MIMESIS~,) THE REPRESENTATION. OF ·REALITY IN WESTERN LITERATURE, BY ERICH AUERBACH -:;:;;:--· TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY WILLARD R. TRASK ' PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS l Copyright 1953 by Princeton University Press L. C. Card 52-13152 ISBN 0-691-01269·5 {paperback ed~.) ISBN 0-691-06078-9 {hardcover edn.) Written in Istanbul between May 1942 and April 1945· First published in Berne, Switzerland, 1946, by A. Francke Ltd. Co,. First PRINCETON PAPERBACK Edition, 1968 Had we but world enough and time ... Fourth Printing, 1974 -ANDREW MARVELL This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise disposed of without the publisher's consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Printed in the United States of America By Princeton University Press at Princeton, ,New Jersey CONTENTS 1. Odysseus' Scar 3 2. Fortuna ta 24 3· The Arrest of Peter Valvomeres' 50 4· Sicharius and Chramnesindus 77 / 5· Roland Against Ganelon 96, 6. The Knight Sets Forth 123 7· Adam and Eve 143 8. Farinata and Cavalcante 174 9· Frate Alberto 203 10. Madame Du Chastel 232 11. The World in Pantagruel's Mouth 262 12. L'Humaine Condition 285 13. The Weary Prince. 312 14. The Enchanted Dulcinea 334 15· The Faux Devot 359 16. The Interrupted Supper 395 17. Miller the Musician 434 18. In the Hotel de la Mole 454 19. Germinie Lacerteux 493 20. The Brown Stocking 525 Epilogue 554 Index 559 GERMINI-E LACERTEUX to terms was dramatic and confused. 9bserving. it as _it is reflected in Tolstoi or Dostoevski, we clearly grasp· the savage, tempestuous, and .20 uncompromising nature of Russian acceptance or rejection of Eu­ '1 ropean culture. The very choice of the ideas and systems over which THE BROWN STOCKING I• the struggle takes place is somehow accidental and arbitrary. Then ! too, nothing but their final result is extracted, as it were, and this is not evaluated in its relation to other ideas and systems,' for example, "And even if it isn't fine to-morrow," said Mrs.· Ramsay, raising ,:, ! as a more or less significant contribution within a rich and many-sided her eyes to glance at William Bankes and Lily Briscoe as· they I; : • , , I intellectual production, but is immediately evaluated as an absolute, passed, "it will be another day. And now,'' she said, thinking that which is true or. false,:an inspiration or a devilish delusion. Immense Lily's charm was her Chinese eyes, aslant in her white, puckered . I theoretical countersystems are improvised. The most complex phe­ little face, but it would take a clever man to see it, "and now stand .I' nomena, fraught with historical premises and very difficult to formu­ up, and let me measure your leg,'' for they might go to. the Light­ late in a clear synthesi~-plienomena like "western culture," liberalism, house after all, and she must see if the stocking did not need to be socialism, the Catholic Church-are judged in a few words, in accord­ an inch or two longer in the leg. - I: ance with a particular and more often than not erroneous point of Smiling, for an admirable idea had flashed upon her this very 1; 'I ' view. And always the points at issue are "llltimate" ethical, religious, second-William and Lily should marry~she took the heather . and social questions. An extremely characteristic case in ·point is the mixture stocking, with its criss-cross of steel needles at the mouth I' postulate which Ivan Karamazov sets up and which represents the of it, and measured it against James's leg. 11 basic motif of the great novel: that there can be no morality without "My dear, stand still," she said, for in his jealousy, not liking to - 1,,' 'I . God and immortality, that indeed crime must be 'recognized as the serve as measuring-block for the Lighthouse keeper's little boy, I I ;: unavoidable and rational way of escape from the position of every James fidgeted purposely; and if he did that, how could she see, I• atheist-a postulate in which the radical passion for "Everything or was it too long,_was it too short? she asked. !1 Nothing" brings into the thinking something which is at once amateur­ She looked up-what demon possessed him, her youngest, her ish and disconcertingly magnificent. But Russian coming to terms with cherished?-and saw the room, saw the chairs, thought them fear­ European civilization during the nineteenth century was significant not fully shabby. Their entrails, as Andrew said the other day, were only for Russia. However confused and amateurish a process it often all over the floor; but then what was the point, she asked herself, was, however much it was impaired by inadequate information, false of buying good chairs to let them spoil up here all through the perspectives, by prejudice and passion, there was at work in it an ex­ winter when the house, with only one old woman to see to it, tremely sure instinct for the things that were unsound and critical in positively dripped with wet? Never mind: the rent was precisely - Europe. In this respect too the effectof Tolstoi and still more of Dos­ twopence halfpenny; the children loved it; it did her husband toevski in Europe was very great, and· if, in many domains, among good to be three thousand, or if she must.be accurate, three hun­ them that of realistic literature, the moral crisis became increasingly dred miles from his library and his lectures and his disciples; and keen from the last decade before the first World War, and something there was room for visitors. Mats, camp beds, crazy ghosts of chairs like a premonition of the impending catastrophe was observable, the and tables whose London life of service was done-they did well influence of the Russian realists was an essential contributing factor. enough here; and a photograph or two, and books. Books, she thought, grew of themselves. She never had time to read them. Alas! even the books that had been given her, and inscribed by the I hand of the poet himself: "For her whose wishes must be obeyed ..." "The happier Helen of our days ..." disgraceful to say, she had never read them. And Croom on 'the Mind and Bates on the 524 525 J THE BROWN STOCKING THE BROWN· STOCKING Savage Customs of Polynesia ("My dear, stand still,'' she said) was no hope, no hope whatever, 'she had a spasm of irritation, and -neither of tlwse could one send to the Lighthouse. At a certain speaking sharply, said to James: moment, she supposed, the house would become so shabby that "Stand still. Don't be tiresome," so that he knew instantly that something must be done. If they could be taught to wipe their her severity was real, and straightened his leg and she measured it. feet and not bring the beach in with.them-that would be some­ · The stocking was too short by half an inch at least, making thing. Crabs, she had to allow, if Andrew really wished to dissect allowance for the fact that Sorley's little boy would be less well them, or if Jasper believed that one could make soup from sea­ grown than James. weed, one could not prevent it; or Rose's objects-shells, reeds, "It's too short," she said, "ever so much too short." stones; for they were gifted, her children, but all in quite different Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, half-way down, . ways. And the result of it was, she sighed, taking in the whole in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the room from floor to ceiling, as she held the stocking against James's depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waters swayed this leg, that things got shabbier and got shabbier summer after sum­ way and !hat, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look . I mer. The mat was fading; the wall-paper was flapping. You so sad .. couldn't tell any more that those were roses on it. Still, if every But was it nothing but looks? people said. What was there door .in a house is left perpetually open, and no lockmaker in the behind it-her beauty, her splendour? Had he blown his brains ·whole of Scotland can mend a bolt, things must spoil. 'What was out, they asked, had he died the week before they were married -some other, earlier lover, of whom rumours' reached one? Or the use of flinging a green Cashmere sha~l over the edge of a pic­ ture frame? In two weeks it would be the colour of pea soup. was there nothing? nothing but an incomparable beauty which she lived behind, and could do nothing to disturb? For easily ' But it was the doors that annoyed her; every door was left open. ~ though she might have said at some moment of intimacy when She listened. The drawing-room door was open; the hall door was ~ stories of great passion, of love foiled, of ambition thwarted came ' ~ open; it sounded as if the bedroom doors were open; and certainly her way how she too had known or felt or been through it her­ '" the window on the landing was open, for that she had opened her­ " self, she never spoke. She was silent,always. She knew then-she self. That windows should be open, and doors shut-simple as it knew without having learnt.