Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
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ausgeweitet:
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What has been depicted thus far is only one side of the first antithesis, the small, huddling houses. Now, in the next three lines, the
cathedral itself, the second element of the contrast, comes into view:
dieweil sie ruhig immer in dem alten
Faltenmantel ihrer Contreforts
dasteht und von den Haiusern gar nicht weiB:
The cathedral is pictured here as being unmoved by the tribute the
citizens pay to it-as unmoved as was the Angel with the Sundial by the
fate of the human beings who look to it for guidance. It is oblivious
of the houses and of their inhabitants. There is a poignant and
slightly humorous contrast here between the empty, noisy agitation of
the fair or market and the calm disdain and remoteness of the church.
This contrast is also expressed in the nervousness of the "aufgeregten
Ohrs" of the sixth line and the reposeful "ruhig immer" in the seventh
line with which the relaxed posture, the "Dastehn," of the cathedral
is characterized.
With the "alten Faltenmantel ihrer Contreforts" is meant the
armature of powerful buttresses which represents the visible, exterior
scaffolding of the Gothic cathedrals and one of their main structural
features. Rilke compares their appearance to a wide cloak of many
folds which the cathedral wraps around itself. In describing the garment, he uses an a assonance combined with a double It alliteration
four times. The metaphor evokes the image of a king or queen, wearing a royal mantle as an indication of the elevated station and rank
occupied in life. It depicts the majestic, regal bearing of the cathedral.
With the three lines about the buttresses we have reached the end
of the first stanza and at the same time the end of the first antithesis.
The one great caesura of the poem occurs at this point. The first
stanza has given us the basic material background, the visual image
of the town and its cathedral. The remaining twenty lines and their two
antitheses will interpret the meaning of the visual impression, varying
and amplifying the basic theme. The first line of the second stanza is
closely linked to the first line of the first stanza by an exact repetition
of its four initial words: "in jenen kleinen Stadten." By this rhetorical
device the caesura is bridged and the first stanza together with the first
three lines of the second stanza forms a single overarching syntactical
unit. The first period occurs in the middle of the third line of this
stanza:
in jenen kleinen Stiidten kannst du sehn,
wie sehr entwachsen ihrem Umgangskreis
die Kathedralen waren.
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Until now the poem has never explicitly named the church building, which is referred to only by the stressed pronoun sie. Its existence
has only been indirectly indicated, by its effect on the houses and the
people. Now, however, the subject is identified. The word "cathedrals,"
"die Kathedralen," is used for the first time, signalling that the exposition has ended and that the working-out of the theme, the Durchfiihrung, is to begin:
. . . Ihr Erstehn
The key concept here is the height of the cathedrals in their relation
to the other buildings, the fact of their "surpassing" or "exceeding"
everything around them. The towering of the cathedrals over their
surroundings is seen through the eyes of an observer who stands so
close to them that their bulk blots out everything else. It is impossible
for him to embrace such buildings with a single glance. They loom too
large for him. This impression is likened in a bold simile to our not
being able to encompass the whole of our own life because we stand too
close to it. Its sum constantly escapes and evades us; it extends beyond
our sight, it exceeds our vision, and it surpasses our attempts at comprehension. It blocks our perception of everything else so that we are
not aware of anything beyond and beside it. This seems to be the
meaning
concluding
statement:
". .
und als
. . . waren"
of the preceding
itself
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human life was never far from Rilke's mind. He therefore unceasingly
searched for a guarantee of permanence. He found one form of it
in works of art, including those of his own poetic craft. They perpetuate
the life of the artist beyond the normal human span. In one of his
first letters to Rodin, written in still awkward French, he speaks of
"this ray of eternity which is the supreme goal of creative life" ("ce
rayon d'eterite qui est le but supreme de la vie creante").2
Works of art exist beyond time. They partake of eternity. This he
says to Lou Andreas-Salome in the famous passage of a letter in which
he defines his conception of the Kunst-Ding, the art-object, as compared to the common objects: "Das Ding ist bestimmt, das KunstDing muB noch bestimmter sein . . . der Zeit enthoben, dem Raum
gegeben, ist es dauernd geworden, fahig zur Ewigkeit."3In one of the
letters to the young poet Franz Xaver Kappus he calls the works of art
"geheimnisvolle Existenzen, deren Leben neben dem unseren, das
vergeht, dauert."4 And in his second Rodin essay he describes the
earliest human efforts to produce images of the gods as "Versuche, aus
Menschlichem und Tierischem, das man sah, ein Nicht-Mitsterbendes
zu formen, ein Dauerndes, ein Nichsth6heres: ein Ding" (SW, v, 210).
The next and final seven lines of the poem focus more particularly
on the cathedral as a work of architecture.These lines present the third
antithesis, that which opposes the Middle Ages to our own time. They
consist of two sentences which are separated by a period, thus resulting
in a definite sectioning. The first sentence comprises the first four lines
of the seven:
Da war Geburtin diesen Unterlagen,
und Kraft und Andrangwar in diesemRagen
und Liebeiiberallwie Wein und Brot,
und die Portale voller Liebesklagen.
The first antithesis was a concrete, visual one: the opposition between the low, huddling houses and the high-rising cathedral. The
second antithesis was of a philosophical, existential nature: the contrast
between permanence and impermanence. The third antithesis is an historical one: it compares the life forces of the Middle Ages, the time
which created the cathedrals, with our own age. But only the first
position of the antithesis, medieval life, is made explicit. The counter
position, our own time, is only implied.
The historical dimension is introduced by the words "Da war."
This "da" is to be understood here not in the local sense as "there,"but
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in the temporal sense of damals, "then" or "at that time." This meaning becomes clear if we observe the sequence of tenses in the poem.
The first stanza is written entirely in the present tense. But in the
second stanza the past tense prevails in the verbs which carry the action
and the main thought forward: "wie sehr entwachsen ihrem Umgangskreis / die Kathedralen waren. Ihr Erstehn / ging fiber alles fort."
The poet here describes an historical event. He looks back toward the
Middle Ages, the time when the great cathedrals were conceived and
constructed. The "war" of the first line is repeated in the next one
and in the last in order to make the ternpus perfectum quite explicit.
And the two other verbs in these last lines are likewise in the past:
"z6gerte" and "stiegen," "hesitated"and "climbed"or "rose."
The key words of our four-line sentence are birth and love, two
of the vital forces which nourished the great surge of building. The
heavy foundations of the whole building symbolize for Rilke the act
of birth: "Da war Geburt in diesen Unterlagen." These foundations
support the dynamic strength and the mighty thrust with which the
tall walls of the cathedral and the soaring towers reach upwards:
"und Kraft und Andrang war in diesem Ragen." In these words
Rilke visualizes the Gothic striving for "verticality."
The next two lines call up another of the powerful life-giving
urges which went into the making of the medieval cathedrals: love. It
is said to have reigned supreme everywhere, as common as wine and
bread, staples of life. It filled the church portals with the sighs and
plaints of lovers: "und Liebe iiberall wie Wein und Brot / und die
Portale voller Liebesklagen."The meaning of the love which is praised
here can be twofold. It can be, as I have indicated, the love for and
and between human beings, the secular, erotic form of the relationship.
But the mention of "bread and wine," the elements of the Eucharist,
make another interpretation possible. The introduction of the symbols
of the sacrificial Christ calls up religious associations. In this sense the
poet speaks not of profane but of sacred love. The "lovers' plaints"
which echoed from the portals would then have to be understood as
alluding to the laments of the worshippers offering up their love in
the form of prayers to Christ and the Virgin as represented in the
statues, and to the saints and martyrs sculptured on the doorways.
This ambiguity in the meaning of the word may be deliberate. Rilke
may have wanted us to think of both kinds of love, the sacred and the
profane. He therefore may have selected a term which covered both,
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thus making it difficult for the reader to decide which of the two
meanings to apply. In any event, the religious interpretation cannot
be considered farfetched where we have to deal with the description
of a cathedral and with the Middle Ages.
The four-line sentence which we have just discussed spoke of birth
and love. The three-line sentence which follows and which concludes
the poem speaks of life and death:
Das Lebenzogerte im Stundenschlagen,
und in den Tiirmen,welche voll Entsagen
auf einmal nicht mehr stiegen, war der Tod.
Here Rilke focuses on different aspects of medieval life. First is its
slow, measured pace. We are still within the image and within view of
the cathedral, as the mention of the towers in the next-to-last line
proves. When we read of the "Stundenschlagen,"the chiming of the
hours, we must think of the metaphor as being concretely associated
with a church building. We have to imagine hearing the bells of a
medieval cathedral slowly tolling out the hours, in measured intervals.
And since medieval life regulated its course according to the tolling
of the church bells, it can be said to have assumed the same unhurried,
slow-paced rhythm: it "hesitated" as it were, "Das Leben zogerte im
Stundenschlagen."
The chiming bells have directed our eyes upwards, towards the
towers, from which the sound of the tolling usually emanates. And of
these towers or spires of the cathedral it is now said that they suddenly
cease to ascend. This abrupt desisting from rising and mounting is like
a gesture of renunciation on their part. And this gesture evokes the
somber figure of death, which dwells in the towers. The association
between the two themes is not immediately apparent. It may be that
the sudden halting of the upward movement of the towers is felt by the
poet to symbolize the sudden end which death puts to life. Death cuts
off life, leaving it unfulfilled, like the towers of some French cathedrals
which are left without spires, and which therefore appear to be uncompleted and strangely truncated. Death could also be associated with the
bells and their striking of the hours. The bells tolled for funerals and
to announce the execution of criminals; mortuos plango, "I lament
the dead," was therefore inscribed on many of them.
Thus, the final word of the whole poem is "death," "der Tod."
However, in spite of the somberness of the two themes introduced in
these last three lines it should not be assumed that they necessarily
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