8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

1/9

R E C O N S ID E R A T IO N

Stefan

  Zw eig: A  Witness

to the

  Collapse  of

  Europe

Mordecai

  Roshwald

S T E F A N

  Z W E I G

  (1881-1942) belongs  to the

past—a past

 not

 distant enough

 to

 mea-

sure

  him against th e wider setting of

Wes te rn c iv i l i za t ion ,

  yet not

  close

enough to be remem bered by the

 bulk

 of

contemporary humanity.

 In

 other words,

he

  might  have been relegated

  to  that

blind spot of the past w hich is erased and

forgotten.

  If

 this

  is his

  lot,

  it

  mus t

  be

reversed. Zw eig deserves to be remem-

bered, reconsidered—not only  for his

sake,

 but

 also

 for the

 benefit of

 the

  present

and  future  generations.

Zweig

  could

  be

  best

  described

  as a

man of letters in the broad and

 compre-

hensive  sense,  wha t  is  nowadays con-

veyed

 by a less

 felicitous term,

 a "gener-

alist.

His  w ri tings,

 diverse

 in both  form

and

  theme, include poetry, numerous

novellas, a major novel, studies

 of

 h istori-

cal

 figures (literary

 and otherwise), drama.

T he topics range from anonym ous "little"

m en

 to

  individuals

 who

 shaped history.

His writings encom pass real persons and

situations,

  and

  ima ginary stories pre-

sented in a realistic way. He reprodu ced

in

 a polished literary form exotic legends,

and described  in a vivid mann er his own

life

  and

  t ime.

  I t

  could

  be

  said that

  h e

followed  the adage  nihi l  humani mihi

al ienum.

M O R D E C A I R O S H W A L D

 taught fo r twen ty-five  years

at the

  Universi ty

 o f

  Minneso ta .

He

 was not a

  lonely hum anist wri ter

struggling

  for

 acceptance

  and

  recogni-

tion  in an alien world. Zw eig was a suc-

cessful

  and

 po pular w riter ever since,

 a t

the age of nineteen, he started contr ibut-

ing

 to the prestigious V iennese paper, the

Neue

 Freie Presse .

 His books were selling

very well in the  German-speaking coun-

tries,  as  well as in  translations  in  some

forty  languages. His dramas we re pro-

duced in leading

 theaters

 and some of his

stories were made into films. He could

 live

quite well

 on his

  royalties

  and

  reap

  th e

fruits of his literary

 success.

 Indeed, to a

degree,

 he did

 t ha t .

Yet it is not ou t o f a

 happy

 life

 that m ost

literary achievements are  forged.  For,

despite the

 initial idyllic conditions, there

are elemen ts

 of

 deep

 sadness

 and t ragedy

in  Zweig's subsequent times

  and  life,

which

 found

 their

 expression in

 h is liter-

ary   w ork—w h e th e r

  fictional,

  semi-fic-

tional, or autobiograph ical. I t is th is paint-

ing  in ch iaroscuro—all  too  often  more

oscuro t han

 chiaro,

 the dark ness prevail-

ing  over  l igh t—tha t  lends weight  to

Zweig's

  legacy.

His self-percept ion was a composite

 of

various

 elements.

 He was born in

 Vienna,

at that t ime the capital of the Austro-

Hungarian  Empire;  h is  mother tongue,

which

  h e

  cultivated

  and in

  which

  h e

wrote, was Germ an. Th is

 made

 h im a "citi-

zen"—a

 cul tural citizen—of t h e  German-

359

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

2/9

speaking world.  Being

  a

  native

  of the

Austro-Hungarian

 E mpire, and thus a sub-

ject  of the  Emperor ,  h e  owed political

allegiance

 to the multi-national state.

 T his,

at

 least

 in his

 case,

 was not a

 me re legal

technicali ty.

 For

 Zweig,  like many

 other

loyal subjects, was attached and devoted

to the

  peculiar political entity, consist-

ing  of

  many national-ethnic

  elements:

G e r m a n s ,

  I t a l i a n s , C z e c h s ,  Poles,

Ruthenians ,

 C roats, Hu ngarians, Slovaks.

Th i s e thnic me lange added a distinctive

flavor

  to

  Zw eig's national aw areness.

  I t

differed

  from

  German, French, or I tal ian

nationalism,

 in th at i t was

 based

  on eth-

nic  pluralism . Zweig and many others saw

this

 as a

 distinction

 and a

 privilege.

 For

th e

  diversity

  of

 e thn ic

 and

  cultural ele-

ments

 created—or

 we re believed

 to

  cre-

ate— an essentially tolerant and easygo-

ing  nationalism, a  collective awareness

benefi t t ing

  from  the

  diversity

  of

 dispar-

ate cultures that st imulat ed each other. It

is this

 mult icul tural

 am bience wh ich con-

tr ibuted

  to

 Zweig's self-awareness

  as a

European,

 as a

 member

 of a

 polity

 of the

advanced and advancing civilization , the

spearhead

  of

 h u m a n progress. T h e n

  he

was

 born into

 a

 well-to-do Jew ish

 family.

Al though  h is

  family

  w as

  rather assimi-

lated and he had little Jewish e ducation ,

he was  aware of his

 roots,

 and  proudly

acknowledged them.

T he

  various components

  of

 Zweig's

affiliation

  and

 identi ty

 did no t create any

conflicts of

 loyalty. T he diverse elements

blended harmoniously  and  Zweig, like

many others, felt such belonging to  differ-

ent "republics" of h um anit y to be an as-

set—cultural,

 social, h um an . T his convic-

tion could th rive

 in

 Vienna,

 th e

 capital

 of

the

 E mpi re,

 its

 vibrant cu ltural center,

 a

place of intellectual and artistic ferment,

a

  city which could claim

 to be

 all-E uro-

pean m ore tha n any other capital in E u-

rope. T hus,

 to

 Z weig's m any loyalties

 one

should add his Viennese local patriot ism,

which

 he

 eagerly

 expressed.

Zweig

 was  born into an

  affluent,

  re-

spected,  and  enlightened

  family,

 wh ich

facilitated

  his

  education

  and respected

his  intellectual inclinations. There

 was

no

 pressure to steer him

 into

 the

  direc-

t ion

 of a

 practical career.

  He

 could

  follow

h is interests and

  study philosophy

 and

history, rather th an law or medicine, and

engage

 in

 literary

 ventures.

 T h is freedom

did not  spoil  the

  young man,

  for he

plunged

  into an energetic

  life

  of literary

activity and remained a diligent and  pro-

ductive wri ter throughout  h is  life—in

happy times

  and in

  periods

  of

  utmost

depression.

T he outset

 of Zw eig's life, prior

 to

 W orld

War I, promised  a  l i f e   of prosperi ty  and

fulfilment

  in an era of

 consistent h um an

progress.

 Zweig describes th is

 era in one

of his  last books,  The

  World

  of Yesterday.

T he

 o riginal title

 Die  Welt  von

  Gestern

 is

significantly  complemented by the sub-

title

 Erinnerungen e ine s

 E uropders  [Remi-

niscences

  of

  a European] .  T he  book  is a

remarkable autobiography

 of the

 wri ter

and his time: the personal and the h istori-

cal are

  inextricably linked.

The years

 preceding

 the

 Great

 War are

described by

 Zweig

 as the age otSicherheit,

which

 means both certainty and security.

T h e sense of securi ty was boun d with the

trus t

  in stability—political,

  economic,

social. Personal  life

 was

 carefully planned

and  proceeded

  according  to  pre-deter-

mined

  goals concerning personal

  ad-

vancement, income

  and

  expendi ture ,

holidays and the  like. I nsurance guaran-

teed the future.

 Mo reover,

 there was

 trust

in

 scientific

  and

  technological progress,

and thus the

 future

 looked brigh ter than

the

 present . S ocial progress

 was

 advanc-

ing at its own

 pace

 and ever wide r circles

of

 society

  were gradually encompassed

in political

 and

 personal

 benefits. Earlier

times, replete

  with

 wars

  and

  conflicts,

were

 regarded

 as m anifest ation s of bar-

barism, never  to  recur. It is against  the

background of such inveterate optim ism

that  the  subsequent disi l lusionments

have to be

 measured. Indeed, writing

 from

 6

Fall

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

3/9

th e  depth of d i senchan tment , Zweig ad-

mits

 not to have  completely

  discarded

the

  trust developed

  in the

  t imes

  of his

ch i ldhood:

Even  from  the

  abyss

  of ho rror,  in w h i c h

today we grope aroun d,  half-blind  wi th a

disturbed

  an d

  broken soul,

  I

 always look

again  to those old

  images

  of stars

 w h i c h

glistened over my childh ood, and console

myself with th e inher i ted confidence,  tha t

this

 relapse will

 appear at

 one tim e merely

 as

an

  interval  in the  e ternal rhythm  of the

onward

 march.

1

World

 War

 I,

 or, as it was

 called prior

 to

its sequel, the Great War, was atraumatic

awakening from  the  blissful dream of the

turn of th e nineteenth century. Th e

 initial

public enthusiasm for the war and its

"just cause," by wh ich Zweig himself w as

swept, was

  followed

 by the  carnage  on

th e battlefields, th e misery and  suffering

of  th e  population in the  regions pillaged

by the

 R ussian invaders,

 and the

 conse-

quent shock. Zweig turned into

 an

 oppo-

nent o f war, along wit h h is French  friend

and

 famous

 w riter, R omain Rolland

 (1866-

1944).

 War was recognized as a reversal of

civilization,

 as the  enemy of progress, of

humanity,

 of

 th e basic creed of an enligh t-

ened E urope.

 A s the

  carnage went

 on , it

seemed  as  if the world, as Zw eig knew it

and  identified  with it, disintegrated and

collapsed.

  A nd

 wi th

 t he

  downfall

  of the

world,

 h is world, Zw eig himself, as a wri ter

and

 ah um an being, was deeply wounded.

He  lost what by now appeared  to  have

been h is  innocent beliefs, as did many of

h is

  contem poraries. He could not any-

more see the world as it had appeared to

be

 before

 th e

 great calamity.

 T h e

 beauti-

f u l ,

  ha rmon i ous , p r ed i c t ab l e wor l d

changed into an indescribable horror.

I f ,

 gradually,

 th e

 horror

 somewhat

 sub-

sided in the post-war years, and a streak of

optimism

 asserted

 itself

  in

 Zweig's over-

all disposition, a new blow cam e

 from

  an

unexpected source. It was the rising to

power o f

 Hitler

 and h is N azi Party in Ger-

many.

 Zw eig

 w as

  affected

  by it also  in a

personal w ay, wh en  his  books  were

burned ,

 together w ith th e works of other

"undesirable" writers,  in

  Berlin

  in May

1933.

  He

  was,

  of

  course, guilty

  of two

cardinal  sins. One, that  being a Jew, he

polluted

 th e Germ an culture by w ri t ing in

German.

 T he

 obvious means

 of

  preserv-

in g  th e  pur i ty of the  Teutonic creation

and spirit was to ban Jewish books

  from

German  readership.  The  other  sin was

having been bo rn a Jew, wh ich was to be

punished

  by the

  murder

  of

  millions

 of

Zweig's kinsm en some

 years

 later.

 Merci-

fully,

 he did not

 live

 to witness that stage

of horror.

T he  banning of  Zweig's books  from

Germany h u r t him deeply. H e was cut off

from

 h is main readership at the peak of h is

success.

 His

 role

 as a

 wri ter ,

 his

 raison

d'etre, the

 justification

 of h is existence as

he saw it, was u nderm ined. For he took his

writing seriously.

 It was the

  expression

 of

his

 p ersonality,

 it was the

 extension

 of

 h is

self. Th ough

 the

 translations

 of h is

 books

were not affected, it was the German origi-

nal w hich secured

  the

  intimate contact

with  th e  readers—mostly  Germans. He

was condem ned to exile from h is cul tura l

milieu.

T hen came a  fur ther  blow that swept

th e  ground

 from

  unde r t he

  feet

  of Zw eig

and the

  Jews

 of

 A ustria,

 in a

 more basic,

elemental way. It was the A nschluss,  the

annexation

 of A ustria by N azi Germanyin

1938.  A  year later E urope plun ged into

World War II. T hese dramatic stages of

seemingly unavoidable catastrophe had

a cataclysmic imp act on Zweig, as is m ani-

fest

 from

 his work s at the tim e, as well as

from  his  correspondence.

  Indeed,

  the

external  events  played havoc with his

mind

 and

  eventually

 led to h is

 suicide.

Zweig

  sums up his life-experience in

th e  Preface to  The

  World

  o f  Yesterday—

h is  personal tragedy

  and the

  tragedy

 of

his generation.

 He

 points

 out the

  extraor-

dinary  burden allotted

  to him and his

contemporaries by history.  Like  a con-

Modem Age

361

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

4/9

t inuous

 volcanic eruption,

 th e

 political

upheavals  of Europe unsettled them  in

thei r innermost being. A s he puts it, "as an

Austrian,

 as

 aJew,

 as

 awriter,

 as

 ahuman-

ist and a

 pacifist,

  I

 have always been stand-

ing

  right there where

 t h e

  earth-quakes

were

 the

 fiercest. Three times they have

overthrown

 my home and

 existence, sev-

ered  m e  from everything that once  had

been

  and was

 gone,

  and  with

  dramatic

force thrown

  m e

 into

  th e

 void, into

  th e

already familiar  I

 know not

 what.'

2

 A t t he

t ime

 of

 writ ing these words  Zweig could

not

 know

 the

 degree

 o f

 depravity

 of

 N azi

Germany

 and the

 depth

 of misery which

 it

was to inflict on

 millions

 wh o were at the

very crater

 of

 the volcano. Thus, h is plight

was almost benign by comparison. None-

theless,  it was real, felt acutely,  and ex-

pressed  vividly—both

  in

  direct  state-

ments

 and in

 fiction.

 O ne

 does

 not

 have

 to

descend into th e  lowest levels  of the  in -

ferno

  in order  to

 sense

 the  misery,  the

plight,

 the

 estrangement. Indeed,

 at the

lowest levels

 one may be

 past

 the

 capac-

ity

  of intellectual reflection  and  cogent

argument.

The

 contrast between the past and the

present, revealed

  in

  Zweig's personal

plight ,  is

  drawn

  in

  clear

  and

  decisive

strokes:

  was

  born

  in

  1881

  in a

 great

  and

  mighty

Empire,

 in the

 Hapsburg

 m onarchy...: it h as

been wiped

 ou t

 without

 a

 trace.

 I grew up in

Vienna, the

 two-thousand-year-old super-

national

 metropolis, and had to leave it like

a  criminal,  before  it was degraded  to a

German

 provincial city.

 My

 literary work,

 in

th e

 language

 1

 wrote

 it, was

 burned

 to ashes

in th e very land where m y books had made

friends of

 millions

 of readers. Thus I belong

nowhere anymore—a stranger everywhere,

a guest at

 best. M oreover, Europe,

 the

 home-

land

 that

 is my

 heart's

 choice,

 is

 lost

 to me,

ever since

 it fo r the

 second time suicidally

tore itself to pieces

 in

 a fraternal war. Against

my

 will,

  1  have become

 a

 witness to

 the

 most

terrible

 defeat of reason  and the  wildest

triumph of brutality in the ch ronicle of

 times .

3

Zweig

 expresses h is

 pain

 and

 despair

not only in general terms, and not merely

in

 presenting his own plight. He

 also

 ad-

dresses the misfortunes of

 other

 individu-

a l s—hun ted ,  denigrated, persecuted.

Here is his description of

 scenes

 in

 Vienna,

following  th e

  annexation

  by the

 Nazis:

"Now it was not merely

 thef t

 and plunder,

but

  every private lust

  for

 revenge

  was

given

 free rein.

 University professors

 had

to scrub the streets with bare hands, pi-

ous grey-bearded Jews were dragged into

the temple and forced by hooting youths

to

  kneel

  and to

  shout

  in

  unison

  'Heil

Hitler.'

 Innocent

  people

 were

  hounded

like

 rabbits.... If

 before this

  new

 regime

the murder of a single man would shock

the world, now a single

 man

 did not count

at

  all.

4

Zweig's  heart went out to the down-

trodden  and  persecuted Jews, his  kins-

men, but his

 sympathy

 was

 also extended

to

 human beings

 as

 such. Thus

 he

 writes

in

  one of his  letters: People speak  so

lightly of bombardment, but when I read

of  houses  collapsing,  I  collapse with

them.

5

I f  one may be  tempted  to  speculate

that it was th e horror of the N azi conduct

and of World War II

 that

 awakened  the

humane sentiments  of

  Zweig,

  his own

testimony shows that

 he was

 moved

  to

such compassion much earlier,  by wit-

nessing human

 suffering

  in

 World

 War I.

Referring

 to his experiences  in the Great

War, he writes: Today I know: without all

that I

 suffered

 then

 during

 the

 war,

 through

feelings

 of participation and anticipation

[mitfiihlend,  vorausfiihlend],  I would have

remained

 th e writer  had been

 before

  the

war,  'pleasantly  moved'  [angenehm

bewegt],...

 bu t never seized, grasped, hit in

my bowels....  In

 trying

 to

 help others,

  I

have helped

  myself."

6

 Much

 as

 Zweig

 ap-

preciated

  the

  self-contained domain

 of

aesthetics, his overriding passion became

the wish to help humanity. As he wrote to

Remain Rolland in 1918: "M y aim would

be one day to become not a great critic or

362

Fall2002

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

5/9

a

  literary celebrity

  but a

  moral author-

ity."

7

Compassion

  and

  moral commitment

are cha racteristic of Zw eig's Jewish con-

t e m p o r a r y w r i t e r s ,

  such  as

  A r t h u r

Schnitzler, Franz Werfel, Josef R oth , Jakob

Wassermann,

 and, in a more veiled m an-

ner,

  Franz K afka. T his penchant

 may have

been  linked to Jewish trad ition and

 even

to the

 m oral exhortations  of

 th e

 B ible

 and

the impassioned appeals

 of

 th e Prophets.

Zweig's

 mora l comm i tment

 and

 sense

of compassion  are reflected in many of his

wr i t ings ,

  notably in his only novel,

UngedulddesHerzens, or Beware  ofPityin

th e

  English

  translation. Indeed, Zweig

offers  a philosophical description of the

meaning

 of

 compassion, as a mot to to his

book.

 It

 succinctly sum s

 up

 wha t

 is

 elabo-

rated in the story, as in his many other

writings.

For

 there

 are two

 kinds

 of

 compassion. O ne,

the weak-spirited and sentimental, wh ich is

really only impatience

 of

 the

 heart

 to get rid

as

  fast

  as

  possible

  of the  painful

  involve-

ment

  in an  alien calamity, a  compassion

which  is not co mpassion at all, but an in-

stinctive defence

 of

 one's own soul

 from  th e

alien suffering. A nd the

 other one,

 th e

 only

one that counts— the unsentimenta l , but

creative compassion, that knows what

  it

wants,

 and is determined patiently and com-

passionately

  to

 endure

 it all to th e  limit of

one's

 capacity,

 and

 even beyond

  it .

8

Yet,

  wit h all the compassion and all the

mo ral fervor, Zw eig did not delude h im-

self as to the  power  of the  commi tment ,

th e

 good will,

 th e

 printed word,

 th e

 logos,

the

  idea,

 to

 co nfron t reality

 and

 shape

 it

effectively. He was far

 from

 being the op-

t imis t who decides on the strength of his

good intentions  that  reality must con-

form

 to the demands of mo rality and  rea-

son.

  I f

 anything,

 he was

 more easily swayed

to  pessimism  and  despair than  to  opti-

mism  and hope. This is reflected in an

indirect mann er

 by an aside on the

 nature

of

 the chess game. It

 appears

 in one of his

last writing s,

 a

 novella wh ich

 is perhaps

his

  best,  D ie Schachnovelle

  [in

 E nglish

The

 Royal Game] .

We

  need not, in the

 present

  context,

outl ine

  the

  story,

  which takes

  place

against

  the

  background

  of the

  Nazi take-

over of A ustria

 and

 the m ethods employed

by the

 N azi s

 to

  attain their objectives—

also in respect of a C ath olic lawyer, as in

this case.

 The

 to t ter ing

 and the

  collapse

of

  civilization inform  th e

 story

 th rough-

out. T h e setting is one often  encountered

in the novels of Grah am Greene. What w e

want

  to

  highl ight

 is a

  detached, philo-

soph ical analysis

 of

 chess

 game by

 Zweig

which

 has

 implications for—indeed sym-

bolizes—his

 vision of the  hu man condi-

t ion,  or the  precarious  situation of hu-

mani ty wi th

 respect

 to reality.

I

 knew

 from m y own

  experience about

  the

mysterious attraction

  of the

 "royal game,"

the only game invented by man, wh ich in a

sovereign manner

  places  itself

  outside

[entzieht  sich]  the  tyranny of chance  an d

accords its laurels to the s pirit

 only....

 I s it

not also a science

  [Wissenschaft],

  an art

[Kunst],  a  unique  tie  [Bindung]  of  oppo-

sites; very old and yet eternally new, me-

chanical

  in its

  arrangement

  and  effective

only th rough

 imagination,

 limited in a geo-

metrically

 rigid

 space,

 and

 ye t limitless in its

combinations, always developing

 and yet

sterile,

  a

  kind

  of

 th ink ing w hich leads

  to

nothing,  a mathematics which calculates

nothing,

 an art wi thout work s...and

 none-

theless

  proved

  to be

  longer lasting

 in its

being and presence

 [Sein

 undDasein]

  than

al l

 the books and works, the only

 game

 that

belongs to al l thenations and all th e times....

9

Zweig's atti tude  to chess is palpably

ambivalent:

 he

  admires

  its

  universality

and timelessness,

 but

 deplores

 that this

self-contained perfection

 is

 impo tent

  to

affect

  life,

 to be a force for the good. T his

appears to be a

 complaint about

 the

 sepa-

ration between logic and

 reality,

 between

logos and

  life,

 between  th e world of

 ideas

and the lot of man. U ltimately, Zweig may

well express

 here

  th e  frus tra t ion of the

men of  spi r it— wh ether phi losophers ,

Modern  Age

363

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

6/9

writers, or

 other  individuals bent

 on do-

in g

  good—in

 being unable

 to

  affect

  th e

condition of

 humanity

 and to

 avert

  the

self-imposed

 calamities.

W as

 there

 any

 domain

 in

 which

 Zweig

could

 have

 found

 anchor?

 W as

 there

 any

belief wh ich

 could

 offer h im a refuge from

the despair of an open-eyed idealist, striv-

in g

  for good  and  reason  and  facing

  evil

and

  madness? Conceivably,

 h is

 Jewish

roots  and

  affiliation  might have

  offered

h im support

 and a spiri tual way out

 of

 th e

despair, if not a physical refuge. Looking

into his

 w rit ings,

 such

 an

 eventuality can-

not be

  ruled out. There

  is an

 explicit

t es t imony  as to his Jewish conscious-

ness, stated in an

 interview

 in 1931:

  Al-

t hough

  I do not come  from  a rigorously

Jewish

  family,

  I have been vitally inter-

ested

  in

 Jewish problems

 all my  life, vi-

tally

 aware

 of the

 Jewish blood that

  is in

me,

 ever since

 I

 have been conscious

 of

it."

10

There  is a  clear element  of pride  in

Zweig's Jewish consciousness, when he

describes  his own Viennese Jewish mi-

lieu, and expands his comments to Jews

in

 general.

 T h e

 Jewish, seemingly bour-

geois, notion of the  good  family"  [gute

Familie],

 he

 writes,

 is not to be  confused

with

 thequesttoberich, usually

 regarded

as the typical aim of the Jew.

Nothing is fur ther

  from

  th e

 truth

 [asserts

Zweig]. [Riches

 are

 only]

 a

 means

 to the

 true

aim....

  T he essential wish of the  Jew, h is

imm anent ideal, is the ascent into th e spiri-

tual, onto a

 higher

 cultural

 stratum. A lready

in

 t h e

 eastern orthodox

 Judaism...this su-

premacy

 of the will to the spiritual

 over

  the

merely material

 f inds  a

 concrete expres-

sion:

 the

 devout,

 the biblical

 scholar,

 is a

thousand times more esteemed

  in the

 com-

munity

 than

 th e

 rich man.

Thus, the

  poorest peddler

 will

 spare

 no

effort  and

 sacrifice

 to

 enable

 at

 least

 one

son to

 pursue higher studies,

 and a

 family

will

 pride itself  if it can  claim  a connec-

t ion

  to a  scholar,  a professor,  a musi-

cian—a man of higher culture.

Zweig delves deeper into Judaism

 in

h is

 poetical

 drama Jeremias  [Jeremiah],

wri t ten  in

  1915-1917

 during the

  painful

experience  of the  Great War.  t was a

pacifist response

 to the ongoing slaugh-

ter, and, at the same  t ime, an attempt to

deal with the distinct

 plight

 of the Jews.

But Z weig

 also attempts

 to  find  a

 univer-

sal answer and consolation in the pro-

phet ic

 message, or in the message as he

understands

 it.

One issue which Zweig  raises  is the

perennial

  problem

  of the

  relationship

between

 Might and R ight . T h e

 answer

 he

offers  accords with t h e prophetic mes-

sage and

 with Judaism

 at

 large.

 The

 claim

of  Might to

 control human destiny

 is de-

nied

 in the

 name

 of the

 ru le of

 God and the

principles

 of R igh t and divine justice. In

th e drama, Jeremiah after the fall

 of

 Jerusa-

lem

  is

  offered

  a

  position

  of

 honor

  and

privilege

 by the

  victorious Babylonian

ruler,

 in

 recognition

 of the prophet's o p-

position to Israel's revolt and his predic-

tion

  of the

  disaster

  to  follow.

 Jeremiah

spurns the king's offer as conveyed by his

messengers.

 He does so out of

 commisera-

tion wi th

 his

 people's lot,

 and

 because

 he

disdains

 the

 Babylonian king's ruthless-

ness  and  cruelty: "I shall not  enter  the

palace, in which the

 steps

 are scrubbed

by the  daughters  of my master, turned

into servants.... 1 do not want favour  from

th e  cruel,  nor  mercy  from  th e  merci-

less....

12

  The  messengers' outrage  at

Jeremiah's defiance of the

  "king

 of kings

meets

 with a  scornful comment on the

evanescence

  of h u m a n migh t and its

 car-

rier, the king:

  Who

 is he

 that

 1

 ought

 to be

afraid

  of him?... Is he not a

 human worm

and

 does

 not death wait behind his sleep

and decay  in h is body?"

13

 Moreover, t he

king  is

 evil

  and

  retribution awaits him:

"Greatly has he

 enslaved Israel,

 but he will

be

 enslaved sevenfold....

 Woe to the

 con-

founder  [Verstorer],

  for he  will  be  con-

founded, and woe to the plunderer, fo r he

will be  plundered "

14

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

7/9

Yet,

 how does  this defiance o f migh t

and

 punishm ent of

 the

 mighty

 and

 wicked

console th e

  victims

  of

 iniquity

 and

  cru-

elty?

 H ow does the

  eventual  downfall

 of

ambit ious

 kings

 and tyrants

 resolve

 the

problem

  of suffering  on the  part  of the

vanquished? What  is the  prophecy  of

consolation

  fo r

 Israel

 and

 for

 the meek of

the

 earth? Here Zw eig

 resorts to the

  idea

that there is some meaning in   suffering.

For Israel, the people of God, becomes

aware of Him only in the  depth  of  suffer-

ing  [ erst in der  Tiefe  des Leidens

  werden

wirseinergewahr ] .

 "Whom

 He

 loves,

 h im

He

 pushes

 down into th e

 depths

 of life."

[

  W en er

  liebt,

  den  stosst er hinab  in die

Tiefe

  de s

  Lebens. ]

K

  Thus ,

  the

  conclu-

sion

 is to

 submit

 to the

 suffering

 and see

in  it

  redemption:

Suffering  is a test and test is an elevation,

Humiliation brings us close to God,

Every  f a l l

 brings

 us

 higher into

 His

 domains,

For

 only

 the

 vanquished know about

 Him.

16

[Leiden  istPrufung  un d

 Prilfung

  Erhebung,

Erniedrigung

  ma c h t un s

 go t t e snah ,

JederSturz

  ftihrt hoher in se ine Reiche

D e n n  n ur die Besiegten w issen urn ihn . ]

While

 the

 Might-Right

 issue is

 tackled

in

 the Israelite-proph etic

 spirit,

 the praise

of

 suffering

  and its

 religious

 justif ication

is closer

 to the spiri t of C hristiani ty. T hat

Zweig resorts to such an answer may well

be due to his

 despairing

 of the

  resolution

of the M ight-R ight issue  in a  satisfactory

way.

 Yet it is

 noteworthy th at Zweig sug-

gests

 a Zionist interpretation  and

 solu-

tion

  of the

  Jewish predicament

  in an in-

vented legend, which

  h e

  publ ished

  in

1937,entitledDer6egra6eneLeuc/iter/T/ie

Buried  Candelabrum].

T he s tory itself need not concern  us—

only

 its

 symbo lical

 message. It

 revolves

round

  the

  golden

  Menorah  (candela-

brum), part

  of the

  R oman loot

  from  th e

Temple

 in

 Jerusalem.

  T he M e n o ra h

 sym-

bolizes the Jewish

  faith

  and

 hope

 and is

pursued with devotion

 by

 Jews

 who

 want

to

 protect

 it from alien looters, after R ome

itself  became

  th e

  victim

 o f

 conquest

  by

the Vandals. Ultim ately the   M e n o ra h is

buried in the land of Israel, aw aiting th ere

the national redemption. That i t is the

candelabrum,

 th e

 carrier

 of

 eternal ligh t,

that is buried underground, may have a

symbolical mean ing: he Jewish  light, and

hope, is buried in the earth , awaiting the

moment

  of the

  return

  of the

  people

  to

th eir land, wh en  the  M e n o ra h will be lit

again and the

  suffering

  of the

  people

ended.

Yet  Zw eig

 does

 not leave th e m eaning

hidden, invi ting

 the reader's

  interpreta-

tion.

 The story conveys the message in a

dream

  of the

  protagonist,

  an old man

totally comm it ted

 from

 ch ildhoo d to the

preservation  of the  holy object.  In his

dream

 he

 sees

 a

 large gro aning crowd,

 an

entire people, on the march   from  time

immemorial. He

 murmurs

 to

 h imself:" 'N o

one should be kept

 [wandering]

  like

 this....

N o  people

  can

  continue

 to

  live wit h out

home an d w ith out goal... . A  l ight m ust be

kindled

 for

 them....'

 

n

 A nd, indeed,

 at the

conclusion

  of the

  dream,

  he

  sees

  the

wandering

 people

 at

 rest

 in

 a land  f r u i t f u l

and

 peaceful, a land of vineyards,

 fields of

grain and

  flowers. "N ow

 th e

  Lampstand

rose

 h igher

  in the sky and shone

  more

gloriously.

 It s

 lights

 were

 like

 the

  light

 of

the sun, il luminating sky and land to th e

very

 h orizon."

18

In  this

 story

 Zw eig seems to

  identify

with

  traditional orthodox Judaism, see-

ing

 the

 exile

 as a

 catastrophe

 and

 hoping

for

  a

  messianic delivery. There

 is no re-

demption outside

  the

  land

  of

  Israel,

  in

the

 diaspora.

 The

 calamity

 is the conse-

quence  of the alienation of the people

from

  their land. By the

 same

 token,  the

story

 conveys

  the

 Zionist

 message:

 only

by

 returning

 to the

 land

 of

 Israel

 and re-

establishing

 there  a

  normal

  life,  tilling

th e

  ancestral land,

 will  th e

  plight

 of the

Jews

 come

 to an

 end,

 a

 happy end. Zweig

Modern  Age 365

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

8/9

m ay not have embraced  the  Zionist, let

alone

  th e

  traditional-orthodox,  belief

wholeheartedly. Yet, the fact that he

 chose

to

 write this story

 at one o f the

  darkest

hours of his and of European Jewry's life,

indicates that he looked for a message of

consolation

 in

 Judaism. There seemed

 to

be no

  glimmer

  of hope  for his Austrian

and European allegiance in  1937; Juda-

ism,

 with its long experience of gloom and

doom—and, at the

 same time, of resilience

and

  survival—extended

  a

  helpful

  hand,

which

 Zweig

 grasped

  in

 desperation.

Yet

 Zweig

 was neither an orthodox Jew

nor a committed Zionist. H is ties with h is

Jewish heritage were

 not

 strong enough

to counter  h is despair  of the European

world, which was the air he breathed.

Also th e reality of the military success of

Nazi

  Germany

 and all it

  meant

  for the

future of

 E urope—physically

 and

 spiritu-

ally—could not be erased  by any  senti-

ment

 or

 yearning.

 The

 world—h is world—

was

 collapsing.

Zweig remained well-to-do and was not

in

  personal danger, having escaped  to

England, and

 subsequently moved

 to

 Bra-

zil, where h e was held in high regard  and

where he wrote a book about that coun-

try.

 Y et the  life  of a

 refugee

 who

 lost

  h is

spiri tual anchor, who was torn out of his

world, whose past

 was erased and

 whose

future w as all but  hopeless, seemed  de-

prived

  of any

 worth.

  As he put it to a

friend:  What sense is there in

 living

 on as

one's own

 shadow?

19

A s

 Zweig

 was approaching h is sixtieth

birthday, his resigned and dejected mood

grew ever stronger.

 While

 in good physi-

cal

 health,

 he

 suffered  from

 the

 sickness

of  the age and of the  calamity which

seemed  to  loom larger by the  day. The

horrors of war, the great advancement of

the German armies into Russia, and the

fall

 o f

 Singapore

 at the

 hands

 of the

 Japa-

nese army—all seemed to point to a likely

victory of the  Axis powers. A nd so,  after

his

 sixtieth birthday,

 he

 committed sui-

cide, jointly with h is wife, in their home in

Petropolis, B razil. In a letter h e

 left,

 dated

February

 22,1942, he

 refers

 to

  the world

of

 m y own language

 [which

 ] has

 been

 lost

and my  spiritual homeland, Europe,

[which] has  destroyed

  itself."

  H is  long

years  of  homeless wandering have  ex -

hausted him. "So I hold it better  to con-

clude  in  good time  and  with  an  erect

bearing

 a

 life fo r

 which

 intellectual labour

was always the purest joy and  personal

freedom t h e highest good on this earth."

20

In what

 way is

 S tefan

 Zweig

 relevant

  to

our

 time

 and

 age, besides leaving

 a liter-

ary legacy

 wh ich

 holds a place

 of

 honor in

European literature of the  first half of the

twentieth century?

  The

  most obvious

answer  to  this question points  to the

tragedy  of a man of  letters whose per-

sonal

  life  was

  intertwined with

 t h e

  high

culture of the era and the  brute forces

bent

 on annihilat ing the

 achievements

 of

humani ty .

  T he  quest  of  beauty  and of

decency,

 the cultivation

 of a good life

 and

fair

 society,  w as brutally assailed  by two

world wars

 and

 wanton cruelty, with

 th e

forces

 o f

 evil

 and

 unreason obtaining

 the

upper hand over  the traditions  of good

sense  and  cultural creativity.

  Zweig,

  in

h is personal  life  and in the way he per-

ceived  and articulated  th e  calamities of

h is era, reflects th e tragic history of the

half century in a remarkable way.

But

 it is not only th e world of yesterday

that Zweig brings

 to our

  attention.

 For

even

 if

 yesterday

  is

 past

 and

 gone, tomor-

row

 always waits

 in the

 wings, ready

  to

make

  it s

  appearance.

  B y looking  at the

world of yesterday,  we may be  warned

about th e world

 of

 tomorrow. Seemingly,

the

 present

 situation  is quite  different.

Europe seems to have learned its lesson.

T h e final

 form

 of the

 European entity

 h as

not yet been determined, and its extent

has not yet been

 defined,

 but

 armed hos-

tility

  in Western  and Central Europe i s

virtually unimaginable. Indeed, even

  th e

menace

 of war

 between Western Europe

and its

 Eastern neighbor,

 the

 mighty Rus-

sian power, has  receded.  The  expecta-

366

Fall

 2 2

8/20/2019 Rosh Wald

9/9

tions of

 Zw eig in his

 early years of

 a

 peace-

f u l  Europe

 seem to be finally

  vindicated.

Can, then ,

 th e

 nightmare

 of the

  interven-

ing

 decades

 be

 erased,

 and the

  gloomy

forebodings

  of

 Zweig

  in his

  later

  years

swept away?

Alas,

 this

 does not

 seem

 to be the

 case.

For the

  forces

  of

 evil—to

  put it in

  meta-

physical

  terms—have not

  been annihi-

lated. They may have  left  the European

arena,

  or

  most

  of it, but  they have  re -

grouped and made their appearance in a

new

 form.

 Th ey do not march in

 ostenta-

t ious army form ations, but they hide in

shadowy places and str ike with mu rder-

ous

  stealth

  at

  unexpected locations.

Moreover, they

  can

  take

  advantage o f

advanced technology

  to

  inflict  cata-

strophic damage.

In

  comparing

 the

  world

 of yesterday,

as presented by

 Z weig, with

 the

 present

situation, we may

 look with satisfaction

at the  material

  progress

 and social ad-

vancement

  of

 Europe

 and

 W estern

 Civili-

zation. Zweig wo uld have been hap py

  to

see the

  high er s tandard

  of living  and its

fairer distr ibution

 in the

 advanced part

 of

the world. That is what he anticipated

one-hundred years ago.

This  gratifying  pic ture  does

  not ex-

tend into

  the

  domain

  of

 cul tural

  life.  In

this respect one may look w ith longing to

a t ime

 and

 place like

 th e

 Vienna of Zweig's

youth, when

 the

 city enjoyed

 a

 first-class

theatre and opera, as

 well

 as

 lighter

 enter-

ta inment  of  high quali ty, when  gifted

writers

  created

  literary works of great

m e r i t ,

  w h e n h u m a n i s t i c e d u c a t i o n

shaped

  th e aesthetic

 sensibilities

 of the

generation.

T hen there

 is the

 example

 of

 Zweig

 and

several of

 his contemp oraries wh o

 repre-

sent the ideal of the socially involved

writer,

 of

 th e

 concerned artist, of

 th e

 com-

passionate man of

 ideas.

  In an age

 when

publishing

  increasingly becomes  an in-

dustry,  writing

  a

  commercial undertak-

ing, and

 excellence

 is

 measured

  by finan-

cial

 rewards,

 one can

 only

 cast a

  nostal-

gic look

 at a t ime when wri t ing was evalu-

ated by its

 intr insic worth

 and the

 remu-

neration

 was

 incidental

 to

 literary worth .

Is

 all

 this

 a cause for

 despair?

 N ot

 nec-

essarily.

 Zweigwas inclined to pessimism,

though

 it has to be

 conceded th at

 he had

good

 reasons

  for such an atti tude. O ur

own

  confrontation with born-again evil

puts

 us on

 alert,

 and

 jus t ly

 so. The

 more

aware

 we are of the

  menace,

  the better

the

  chances

  of

 overcoming

  it .

A s

  to the

  cultural malaise,

  it is not

universally recognized

 as such in an age

which

 is

 wary of

 "judgmental"

 statements.

Unless the creations of writers, musicians,

and

 entertainers

  are

 subjected

 to a

 sub-

stantive evaluation,

 and are not

 judged

solely b y th eir financial success, there is

not

  even

  a

  beginning

 o f a

  reversal

  of

present cultural trends.

 Perhaps

 looking

backwards

 to

 Z weig's World

 of

 Yesterday

may help

 us to lay the

  founda t ion

 for a

saner

 and

 better W orld

 of

 Tom orrow.

I .S te fan Zweig,

 Die

  Welt

 von Ges tern ,

 1944.

 English

translation,

  The

  World

  of Yesterday,

  1944,

  T he

Viking  Press,  N ew York  1945,  18 [5]. T he  transla-

tion in our

  text

  does  not

  necessarily  follow

  th e

English version, but the location in that version is

indicated

  in

 brackets .

  2. Op.

 cit.,

 1

 [v.].

 3.  Op.

 cit.,

8 [vi.]. 4. O p. cit., 460-461 [405-406 ]. 5. Quoted  from

D.A.  Prater,  European

  of Yesterday,  Oxford,

  1972,

352. 6. D ie  Welt  von Ges tem, 291

 [253-254].

 7. D .A.

Prater,

  107. 8.

 Stefan Zweig,  Ungedulddes

  Herzens

(Stockholm,

 1943).

 9 .

 Schachnoue l le , 1942. Qu oted

here,  in the  present writer 's translation, from D a s

Stefan

  Zweig

 Buch

  (Frankfurt  am  Main, 1981),

 350.

10.  D.A. Prater, 190. 11. Die  Welt  vo n

  Gestern,

 25-

26   [11-12].  12.  S te fan  Zwe ig ,  Jeremias, Eine

dramatische

 Dichtung

 in neun

 Bildem.

 Quoted  from

Stefan Zweig,

  Die

  Dramen

  (Frankfurt

  am

  Main,

1964),

 483.13.

 Op.

 cit., 483.14.

 O p. cit., 484.15. Op.

cit.,  496. 16.  Op. cit.,  500. 17.  Der begrabene

Leuchter

 (Vienna,

  1937). Quoted  from  th e  English

translation.

  The  Buried  Candelabrum,  in

  Stefan

Zweig, Jewish

 Legends

  (New York,  1987),  110-111.

18. Op. cit.,  114-115. 19.

 D .A. Prater, 300.

  20. The

original

 wording

 can be

  found

  in Da s

 Stefan  Zweig

Buch,  339.