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In "The Joy of Living," Hermann Sudermann presents a poignant exploration of life's transient nature through the lens of the human experience in a rapidly changing world. Written during the late 19th century, a time marked by burgeoning industrialization and existential reflection, Sudermann employs a delicate, lyrical prose style that encapsulates both the joys and sorrows of his characters. This novel intricately weaves themes of love, loss, and the pursuit of happiness, revealing the complexities of human emotion against a backdrop of societal transformation and the quest for personal fulfillment. Hermann Sudermann, a celebrated playwright and novelist of German literature, drew upon his experiences in urban environments to craft rich, relatable narratives that resonate with the struggles of ordinary life. Born in 1857, Sudermann's literary career flourished in an era of social upheaval and philosophical inquiry, prompting him to delve into the depths of character psychology and existential themes. His insightful perspective on human relationships and the societal constraints of his time directly informed the character development in "The Joy of Living." I highly recommend "The Joy of Living" to readers who appreciate profound character studies paired with evocative prose. Sudermann's narrative compels us to reflect on our own lives and relationships, urging a deeper understanding of what it means to truly embrace the joys and tribulations of existence in an ever-evolving world.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
The translation of dramatic dialogue is attended with special difficulties, and these are peculiarly marked in translating from German into English. The German sentence carries more ballast than English readers are accustomed to, and while in translating narrative one may, by means of subordinate clauses, follow the conformation of the original, it is hard to do so in rendering conversation, and virtually impossible when the conversation is meant to be spoken on the stage. To English and American spectators the long German speeches are a severe strain on the attention, and even in a translation intended only for the "closet" a too faithful adherence to German construction is not the best way of doing justice to the original.
Herr Sudermann's dialogue is more concise than that of many other German dramatists; yet in translation his sentences and speeches need to be divided and recast: to preserve the spirit, the letter must be modified. This is true not only of the construction of his dialogue but also of his forms of expression. Wherever it has been possible, his analogies, his allusions, his "tours de phrase," have been scrupulously followed; but where they seemed to obscure his meaning to English readers some adaptation has been necessary. Apart from these trifling changes, the original has been closely followed; and such modifications as have been made were suggested solely by the wish to reproduce Herr Sudermann's meaning more closely than a literal translation would have allowed.
Count Michael von Kellinghausen.
Beata, his wife.
Ellen, their daughter.
Baron Richard von Völkerlingk.
Leonie, his wife.
Norbert, their son, reading for the Bar.
Baron Ludwig von Völkerlingk (Secretary of State, Richard's step-brother).
Prince Usingen.
Baron von Brachtmann.
Herr von Berkelwitz-Grünhof.
Dr. Kahlenberg (Privy Councillor at the Board of Physicians).
Holtzmann (candidate for Holy Orders, private Secretary to Baron Richard von Völkerlingk).
Meixner.
A Physician.
Conrad, servant at Count Kellinghausen's.
George, Baron Richard's servant.
Another Servant.
The scene is laid in Berlin--the first three and the fifth acts at the house of Count Kellinghausen; the fourth act at Baron Richard Völkerlingk's.
Period: about 1899.
A drawing-room in the Empire style inCount Kellinghausen'shouse. In front, on the left, a fireplace; to the left, in the background, a door to the inner apartments; to the right, back, a door into the front passage; in the foreground, on the right, a window. In the centre of back wall a wide opening between two columns, partly closed by an old Gobelins tapestry. On the right a sofa, table and chairs. On the left, in front of the fireplace, several low seats. Near the middle, placed diagonally, a writing-table with shelves; beside the table two seats with low backs and a comfortable arm-chair. Old portraits and coloured prints on the walls.
Holtzmannis seated at the back of the room, a portfolio on his lap. Conradushers inBaron Ludwig.
Conrad (in the doorway).
If your Excellency will kindly come this way--the doctor is with Madame von Kellinghausen.
Baron Ludwig.
Ah? In that case perhaps I had better----
Conrad.
Madame von Kellinghausen will be here in a moment, your Excellency. The other gentleman has already been announced. (IndicatingHoltzmann.)
Baron Ludwig.
Very well. (Conradgoes out.)
Holtzmann (rises and makes a deep bow).
Baron Ludwig.
(Bowing slightly in return wanders about the room and at last pauses beforeHoltzmann.) I beg your pardon but--surely I know your face.
Holtzmann.
Very likely, your Excellency. My name is Holtzmann, private secretary to Baron Richard von Völkerlingk.
Baron Ludwig.
Indeed? I am so seldom at my brother's. The fact is--er, well. Yesterday was election-day at Lengenfeld, by the way. The papers were full of it this morning. It seems to cause a good deal of surprise that Count Kellinghausen should not only have withdrawn in favour of my brother, but should actually have gone about canvassing for him. I daresay that's an exaggeration, though?
Holtzmann.
On the contrary, your Excellency. The Count has been down in the country electioneering for weeks.
Baron Ludwig.
Really? And you were with him, I suppose?
Holtzmann (with a dry smile).
Very much so, your Excellency. I should be sorry to be answerable for all the nonsense I've had to talk and write!
Baron Ludwig.
H'm--just so. Nonsense always wins. Who said that, by the way? Julian the Apostate, wasn't it?
Holtzmann.
No, your Excellency. Talbot.
Baron Ludwig.
Julian might have said it. The losing side always philosophises.
Holtzmann.
I hope we sha'n't be on the losing side.
Baron Ludwig.
H'm. What is your profession?
Holtzmann.
Theology, your Excellency.
Baron Ludwig.
And how long do you think it will be before it lands you in socialism?
Holtzmann (offended).
Excellency!
Baron Ludwig.
My dear sir, look at the examples! I remember a predecessor of yours at my brother's--a theological student also, I believe. Well, he landed with both feet in the middle of the Socialist camp.
Holtzmann.
Yes, I know, your Excellency. You mean Meixner.
Baron Ludwig.
That reminds me--I hear the fellow has actually been taking a leading hand in the fight against my brother.
Holtzmann.
The report is true.
Baron Ludwig.
Well, I hope you hit back hard.
Holtzmann.
That is what I was there for, your Excellency.
EnterBeataandDr. Kahlenberg.
Beata.
I hadn't dared to hope that your Excellency would answer my summons so promptly.
Baron Ludwig (kissing her hand).
My dear Countess, your summons was a command--and one I was only too happy to obey. (Beataturns toHoltzmann.) Ah, good-morning, my dear doctor.
Kahlenberg.
Good-morning, your Excellency. How is it you haven't been in lately to let me look you over? A guilty conscience, eh?
Baron Ludwig.
Lack of time, doctor. Give me a day of twenty-five hours, and I'll devote one of them to consulting my physician.
Kahlenberg.
Who will order you to rest during the other twenty-four.
Baron Ludwig.
We all get that order sooner or later, doctor--and from a chief we have to obey. (In a low voice.) How is the Countess?
Kahlenberg (same tone).
No worse. (ToBeata.) And now, my dear lady, I must be off--but what's the matter?
Beata (joyously excited, a paper in her hand).
Oh, nothing--nothing--nothing----
Kahlenberg (in a tone of friendly reproach).
You know I've warned you----
Beata.
Not to feel, not to think, not to laugh, not to cry--not to live, in short, dear doctor!
Kahlenberg.
Well, I don't object to the laughing.
Beata.
It's just as well you don't, for it's a habit you couldn't break me of. There is so much to laugh at in this vale of tears! Well, good-bye, doctor! (Kahlenberggoes out.) Beata (toBaron Ludwig). This will interest you too. Herr Holtzmann--you know Herr Holtzmann?--has just brought me the returns from Lengenfeld. Only fancy, your brother has a majority of a hundred and thirty-one! Think of that!
Baron Ludwig.
Don't let us be too sanguine.
Beata.
Oh----
Holtzmann.
Six districts are still to be heard from, Countess, and we know that four of these belong to the Socialists. It is still doubtful if we can gain a majority.
Beata (concealing her disappointment).
And when do you expect to hear the final result?
Holtzmann.
At any moment now.
Beata.
And when you do hear----
Holtzmann.
I will jump into a cab and bring you the news instantly.
Beata.
Thank you so 'much. (Gives him her hand.) Is Baron Völkerlingk at home?
Holtzmann.
He went for a ride. I daresay I shall find him on my return.
Beata.
Remember me to him, won't you? (Holtzmanntakes leave with a bow.)
Baron Ludwig.
What do you hear from Kellinghausen? He is still at Lengenfeld, I hear.
Beata.
I have just had a letter. Now that the elections are over he means to take a day's shooting, and then he is coming home--free from his party-duties for the first time in years!
Baron Ludwig.
And what does the Egeria of the party say to such a state of things?
Beata.
Do you mean me, your Excellency?
Baron Ludwig.
I mean the woman at whose delightful dinner-table the fate of more than one important bill has been decided. Now that Kellinghausen has retired into private life, do you mean to keep up the little political dinners we've always been so much afraid of?
Beata.
I hope so, your Excellency. And if you care to beard the lion in his den, I shall be charmed to send you an invitation. You haven't dined with us in an age. I've always fancied that the estrangement between your brother and yourself might be the cause of our seeing so little of you.
Baron Ludwig.
My dear Countess, those eyes of yours see through everything; and I read in them all the answers I might make to that question. Ah, well--Richard had the good luck, the unspeakable good luck, to win your friendship, and under your influence, to develop into the man he is!
Beata.
I know how to listen when clever men are talking. That is the secret of what you call my influence.
Baron Ludwig.
You think so?--Well--there was Richard, dabbling in poetry and politics, in archæology and explorations, like the typical noble amateur. He had a fortune from his mother, while I was poor. But in one respect I was richer than he; for he married a fool who dragged him down to the level of her own silly snobbishness. But then you came--and lifted him up again. Then all his dormant powers awoke--he discovered his gift as a speaker, he became the mouthpiece of the party, he got into the Reichstag, and----
Beata.
And dropped out again.
Baron Ludwig.
Exactly. And the estrangement between us dates from that time. It was reported that government had left him in the lurch, and I was thought to be more or less responsible.
Beata.
At all events, his career was cut short. And he failed again at the next election.
Baron Ludwig.
And now your friendship has helped him to success.
Beata.
My husband's friendship, you mean.
Baron Ludwig.
In my loveless household I know too little of the power of woman to pronounce definitely on that point.
Beata.
You do well to suspend your judgment.
Baron Ludwig.
Ah, now you are displeased with me. I am sorry. I might be of use to you.
Beata.
If you wish to be of use to me you can do so by becoming your brother's friend. It was to ask you this that I sent for you.
Baron Ludwig.
Countess, I wonder at your faith in human nature!
Beata.
Human nature has never deceived me.
Baron Ludwig.
One would adore you for saying that if one hadn't so many other reasons for doing so!
Beata (laughing).
Pretty speeches at our age?
Baron Ludwig.
You may talk of my age, but not of yours.
Beata.
Look at the grey hair--here, on my temples; and my medicine-bottles over there. I never stir without them now.
Baron Ludwig.
I have been distressed to hear of your illness.
Beata.