Sumiyoshi's Orientalismus in der deutschen Literatur disputes Said's conclusions by attempting to prove that. 153 since Germans did not colonize the Orient like France and

Great Britain did, they did not necessarily colonize it in their literature. While she admits that some German authors readily appropriated the Orient for their own purposes, others (like Goethe) genuinely sought to learn about

Oriental culture in order to bridge the gap between East and

West.i And, in his study Ostliche Spiegel. Ludwig Ammann chastizes Said for not recognizing that all constructions are ipso facto ethnocentric, but not necessarily r a c i s t . ^

Certainly, because Said is intent upon pointing out the harm that imperialistic Orientalism inflicts on Asia, he brushes aside the fact that Orientalism comes in many varieties— some of which may not necessarily be imperialistic at all.

^Unfortunately, although her point is well-taken, her use of Goethe to disprove Said's theses is problematic. Fuchs-Sumiyoshi assumes, for example, that Goethe's pretending to have a dialogue with the Persian poet Hafiz is the same thing as having a real one. It is not: Goethe is in control of both Western and Eastern cultures in his West- ostlicher Divan— he not only represents his own tradition, but has also chosen what he thinks should represent the Oriental one. He can figuratively dress himself in Oriental garb, call himself "Hatern," and pretend to have an Oriental experience while writing Orientally-inspired poetry. But the Orientals in his text are not afforded such a luxury; the position of the European is thereby privileged. Goethe expresses a relationship of power over the Orient, despite his empathy for Oriental culture.

^Yet I think Ammann does not give Said the credit he deserves for the complexities and subtleties of his arguments. Said is clearly aware of the hermeneutical dilemma in his argument: I do not believe he wants to condemn all Europeans as racists when they attempt to represent the Orient, although at times it comes across that way. 154

In the beginning of the twentieth century, German

Jewish authors responded diversly to the Orient for a variety of reasons: just as there was no one (singular)

German Jewish imagination, there was no one (singular) depiction of the Orient. Their representations of the

Muslim Orient were distinct from, and yet intersected with, non-Jewish German attitudes towards Oriental culture, because German Jewish identities and interests were intricately multivalent. Accordingly, representations of the Orient in the works of Else Lasker-Schüler, Friedrich Wolf, and Franz Werfel are fascinating because they reflect the complexities of German Jewish agendas.

All three of these authors place importance upon revealing to their German readers what they consider to be certain positive aspects of Oriental culture. In so doing they hope to affirm particular values— values important to each of them in their individual situations as German Jews.

For Lasker-Schüler, the Orient is wonderful because it is filled with liminal, visionary artists like herself; it therefore serves as the vehicle by which she explores her position as a Jewish artist in German society. For Wolf, the Orient is the birthplace of the great message of social justice espoused by Islam; it therefore serves for him as the vehicle by which he works out his political position as a Jew in a war-torn German society. And for Werfel, one of the redeeming aspects of the Orient is that it abounds with 155 opportunities for exploring one's religiosity; it therefore serves as the vehicle by which he comes to terms with his position as a controversial Jewish-Christian thinker in

German society. For all three authors, the Orient is an imaginative space where they can describe and come to terms with their own positions as Jews in German society. In this regard, these artists were not so different from other

German artists who thought they were coming to terms with different cultural values by experimenting with exoticism, but who were actually coming to terms with themselves.

That the Orient is both repulsive and attractive to

Franz Werfel is revealed in his characterization of the people in Die vierzia Tage des Musa Daah. Werfel constructs a hierarchy of Otherness based upon his categorization of certain human qualities as inherently Eastern or Western.

Complicating a clear preference of West over East, Werfel erects two paradigms about the Orient, a positive and a negative one, which he ultimately dissolves through a religious perspective. In Werfel's novel. Young Turks are bad, because they have become secular and Westernized;

Armenians and Sufis are good, because they have remained devoutly religious and pre-modern. However, the hero of the novel, Gabriel, is best of all: he is a Westernized

Oriental who rediscovers the importance of his people's history and religion. His renewed faith and understanding of the importance of tradition, combined with his Western 156 training and expertise, makes him the savior of his people: under his guidance his village (and, therefore, culture) escapes annihilation.

Werfel's depiction of Oriental culture and history is quite problematic. His celebration of culture as a religious experience reproduces many of the values of the conservative German culture in which he was living as a member of an oppressed minority while writing this novel.

Werfel was attempting to depict what he as the essences of

West and East in Die vierzia Tage des Musa Daah. In his efforts to reproduce "typical" Asians and Europeans (albeit with differentiations between those who are religious and those who are secular), Werfel resorts to cliches and stereotypes which work against the empathy for the Armenians he wishes to illicit in his German readership.

Interestingly, Werfel ends up producing not only Orientalist

and Occidentalist constructions, but also ethno-Orientalist

and ethno-Occidentalist ones, because — as a German Jew — he identifies at various points with both the Armenians and

the Europeans in his novel.^ In the final analysis, these

essentialisms do not work; even Werfel does not fit them.

Like many of the portrayals of Orientals in the history of

German Orientalist fiction, his characterizations come

^Carrier defines ethno-Orientalism as "essentialist renderings of alien societies by the members of those societies themselves" and ethno-Occidentalism as "essentialist renderings of the West by alien societies" (198). 157 across as shallow. Rather than carefully delineate the complexities which shape all peoples, Werfel takes the easy way out and replicates traditional German conventions about the differences between East and West.

Else Lasker-Schüler's Orientalist literary works also reflect a fascination for the exotic, the mythical, and the mystical. The stories in Die Nachte Tino von Baodads and

Der Prince von Theben mix together elements from Judaic and

Muslim traditions and take place in an amorphous Orient.

Lasker-Schüler saw herself as being in a unique position as a German Jew to transmit a heterogeneous Oriental culture to the German reader. In her collections of Orientalist stories, she expresses a wish to serve as a bridge for a spiritual union between West and East. Indeed, in her own life at this time, Lasker-Schüler regularly dressed in androgynous, Turkish costumes and told people that she originated from the areas she was writing about; she even adopted the personas of both Tino, Princess from Bagdad, and

Jussuf, Prince of Thebes in real life. As a female, Jewish, impoverished, bohemian artist, Lasker-Schüler understood her marginality in German culture. She sought and found in the

Orient an imaginative space where she could explore and celebrate her Difference— a space where where her Otherness would make sense. By employing an Oriental setting in her texts, Lasker-Schüler was able to use exoticism to create a space for developing her non-traditional ideas about 158 aesthetics and to redefine her cultural role in German

society as "special" in a positive sense.

And yet, like Werfel, Lasker-Schüler reproduces many of the same stereotypes which make it difficult for Germans to

identify (or at least sympathize) with Oriental culture.

She reifies the line between East and West; only this time

she is one of the few, uniquely situated people who can

straddle it. Even when she tries to avoid cliches, she

produces images which are too esoteric for her readers to

understand. Her imaginings therefore appear self-indulgent

and brooding: no one else can fathom how she suffers as a

result of her cultural and artistic uniqueness. Rather than

underscoring the recognition that all peoples— no matter what their cultural identities may entail— can develop an

appreciation for one another, Lasker-Schüler makes it

difficult for German readers to view Orientals as anything

other than totally alien.

Friedrich Wolf's Orientalism in Mohammed: Ein

Oratorium is perhaps the most intriguing because it is the

most complex. On the one hand, his retelling of Mohammed's

biography can be seen as hegemonic because he adds and omits

elements from the Prophet's life to suit his artistic needs.

Wolf uses the exotic nature of the story to come to terms

with his own issues and, as such, feels he has the right to

depict Islamic history as he sees fit— which, however, many

Muslims might find inappropriate. Furthermore, because Wolf 159 uses Mohammed as an example to make certain points, he

leaves out those parts of the Prophet's biography which

complicate the issues. For example, even if Mohammed could

be depicted as non-violent until his departure for Medina,

he later came to accept the necessity of violence for

defending the faith. Wolf decides to cut off his story before Mohammed took part in violent struggle against the

enemies of Islam; Mohammed therefore remains the epitome of

a non-violent revolutionary. By ending the play where he

does. Wolf also avoids having to come to terms with the fact

that conflicts arose between the Jews of Medina and

Mohammed. Instead, Wolf's Mohammed is able to emphasize the

unity of Jews and Muslims. In this way. Wolf, like other

Orientalist German authors, ends up using Oriental culture

for his own goals instead of taking seriously the historical

accuracy of what he represents.

On the other hand, however. Wolf does seem to have used

traditional sources about Mohammed. In fact, Wolf recounts

incidents from the Prophet's biography which are not found

in the texts of either Henning or Delitzsch. Given that

remarkably detailed accounts from the classical sources of

Mohammed's life are revealed in Wolf's drama, it seems

likely that he may have read translations of the classical

sources beyond those given by these German scholars. This

certainly demonstrates a sincere willingness to understand

Islamic history. It clearly exhibits more of a desire to 160 take Oriental culture seriously than either Lasker-Schüler, who did not seem to consult any scholarly sources aboutthe

Orient, or Werfel, who shows in his diary that he knew little about the Islamicate world.

Wolf's Orientalism is enigmatic because he is not interested in dwelling on Mohammed's Otherness. It is not

Mohammed's exoticism that Wolf finds attractive: those universal aspects of Mohammed's character and message are praised by Wolf. Mohammed is Wolf's hero because he recognized the world needed changing, he set out to do it, and he succeeded. Wolf, too, wants to change the world— or, at least, what he considers to be the intolerant, greedy, violent society of which he is a member. In order to do this. Wolf recognizes that he must study those similar circumstances in human history which are experienced by all peoples: these experiences produce an awareness of the common bonds which are shared by all of humanity. Without an appreciation of this, he realizes, personal and social transformation is impossible. Mohammed's example proves that coming to grips with one's self is not sufficient: although it is essential for people to grapple with their religious and cultural beliefs, the lessons learned from this process must be applied to improving the world around them. This is what Wolf learns from the Prophet, and it is what he wishes to convey in his drama about him. Wolf's respect for Mohammed, and his willingness to celebrate 161 cultural Difference without losing sight of the universal ties which bind peoples of all traditions, makes Mohammed unique in German Orientalist f i c t i o n . ^

After analyzing the Orientalist literature of these three authors, I have come to a few specific methodological conclusions. First of all, scholars need to apply flexible definitions of Orientalism to the German literary works they examine. Henry Remak explains the reason why:

It would be nice to have a secure and inflexible delimitation of "exotic" once and for all, but the intricate cultural patterns existing in fact call for more relative, flexible and authentic distinctions. We must not only break down larger units and test differentiated components as to their exotic potentials but must also ask: "exotic" to whom? (54)

The fact is, German depictions of the Orient and Orientals have changed remarkably over time; this is due to the fact that German perceptions of self have altered as their historical contexts have changed. Furthermore, German­

speaking peoples have variously identified themselves with different groups— dialectic, political, religious, etc.— and

these self-understandings have impacted their notions about whom they see as alien. Since even people supposedly

“^It is precisely because of his remarkable insights and literary skills that I believe Wolf should be included in German Studies syllabi. Although he was banned by the Nazis and "ex-communicated" by American and West German scholars because of his communist politics. Wolf's best dramas— Mohammed. Der Arme Konrad. Cvankali. and Professor Mamlock— are among the most interesting from the Weimar Republic. Now that the Cold War is over, perhaps Wolf will be restored the respect he commanded in his day as a playwright. 152 belonging to the same cultural group in the same historical period, such as German Jews living between 1900-33, have individual interests and values, their perspectives on the

Orient will not necessarily coincide. Scholars therefore also need to pay attention to all the constructs represented in German Orientalist literature— Orientalist,

Occidentalist, or otherwise. After all, as the authors I have examined have revealed, the relationship authors have to their own cultures may well be as problematic as their relationships to the alien culture they wish to depict.

Finally, two other areas of possible study have been generated by the data in this dissertation which merit future exploration. First I have come to believe that, in order to more fully understand anti-Semitism and the rise of

German National Socialism, it may be useful to understand these phenomena against the backdrop of a long tradition of

German attitudes towards the Orient. Further analysis of

German notions about Oriental culture in the early twentieth century may shed light on the way in which fear and loathing of two Eastern forces— the Jews and the Bolsheviks— helped bring about and sustain the rise of Nazism in Germany.^

^Indeed, Said has already suggested that: hostility to Islam in the modern Christian West has historically gone hand in hand with, has stemmed from the same source, has been nourished at the same stream as anti-Semitism, and...a critique of the orthodoxies, dogmas, and disciplinary procedures of Orientalism contribute[s] to an enlargement of our understanding of the cultural mechanisms of anti- 163

Second there needs to be further investigation of the German attitudes expressed towards the Orient at the beginning of this century and their connection to German racism towards so-called guestworkers.® Such information would be useful for doing comparative research on contemporary German perceptions of Oriental culture and their significance for German issues of identity in a newly reunified country.

Semitism. (99) To my knowledge, however, no systematic study of this connection has been made by scholars.

^German notions about the Gastarbeiter are explored, for example, in an article by Arlene Teraoka entitled "Talking 'Turk': On Narrative Strategies and Cultural Stereotypes." Teraoka astutely analyzes the influence of these perceptions on contemporary German Orientalist literature. 164

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