COFFEE OR MILK?-THAT IS THE QUESTION: ON AN INCIDENT FROM FONTANE’S FRAU JENNY TREIBEL

BY DAVID TURNER

IT is already well known that Fontane the novelist set little store by rousing climaxes, scenes involving violent action or emotion. A rather less widely appreciated corollary of this, however, is that many seemingly trivial matters come to assume much greater significance than would at first sight seem possible. Consequently, the reader of Fontane can never allow himself to follow the text spasmodically, concentrating on the high-water marks and skipping lightly over supposedly incidental material between. This is something of course that can only be fully substantiated by a wide range of quotation from many works. All that can be done here is to give some idea of the possibilities inherent in the author’s practice by concentrating on one instance. ‘Das Nebensachliche’, says Professor Schmidt at one point in Frau Jennny Treibel-though in a different context-‘so vie1 ist richtig, gilt nichts, wenn es bloss nebensachlich ist, wenn nichts drin steckt. Steckt aber was drin, dann ist es die Hauptsache . . .’ (83-84)l It is the purpose of this article to examine one such ‘subsidiary’ incident from the same novel in order to see ‘was drin steckt’.

The scene occurs almost exactly half way through the novel-in terms of pages though not of time-at a point when Leopold, the younger son of the heroine, Frau KommerzienrStin Treibel, has been thoroughly captivated by the talkative, vivacious daughter of Professor Schmidt. Fontane here describes one of Leopold’s constitutional rides on horseback to Treptow, where the would-be hero makes his usual break for refreshments at the local restaurant. Since he is a regular customer, on friendly terms with the waiter, but since also his mother has previously left instructions at the establishment about what her son should and should not have, Leopold is brought without further comment a small cup of coffee and a large glass of milk. After dispos- ing of the coffee at one draught, he decides to order another cup, only to be told by his waiter-friend, MutzeI1, that this has been strictly forbidden by his mother for reasons of health. In spite of a quite lengthy protest Leopold renounces his second cup of coffee and drinks the milk.

Nothing very remarkable there, one might think. And yet, on probing further, one discovers that this apparently insignificant, dispensable scene contains some of the essentials of the entire novel in a nutshell.

In the first place, it symbolizes the whole relationship between the Kom- merzienratin and her son and thus epitomizes one very important aspect of the heroine’s character. On learning of his mother’s instructions to the waiter, Leopold laments to himself:

3 3 0

A N I N C I D E N T F R O M F O N T A N E ’ S ‘ F R A U J E N N Y T R E I B E L ’ 331

Aber sie muB immer die Faden in der Hand haben, sie m d alles bestim- men, alles anordnen, und wenn ich eine baumwollene Jacke will, so mu8 es eine wollene sein. . . . Helene weiB alles besser, Otto wei8 alles besser, und nun gar erst die Mama. Sie mochte mir am liebsten vorschreiben, ob ich einen blauen oder griinen Schlips und einen graden oder schragen Scheitel tragen soll. (118)

This is clearly a picture of the same Jenny who, though she professes a desire to make a man of Leopold ( 1 0 3 ) ~ is always the first to nip any signs of inde- pendence in the bud, especially where matrimonial matters are concerned. Her control of his drinking habits is perfectly typical of her treatment of him throughout the novel.

But that much would be true of the scene whatever drinks were involved. Had Leopold been forbidden more than one glass of beer and given tea instead, it would have made no difference to our understanding of the heroine. In fact, however, the nature of the drinks, particularly the milk, is an essential element in the scene, for it provides the most telling characterization of Leopold. Modern advertising has educated us to associate milk with muscular athletes, robust and rosy-cheeked children-in short, with health and vigour. In Frumlenny Treibel, however, its connotations are as far removed from this image as possible. Milk conjures up rather a picture of weakness, insipidity and dependence, such as one might find in a new-born infant.2 Indeed, these related ideas form a leitmotif that runs right through the novel.

In an earlier scene, in which Jenny laments the spinelessness of both her sons, she remarks to her husband: ‘Ich wei8 nicht, wo beidc Jungen diese Milchsuppenschaft herhaben. Zwei geborene Berliner, und sind eigentlich, wie wenn sie von Herrnhut oder Gnadeiifrei kanien. Sie haben doch beide was Schlafriges . . .’ (103) The idea is further extended in the present scene, when Leopold, with evident approval, describes milk as ‘immer ein biRchen labbrig’ (I 16). Then again, nearer the end of the novel, when the engagement that eventually takes placc between Corinna and Leopold is practically over, Professor Schmidt’s old housekeeper, Frau Schmolke, recalls her first reac- tion to the engagement. ‘Warum nich?’ she had thought. ‘Warum soll es nich gehen? Und wenn dcr Leopold auch bloR ein Wickelkind is, Corinnchen wird ihn schon aufpappeln und ihn zu Kriften bringen.’ (211)

Even where milk is not explicitly mentioned, however, Leopold emerges as a mere child, with neither strength nor a will of his own. This is clear to Corinna, who, though ostensibly talking of mothers-in-law in general, obviously has Jenny and Leopold in mind when she tells Frau Schmolke, ‘Die Schwiegermutter sind eigentlich immer dagegen, und jede denkt, ihr Piippchen ist zu schade’ (170). It seems to be at the back of Marcell Wedder- kopp’s mind, too, in the image he uses to describe the way in which Leopold falls for Corinna’s brand of coquetry: ‘Dieser ungluckliche Leopold hingt

332 A N I N C I D E N T FROM FONTANB’S ‘FRAU J E N N Y TREIBEL’

schon lange an ihren Lippen und smgt das siil3e Gift ein’ (192). More particu- larly, however, it is the boy’s own mother who sees him in these terms. To her he is simply a child, for whom marriage is either totally out of the question or at least a matter to be settled by his parents (12 and 14g-150). And so it is quite in keeping with this and an amusing betrayal of the heroine’s subconscious attitude that, when she visits Professor Schmidt to deliver her indignant complaint at the engagement of Leopold and Corinna, she accuses the girl of having exploited the advantage of her years, although Leopold is in fact the older of the two! (193)

With all these closely related thematic threads in mind one can only acknowledge the appropriateness of Leopold’s comment as he sets about the task of drinking the milk: ‘Mein eigentliches Getrank‘ (118). No other drink could have ex ressed his feebleness, his dependence, his inertia so succinctly and well. An B in drinking the milk, acknowledging it to be the beverage proper to him, Leopold is simply emphasizing the sorry picture we gain of him from other sources.

In this respect his subsequent though temporary fiancEe, Corinna, is a very different proposition. She has enjoyed a much less restrained upbringing at the hands of her schoolmaster-father, on the principle that ‘das Schmidtsche hilft sich selbst’ (167). As a result she acts throughout as an independent adult, without recourse to her father; and in spite of her earlier denials to Marcel1 (61-62) there is every justification in the sly reference by Kommerzienrat Treibel to ‘einer armen und etwas emanzipierten Edeldame, die natiirlich auch Schmidt heiDen kann’ (104). Moreover, whileJenny is unable to make ‘einen forschen Menschen’ out of her younger son (IO~), Corinna is seen as ‘eine groBe, forsche Person und Fat] die Kinderschuhe lingst ausgetreten’ (167). Finally, while Leopold is not even present at the scene which marks his ultimate engagement to Hildegard Munk, the bride-one hesitates to say-‘chosen’ by his mother, Corinna is so clearly the moving force behind her engagement to Leopold that in all but the most technical sense she makes the proposal of marriage.

In Leopold and Corinna, then, we have a clear case of incompatibility. And this is where the question of the milk returns. A few chapters after the scene in which hopold drinks his milk, on the day of the actual engagement, Corinna returns home, exhausted by the effort required to wrest a proposal from him, and asks Frau Schmolke to bring her some refreshment. What particularly catches the eye is that she requests strong tea ‘und dann ordentlich Zucker; aber ganz wenig Milch, Milch macht immer gastrisch’ (162). This very different attitude to milk symbolizes a different approach to life altogether and brings home to us once more-ironically on the very day when the two young peo le come closest together-that they have scarcely anything in common wit Yl each other.

A N INCIDENT F R O M FONTANE’S ‘ F R A U J E N N Y TREIBEL’ 3 3 3

In this respect Leopold and Corinna anticipate the two main characters of the posthumously published story, Mathilde Mohring. Hugo GroBmann is also a weak, dependent young man, Mathilde a vigorous, self-reliant girl, who is gratefill that, as she puts it, ‘[die Mutter] mir immer freie Hand gelassen hat’. It seems hardly coincidental therefore that their temperamental differ- ences are also symbolized in their attitudes to certain drinks. When Hugo, who is already a habitual drinker of soda-water, returns home feverish after a winter’s ball and a sleigh-ride through the cold night air and asks for sugared water, Mathilde, now his wife, replies quite firmly : ‘Immer Zuckenvasser. Wer trinkt Zuckerwasser, wenn er von einem Ball nach Hause kommt! Ich werde dir eine Tasse Kaffee ma~hen , ’~ The course of the story clearly demonstrates the pitfalls of a marriage between two such opposites; in driving her husband farther and farther the hcroine at least indirectly brings about his death. Are we perhaps to conclude that a similar unhappy fate would have befillen a marriage between Leopold Treibel and Corinna?

In reality the question is idle, since the character of Jenny represents an insuperable obstacle to such a marriage, or at least an obstacle too great for Leopold to cope with. And this again brings us back to the little scene at Treptow. For it contains yet another extension to the associations of the milk, one which allows us to foresee the ultimate failure of any amorous involve- ment of Leopold and Corinna. In describing milk as the drink proper to him, Leopold adds the words, ‘ “Milch der frommen Denkungsart” wurde Papa sagen’ (II~).~ Although it is not certain what either he or his father under- stands by the quotation, the immediate context here, with its reference to tutelage and subjection, indicates that he is thinking along thc lines of a pious submission to the will of those around him. But the quotation comes, indirectly at least, from Shakespearc’s Mucbeth, and however little Leopold and his father may be aware of its roots, there is every indication that Fontane himself was. As a theatre-critic he had reviewed performances of the play in November 1875 and December 1879; in 1885 he had read with pleasure Professor Karl Werder’s Vorlesungen iiber Shukespeares Mucbeth ;6 and at some time between 1887 and 1889, when asked by the publisher, Friedrich Pfeibtucker, to compile a list of books which had most influenced him or given him most pleasure, he naturally included Shakespeare, with the comment, ‘vor allem Macbeth und Hamlet’.’ If therefore, as seems likely, Fontane knew the context in which the words are spoken in the original, it may be appropriate to recall the speech, especially since it has an important bearing on the situation of Leopold himself. Lady Macbeth is here addressing her husband :

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis’d. Yet do I fear thy nature: It is too full 0’ the milk of human kindness,

334 AN INCIDENT FROM FONTANB’S ‘FRAU JENNY TREIBEL’

To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win; . . .*

Macbeth, then, is described as having too much entleness, too many

qualities in himself, the reader can scarcely expect him to win through in the coming struggle with his mother and carry Corinna home as his bride. In an earlier scene Professor Schmidt jokingly spoke of his nephew Marcell, the eventual husband of Corinna, as Banquo-yet another indication that Mucbeth was not far from the author’s mind during the writing of Fruu Jenny TreibeI (84); but Leopold is far too weak to lay even this ghost, still less to dispose of the major obstacle in his path.

It should be noted that Fontane has been careful to organize his material so that the reader does indeed make the association indicated above between the episode with the milk and the amorous intrigue of the novel. The block of narrative leading up to the incident at Treptow quite clearly connects what follows with Leopold’s attraction to Corinna:

Wenn ihn dies Imsattelsein ohnehin schon an jedem Morgen erfreute, so besonders heut, wo die Vorghge des voraufgegangenen Abends, am meisten aber die zwischen Mr. Nelson und Corinna gefhten Gesprlche noch stark in ihm nachwirkten . . . (I I 3)

And the scene itself concludes with Leopold’s attempts to inspire himself with courage in the struggle that must inevitably ensue in his quest for Corinna’s hand. In such a setting his complaisance in drinking the milk and renouncing the second cup of coffee cannot but cast a shadow over a love-affair which, ironically, has as yet scarcely got off the ground. An apparently trivial deci- sion about drinks, then, besides epitomizing the characterization of both the heroine and her younger son and the relationship between them, anticipates the outcome of the engagement that forms the centre of the novel’s plot- and in spite of what some critics have maintained FruuJenny Treibel does have a Just as Leopold has his way with the first cup of coffee, but then submits to his mother’s decree by drinking the large glass of milk, so also, while he does get himself engaged to Corinna, he finally complies with his mother’s choice of a bride in Hildegard Munk.

In the last analysis Leopold Treibel is no Shakespearian Macbeth. He is not even-as he would so much like to think-a Goethean Hermann :

Leopold saI3 auf seinem Zimmer und las Goethe (was, ist nicht notig, zu

scruples, to gain his ends. And if Leopold does as muc % as admit these same

verraten). (199)

R E A L I S M IN M E D I E V A L G E R M A N L I T E R A T U R E 335

At best, as the title of this article tried to suggest, he is a pocket-sized, middle- class Hamlet.

NOTES

Unless otherwise indicated, textual references are to the relevant pages of Gezammelte Werke, Erzte Reihe, Berlin, 1905, vol. VIII.

Much closer to Fontane than our modern attitude to milk is that seen in Turgenev’s Virgin Soil. In the seventh chapter of the novel, while others are drinking tea, the son of the house, Kolia, is given a large glass of milk before going to bed-a clear sign that he is still a child. Only on his name-day (des- cribed in the following chapter), when he is treated altogether more as an adult, is he allowed to drink champagne. Although it is known that Fontane read the novel, probably in about 1880, the question of iduence on this particular point must remain a matter of pure speculation.

Gezummelfe Werke, Zweite Reihe, vol. IX, p. 106. Ibid., p. 98. It is interesting to note here a comment made by Fontane in a letter to his friend, Karl Ziillner, on

August Igth, 1889, only some two years before the completion of FrauJenny Treibel: ‘Ich bin nun ma1 nicht fiir “Milchsuppen”, vielleicht, weil ich mir selber schon zu vie1 aufdem Gebiete frommer Denkungs- art leiste’ (Briefe: Zweite Sammlung, vol. 11, p. 210). This comment, which combines elements from two passages of the novel, may be taken as a clear indication that the author intends us to see the references to milk, infancy, wcakness, etc., in relation to each other.

Cf. Briefe: Zweite Summlung, vol. 11, p. 100. ’ Quoted in Theodor Fontane, Sumtliche Werke, Munchen, 1959- , vol. X X I , pt. i, p. 497. Cf. also Christa Schultze, ‘Theodor Fontane und die russische Literatur’, Fontane- Bliiner, vol. I (1965), no. 2, p. 54 (note 66).

* Macbeth, I, v. Cf. especially Konrad Peters, Theodor Fonfane und der Roman des 19. Jahrhunderts, Diss. Munster,

1932. P. 59.

REALISM IN MEDIEVAL GERMAN LITERATURE

BY DAVID HEALD

WHILE it was once expected of literature that it should subordinate realism to the expression of ideas-the prevalence of the ‘Ideendrama’ in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries testifies to this-the merit of modern literature appears to depend increasingly on the extent to which it is, or is not, realistic. Nowadays, no doubt due to the taste-forming influences of television and the popular paperback, ‘realism’ often implies a mixture of genuine or affected social criticism, and the more or less loving representation of squalor in a working-class milieu. The words ‘realism’ and ‘realistic’, with their conno- tations of ‘frankness’ and ‘daring’ are firmly established in the vocabulary of the publisher’s blurb, and clearly realism conceived in this doubtful sense has become virtually a sine qua non of good prose. The Oxford English Diction- ary defines it as ‘fidelity of representation, rendering the precise details of the