No More Learning

Nur wenn sein blick sie verlor
Eigener schimmer ihn tru? gt:
Fehlt ihm der mitte gesetz
Treibt er zerstiebend ins all
| The last book which George published, Das neue Reich (1928),
contains poems written during the 1914-18 war and in the
years of anarchy in Germany which followed it. Let it not be
assumed that it is a glorification of any new political realm: in-
deed, it would seem rather from the tone of the poems that the
realm is visionary. Many of the poems have reference to the war
and some appeared separately before 1918. On the whole it is
the voice of the poet-seer which speaks, especially in the first
section--the voice of one who has seen his warnings of calamity
realized in the event; who has been present at the destruction
of the civilization whose end he had foretold. If his judgement
of the state of affairs seems harsh and rigid it is because he will
not allow a sentimental optimism to blind his vision of truth,
nor comforting catch-phrases to lull his ears to the acceptance of
a false security; because he will not cry Peace, Peace, when
there is no peace. In the symbolical poem Der Brand des Tem-
pels he declares that it will be half a thousand years before the
temple can be restored. His attitude to the war in the poems
dealing with it, more especially in Der Krieg, cannot have en-
deared him to those whose patriotism was of a chauvinistic
kind. To those who come to the Seer in their distress and wonder
at his calm he replies that he has shed his tears in advance and
. now has none to shed . . . What is to him the murder of hundred
thousands, compared to the murder of life itself? He cannot
grow excited about native virtue and French treachery. . .
There is no occasion for rejoicing. There will be no triumph,
only the unworthy downfall of many . . . Sick worlds pass in
fever to their end amidst the tumult. And to those who ask
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? whether he fails to recognize the measure of sacrifice and the
strength of the communal spirit, he replies that these things are
to be found also on the side of the enemy. At the end of the poem
a more conciliatory attitude is taken up by the Seer who, basing
his faith upon the youth of his nation, refuses to believe that his
country, too beautiful to be laid waste by foreign feet, can perish.
But George speaks in these poems not exclusively as the
prophet whose warning words have been ignored and are now
fulfilled in the destruction around him. In the poem Hyperion
he sees himself also as the prophet of a newer and better civiliza-
tion which he as a dying man will not live to see:
Mein leidend leben neiet dem schlummer zu
Doch giitig lohnt der Himmlischen verheissung
Dem frommen . . . der im Reich nie wandeln darf;
Ich werde heldengrab > ich werde scholle
Der heilige sprossen zur vollendung nahn:
MlT DIESEM KOMMT DAS ZWEITE ALTER / LIEBE
GEBAR DIE WELT / LIEBE GEBIERT SIE NEU.
Ich sprach den spruch / der zirkel ist gezogen . . .
Eh mich das dunkel iiberholt entruckt
Mich hohe schau: bald geht mit leichten sohlen
Durch teure flur greifbar im glanz der Gott.
It was certainly not Hitler whom George foresaw as the god who
should make all things new.
Another poem, Der Mensch und der Drud, reveals a change,
of which there are occasional signs in the late volumes, in George's
attitude to nature. The hostile attitude to the primaeval aspect
of nature has yielded to a recognition, perhaps intellectual
rather than emotional, of nature as. the basis and indispensable
element in human life and of the necessity that humanity should
remain in immediate contact with it. In this poem he warns
against an excessive intellectualism which is losing touch with
the primitive simplicities and instincts of life, from which alone
man can draw the strength necessary to "sustain existence.
Presented in symbolical form as Der Drud, or Satyr, these
fundamentals of all existence admonish mankind:
Mit alien kiinsten lernt ihr nie was euch
Am meisten frommt. . . wir aber dienen still.
So hor nur dies: uns tilgend tilgt ihr euch.
Wo unsre zotte streift nur da kommt milch
Wo unser huf nicht hintritt wachst kein halm.
War nur dein geist am werk gewesen: langst
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? Wa? r euer schlag zersto? rt und all sein tun
War euer holz verdorrt und Saatfeld brach. .
j Nur durch den zauber bleibt das leben wach.
The last part of the volume is headed Das Lied and to it the
distich is prefixed:
Was ich noch sinne und was ich noch fu? ge
Was ich noch liebe tra? gt die gleichen zu? ge.
It is therefore to be expected that the songs which make up this
part of the volume will reveal the same qualities as those in the
earlier volumes. In point of fact there seems to be in some of
these songs of George's old age a freer movement, a greater
simplicity and an approximation to what is normally met with
in the German Lieder of the more traditional poets. Certainly
there is no diminution, but rather an increase of the lyric note
in such poems as Das Lied; Seelied; Das Licht and the last one
of all: Du schlank und rein wie eine flamme. Das Lied teils in
narrative form of the man who went out in^his youth to an
enchanted country, and found, when he returned, that years
had passed, that no one knew him any longer. All thought him
mad and set him to tend the flocks. Only the children listened
to a song. he sang, and still sang it themselves together when he
was dead. A subject matter frequent enough in folk legend, here
it is clearly a symbolical account of the fate of the poet at the
hands of the community. In Seelied the old man sitting on the
sea shore describes his waiting all day for the child with golden
hair, whose coming is the only joy left him. This poem would
seem to refer to Maximin. The last poem in the volume is mani-
festly an evocation of him, of all he had meant to George, of
inspiration, beauty, truth, fulfdment of life. It is poetically one
of the loveliest poems which George wrote and it stands at the
end of his poetical career, a tribute to that which had given
meaning and value to his life.
Du schlank und rein wie eine flamme
Du wie der morgen zart und licht
Du blu? hend reis vom edlen stamme
Du wie ein quell geheim und schlicht
Begleitest mich auf sonnigen matten
Umschauerst mich im abendrauch
Erleuchtest meinen weg im schatten
Du ku? hler wind du heisser hauch
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? Du bist mein wunsch und mein gedanke
Ich atme dich mit jeder luft
Ich schliirfe dich mit jedem tranke
Ich kusse dich mit jedem duft
Du bliihend reis vom edlen stamme
Du wie ein quell geheim und schlicht
Du schlank und rein wie eine flamme
Du wie der morgen zart und licht.
VII
George's poetry comes not from an overflowing heart and as the
result of an uncontrollable impulse. The element of will was a
part of the creative urge, and the reader is Conscious of this.
His poetic idea was not carried on the flow of words but con-
trolled it, so that the reader's attention is not carried on the
flow of words either but is aware of their manipulation, and
without careful attention to this can derive no satisfaction from
the poems. George did not himself think that there was any
break in his poetical development, nor indeed is there. JHis
mission as a poet began with the aim of rescuing poetry from
that effeteness which was prevalent in his youth, and in his
^mature years he directed that mission upon the civilization of
his time, for he saw that poetry is an index of the age in which
it is written.
like Holderlin he recognized that he was a poet in penurious
times: 'Dichter in durftiger Zeit'. But he did not ask himself,
as Holderlin did, to what purpose one should be a poet in such
times. Or if he did, his answer was ready to hand: for the very
reason that they are penurious. For he recognized the truth of
Jean Paul's saying: 'No age is in such need of poetry as that
which thinks it can do without it'. Like Holderlin too he realized
that the gods had abandoned men, and like him he sought to
replace them. But his attempt to do so was fraught with even
greater difficulties than that of his predecessor. Nor can it be
maintained that his desperate effort to find a substitute for the
gods was more successful than Holderlin's. Like him too he
feels himself to be the bearer of a message to his people; his aim
is to form a community of those who share his ideals and to build
a new society. That he should succeed in doing this to any
wider extent was not to be expected; but amongst those he
collected around him who were ready to carry his ideas out into
the world--friends of similar aims in his youth and disciples
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? in his mature years--were men of distinction in the world of
literature and scholarship: Bertram, Gundolf, Norbert von
Hellingrath, and some whose heroism brought them to their
death by their defiance of the Nazi regime, such as Claus von
Stauffenberg. Within its limitations George's was no mean
achievement.
George's ceuvre is grandly planned and carried out on the
grand scale. But something is felt to be lacking in it. A walled
city, it is laid out--like one of those German towns of the Re-
naissance which were planned with geometrical precision by
some autocratic prince of the age--with gardens, open places,
fountains and palaces, a temple surmounting all. About its
streets goes one in singing robes extolling, acclaiming, admon-
ishing, warning. We hear his voice but we rarely see him. The
inhabitants stand in noble and heroic attitudes. But they neither
move nor speak. For they are the sons not of Prometheus but
of a Pygmalion to whom no divine boon has been granted. In
fact they are statues, and one is the statue of a god.
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? APPENDIX
p. 17 Rejoicing in the fields, in the blessing of their new labour,
ancestral father delved, ancestral mother milked, thus nourishing
the destiny of a whole people.
p. 22 It was at the worst crossroads of my journey. . . On this side the
districts which I avoided, so great was my disgust of everything
which was praised and practised there. I mocked at their gods,
they at mine. Where is your poet, poor and boastful people?
There is none here.
p. 34 Ill-pleased she senses the pride of the things which have sprung
up merely to bloom.
p. 35 I wanted it to be of cool iron and like a smooth, firm fillet; but in
all the seams of the mine there was no metal ready to be cast.
Now therefore it shall be thus: like a great exotic flower-head,
formed of fire-red gold and rich, flashing precious stones.
p. 37 Where no will functions except his own; and where he dictates
to the light and the weather.
p. 37 My garden needs neither air nor warmth, the garden which I
cultivated for myself; and the lifeless flocks of its birds have
never beheld a springtime.
p. 42 Yonder on the shore a brother beckons, waving his joyous
banner.
p. 43 Let us wander round the motionless pond into which the water-
ways flow. You seek serenely to comprehend me. A wind blows
round us, soft as spring.
The leaves which lie yellow upon the ground scatter a new per-
fume: in wise words you repeat what has gladdened me in the
pictured book.
But have you knowledge also of profound happiness, have you
understanding of the silent tear? Shading your eye you stand
on the bridge watching the flight of the swans.
p. 43 The flower which I foster at the window protected from frost
by the grey pot has long distressed me in spite of the care I take
of it, and hangs its head as if it were slowly dying.
In order to remove from my mind the memory of its former
blossoming I choose a sharp implement and cut off the pale
flower with its sick heart.
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? Why should it serve to cause me bitterness? I wish that it should
disappear from the window. . . Now again I lift my empty eyes
and in the empty night my empty hands.
p. 44 The year as it mounts fills the air still
With scents from the garden, though few,
Weaves in your fluttering hair still
Ivy and speedwell blue.
The waves of the wheat are like gold yet,
Perhaps not so full nor so free,
Roses to greet you unfold yet
Dimmed though their glory may be.
Say nothing of what is denied us
Let us vow to be happy, we twain,
Even though nothing more may betide us
Than to walk thus together again.
p. 45 My moist eyes seek only in the distance the One who gladly takes
the rich and well-tuned harp--our golden harp.
p. 45 Do not feel terror at the threatening riddle of the icy glaciers; lift
your questing glance to the earnest stars.
p. 47 But occasionally noble fire breaks forth from them and makes
clear that union with them will bring no shame. Then say:
in strong community of suffering with you I grasp your fraternal
hands.
p. 49 To one you are a child, to another a friend. I see in you the God
whom I recognized with awe, to whom I owe my devotion.
p. 52 I am the One and I am Both; I am the Procreator and the Womb,
I am the Dagger and the Sheath; I am the Victim and the Blow.
p.
52 God's path is prepared before us
God's country is destined for us
God's war is ignited for us
God's crown is bestowed upon us.
p. 53 He who has once encircled the flame let him remain the flame's
satellite, however much he may wander and stray. As long as its
gleam reaches him he is not far from the goal. Only when his
glance loses it, his own glimmer deceives him. If he lacks the
central law he drifts and falls to pieces in the void.
p. 54 My suffering life approaches slumber; but the promise of the
heavenly ones in its goodness rewards the piety of him who is not
permitted to enter the Kingdom. I shall become the grave of
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? heroes, I shall become the turf which holy scions will approach
for their fulfilment. With this the new age will come: love gave
birth to the world, love will give birth to it anew. I have spoken
the incantation; the circle is drawn; before darkness overtakes
me I am carried away in high vision: soon the God on light soles
will wander through the beloved fields, tangible in his glory.
p. 54 With all your arts you never learn what it behoves you most to
know; but we serve in silence. Hear only this: destroying us
you destroy yourselves. Only where our shaggy coat touches
comes milk; where our hoof has not trodden no blade grows. If
your intellect only had been at work your whole race would long
since have been destroyed with all its doings. Your wood would
have mouldered, your fields of seed would he untilled. Magic
alone keeps life awake.
p. 55 What I still think and what I still form, what I still love, bear the
same features.
p. 55 You like a flame, you pure and slender.
You like the morning calm and bright,
Of noble stem you blossom tender,
You like a spring concealed and slight.
You walk with me in sunny meadows
Thrill round me in the evening haze
Illuminate my path in shadows
You cooling wind you burning blaze
You, all I wish and all I think of,
With every taken breath are blent,
I savour you in all I drink of
And you I kiss in every scent.
Of noble stem you blossom tender,
You like a spring concealed and slight,
You like a flame, you pure and slender,
You like the morning calm and bright.
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? BIOGRAPHICAL DATES
1868 Born at Biidesheim
1886-9 Von einer Reise; Zeichnungen in Grau; Legenden
(Published under the tide 'Die Fibel' 1901)
1889 George in Paris
1890 Hymnen--limited edition
1891 Meeting with Hofmannslhal in Vienna
Pilgerfahrten--limited edition
Translations of Baudelaire--privately circulated
1892 Algabal--limited edition
1895 DieBucher der Hirten und Preisgedichte; der Sagen und Sdnge;
und der Hdngenden Garten
1897 Das Jahr der Heele
1899 Der Teppich des Lebens und die Lieder von Traum und Tod.
Mit einem Vorspiel
1901 Translations of Baudelaire augmented and published
1905 Translations of English and French poets
1906 Maximin, ein Gedenkbuch--privately published
1908 Der Siebente Ring
1909 Translation of Shakespeare's Sonnets
1912 Translation of passages from La Divina Commedia
1914 Der Stern des Bundes
1928 Das Neue Reich
1933 George leaves Germany for Switzerland
Death at Minusio
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? SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY
Gundolf, Friedrich
Wolters, Friedrich
Duthie, Edna Lowrie
Laciimann, Eduard
Koch, Willi
Morwitz, Ernst
Lepsius, Sabine
Maier, Hans Albert
Salin, Edgar
Jaime, Edward
Boehringer, Robert
Asbeck-Stansberg, Leni
Butler, E. M.
Bowra, Sir Maurice
George
Stefan George und die Bla? tter fu? r
die Kunst
L'Influence du Symbolismefrancais
dans le Renouveau Poitique de
l'Allemagne
Die ersten Bu? cher Stefan Georges
Stefan George--Weltbild, Natur-
bild, Menschenbild
Die Dichtung Stefan Georges
Stefan George, Geschichte einer
Freundschaft
Stefan George und Thomas Mann,
zwei Formen des dritten Huma-
nismus
Um Stefan George
Stefan George und die Weltlitera-
tur
Mein Bild von Stefan George
1920
1930
1933
1933
1933
1934
1935
1946
1948
1949
1951
Stefan George--Gestalt und Werk 1951
IN ENGLISH
The Tyranny of Greece over Ger-
many (Chapter 8) 1935
The Heritage of Symbolism
(Chapter--Stefan George)" 1943
TRANSLATIONS INTO ENGLISH
Scott, Cyril Maier
Valhope and Morwitz
Selected Poems
Selected Poems
1910
1944
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