- Current Issue
SIGN IN to access Harper’s Magazine
Need to create a login? Want to change your email address or password? Forgot your password?
1. Sign in to Customer Care using your account number or postal address.
2. Select Email/Password Information.
3. Enter your new information and click on Save My Changes.
Subscribers can find additional help here. Not a subscriber? Subscribe today!
Merk Dir: jeder Schritt im Leben
ist ein tiefrer. Worte! Worte! ?
Merk Dir nichts als dies, Tarquinius:
wer nicht wahr ist, wirft sich weg! ?
. . . Doch vielleicht begreifst Du dies
erst, wenn es zu spät ist; merk’ ?
dies allein: nicht eine einzige ?
Stunde kommt zweimal im Leben,
nicht ein Wort, nicht eines Blickes ?
ungreifbares Nichts ist je ?
ungescheh’n zu machen, was
Du gethan hast, musst Du tragen,
so das Lächeln wie den Mord!
Take note: every step in life
Is deep. Words! Words!
Note nothing beyond this, Tarquinius:
He who is untrue, throws himself away!
. . . Though you may well appreciate this
When it is too late; note
This alone: not a single hour
Comes twice in the course of a life,
Not a word, not a glance
An incomprehensible nothing may
Never be undone, if once it was done,
You must bear it,
The smile as well as the murder!
–Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Der Kaiser und die Hexe p. 25 (1900)(S.H. transl.)
Hofmannsthal may be best known today for his masterful operas that resulted from his collaboration with Richard Strauss, but I love his early works, all of which have a strong lyrical quality. We see in them a parade of noble, elegant figures speaking ethereal, highly sculpted words. There is always an other-worldly quality about them—they are taken from a world of myth and fairy tale and there is only very rarely any demonstration of passion or violence. Hofmannsthal’s object is beauty; he projects a strong aesthetic sense in which everything is heavily laden with meaning and symbolism. This passage from Der Kaiser und die Hexe tells us something about his aestheticism and the growing anxiety with which he approaches his craft as a writer. But this piece is about words and deeds, and among Hofmannsthal’s early work it also carries a complex message of social justice—an unusual element for a writer who was, particularly at this time, a strong cultural conservative. This dramatic poem opens with the emperor out on a hunt, though he almost immediately asks himself—am I the hunter, or the hunted? He is absorbed with thoughts about a witch, whose clutches he is trying to escape (raising a typically fin-de-siècle theme about the relationship between men and women, in which the later routinely appear as seductresses)—but that theme is ultimately secondary to the question of accountability he faces for his acts as a ruler. He has, we learn dealt wrongly with political rivals, and they chance to cross his path as wretches. There is no undoing a misdeed from the past, he says, but his noble inner voice also admonishes him not to be bound by it in the future (“Grauenhaftes, das vergangen / Giebt der Gegenwart ein eignes / Leben, eine fremde Schönheit, / Und erhöht den Glanz der Dinge / wie durch eingeschluckte Schatten”). But this work has a dream-like quality, and it ultimately presents only a series of dichotomies—between words and deeds, fact and fiction, the powerful and the powerless, the masculine and the feminine—without offering clear moral solutions or answers. The press of death hangs over this work. The emperor’s acts are guided by consciousness of his mortality and apprehension about his misdeeds. Hofmannsthal tells us that those who wield temporal power face extraordinary temptations that can bring them low, and having fallen once, they may fall serially to preserve the aura of their innocence. Death is presented as the great leveler and point of accountability for the powerful.
The Swiss painter Arnold Böcklin is best known for The Isle of the Dead, a painting that he recreated several times, and which was extremely influential in the waning days of the nineteenth century. It presents an aesthetic image much like the one Hofmannsthal weaves in Der Kaiser und die Hexe, and it is masterfully realized in musical terms in the orchestral poem “The Isle of the Dead,” op. 29 (1908) by Sergei Rachmaninoff. Listen to a performance by the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Rachmaninoff himself:
<object width=”425″ height=”344″><param name=”movie” value=”http://www.youtube.com/v/xpxPnucieJU&hl=en&fs=1&”> <embed src=”http://www.youtube.com/v/xpxPnucieJU&hl=en&fs=1&” type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” allowscriptaccess=”always” allowfullscreen=”true” width=”425″ height=”344″></embed></object></p>
<object width=”425″ height=”344″><param name=”movie” value=”http://www.youtube.com/v/MdVb7YxBjMY&hl=en&fs=1&”> <embed src=”http://www.youtube.com/v/MdVb7YxBjMY&hl=en&fs=1&” type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” allowscriptaccess=”always” allowfullscreen=”true” width=”425″ height=”344″></embed></object></p>
More from Scott Horton:
No Comment — November 4, 2013, 5:17 pm
An expert panel concludes that the Pentagon and the CIA ordered physicians to violate the Hippocratic Oath
No Comment — August 12, 2013, 7:55 am
How will the Obama Administration handle Edward Snowden’s case in the long term?
No Comment — July 29, 2013, 11:36 am
Is it possible to simply disband the partisan FISA court?
Fleming awoke in the dark and his room felt loose, sloshing so badly he gripped the bed. From his window there was nothing but a hallway, and if he craned his neck, a blown lightbulb swung into view. The room pitched up and down and for a moment he thought he might be sick. The word “hallway” must have a nautical name. Why didn’t they supply a glossary for this cruise? Probably they had, in the welcome packet he’d failed to read. A glossary. A history of the boat, which would be referred to as a ship. Sunny biographies of the captain and crew, who had always dreamed of this life. Lobotomized histories of the islands they’d visit. Who else had sailed this way. Famous suckwads from the past, slicing through this very water on wooden longships.
A welcome packet, the literary genre most likely to succeed in the new millennium. Why not read about a community you don’t belong to, that doesn’t actually exist, a captain and crew who are, in reality, if that isn’t too much of a downer on your vacation, as indifferent to one another as any set of co-employees at an office or bank? Read doctored personal statements from underpaid crew members — because ocean life pays better than money! — who hate their lives but have been forced to buy into the mythology of working on a boat, separated now from loved ones and friends, growing lonelier by the second, even while they wait on you and follow your every order.
Number of people stopped and frisked by the NYPD in 2011 for “furtive movements”:
The faces of Lego people were growing angrier.
Four people were arrested for using a remote-controlled hexacopter to fly two pounds of tobacco to prisoners inside the yard at Calhoun State Prison in Georgia.
Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!
Our congratulations to Alice Munro, winner of the 2013 Nobel Prize for Literature