Wilhelm Raabe - German Moonlight
Wilhelm Raabe's short story, German Moonlight, is a genial tale of German nationalism. The narrator is not identified, though the story is told in such a way that we are able to assume that Raabe narrates; at any rate the narrator tells us of himself that,
I am, even by German standards, an uncommonly prudent person, and I know how to keep my five senses under control.
During a visit to the island of Sylt, he makes an "extraordinary acquaintance", that being the Circuit Judge Luhnefinke from Gross-Fauhlenberg, a man,
of approximately fifty years of age, corpulent, as we have already commented, and otherwise without any external distinguishing marks. He had a broad chin and his hair was short and sprinkled with grey…None of this gave me any reason to suppose that the man was a candidate for a loony bin and yet - I couldn't help it!
The narrator's reasons for suspecting the Judge is a lunatic stem from his hatred of the moon, and the bizarre way in which the two meet. The Judge appears just after dusk, running directly toward a precipice, which he jumps off, his arms raised to the sky. The narrator is alarmed, and approaches the man, unsure if he is dead, seriously hurt, or unharmed.
From here, the Judge takes over. He hates the moon, for it denies a strong German man his birthright, which is to say his heritage and power. Raabe makes the Judge a passionate mouthpiece for German (Prussian) nationalism. He is not a character but an argument, and it is easy to see the feelings Raabe is attempting to stir up with this story. In the mid to late 19th century, Germany was rapidly coalescing into a proper nation for the very first time, which meant, for a number of writers and intellectuals of the time, that a national identity needed to be forged. Germanic traits had long been celebrated throughout the region, but not a grand unified sense of what it was to be German within Germany. Raabe, then, has the Judge exclaim in grand tones as to the character of the German man, which is by definition good, and the 'moon' (the other; the non-German), which is by definition bad. The Judge says,
You remember a lot of the drinking songs you sang at university and the meek and mild moon which just now appears perhaps as a tender sickle above you in the light blue of the morning sky, twists your mouth into a scornful expression and goes on waxing until it is full again while you, day after day, week after week, go about your business. You start to feel immensely uncomfortable. You come over to yourself as unspeakably stupid, silly and tasteless and sniff out stupid things to say, to which purpose your nose is entirely suited. You go home and look at your hair starting to grow long in the mirror and if you should discover thereby a white hair in your beard, your good friend the moon finds this most opportune, for it is in a position to bind you more tightly and to pursue its ends more easily for that than for anything else.
But then,
The waves dance their immortal dance in the German moonlight--why should we not dance too?
The judge is a mystic figure, seeing in the German both terrible temptations and limitless possibility. He says of himself that,
I am an idealist and a poet in the conduct of my household affairs
and
I'm a stickler for sentiment and cosiness and in the course of an hour, and - colleague! colleague! - my women, my ladies don't understand me, don't latch on to me.
And indeed, returning to his wife and daughter spoils the German's mood. He retreats from exultation, relaxing his grip on the idealistic nationalism that had taken over. The Judge returns to an "ordinary" man, no longer under the sway of mystic forces.
Raabe's nationalism is not necessarily distasteful, but it's certainly blunt. There's nothing to this story but the exultation of the German spirit, which is interesting to read as an historical artefact, but not particularly artistic. But then to expect artistry for a story such as this is to miss the point. This is a firebrand tale, one designed to warm the blood of men strong and proud, and to instil a sense of urgency regarding the German nation. As the judge says near the end of the story,
it's a terrible thing to have to inherit the legacy of generations, of centuries past without being permitted beforehand to make use of the privilege of law to limit the amounts owing to one's creditors.
This, then, is the feeling of a nation used to being scattered and marginalised, and now ready to take its place alongside the rest of the European powers.
Wilhelm Raabe's story is of historical interest, and indeed, the language is grand, flowery, and entertaining to read. But the plot of the story doesn't stick - it doesn't have one - and the characters even less (they don't exist beyond their use as mouthpieces). A curiosity.
See Also
List of titles by Project Gutenberg under review