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diff --git a/44917-0.txt b/44917-0.txt index 0fb266a..e3566c7 100644 --- a/44917-0.txt +++ b/44917-0.txt @@ -1,42 +1,4 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Delusion and Dream, by Wilhelm Jensen and Sigmund Freud - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Delusion and Dream - An Interpretation in the Light of Psychoanalysis of Gradiva - -Author: Wilhelm Jensen - Sigmund Freud - -Translator: Helen M. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Delusion and Dream - An Interpretation in the Light of Psychoanalysis of Gradiva - -Author: Wilhelm Jensen - Sigmund Freud - -Translator: Helen M. Downey - -Release Date: February 15, 2014 [EBook #44917] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DELUSION AND DREAM *** - - - - -Produced by Sean (scribe_for_hire@yahoo.com), based on -page images generously made available by the Internet -Archive -(https://archive.org/details/delusiondreamint00freuuoft). - - - - - - - - - - DELUSION & DREAM - - AN INTERPRETATION IN THE LIGHT - OF PSYCHOANALYSIS OF _GRADIVA_, - A NOVEL, BY WILHELM JENSEN, - WHICH IS HERE TRANSLATED - - - BY DR. SIGMUND FREUD - Author of "The Interpretation of Dreams," ETC. - - - TRANSLATED BY HELEN M. DOWNEY, M.A. - - - INTRODUCTION BY DR. G. STANLEY HALL - President of Clark University - - - NEW YORK - MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY - 1922 - - - - - PREFACE - - -To Dr. G. Stanley Hall, President of Clark University, who first called -to my attention the charm of _Gradiva_, by Wilhelm Jensen, and suggested -the possibility of the translation and publication combined with the -translation of Freud's commentary, I am deeply grateful for his kindly -interest and effort in connection with the publication of the book, and -his assistance with the technical terms of psychopathology. - -In this connection I am also indebted to Dr. Smith Ely Jelliffe, who -gave many helpful suggestions as a result of his thorough reading of the -manuscript of the commentary. - -I wish also to express my profound appreciation to my friend, Miss M. -Evelyn Fitzsimmons, for her generous help with the original manuscript -and other valuable comments offered while she was reading the entire -proof. - - HELEN M. DOWNEY. - Worcester, Mass. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - PREFACE 5 - - INTRODUCTION 9 - By _Dr. G. Stanley Hall_ - - PART I - - GRADIVA 13 - _A Novel, by Wilhelm Jensen_ - - PART II - - DELUSION AND DREAM 111 - _In "Gradiva," by Dr. Sigmund Freud_ - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - -Jensen's brilliant and unique story of _Gradiva_ has not only literary -merit of very high order, but may be said to open up a new field for -romance. It is the story of a young archæologist who suffered a very -characteristic mental disturbance and was gradually but effectively -cured by a kind of native psychotherapeutic instinct, which probably -inheres in all of us, but which in this case was found in the girl he -formerly loved but had forgotten, and who restored at the same time his -health and his old affection for her. - -Perhaps the most extraordinary thing about the work is that the author -knew nothing of psychotherapy as such, but wrought his way through the -labyrinth of mechanisms that he in a sense rediscovered and set to work, -so that it needed only the application of technical terms to make this -romance at the same time a pretty good key to the whole domain of -psychoanalysis. In a sense it is a dream-story, but no single dream ever -began to be so true to the typical nature of dreams; it is a clinical -picture, but I can think of no clinical picture that had its natural -human interest so enhanced by a moving romance. _Gradiva_ might be an -introduction to psychoanalysis, and is better than anything else we can -think of to popularize it. - -It might be added that while this romance has been more thoroughly -analysed than any other, and that by Freud himself, it is really only -one of many which in the literature of the subject have been used to -show forth the mysterious ways of the unconscious. It indicates that -psychoanalysis has a future in literary criticism, if not that all art -and artists have, from the beginning, more or less anticipated as they -now illustrate it. - -The translator is thoroughly competent and has done her work with -painstaking conscientiousness, and she has had the great advantage of -having it revised, especially with reference to the translation of -technical terms from the German, by no less an eminent expert in -psychotherapy than Dr. Smith Ely Jelliffe. - - G. STANLEY HALL. - - - - - _PART I_ - - GRADIVA - - A POMPEIIAN FANCY - - BY - - WILHELM JENSEN - - - - - GRADIVA - - -On a visit to one of the great antique collections of Rome, Norbert -Hanold had discovered a bas-relief which was exceptionally attractive to -him, so he was much pleased, after his return to Germany, to be able to -get a splendid plaster-cast of it. This had now been hanging for some -years on one of the walls of his work-room, all the other walls of which -were lined with bookcases. Here it had the advantage of a position with -the right light exposure, on a wall visited, though but briefly, by the -evening sun. About one-third life-size, the bas-relief represented a -complete female figure in the act of walking; she was still young, but -no longer in childhood and, on the other hand, apparently not a woman, -but a Roman virgin about in her twentieth year. In no way did she remind -one of the numerous extant bas-reliefs of a Venus, a Diana, or other -Olympian goddess, and equally little of a Psyche or nymph. In her was -embodied something humanly commonplace--not in a bad sense--to a degree -a sense of present time, as if the artist, instead of making a pencil -sketch of her on a sheet of paper, as is done in our day, had fixed her -in a clay model quickly, from life, as she passed on the street, a tall, -slight figure, whose soft, wavy hair a folded kerchief almost completely -bound; her rather slender face was not at all dazzling; and the desire -to produce such effect was obviously equally foreign to her; in the -delicately formed features was expressed a nonchalant equanimity in -regard to what was occurring about her; her eye, which gazed calmly -ahead, bespoke absolutely unimpaired powers of vision and thoughts -quietly withdrawn. So the young woman was fascinating, not at all -because of plastic beauty of form, but because she possessed something -rare in antique sculpture, a realistic, simple, maidenly grace which -gave the impression of imparting life to the relief. This was effected -chiefly by the movement represented in the picture. With her head bent -forward a little, she held slightly raised in her left hand, so that her -sandalled feet became visible, her garment which fell in exceedingly -voluminous folds from her throat to her ankles. The left foot had -advanced, and the right, about to follow, touched the ground only -lightly with the tips of the toes, while the sole and heel were raised -almost vertically. This movement produced a double impression of -exceptional agility and of confident composure, and the flight-like -poise, combined with a firm step, lent her the peculiar grace. - -Where had she walked thus and whither was she going? Doctor Norbert -Hanold, docent of archæology, really found in the relief nothing -noteworthy for his science. It was not a plastic production of great art -of the antique times, but was essentially a Roman _genre_ production, -and he could not explain what quality in it had aroused his attention; -he knew only that he had been attracted by something and this effect of -the first view had remained unchanged since then. In order to bestow a -name upon the piece of sculpture, he had called it to himself Gradiva, -"the girl splendid in walking." That was an epithet applied by the -ancient poets solely to Mars Gradivus, the war-god going out to battle, -yet to Norbert it seemed the most appropriate designation for the -bearing and movement of the young girl, or, according to the expression -of our day, of the young lady, for obviously she did not belong to a -lower class but was the daughter of a nobleman, or at any rate was of -honourable family. Perhaps--her appearance brought the idea to his mind -involuntarily--she might be of the family of a patrician ædile whose -office was connected with the worship of Ceres, and she was on her way -to the temple of the goddess on some errand. - -Yet it was contrary to the young archæologist's feeling to put her in -the frame of great, noisy, cosmopolitan Rome. To his mind, her calm, -quiet manner did not belong in this complex machine where no one heeded -another, but she belonged rather in a smaller place where every one knew -her, and, stopping to glance after her, said to a companion, "That is -Gradiva"--her real name Norbert could not supply--"the daughter of ----, -she walks more beautifully than any other girl in our city." - -As if he had heard it thus with his own ears, the idea had become firmly -rooted in his mind, where another supposition had developed almost into -a conviction. On his Italian journey, he had spent several weeks in -Pompeii studying the ruins; and in Germany, the idea had suddenly come -to him one day that the girl depicted by the relief was walking there, -somewhere, on the peculiar stepping-stones which have been excavated; -these had made a dry crossing possible in rainy weather, but had -afforded passage for chariot-wheels. Thus he saw her putting one foot -across the interstice while the other was about to follow, and as he -contemplated the girl, her immediate and more remote environment rose -before his imagination like an actuality. It created for him, with the -aid of his knowledge of antiquity, the vista of a long street, among the -houses of which were many temples and porticoes. Different kinds of -business and trades, stalls, work-shops, taverns came into view; bakers -had their breads on display; earthenware jugs, set into marble counters, -offered everything requisite for household and kitchen; at the street -corner sat a woman offering vegetables and fruit for sale from baskets; -from a half-dozen large walnuts she had removed half of the shell to -show the meat, fresh and sound, as a temptation for purchasers. Wherever -the eye turned, it fell upon lively colours, gaily painted wall -surfaces, pillars with red and yellow capitals; everything reflected the -glitter and glare of the dazzling noonday sun. Farther off on a high -base rose a gleaming, white statue, above which, in the distance, half -veiled by the tremulous vibrations of the hot air, loomed Mount -Vesuvius, not yet in its present cone shape and brown aridity, but -covered to its furrowed, rocky peak with glistening verdure. In the -street only a few people moved about, seeking shade wherever possible, -for the scorching heat of the summer noon hour paralysed the usually -bustling activities. There Gradiva walked over the stepping-stones and -scared away from them a shimmering, golden-green lizard. - -Thus the picture stood vividly before Norbert Hanold's eyes, but from -daily contemplation of her head, another new conjecture had gradually -arisen. The cut of her features seemed to him, more and more, not Roman -or Latin, but Greek, so that her Hellenic ancestry gradually became for -him a certainty. The ancient settlement of all southern Italy by Greeks -offered sufficient ground for that, and more ideas pleasantly associated -with the settlers developed. Then the young "domina" had perhaps spoken -Greek in her parental home, and had grown up fostered by Greek culture. -Upon closer consideration he found this also confirmed by the expression -of the face, for quite decidedly wisdom and a delicate spirituality lay -hidden beneath her modesty. - -These conjectures or discoveries could, however, establish no real -archæological interest in the little relief, and Norbert was well aware -that something else, which no doubt might be under the head of science, -made him return to frequent contemplation of the likeness. For him it -was a question of critical judgment as to whether the artist had -reproduced Gradiva's manner of walking from life. About that he could -not become absolutely certain, and his rich collection of copies of -antique plastic works did not help him in this matter. The nearly -vertical position of the right foot seemed exaggerated; in all -experiments which he himself made, the movement left his rising foot -always in a much less upright position; mathematically formulated, his -stood, during the brief moment of lingering, at an angle of only -forty-five degrees from the ground, and this seemed to him natural for -the mechanics of walking, because it served the purpose best. Once he -used the presence of a young anatomist friend as an opportunity for -raising the question, but the latter was not able to deliver a definite -decision, as he had made no observations in this connection. He -confirmed the experience of his friend, as agreeing with his own, but -could not say whether a woman's manner of walking was different from -that of a man, and the question remained unanswered. - -In spite of this, the discussion had not been without profit, for it -suggested something that had not formerly occurred to him; namely, -observation from life for the purpose of enlightenment on the matter. -That forced him, to be sure, to a mode of action utterly foreign to him; -women had formerly been for him only a conception in marble or bronze, -and he had never given his feminine contemporaries the least -consideration; but his desire for knowledge transported him into a -scientific passion in which he surrendered himself to the peculiar -investigation which he recognized as necessary. This was hindered by -many difficulties in the human throng of the large city, and results of -the research were to be hoped for only in the less frequented streets. -Yet, even there, long skirts generally made the mode of walking -undiscernible, for almost no one but housemaids wore short skirts and -they, with the exception of a few, because of their heavy shoes could -not well be considered in solving the question. In spite of this he -steadfastly continued his survey in dry, as well as in wet weather; he -perceived that the latter promised the quickest results, for it caused -the ladies to raise their skirts. To many ladies, his searching glances -directed at their feet must have inevitably been quite noticeable; -sometimes a displeased expression of the lady observed showed that she -considered his demeanour a mark of boldness or ill-breeding; sometimes, -as he was a young man of very captivating appearance, the opposite, a -bit of encouragement, was expressed by a pair of eyes. Yet one was as -incomprehensible to him as the other. Gradually his perseverance -resulted in the collection of a considerable number of observations, -which brought to his attention many differences. Some walked slowly, -some fast, some ponderously, some buoyantly. Many let their soles merely -glide over the ground; not many raised them more obliquely to a smarter -position. Among all, however, not a single one presented to view -Gradiva's manner of walking. That filled him with satisfaction that he -had not been mistaken in his archæological judgment of the relief. On -the other hand, however, his observations caused him annoyance, for he -found the vertical position of the lingering foot beautiful, and -regretted that it had been created by the imagination or arbitrary act -of the sculptor and did not correspond to reality. - -Soon after his pedestrian investigations had yielded him this knowledge, -he had, one night, a dream which caused him great anguish of mind. In it -he was in old Pompeii, and on the twenty-fourth of August of the year -79, which witnessed the eruption of Vesuvius. The heavens held the -doomed city wrapped in a black mantle of smoke; only here and there the -flaring masses of flame from the crater made distinguishable, through a -rift, something steeped in blood-red light; all the inhabitants, either -individually or in confused crowd, stunned out of their senses by the -unusual horror, sought safety in flight; the pebbles and the rain of -ashes fell down on Norbert also, but, after the strange manner of -dreams, they did not hurt him, and in the same way, he smelled the -deadly sulphur fumes of the air without having his breathing impeded by -them. As he stood thus at the edge of the Forum near the Jupiter temple, -he suddenly saw Gradiva a short distance in front of him. Until then no -thought of her presence there had moved him, but now suddenly it seemed -natural to him, as she was, of course, a Pompeiian girl, that she was -living in her native city and, without his having any suspicion of it, -was his contemporary. He recognized her at first glance; the stone model -of her was splendidly striking in every detail, even to her gait; -involuntarily he designated this as "lente festinans." So with buoyant -composure and the calm unmindfulness of her surroundings peculiar to -her, she walked across the flagstones of the Forum to the Temple of -Apollo. She seemed not to notice the impending fate of the city, but to -be given up to her thoughts; on that account he also forgot the -frightful occurrence, for at least a few moments, and because of a -feeling that the living reality would quickly disappear from him again, -he tried to impress it accurately on his mind. Then, however, he became -suddenly aware that if she did not quickly save herself, she must perish -in the general destruction, and violent fear forced from him a cry of -warning. She heard it, too, for her head turned toward him so that her -face now appeared for a moment in full view, yet with an utterly -uncomprehending expression; and, without paying any more attention to -him, she continued in the same direction as before. At the same time, -her face became paler as if it were changing to white marble; she -stepped up to the portico of the Temple, and then, between the pillars, -she sat down on a step and slowly laid her head upon it. Now the pebbles -were falling in such masses that they condensed into a completely opaque -curtain; hastening quickly after her, however, he found his way to the -place where she had disappeared from his view, and there she lay, -protected by the projecting roof, stretched out on the broad step, as if -for sleep, but no longer breathing, apparently stifled by the sulphur -fumes. From Vesuvius the red glow flared over her countenance, which, -with closed eyes, was exactly like that of a beautiful statue. No fear -nor distortion was apparent, but a strange equanimity, calmly submitting -to the inevitable, was manifest in her features. Yet they quickly became -more indistinct as the wind drove to the place the rain of ashes, which -spread over them, first like a grey gauze veil, then extinguished the -last glimpse of her face, and soon, like a Northern winter snowfall, -buried the whole figure under a smooth cover. Outside, the pillars of -the Temple of Apollo rose, now, however, only half of them, for the grey -fall of ashes heaped itself likewise against them. - -When Norbert Hanold awoke, he still heard the confused cries of the -Pompeiians who were seeking safety, and the dully resounding boom of the -surf of the turbulent sea. Then he came to his senses; the sun cast a -golden gleam of light across his bed; it was an April morning and -outside sounded the various noises of the city, cries of venders, and -the rumbling of vehicles. Yet the dream picture still stood most -distinctly in every detail before his open eyes, and some time was -necessary before he could get rid of a feeling that he had really been -present at the destruction on the bay of Naples, that night nearly two -thousand years ago. While he was dressing, he first became gradually -free from it, yet he did not succeed, even by the use of critical -thought, in breaking away from the idea that Gradiva had lived in -Pompeii and had been buried there in 79. Rather, the former conjecture -had now become to him an established certainty, and now the second also -was added. With woful feeling he now viewed in his living-room the old -relief which had assumed new significance for him. It was, in a way, a -tombstone by which the artist had preserved for posterity the likeness -of the girl who had so early departed this life. Yet if one looked at -her with enlightened understanding, the expression of her whole being -left no doubt that, on that fateful night, she had actually lain down to -die with just such calm as the dream had showed. An old proverb says -that the darlings of the gods are taken from the earth in the full -vigour of youth. - -Without having yet put on a collar, in morning array, with slippers on -his feet, Norbert leaned on the open window and gazed out. The spring, -which had finally arrived in the north also, was without, but announced -itself in the great quarry of the city only by the blue sky and the soft -air, yet a foreboding of it reached the senses, and awoke in remote, -sunny places a desire for leaf-green, fragrance and bird song; a breath -of it came as far as this place; the market women on the street had -their baskets adorned with a few, bright wild flowers, and at an open -window, a canary in a cage warbled his song. Norbert felt sorry for the -poor fellow for, beneath the clear tone, in spite of the joyful note, he -heard the longing for freedom and the open. - -Yet the thoughts of the young archæologist dallied but briefly there, -for something else had crowded into them. Not until then had he become -aware that in the dream he had not noticed exactly whether the living -Gradiva had really walked as the piece of sculpture represented her, and -as the women of to-day, at any rate, did not walk. That was remarkable -because it was the basis of his scientific interest in the relief; on -the other hand, it could be explained by his excitement over the danger -to her life. He tried, in vain, however, to recall her gait. - -Then suddenly something like a thrill passed through him; in the first -moment he could not say whence. But then he realized; down in the -street, with her back toward him, a female, from figure and dress -undoubtedly a young lady, was walking along with easy, elastic step. Her -dress, which reached only to her ankles, she held lifted a little in her -left hand, and he saw that in walking the sole of her slender foot, as -it followed, rose for a moment vertically on the tips of the toes. It -appeared so, but the distance and the fact that he was looking down did -not admit of certainty. - -Quickly Norbert Hanold was in the street without yet knowing exactly how -he had come there. He had, like a boy sliding down a railing, flown like -lightning down the steps, and was running down among the carriages, -carts and people. The latter directed looks of wonder at him, and from -several lips came laughing, half mocking exclamations. He was unaware -that these referred to him; his glance was seeking the young lady and he -thought that he distinguished her dress a few dozen steps ahead of him, -but only the upper part; of the lower half, and of her feet, he could -perceive nothing, for they were concealed by the crowd thronging on the -sidewalk. - -Now an old, comfortable, vegetable woman stretched her hand toward his -sleeve, stopped him and said, half grinning, "Say, my dear, you probably -drank a little too much last night, and are you looking for your bed -here in the street? You would do better to go home and look at yourself -in the mirror." - -A burst of laughter from those near by proved it true that he had shown -himself in garb not suited to public appearance, and brought him now to -realization that he had heedlessly run from his room. That surprised him -because he insisted upon conventionality of attire and, forsaking his -project, he quickly returned home, apparently, however, with his mind -still somewhat confused by the dream and dazed by illusion, for he had -perceived that, at the laughter and exclamation, the young lady had -turned her head a moment, and he thought he had seen not the face of a -stranger, but that of Gradiva looking down upon him. - - * * * * * - -Because of considerable property, Doctor Norbert Hanold was in the -pleasant position of being unhampered master of his own acts and wishes -and, upon the appearance of any inclination, of not depending for expert -counsel about it on any higher court than his own decision. In this way -he differed most favourably from the canary, who could only warble out, -without success, his inborn impulse to get out of the cage into the -sunny open. Otherwise, however, the young archæologist resembled the -latter in many respects. He had not come into the world and grown up in -natural freedom, but already at birth had been hedged in by the grating -with which family tradition, by education and predestination, had -surrounded him. From his early childhood no doubt had existed in his -parents' house that he, as the only son of a university professor and -antiquarian, was called upon to preserve, if possible to exalt, by that -very activity the glory of his father's name; so this business -continuity had always seemed to him the natural task of his future. He -had clung loyally to it even after the early deaths of his parents had -left him absolutely alone; in connection with his brilliantly passed -examination in philology, he had taken the prescribed student trip to -Italy and had seen in the original a number of old works of art whose -imitations, only, had formerly been accessible to him. Nothing more -instructive for him than the collections of Florence, Rome, Naples could -be offered anywhere; he could furnish evidence that the period of his -stay there had been used excellently for the enrichment of his -knowledge, and he had returned home fully satisfied to devote himself -with the new acquisitions to his science. That besides these objects -from the distant past, the present still existed round about him, he -felt only in the most shadowy way; for his feelings marble and bronze -were not dead, but rather the only really vital thing which expressed -the purpose and value of human life; and so he sat in the midst of his -walls, books and pictures, with no need of any other intercourse, but -whenever possible avoiding the latter as an empty squandering of time -and only very reluctantly submitting occasionally to an inevitable -party, attendance at which was required by the connections handed down -from his parents. Yet it was known that at such gatherings he was -present without eyes or ears for his surroundings, and as soon as it was -any way permissible, he always took his leave, under some pretext, at -the end of the lunch or dinner, and on the street he greeted none of -those whom he had sat with at the table. That served, especially with -young ladies, to put him in a rather unfavourable light; for upon -meeting even a girl with whom he had, by way of exception, spoken a few -words, he looked at her without a greeting as at a quite unknown person -whom he had never seen. Although perhaps archæology, in itself, might be -a rather curious science and although its alloy had effected a -remarkable amalgamation with Norbert Hanold's nature, it could not -exercise much attraction for others and afforded even him little -enjoyment in life according to the usual views of youth. Yet with a -perhaps kindly intent Nature had added to his blood, without his knowing -of the possession, a kind of corrective of a thoroughly unscientific -sort, an unusually lively imagination which was present not only in -dreams, but often in his waking hours, and essentially made his mind not -preponderantly adapted to strict research method devoid of interest. -From this endowment, however, originated another similarity between him -and the canary. The latter was born in captivity, had never known -anything else than the cage which confined him in narrow quarters, but -he had an inner feeling that something was lacking to him, and sounded -from his throat his desire for the unknown. Thus Norbert Hanold -understood it, pitied him for it, returned to his room, leaned again -from the window and was thereupon moved by a feeling that he, too, -lacked a nameless something. Meditation on it, therefore, could be of no -use. The indefinite stir of emotion came from the mild, spring air, the -sunbeams and the broad expanse with its fragrant breath, and formed a -comparison for him; he was likewise sitting in a cage behind a grating. -Yet this idea was immediately followed by the palliating one that his -position was more advantageous than that of the canary, for he had in -his possession wings which were hindered by nothing from flying out into -the open at his pleasure. - -But that was an idea which developed more upon reflection. Norbert gave -himself up for a time to this occupation, yet it was not long before the -project of a spring journey assumed definite shape. This he carried out -that very day, packed a light valise, and before he went south by the -night express, cast at nightfall another regretful departing glance on -Gradiva, who, steeped in the last rays of the sun, seemed to step out -with more buoyancy than ever over the invisible stepping-stones beneath -her feet. Even if the impulse for travel had originated in a nameless -feeling, further reflection had, however, granted, as a matter of -course, that it must serve a scientific purpose. It had occurred to him -that he had neglected to inform himself with accuracy about some -important archæological questions in connection with some statues in -Rome and, without stopping on the way, he made the journey of a day and -a half thither. - - * * * * * - -Not very many personally experience the beauty of going from Germany to -Italy in the spring when one is young, wealthy and independent, for even -those endowed with the three latter requirements are not always -accessible to such a feeling for beauty, especially if they (and alas -they form the majority) are in couples on the days or weeks after a -wedding, for such allow nothing to pass without an extraordinary -delight, which is expressed in numerous superlatives; and finally they -bring back home, as profit, only what they would have discovered, felt -or enjoyed exactly as much by staying there. In the spring such dualists -usually swarm over the Alpine passes in exactly opposite direction to -the birds of passage. During the whole journey they billed and cooed -around Norbert as if they were in a rolling dove-cot, and for the first -time in his life he was compelled to observe his fellow beings more -closely with eye and ear. Although, from their speech, they were all -German country people, his racial identity with them awoke in him no -feeling of pride, but rather the opposite one, that he had done -reasonably well to bother as little as possible with the _homo sapiens_ -of Linnæan classification, especially in connection with the feminine -half of this species; for the first time he saw also, in his immediate -vicinity, people brought together by the mating impulse without his -being able to understand what had been the mutual cause. It remained -incomprehensible to him why the women had chosen these men, and still -more perplexing why the choice of the men had fallen upon these women. -Every time he raised his eyes, his glance had to fall on the face of -some one of them and it found none which charmed the eye by outer -attraction or possessed indication of intellect or good nature. To be -sure, he lacked a standard for measuring, for of course one could not -compare the women of to-day with the sublime beauty of the old works of -art, yet he had a dark suspicion that he was not to blame for this -unkind view, but that in all expressions there was something lacking -which ordinary life was in duty bound to offer. So he reflected for many -hours on the strange impulses of human beings, and came to the -conclusion that of all their follies, marriage, at any rate, took the -prize as the greatest and most incomprehensible one, and the senseless -wedding trips to Italy somehow capped the climax of this buffoonery. - -Again, however, he was reminded of the canary that he had left behind in -captivity, for he also sat here in a cage, cooped in by the faces of -young bridal couples which were as rapturous as vapid, past which his -glance could only occasionally stray through the window. Therefore it -can be easily explained that the things passing outside before his eyes -made other impressions on him than when he had seen them some years -before. The olive foliage had more of a silver sheen; the solitary, -towering cypresses and pines here and there were delineated with more -beautiful and more distinctive outlines; the places situated on the -mountain heights seemed to him more charming, as if each one, in a -manner, were an individual with different expression; and Trasimene Lake -seemed to him of a soft blue such as he had never noticed in any surface -of water. He had a feeling that a Nature unknown to him was surrounding -the railway tracks, as if he must have passed through these places -before in continual twilight, or during a grey rainfall, and was now -seeing them for the first time in their golden abundance of colour. A -few times he surprised himself in a desire, formerly unknown to him, to -alight and seek afoot the way to this or that place because it looked to -him as if it might be concealing something peculiar or mysterious. Yet -he did not allow himself to be misled by such unreasonable impulses, but -the "diretissimo" took him directly to Rome where, already, before the -entrance into the station, the ancient world with the ruins of the -temple of Minerva Medica received him. When he had finally freed himself -from his cage filled with "inseparables," he immediately secured -accommodations in a hotel well known to him, in order to look about from -there, without excessive haste, for a private house satisfactory to him. - -Such a one he had not yet found in the course of the next day, but -returned to his "albergo" again in the evening and went to sleep rather -exhausted by the unaccustomed Italian air, the strong sun, much -wandering about and the noise of the streets. Soon consciousness began -to fade, but just as he was about to fall asleep he was again awakened, -for his room was connected with the adjoining one by a door concealed -only by a wardrobe, and into this came two guests, who had taken -possession of it that morning. From the voices which sounded through the -thin partition, they were a man and a woman who unmistakably belonged to -that class of German spring birds of passage with whom he had yesterday -journeyed hither from Florence. Their frame of mind seemed to give -decidedly favourable testimony concerning the hotel cuisine, and it -might be due to the good quality of a Castellin-romani wine that they -exchanged ideas and feelings most distinctly and audibly in North German -tongue: - -"My only Augustus." - -"My sweet Gretchen." - -"Now again we have each other." - -"Yes, at last we are alone again." - -"Must we do more sight-seeing to-morrow?" - -"At breakfast we shall look in _Baedeker_ for what is still to be done." - -"My only Augustus, to me you are much more pleasing than Apollo -Belvedere." - -"And I have often thought, my sweet Gretchen, that you are much more -beautiful than the Capitoline Venus." - -"Is the volcano that we want to climb near here?" - -"No, I think we'll have to ride a few hours more in the train to get -there." - -"If it should begin to belch flame just as we got to the middle, what -would you do?" - -"Then my only thought would be to save you, and I would take you in my -arms--so." - -"Don't scratch yourself on that pin!" - -"I can think of nothing more beautiful than to shed my blood for you." - -"My only Augustus." - -"My sweet Gretchen." - -With that the conversation ceased, Norbert heard another ill-defined -rustling and moving of chairs, then it became quiet and he fell back -into a doze which transported him to Pompeii just as Vesuvius again -began its eruption. A vivid throng of fleeing people caught him, and -among them he saw Apollo Belvedere lift up the Capitoline Venus, take -her away and place her safely upon some object in a dark shadow; it -seemed to be a carriage or cart on which she was to be carried off, for -a rattling sound was soon heard from that direction. This mythological -occurrence did not amaze the young archæologist, but it struck him as -remarkable that the two talked German, not Greek, to each other for, as -they half regained their senses, he heard them say: - -"My sweet Gretchen." - -"My only Augustus." - -But after that the dream picture changed completely. Absolute silence -took the place of the confused sound, and instead of smoke and -fire-glow, bright, hot sunlight rested on the ruins of the buried city. -This likewise changed gradually, became a bed on whose white linen -golden beams circled up to his eyes, and Norbert Hanold awoke in the -scintillating spring morning of Rome. - -Within him, also, however, something had changed; why, he could not -surmise, but a strangely oppressive feeling had again taken possession -of him, a feeling that he was imprisoned in a cage which this time was -called Rome. As he opened the window, there screamed up from the street -dozens of venders' cries far more shrill to his ear than those in his -German home; he had come only from one noisy quarry to another, and a -strangely uncanny horror of antique collections, of meeting there Apollo -Belvedere or the Capitoline Venus, frightened him away. Thus, after -brief consideration, he refrained from his intention of looking for a -dwelling, hastily packed his valise again and went farther south by -train. To escape the "inseparables," he did this in a third-class coach, -expecting at the same time to find there an interesting and -scientifically useful company of Italian folk-types, the former models -of antique works of art. Yet he found nothing but the usual dirt, -Monopol cigars which smelled horribly, little warped fellows beating -about with arms and legs, and members of the female sex, in contrast to -whom his coupled country-women seemed to his memory almost like Olympian -goddesses. - - * * * * * - -Two days later Norbert Hanold occupied a rather questionable space -called a "room" in "Hotel Diomed" beside the eucalyptus-guarded -"ingresso" to the excavations of Pompeii. He had intended to stay in -Naples for some time to study again more closely the sculptures and -wall-paintings in the Museo Nazionale, but he had had an experience -there similar to that in Rome. In the room for the collection of -Pompeiian household furniture he found himself wrapped in a cloud of -feminine, ultra-fashionable travel-costumes, which had doubtless all -quickly replaced the virgin radiance of satin, silk or lace bridal -finery; each one clung to the arm of a young or old companion, likewise -faultlessly attired, according to men's fashion standards; and Norbert's -newly gained insight into a field of knowledge formerly unknown to him -had advanced so far as to permit him to recognize them at first glance; -every man was Augustus, every girl was Gretchen. Only this came to light -here by means of other forms of conversation tempered, moderated and -modified by the ear of publicity. - -"Oh, look, that was practical of them; we'll surely have to get a meat -warmer like that, too." - -"Yes, but for the food that my wife cooks it must be made of silver." - -"How do you know that what I cook will taste so good to you?" - -The question was accompanied by a roguish, arch glance and was answered -in the affirmative, with a glance varnished with lacquer, "What you -serve to me can be nothing but delicious." - -"No; that surely is a thimble! Did the people of those days have -needles?" - -"It almost seems so, but you could not have done anything with that, my -darling, it would be much too large even for your thumb." - -"Do you really think that? And do you like slender fingers better than -broad ones?" - -"Yours I do not need to see; by touch I could discover them, in the -deepest darkness, among all the others in the world." - -"That is really awfully interesting. Do we still really have to go to -Pompeii also?" - -"No, that will hardly pay; there are only old stones and rubbish there; -whatever was of value, _Baedeker_ says, was brought here. I fear the sun -there would be too hot for your delicate complexion, and I could never -forgive myself that." - -"What if you should suddenly have a negress for a wife?" - -"No, my imagination fortunately does not reach that far, but a freckle -on your little nose would make me unhappy. I think, if it is agreeable -to you, we'll go to Capri to-morrow, my dear. There everything is said -to be very comfortable, and in the wonderful light of the Blue Grotto I -shall first realize completely what a great prize I have drawn in the -lottery of happiness." - -"You--if any one hears that, I shall be almost ashamed. But wherever you -take me, it is agreeable to me, and makes no difference, for I have you -with me." - -Augustus and Gretchen over again, somewhat toned down and tempered for -eye and ear. It seemed to Norbert Hanold that he had had thin honey -poured upon him from all sides and that he had to dispose of it swallow -by swallow. A sick feeling came over him, and he ran out of the Museo -Nazionale to the nearest "osteria" to drink a glass of vermuth. Again -and again the thought intruded itself upon his mind: Why did these -hundredfold dualities fill the museums of Florence, Rome, Naples, -instead of devoting themselves to their plural occupations in their -native Germany? Yet from a number of chats and tender talks, it seemed -to him that the majority of these bird couples did not intend to nest in -the rubbish of Pompeii, but considered a side trip to Capri much more -profitable, and thence originated his sudden impulse to do what they did -not do. There was at any rate offered to him a chance to be freed from -the main flock of this migration and to find what he was vainly seeking -here in Italy. That was also a duality, not a wedding duality, but two -members of the same family without cooing bills, silence and science, -two calm sisters with whom only one could count upon satisfactory -shelter. His desire for them contained something formerly unknown to -him; if it had not been a contradiction in itself, he could have applied -to this impulse the epithet "passionate"--and an hour later he was -already sitting in a "carrozzella" which bore him through the -interminable Portici and Resina. The journey was like one through a -street splendidly adorned for an old Roman victor; to the right and left -almost every house spread out to dry in the sun, like yellow tapestry -hangings, a super-abundant wealth of "pasta di Napoli," the greatest -dainty of the country, thick or thin macaroni, vermicelli, spaghetti, -canelloni and fidelini, to which smoke of fats from cook-shops, -dust-clouds, flies and fleas, the fish scales flying about in the air, -chimney smoke and other day and night influences lent the familiar -delicacy of its taste. Then the cone of Vesuvius looked down close by -across brown lava fields; at the right extended the gulf of shimmering -blue, as if composed of liquid malachite and lapis lazuli. The little -nutshell on wheels flew, as if whirled forth by a mad storm and as if -every moment must be its last, over the dreadful pavement of Torre del -Greco, rattled through Torre dell'Annunziata, reached the Dioscuri, -"Hotel Suisse" and "Hotel Diomed," which measured their power of -attraction in a ceaseless, silent, but ferocious struggle, and stopped -before the latter whose classic name, again, as on his first visit, had -determined the choice of the young archæologist. With apparently, at -least, the greatest composure, however, the modern Swiss competitor -viewed this event before its very door. It was calm because no different -water from what it used was boiled in the pots of its classic neighbour; -and the antique splendours temptingly displayed for sale over there had -not come to light again after two thousand years under the ashes, any -more than the ones which it had. - -Thus Norbert Hanold, contrary to all expectations and intentions, had -been transported in a few days from northern Germany to Pompeii, found -the "Diomed" not too much filled with human guests, but on the other -hand populously inhabited by the _musca domestica communis_, the common -house-fly. He had never been subject to violent emotions; yet a hatred -of these two-winged creatures burned within him; he considered them the -basest evil invention of Nature, on their account much preferred the -winter to the summer as the only time suited to human life, and -recognized in them invincible proof against the existence of a rational -world-system. Now they received him here several months earlier than he -would have fallen to their infamy in Germany, rushed immediately about -him in dozens, as upon a patiently awaited victim, whizzed before his -eyes, buzzed in his ears, tangled themselves in his hair, tickled his -nose, forehead and hands. Therein many reminded him of honeymoon -couples, probably were also saying to each other in their language, "My -only Augustus" and "My sweet Gretchen"; in the mind of the tormented man -rose a longing for a "scacciamosche," a splendidly made fly-flapper like -one unearthed from a burial vault, which he had seen in the Etruscan -museum in Bologna. Thus, in antiquity, this worthless creature had -likewise been the scourge of humanity, more vicious and more inevitable -than scorpions, venomous snakes, tigers and sharks, which were bent upon -only physical injury, rending or devouring the ones attacked; against -the former one could guard himself by thoughtful conduct. From the -common house-fly, however, there was no protection, and it paralysed, -disturbed and finally shattered the psychic life of human beings, their -capacity for thinking and working, every lofty flight of imagination and -every beautiful feeling. Hunger or thirst for blood did not impel them, -but solely the diabolical desire to torture; it was the "Ding an sich" -in which absolute evil had found its incarnation. The Etruscan -"scacciamosche," a wooden handle with a bunch of fine leather strips -fastened to it, proved the following: they had destroyed the most -exalted poetic thoughts in the mind of Æschylus; they had caused the -chisel of Phidias to make an irremediable slip, had run over the brow of -Zeus, the breast of Aphrodite, and from head to foot of all Olympian -gods and goddesses; and Norbert felt in his soul that the service of a -human being was to be estimated, above all, according to the number of -flies which he had killed, pierced, burned up or exterminated in -hecatombs during his life, as avenger of his whole race from remotest -antiquity. - -For the achievement of such fame, he lacked here the necessary weapon, -and like the greatest battle hero of antiquity, who had, however, been -alone and unable to do otherwise, he left the field, or rather his room, -in view of the hundredfold overwhelming number of the common foe. -Outside it dawned upon him that he had thereby done in a small way what -he would have to repeat on a larger scale on the morrow. Pompeii, too, -apparently offered no peacefully gratifying abode for his needs. To this -idea was added, at least dimly, another, that his dissatisfaction was -certainly caused not by his surroundings alone, but to a degree found -its origin in him. To be sure, flies had always been very repulsive to -him, but they had never before transported him into such raging fury as -this. On account of the journey his nerves were undeniably in an excited -and irritable condition, for which indoor air and overwork at home -during the winter had probably begun to pave the way. He felt that he -was out of sorts because he lacked something without being able to -explain what, and this ill-humour he took everywhere with him; of course -flies and bridal couples swarming _en masse_ were not calculated to make -life agreeable anywhere. Yet if he did not wish to wrap himself in a -thick cloud of self-righteousness, it could not remain concealed from -him that he was travelling around Italy just as aimless, senseless, -blind and deaf as they, only with considerably less capacity for -enjoyment. For his travelling companion, science, had, most decidedly, -much of an old Trappist about her, did not open her mouth when she was -not spoken to, and it seemed to him that he was almost forgetting in -what language he had communed with her. - -It was now too late in the day to go into Pompeii through the -"ingresso." Norbert remembered a circuit he had once made on the old -city-wall, and attempted to mount the latter by means of all sorts of -bushes and wild growth. Thus he wandered along for some distance a -little above the city of graves, which lay on his right, motionless and -quiet. It looked like a dead rubbish field already almost covered with -shadow, for the evening sun stood in the west not far from the edge of -the Tyrrhenian Sea. Round about, on the other hand, it still bathed all -the hilltops and fields with an enchanting brilliancy of life, gilded -the smoke-cone rising above the Vesuvius crater and clad the peaks and -pinnacles of Monte Sant' Angelo in purple. High and solitary rose Monte -Epomeo from the sparkling, blue sea glittering with golden light, from -which Cape Misenum reared itself with dark outline, like a mysterious, -titanic structure. Wherever the gaze rested, a wonderful picture was -spread combining charm and sublimity, remote past and joyous present. -Norbert Hanold had expected to find here what he longed for vaguely. Yet -he was not in the mood for it, although no bridal couples and flies -molested him on the deserted wall; even nature was unable to offer him -what he lacked in his surroundings and within himself. With a calmness -bordering closely on indifference, he let his eyes pass over the -all-pervading beauty, and did not regret in the least that it was -growing pale and fading away in the sunset, but returned to the -"Diomed," as he had come, dissatisfied. - - * * * * * - -But as he had now, although with ill-success, been conveyed to this -place through his indiscretion, he reached the decision overnight, to -get from the folly he had committed at least one day of scientific -profit, and went to Pompeii on the regular road as soon as the -"ingresso" was opened in the morning. In little groups commanded by -official guides, armed with red _Baedekers_ or their foreign cousins, -longing for secret excavations of their own, there wandered before and -behind him the population of the two hotels. The still fresh, morning -air was filled almost exclusively by English or Anglo-American chatter; -the German couples were making each other mutually happy with German -sweets and inspiration up there on Capri behind Monte Sant' Angelo at -the breakfast table of the Pagano. Norbert remembered how to free -himself soon, by well chosen words, combined with a good "mancia," from -the burden of a "guida," and was able to pursue his purposes alone and -unhindered. It afforded him some satisfaction to know that he possessed -a faultless memory; wherever his glance rested, everything lay and stood -exactly as he remembered it, as if only yesterday he had imprinted it in -his mind by means of expert observation. This continually repeated -experience brought, however, the added feeling that his presence there -seemed really very unnecessary, and a decided indifference took -possession of his eyes and his intellect more and more, as during the -evening on the wall. Although, when he looked up, the pine-shaped -smoke-cone of Vesuvius generally stood before him against the blue sky, -yet, remarkably, it did not once appear in his memory that he had -dreamed some time ago that he had been present at the destruction of -Pompeii by the volcanic eruption of 79. Wandering around for hours made -him tired and half-sleepy, of course, yet he felt not the least -suggestion of anything dreamlike, but there lay about him only a -confusion of fragments of ancient gate arches, pillars and walls -significant to the highest degree for archæology, but, viewed without -the esoteric aid of this science, really not much else than a big pile -of rubbish, neatly arranged, to be sure, but extremely devoid of -interest; and although science and dreams were wont formerly to stand on -footings exactly opposed, they had apparently here to-day come to an -agreement to withdraw their aid from Norbert Hanold and deliver him over -absolutely to the aimlessness of his walking and standing around. - -So he had wandered in all directions from the Forum to the Amphitheatre, -from the Porta di Stabia to the Porta del Vesuvio through the Street of -Tombs as well as through countless others, and the sun had likewise, in -the meanwhile, made its accustomed morning journey to the position where -it usually changes to the more comfortable descent toward the sea. -Thereby, to the great satisfaction of their misunderstood, hoarsely -eloquent guides, it gave the English and American men and women, forced -to go there by a traveller's sense of duty, a signal to become mindful -of the superior comfort of sitting at the lunch-tables of the twin -hotels; besides, they had seen with their own eyes everything that could -be required for conversation on the other side of the ocean and channel; -so the separate groups, satiated by the past, started on the return, -ebbed in common movement down through the Via Marina, in order not to -lose meals at the, to be sure somewhat euphemistically Lucullan, tables -of the present, in the house of "Diomed" or of Mr. Swiss. In -consideration of all the outer and inner circumstances, this was -doubtless also the wisest thing that they could do, for the noon sun of -May was decidedly well disposed toward the lizards, butterflies and -other winged inhabitants or visitors of the extensive mass of ruins, but -for the northern complexion of a Madame or Miss its perpendicular -obtrusiveness was unquestionably beginning to become less kindly, and, -supposedly in some causal connection with that, the "charmings" had -already in the last hour considerably diminished, the "shockings" had -increased in the same proportion, and the masculine "ah's" proceeding -from rows of teeth even more widely distended than before had begun a -noticeable transition to yawning. - -It was remarkable, however, that simultaneously with their vanishing, -what had formerly been the city of Pompeii assumed an entirely changed -appearance, but not a living one; it now appeared rather to be becoming -completely petrified in dead immobility. Yet out of it stirred a feeling -that death was beginning to talk, although not in a manner intelligible -to human ears. To be sure, here and there was a sound as if a whisper -were proceeding from the stone which, however, only the softly murmuring -south wind, Atabulus, awoke, he who, two thousand years ago, had buzzed -in this fashion about the temples, halls and houses, and was now -carrying on his playful game with the green, shimmering stalks on the -low ruins. From the coast of Africa he often rushed across, casting -forth wild, full blasts: he was not doing that to-day, but was gently -fanning again the old acquaintances which had come to light again. He -could not, however, refrain from his natural tendency to devastate, and -blew with hot breath, even though lightly, on everything that he -encountered on the way. - -In this, the sun, his eternally youthful mother, helped him. She -strengthened his fiery breath, and accomplished, besides, what he could -not, steeped everything with trembling, glittering, dazzling splendour. -As with a golden eraser, she effaced from the edges of the houses on the -_semitæ_ and _crepidine viarum_, as the sidewalks were once called, -every slight shadow, cast into all the vestibules, inner courts, -peristyles and balconies her luminous radiance, or desultory rays where -a shelter blocked her direct approach. Hardly anywhere was there a nook -which successfully protected itself against the ocean of light and -veiled itself in a dusky, silver web; every street lay between the old -walls like long, rippling, white strips of linen spread out to bleach; -and without exception all were equally motionless and mute, for not only -had the last of the rasping and nasal tones of the English and American -messengers disappeared, but the former slight evidences of lizard- and -butterfly-life seemed also to have left the silent city of ruins. They -had not really done so, but the gaze perceived no more movement from -them. - -As had been the custom of their ancestors out on the mountain slopes and -cliff walls for thousands of years, when the great Pan laid himself to -sleep, here, too, in order not to disturb him, they had stretched -themselves out motionless or, folding their wings, had squatted here and -there; and it seemed as if, in this place, they felt even more strongly -the command of the hot, holy, noonday quiet in whose ghostly hour life -must be silent and suppressed, because during it the dead awake and -begin to talk in toneless spirit-language. - -This changed aspect which the things round about had assumed really -thrust itself less upon the vision than it aroused the emotions, or, -more correctly, an unnamed sixth sense; this latter, however, was -stimulated so strongly and persistently that a person endowed with it -could not throw off the effect produced upon him. To be sure, of those -estimable boarders already busy with their soup spoons at the two -"alberghi" near the "ingresso," hardly a man or woman would have been -counted among those thus invested, but Nature had once bestowed this -great attention upon Norbert Hanold and he had to submit to its effects, -not at all because he had an understanding with it, however, for he -wished nothing at all and desired nothing more than that he might be -sitting quietly in his study with an instructive book in his hand, -instead of having undertaken this aimless spring journey. Yet as he had -turned back from the Street of Tombs through the Hercules gate into the -centre of the city, and at Casa di Sallustio had turned to the left, -quite without purpose or thought, into the narrow "vicolo," suddenly -that sixth sense was awakened in him; but this last expression was not -really fitting, rather he was transported by it into a strangely dreamy -condition, about half-way between a waking state and loss of senses. As -if guarding a secret, everywhere round about him, suffused in light, lay -deathly silence, so breathless that even his own lungs hardly dared to -take in air. He stood at the intersection of two streets where the -Vicolo Mercurio crossed the broader Strada di Mercurio, which stretched -out to right and left; in answer to the god of commerce, business and -trades had formerly had their abodes here; the street corners spoke -silently of it; many shops with broken counters, inlaid with marble, -opened out upon them; here the arrangement indicated a bakery, there, a -number of large, convex, earthenware jugs, an oil or flour business. -Opposite more slender, two-handled jars set into the counters showed -that the space behind them had been a bar-room; surely in the evening, -slaves and maids of the neighbourhood might have thronged here to get -wine for their masters in their own jugs; one could see that the now -illegible inscription inlaid with mosaic on the sidewalk in front of the -shop was worn by many feet; probably it had held out to passers-by a -recommendation of the excellent wine. On the outer wall, at about half -the height of a man, was visible a "graffito" probably scratched into -the plastering, with his finger-nail or an iron nail, by a schoolboy, -perhaps derisively explaining the praise, in this way, that the owner's -wine owed its peerlessness to a generous addition of water. For from the -scratch there seemed raised before Norbert Hanold's eyes the word -"caupo," or was it an illusion. Certainly he could not settle it. He -possessed a certain skill in deciphering "graffiti" which were -difficult, and had already accomplished widely recognized work in that -field, yet at this time it completely failed him. Not only that, he had -a feeling that he did not understand any Latin, and it was absurd of him -to wish to read what a Pompeiian school youth had scratched into the -wall two thousand years before. - -Not only had all his science left him, but it left him without the least -desire to regain it; he remembered it as from a great distance, and he -felt that it had been an old, dried-up, boresome aunt, dullest and most -superfluous creature in the world. What she uttered with puckered lips -and sapient mien, and presented as wisdom, was all vain, empty -pompousness, and merely gnawed at the dry rind of the fruit of knowledge -without revealing anything of its content, the germ of life, or bringing -anything to the point of inner, intelligent enjoyment. What it taught -was a lifeless, archæological view, and what came from its mouth was a -dead, philological language. These helped in no way to a comprehension -with soul, mind and heart, as the saying is, but he, who possessed a -desire for that, had to stand alone here, the only living person in the -hot noonday silence among the remains of the past, in order not to see -with physical eyes nor hear with corporeal ears. Then something came -forth everywhere without movement and a soundless speech began; then the -sun dissolved the tomblike rigidity of the old stones, a glowing thrill -passed through them, the dead awoke, and Pompeii began to live again. - -The thoughts in Norbert Hanold's mind were not really blasphemous, but -he had an indefinite feeling deserving of that adjective, and with this, -standing motionless, he looked before him down the Strada di Mercurio -toward the city-wall. The angular lava-blocks of its pavement still lay -as faultlessly fitted together as before the devastation, and each one -was of a light-grey colour, yet such dazzling lustre brooded over them -that they stretched like a quilted silver-white ribbon passing in -faintly glowing void between the silent walls and by the side of column -fragments. - -Then suddenly-- - -With open eyes he gazed along the street, yet it seemed to him as if he -were doing it in a dream. A little to the right something suddenly -stepped forth from the Casa di Castore e Polluce, and across the lava -stepping-stones, which led from the house to the other side of the -Strada di Mercurio, Gradiva stepped buoyantly. - -Quite indubitably it was she; even if the sunbeams did surround her -figure as with a thin veil of gold, he perceived her in profile as -plainly and as distinctly as on the bas-relief. Her head, whose crown -was entwined with a scarf which fell to her neck, inclined forward a -little; her left hand held up lightly the extremely voluminous dress -and, as it reached only to her ankles, one could perceive clearly that -in advancing, the right foot, lingering, if only for a moment, rose on -the tips of the toes almost perpendicularly. Here, however, it was not a -stone representation, everything in uniform colourlessness; the dress, -apparently made of extremely soft, clinging material, was not of cold -marble-white, but of a warm tone verging faintly on yellow, and her -hair, wavy under the scarf on her brow, and peeping forth at the -temples, stood out, with golden-brown radiance, in bold contrast to her -alabaster countenance. - -As soon as he caught sight of her, Norbert's memory was clearly awakened -to the fact that he had seen her here once already in a dream, walking -thus, the night that she had lain down as if to sleep over there in the -Forum on the steps of the Temple of Apollo. With this memory he became -conscious, for the first time, of something else; he had, without -himself knowing the motive in his heart, come to Italy on that account -and had, without stop, continued from Rome and Naples to Pompeii to see -if he could here find trace of her--and that in a literal sense--for, -with her unusual gait, she must have left behind in the ashes a -foot-print different from all the others. - -Again it was a noonday dream-picture that passed there before him and -yet also a reality. For that was apparent from an effect which it -produced. On the last stepping-stone on the farther side, there lay -stretched out motionless, in the burning sunlight, a big lizard, whose -body, as if woven of gold and malachite, glistened brightly to Norbert's -eyes. Before the approaching foot, however, it darted down suddenly and -wriggled away over the white, gleaming lava pavement. - -Gradiva crossed the stepping-stones with her calm buoyancy, and now, -turning her back, walked along on the opposite sidewalk; her destination -seemed to be the house of Adonis. Before it she stopped a moment, too, -but passed then, as if after further deliberation, down farther through -the Strada di Mercurio. On the left, of the more elegant buildings, -there now stood only the Casa di Apollo, named after the numerous -representations of Apollo excavated there, and, to the man who was -gazing after her, it seemed again that she had also surely chosen the -portico of the Temple of Apollo for her death sleep. Probably she was -closely associated with the cult of the sun-god and was going there. -Soon, however, she stopped again; stepping-stones crossed the street -here, too, and she walked back again to the right side. Thus she turned -the other side of her face toward him and looked a little different, for -her left hand, which held up her gown, was not visible and instead of -her curved arm, the right one hung down straight. At a greater distance -now, however, the golden waves of sunlight floated around her with a -thicker web of veiling, and did not allow him to distinguish where she -had stopped, for she disappeared suddenly before the house of Meleager. -Norbert Hanold still stood without having moved a limb. With his eyes, -and this time with his corporeal ones, he had surveyed, step by step, -her vanishing form. Now, at length, he drew a deep breath, for his -breast too had remained almost motionless. - -Simultaneously the sixth sense, suppressing the others completely, held -him absolutely in its sway. Had what had just stood before him been a -product of his imagination or a reality? - -He did not know that, nor whether he was awake or dreaming, and tried in -vain to collect his thoughts. Then, however, a strange shudder passed -down his spine. He saw and heard nothing, yet he felt from the secret -inner vibrations that Pompeii had begun to live about him in the noonday -hour of spirits, and so Gradiva lived again, too, and had gone into the -house which she had occupied before the fateful August day of the year -79. - -From his former visit, he was acquainted with the Casa di Meleagro, had -not yet gone there this time, however, but had merely stopped briefly in -the Museo Nazionale of Naples before the wall paintings of Meleager and -his Arcadian huntress companion, Atalanta, which had been found in the -Strada di Mercurio in that house, and after which the latter had been -named. Yet as he now again acquired the ability to move and walked -toward it, he began to doubt whether it really bore its name after the -slayer of the Caledonian boar. He suddenly recalled a Greek poet, -Meleager, who, to be sure, had probably lived about a century before the -destruction of Pompeii. A descendant of his, however, might have come -here and built the house for himself. That agreed with something else -that had awakened in his memory, for he remembered his supposition, or -rather a definite conviction, that Gradiva had been of Greek descent. To -be sure there mingled with his idea the figure of Atalanta as Ovid had -pictured it in his _Metamorphoses_: - - --her floating vest - A polished buckle clasped--her careless locks - In simple knot were gathered-- - - _Trans. by_ Henry King. - -He could not recall the verses word for word, but their content was -present in his mind; and from his store of knowledge was added the fact -that Cleopatra was the name of the young wife of OEneus' son, Meleager. -More probably this had nothing to do with him, but with the Greek poet, -Meleager. Thus, under the glowing sun of the Campagna, there was a -mythological-literary-historical-archæological juggling in his head. - -When he had passed the house of Castor and Pollux and that of the -Centaur, he stood before the Casa di Meleagro from whose threshold there -looked up at him, still discernible, the inlaid greeting "Ave." On the -wall of the vestibule, Mercury was handing Fortuna a pouch filled with -money; that probably indicated, allegorically, the riches and other -fortunate circumstances of the former dweller. Behind this opened up the -inner court, the centre of which was occupied by a marble table -supported by three griffins. - -Empty and silent, the room lay there, appearing absolutely unfamiliar to -the man, as he entered, awaking no memory that he had already been here, -yet he then recalled it, for the interior of the house offered a -deviation from that of the other excavated buildings of the city. The -peristyle adjoined the inner court on the other side of the balcony -toward the rear--not in the usual way, but at the left side and on that -account was of greater extent and more splendid appearance than any -other in Pompeii. It was framed by a colonnade supported by two dozen -pillars painted red on the lower, and white on the upper half. These -lent solemnity to the great, silent space; here in the centre was a -spring with a beautifully wrought enclosure, which served as a -fish-pool. Apparently the house must have been the dwelling of an -estimable man of culture and artistic sense. - -Norbert's gaze passed around, and he listened. Yet nowhere about did -anything stir, nor was the slightest sound audible. Amidst this cold -stone there was no longer a breath; if Gradiva had gone into Meleager's -house, she had already dissolved again into nothing. At the rear of the -peristyle was another room, an _oecus_, the former dining-room, likewise -surrounded on three sides by pillars painted yellow, which shimmered -from a distance in the light, as if they were encrusted with gold. -Between them, however, shone a red far more dazzling than that from the -walls, with which no brush of antiquity, but young Nature of the present -had painted the ground. The former artistic pavement lay completely -ruined, fallen to decay and weather worn; it was May which exercised -here again its most ancient dominion and covered the whole _oecus_, as it -did at the time in many houses of the buried city, with red, flowering, -wild poppies, whose seeds the winds had carried thither, and these had -sprouted in the ashes. It was a wave of densely crowded blossoms, or so -it appeared, although, in reality, they stood there motionless, for -Atabulus found no way down to them, but only hummed away softly above. -Yet the sun cast such flaming, radiant vibrations down upon them that it -gave an impression of red ripples in a pond undulating hither and -thither. Norbert Hanold's eyes had passed unheeding over a similar sight -in other houses, but here he was strangely thrilled by it. The -dream-flower grown at the edge of Lethe filled the space, and Hypnos lay -stretched in their midst dispensing sleep, which dulls the senses, with -the saps which night has gathered in the red chalices. It seemed to the -man who had entered the dining-room through the portico of the peristyle -as if he felt his temples touched by the invisible slumber wand of the -old vanquisher of gods and men, but not with heavy stupor; only a -dreamily sweet loveliness floated about his consciousness. At the same -time, however, he still remained in control of his feet and stepped -along by the wall of the former dining-room from which gazed old -pictures: Paris, awarding the apple; a satyr, carrying in his hand an -asp and tormenting a young Bacchante with it. - -But there again suddenly, unforeseen--only about five paces away from -him--in the narrow shadow cast down by a single piece of the upper part -of the dining-room portico, which still remained in a state of -preservation, sitting on the low steps between two of the yellow pillars -was a brightly clad woman who now raised her head. In that way she -disclosed to the unnoticed arrival, whose footstep she had apparently -just heard, a full view of her face, which produced in him a double -feeling, for it appeared to him at the same time unknown and yet also -familiar, already seen or imagined; but by his arrested breathing and -his heart palpitations, he recognized, unmistakably, to whom it -belonged. He had found what he was looking for, what had driven him -unconsciously to Pompeii; Gradiva continued her visible existence in the -noonday spirit hour and sat here before him, as, in the dream, he had -seen her on the steps of the Temple of Apollo. Spread out on her knees -lay something white, which he was unable to distinguish clearly; it -seemed to be a papyrus sheet, and a red poppy-blossom stood out from it -in marked contrast. - -In her face surprise was expressed; under the lustrous, brown hair and -the beautiful, alabaster brow, two rarely bright, starlike eyes looked -at him with questioning amazement. It required only a few moments for -him to recognize the conformity of her features with those of the -profile. They must be thus, viewed from the front, and therefore, at -first glance, they had not been really unfamiliar to him. Near to, her -white dress, by its slight tendency to yellow, heightened still more the -warm colour; apparently it consisted of a fine, extremely soft, woollen -material, which produced abundant folds, and the scarf around her head -was of the same. Below, on the nape of the neck, appeared again the -shimmering, brown hair artlessly gathered in a single knot; at her -throat, under a dainty chin, a little gold clasp held her gown together. - -Norbert Hanold dimly perceived that involuntarily he had raised his hand -to his soft Panama hat and removed it; and now he said in Greek, "Are -you Atalanta, the daughter of Jason, or are you a descendant of the -family of the poet, Meleager?" - -Without giving an answer, the lady addressed looked at him silently with -a calmly wise expression in her eyes, and two thoughts passed through -his mind; either her resurrected self could not speak, or she was not of -Greek descent and was ignorant of the language. He therefore substituted -Latin for it and asked: "Was your father a distinguished Pompeiian -citizen of Latin origin?" - -To this she was equally silent, only about her delicately curved lips -there was a slight quiver as if she were repressing a burst of laughter. -Now a feeling of fright came upon him; apparently she was sitting there -before him like a silent image, a phantom to whom speech was denied. -Consternation at this discovery was stamped fully and distinctly upon -his features. - -Then, however, her lips could no longer resist the impulse; a real smile -played about them and at the same time a voice sounded from between -them, "If you wish to speak with me, you must do so in German." - -That was really remarkable from the mouth of a Pompeiian woman who had -died two centuries before, or would have been so for a person hearing it -in a different state of mind. Yet every oddity escaped Norbert because -of two waves of emotion which had rushed over him, one because Gradiva -possessed the power of speech, and the other was one which had been -forced from his inmost being by her voice. It sounded as clear as was -her glance; not sharp, but reminiscent of the tones of a bell, her voice -passed through the sunny silence over the blooming poppy-field, and the -young archæologist suddenly realized that he had already heard it thus -in his imagination, and involuntarily he gave audible expression to his -feeling, "I knew that your voice sounded like that." - -One could read in her countenance that she was seeking comprehension of -something, but was not finding it. To his last remark she now responded, -"How could you? You have never talked with me." - -To him it was not at all remarkable that she spoke German, and, -according to present usage, addressed him formally; as she did it, he -understood completely that it could not have happened otherwise, and he -answered quickly, "No--not talked--but I called to you when you lay down -to sleep and stood near you then--your face was as calmly beautiful as -if it were of marble. May I beg you--rest it again on the step in that -way." - -While he was speaking, something peculiar had occurred. A golden -butterfly, faintly tinged with red on the inner edge of its upper wing, -fluttered from the poppies toward the pillars, flitted a few times about -Gradiva's head and then rested on the brown, wavy hair above her brow. -At the same time, however, she rose, slender and tall, for she stood up -with deliberate haste, curtly and silently directed at Norbert another -glance, in which something suggested that she considered him demented; -then, thrusting her foot forward, she walked out in her characteristic -way along the pillars of the old portico. Only fleetingly visible for a -while, she finally seemed to have sunk into the earth. - -He stood up, breathless, as if stunned; yet with heavy understanding he -had grasped what had occurred before his eyes. The noonday ghost hour -was over, and in the form of a butterfly, a winged messenger had come up -from the asphodel meadows of Hades to admonish the departed one to -return. For him something else was associated with this, although in -confused indistinctness. He knew that the beautiful butterfly of -Mediterranean countries bore the name Cleopatra, and this had also been -the name of Caledonian Meleager's young wife who, in grief over his -death, had given herself as sacrifice to those of the lower world. - -From his mouth issued a call to the girl who was departing, "Are you -coming here again to-morrow in the noon hour?" Yet she did not turn -around, gave no answer, and disappeared after a few moments in the -corner of the dining-room behind the pillar. Now a compelling impulse -suddenly incited him to hasten after her, but her bright dress was no -longer visible anywhere; glowing with the hot sun's rays, the Casa di -Meleagro lay about him motionless and silent; only Cleopatra hovered on -her red, shimmering, golden wings, making slow circles again above the -multitude of poppies. - - * * * * * - -When and how he had returned to the "ingresso," Norbert Hanold could not -recall; in his memory he retained only the idea that his appetite had -peremptorily demanded to be appeased, though very tardily, at the -"Diomed," and then he had wandered forth aimlessly on the first good -street, had arrived at the beach north of Castellamare, where he had -seated himself on a lava-block, and the sea-wind had blown around his -head until the sun had set about half-way between Monte Sant' Angelo -above Sorrento and Monte Epomeo on Ischia. Yet, in spite of this stay of -at least several hours by the water, he had obtained from the fresh air -there no mental relief, but was returning to the hotel in the same -condition in which he had left it. He found the other guests busily -occupied with dinner, had a little bottle of Vesuvio wine brought to him -in a corner of the room, viewed the faces of those eating, and listened -to their conversations. From the faces of all, as well as from their -talk, it appeared to him absolutely certain that in the noon hour none -of them had either met or spoken to a dead Pompeiian woman who had -returned again briefly to life. Of course, all this had been a foregone -conclusion, as they had all been at lunch at that time; why and -wherefore, he himself could not state, yet after a while he went over to -the competitor of the "Diomed," "Hotel Suisse," sat down there also in a -corner, and, as he had to order something, likewise before a little -bottle of Vesuvio, and here he gave himself over to the same kind of -investigations with eye and ear. They led to the same results but also -to the further conclusion that he now knew by sight all the temporary, -living visitors of Pompeii. To be sure, this effected an increase of his -knowledge which he could hardly consider an enrichment, but from it he -experienced a certain satisfying feeling that, in the two hostelries, no -guest, either male or female, was present with whom, by means of sight -and hearing, he had not entered into a personal, even if one-sided, -relation. Of course, in no way had the absurd supposition entered his -mind that he might possibly meet Gradiva in one of the two hotels, but -he could have taken his oath that no one was staying in them who -possessed, in the remotest way, any trace of resemblance to her. During -his observations, he had occasionally poured wine from his little bottle -to his glass, and had drunk from time to time; and when, in this manner, -the former had gradually become empty, he rose and went back to the -"Diomed." The heavens were now strewn with countless, flashing, -twinkling stars, but not in the traditionally stationary way, for -Norbert gathered the impression that Perseus, Cassiopeia and Andromeda -with some neighbours, bowing lightly hither and thither, were performing -a singing dance, and below, on earth, too, it seemed to him that the -dark shadows of the tree-tops and buildings did not stay in the same -place. Of course on the ground of this region--unsteady from ancient -times--this could not be exactly surprising, for the subterranean glow -lurked everywhere, after an eruption, and let a little of itself rise in -the vines and grapes from which was pressed Vesuvio, which was not one -of Norbert Hanold's usual evening drinks. He still remembered, however, -even if a little of the circular movement of things might be ascribed to -the wine, too, that since noon all objects had displayed an inclination -to whirl softly about his head, and therefore he found, in the slight -increase, nothing new, but only a continuation of the formerly existing -conditions. He went up to his room and stood for a little while at the -open window, looking over toward the Vesuvius mound, above which now no -cone of smoke spread its top, but rather something like the fluctuations -of a dark, purple cloak flowed back and forth around it. Then the young -archæologist undressed, without having lighted the light, and sought his -couch. Yet, as he stretched himself out upon it, it was not his bed at -the "Diomed," but a red poppy-field whose blossoms closed over him like -a soft cushion heated by the sun. His enemy, the common house-fly, -constrained by darkness to lethargic stupidity, sat fiftyfold above his -head, on the wall, and only one moved, even in its sleepiness, by desire -to torture, buzzed about his nose. He recognized it, however, not as the -absolute evil, the century-old scourge of humanity, for before his eyes -it poised like a red-gold Cleopatra. - -When, in the morning, the sun, with lively assistance from the flies, -awoke him, he could not recall what, besides strange, Ovid-like -metamorphoses, had occurred during the night about his bed. Yet -doubtless some mystic being, continuously weaving dream-webs, had been -sitting beside him, for he felt his head completely overhung and filled -with them, so that all ability to think lay inextricably imprisoned in -it and only one thing remained in his consciousness; he must again be in -Meleager's house at exactly noon. In this connection, however, a fear -overcame him, for if the gatekeepers at the "ingresso" looked at him, -they would not let him in. Anyway it was not advisable that he should -expose himself to close observation by human eyes. To escape that, there -was, for one well informed about Pompeii, a means which was, to be sure, -against the rules, but he was not in a condition to grant to legal -regulation a determination of his conduct. So he climbed again, as on -the evening of his arrival, along the old city-wall, and upon it walked, -in a wide semicircle, around the city of ruins to the solitary, -unguarded Porta di Nola. Here it was not difficult to get down into the -inside and he went, without burdening his conscience very much over the -fact that by his autocratic deed he had deprived the administration of a -two-lira entrance fee, which he could, of course, let it have later in -some other way. - -Thus, unseen, he had reached an uninteresting part of the city, never -before investigated by any one and still mostly unexcavated; he sat down -in a secluded, shady nook and waited, now and then drawing his watch to -observe the progress of time. Once his glance fell upon something in the -distance gleaming, silvery-white, rising from the ashes, but with his -unreliable vision, he was unable to distinguish what it was. Yet -involuntarily he was impelled to go up to it and there it stood, a tall, -flowering asphodel-plant with white, bell-like blossoms whose seeds the -wind had carried thither from outside. It was the flower of the lower -world, significant and, as he felt, destined to grow here for his -purpose. He broke the slender stem and returned with it to his seat. -Hotter and hotter the May sun burned down as on the day before, and -finally approached its noonday position; so now he started out through -the long Strada di Nola. This lay deathly still and deserted, as did -almost all the others; over there to the west all the morning visitors -were already crowding again to the Porta Marina and the soup-plates. -Only the air, suffused with heat, stirred, and in the dazzling glare the -solitary figure of Norbert Hanold with the asphodel branch appeared like -that of Hermes, Psyche's escort, in modern attire, starting out upon the -journey to conduct a departed soul to Hades. - -Not consciously, yet following an instinctive impulse, he found his way -through the Strada della Fortuna farther along to the Strada di -Mercurio, and turning to the right arrived at the Casa di Meleagro. Just -as lifelessly as yesterday, the vestibule, inner court and peristyle -received him, and between the pillars of the latter the poppies of the -dining-room flamed across to him. As he entered, however, it was not -clear to him whether he had been here yesterday or two thousand years -ago to seek from the owner of the house some information of great -importance to archæology; what it was, however, he could not state, and -besides, it seemed to him, even though in contradiction to the above, -that all the science of antiquity was the most purposeless and -indifferent thing in the world. He could not understand how a human -being could occupy himself with it, for there was only a single thing to -which all thinking and investigation must be directed: what is the -nature of the physical manifestation of a being like Gradiva, dead and -alive at the same time, although the latter was true only in the noon -hour of spirits--or had been the day before, perhaps the one time in a -century or a thousand years, for it suddenly seemed certain that his -return to-day was in vain. He did not meet the girl he was looking for, -because she was not allowed to come again until a time when he too would -have been dead for many years, and was buried and forgotten. Of course, -as he walked now along by the wall below Paris awarding the apple, he -perceived Gradiva before him, just as on yesterday, in the same gown, -sitting between the same two yellow pillars on the same step. Yet he did -not allow himself to be deceived by tricks of imagination, but knew that -fancy alone was deceptively depicting before his eyes what he had really -seen there the day before. He could not refrain, however, from stopping -to indulge in the view of the shadowy apparition created by himself and, -without his knowing it, there passed from his lips in a grieved tone the -words, "Oh, that you were still alive!" - -His voice rang out, but, after that, breathless silence again reigned -among the ruins of the old dining-room. Yet soon another sounded through -the vacant stillness, saying, "Won't you sit down too? You look -exhausted." - -Norbert Hanold's heart stood still a moment. His head, however, -collected this much reason; a vision could not speak; or was an aural -hallucination practising deception upon him? With fixed gaze, he -supported himself against the pillar. - -Then again asked the voice, and it was the one which none other than -Gradiva possessed, "Are you bringing me the white flowers?" - -Dizziness rushed upon him; he felt that his feet no longer supported -him, but forced him to be seated; and he slid down opposite her on the -step, against the pillar. Her bright eyes were directed toward his face, -yet with a different look from the one with which she had gazed at him -yesterday when she suddenly rose and went away. In that, something -ill-humoured and repellent had spoken; but it had disappeared, as if she -had, in the meanwhile, arrived at a different view-point, and an -expression of searching inquisitiveness or curiosity had taken its -place. Likewise, she spoke with an easy familiarity. As he remained -silent, however, to the last question also, she again resumed, "You told -me yesterday that you had once called to me when I lay down to sleep and -that you had afterwards stood near me; my face was as white as marble. -When and where was that? I cannot remember it, and I beg you to explain -more exactly." - -Norbert had now acquired enough power of speech to answer, "In the night -when you sat on the steps of the Temple of Apollo in the Forum and the -fall of ashes from Vesuvius covered you." - -"So--then. Yes, to be sure--that had not occurred to me, but I might -have thought that it would be a case like that. When you said it -yesterday, I was not expecting it, and I was utterly unprepared. Yet -that happened, if I recall correctly, two thousand years ago. Were you -living then? It seems to me you look younger." She spoke very seriously, -but at the end a faint, extremely sweet smile played about her mouth. He -hesitated in embarrassment and answered, stuttering slightly, "No, I -really don't believe I was alive in the year 79--it was perhaps--yes, it -surely is a psychic condition which is called a dream that transported -me into the time of the destruction of Pompeii--but I recognized you -again at first glance." - -In the expression of the girl sitting opposite him, a few feet away, -surprise was apparent, and she repeated in a tone of amazement, "You -recognized me again? In the dream? By what?" - -"At the very first; by your manner of walking." - -"Had you noticed that? And have I a special manner of walking?" - -Her astonishment had grown perceptibly. He replied, "Yes--don't you -realize that? A more graceful one--at least among those now living--does -not exist. Yet I recognized you immediately by everything else too, your -figure, face, bearing and drapery, for everything agreed most minutely -with the bas-relief of you in Rome." - -"Ah, really--" she repeated in her former tone--"with the bas-relief of -me in Rome. Yes, I hadn't thought of that either, and at this moment I -don't know exactly--what is it--and you saw it there then?" - -Now he told her that the sight of it had attracted him so that he had -been highly pleased to get a plaster-cast of it in Germany, and that for -years it had hung in his room. He observed it daily, and the idea had -come to him that it must represent a young Pompeiian girl who was -walking on the stepping-stones of a street in her native city; and the -dream had confirmed it. Now he knew also that he had been impelled by it -to travel here again to see whether he could find some trace of her; and -as he had stood yesterday noon at the corner of Strada di Mercurio, she, -herself, exactly like her image, had suddenly walked before him across -the stepping-stones, as if she were about to go over into the house of -Apollo. Then farther along she had recrossed the street and disappeared -before the house of Meleager. - -To this she nodded and said, "Yes, I intended to look up the house of -Apollo, but I came here." - -He continued, "On that account the Greek poet, Meleager, came to my -mind, and I thought that you were one of his descendants and were -returning--in the hour which you are allowed--to your ancestral home. -When I spoke to you in Greek, however, you did not understand." - -"Was that Greek? No, I don't understand it or I've probably forgotten -it. Yet as you came again just now, I heard you say something that I -could understand. You expressed the wish that some one might still be -alive here. Only I did not understand whom you meant by that." - -That caused him to reply that, at sight of her, he had believed that it -was not really she, but that his imagination was deceptively putting her -image before him in the place where he had met her yesterday. At that -she smiled and agreed, "It seems that you have reason to be on your -guard against an excess of imagination, although, when I have been with -you, I never supposed so." She stopped, however, and added, "What is -there peculiar about my way of walking, which you spoke of before?" - -It was noteworthy that her aroused interest brought her back to that, -and he said, "If I may ask----" - -With that he stopped, for he suddenly remembered with fear that -yesterday she had suddenly risen and gone away when he had asked her to -lie down to sleep again on that step, as on that of the Temple of -Apollo, and, associated darkly with this, there came to him the glance -which she had directed upon him in departing. Yet now the calm, friendly -expression of her eyes remained, and as he spoke no further, she said, -"It was nice that your wish that some one might still be alive concerned -me. If you wish to ask anything of me on that account, I will gladly -respond." - -That overcame his fear, and he replied, "It would make me happy to get a -close view of you walking as you do in the bas-relief." - -Willingly, without answering, she stood up and walked along between the -wall and the pillars. It was the very buoyantly reposeful gait, with the -sole raised almost perpendicularly, that was so firmly imprinted on his -mind, but for the first time he saw that she wore, below the raised -gown, not sandals, but light, sand-coloured shoes of fine leather. When -she came back and sat down again silently, he involuntarily started to -talk of the difference in her foot-covering from that of the bas-relief. -To that she rejoined, "Time, of course, always changes everything, and -for the present sandals are not suitable, so I put on shoes, which are a -better protection against rain and dust; but why did you ask me to walk -before you? What is there peculiar about it?" - -Her repeated wish to learn this proved her not entirely free from -feminine curiosity. He now explained that it was a matter of the -peculiarly upright position of the rising foot, as she walked, and he -added how for weeks he had tried to observe the gait of modern women on -the streets in his native city. Yet it seemed that this beautiful way of -walking had been completely lost to them, with the exception, perhaps, -of a single one who had given him the impression that she walked in that -way. To be sure, he had not been able to establish this fact because of -the crowd about her, and he had probably experienced an illusion, for it -had seemed to him that her features had resembled somewhat those of -Gradiva. - -"What a shame," she answered. "For confirmation of the fact would surely -have been of great scientific importance, and if you had succeeded, -perhaps you would not have needed to take the long journey here; but -whom were you just speaking of? Who is Gradiva?" - -"I have named the bas-relief that, because I didn't know your real name, -and don't know it yet, either." - -This last he added with some hesitancy, and she faltered a moment before -replying to the indirect question. "My name is Zoë." - -With pained tone the words escaped him: "The name suits you beautifully, -but it sounds to me like bitter mockery, for 'Zoë' means 'life.'" - -"One must adapt himself to the inevitable," she responded, "and I have -long accustomed myself to being dead; but now my time is over for -to-day; you have brought the grave-flower with you to conduct me back. -So give it to me." - -As she rose and stretched forth her slender hand, he gave her the -asphodel cluster, but was careful not to touch her fingers. Accepting -the flowering branch she said, "I thank you. To those who are more -fortunate one gives roses in spring, but for me the flower of oblivion -is the right one from your hand. To-morrow I shall be allowed to come -here again at this hour. If your way leads you again into the house of -Meleager, we can sit together at the edge of the poppies, as we did -to-day. On the threshold stands 'Ave,' and I say it to you 'Ave'!" - -She went out and disappeared, as yesterday, at the turn in the portico, -as if she had there sunk into the ground. Everything lay empty and -silent again, but, from some distance, there once rang, short and clear, -a sound like the merry note of a bird flying over the devastated city. -This was stifled immediately, however. Norbert, who had remained behind, -looked down at the step where she had just been sitting; there something -white shimmered; it seemed to be the papyrus leaf which Gradiva had held -on her knees yesterday and had forgotten to take with her to-day. Yet, -as he shyly reached for it, he found it to be a little sketch-book with -pencil drawings of the different ruins in several houses of Pompeii. The -page next to the last showed a drawing of the griffin-table in the -central court of the Casa di Meleagro, and on the last was the beginning -of a reproduction of the view across the poppies of the dining-room -through the row of pillars of the peristyle. That the departed girl made -drawings in a sketch-book of the present mode was as amazing as had been -the fact that she expressed her thoughts in German. Yet those were only -insignificant prodigies beside the great one of her revivification, and -apparently she used the midday hour of freedom to preserve for herself, -in their present state, with unusual artistic talent, the surroundings -in which she had once lived. The drawings testified to delicately -cultivated powers of perception, as each of her words did to a clever -intellect; and she had probably often sat by the old griffin-table, so -that it was a particularly precious reminder. - -Mechanically Norbert also went, with the little book, along the portico, -and at the place where this turned he noticed in the wall a narrow cleft -wide enough to afford, to an unusually slender figure, passage into the -adjoining building, and even farther to the Vicolo del Fauno at the -other side of the house. Suddenly, however, the idea flashed through his -mind that Zoë-Gradiva did not sink into the ground here--that was -essentially unreasonable, and he could not understand how he had ever -believed it--but went, on this street, back to her tomb. That must be in -the Street of Tombs, and rushing forth, he hastened out into the Strada -di Mercurio and as far as the gate of Hercules; but when, breathless and -reeking with perspiration, he entered this, it was already too late. The -broad Strada di Sepolcri stretched out empty and dazzlingly white, only -at its extremity, behind the glimmering curtain of radiance, a faint -shadow seemed to dissolve uncertainly before the Villa of Diomede. - - * * * * * - -Norbert Hanold passed the second half of the day with a feeling that -Pompeii was everywhere, or at least wherever he stopped, veiled in a -cloud of mist. It was not grey, gloomy and melancholy as formerly, but -rather cheerful and vari-coloured to an extraordinary degree; blue, red -and brown, chiefly a light-yellowish white and alabaster white, -interwoven with golden threads of sunbeams. This injured neither his -power of vision nor that of hearing, only, because of it, thinking was -impossible, and that produced a cloud-wall whose effect rivalled the -thickest mist. To the young archæologist it seemed almost as if hourly, -in an invisible and not otherwise noticeable way, there was brought to -him a little bottle of Vesuvio wine, which produced a continuous -whirling in his head. From this he instinctively sought to free himself -by the use of correctives, on the one hand drinking water frequently, -and on the other hand moving about as much and as far as possible. His -knowledge of medicine was not comprehensive, but it helped him to the -diagnosis that this strange condition must arise from excessive -congestion of blood in his head, perhaps associated with accelerated -action of the heart; for he felt the latter--something formerly quite -unknown to him--occasionally beating fast against his chest. Otherwise, -his thoughts, which could not penetrate into the outer world, were not -in the least inactive within, or more exactly, there was only one -thought there, which had come into sole possession and carried on a -restless, though vain activity. It continually turned about the question -of what physical nature Zoë-Gradiva might possess, whether during her -stay in the house of Meleager she was a corporeal being or only an -illusory representation of what she had formerly been. For the former, -physical, physiological and anatomical facts seemed to argue that she -had at her disposal organs of speech, and could hold a pencil with her -fingers. Yet Norbert was overwhelmed with the idea that if he should -touch her, even lightly place his hand on hers, he would then encounter -only empty air. A peculiar impulse urged him to make sure of this, but -an equally great timidity hindered him from even thinking of doing it. -For he felt that the confirmation of either of the two possibilities -must bring with it something inspiring fear. The corporeal existence of -the hand would thrill him with horror, and its lack of substance would -cause him deep pain. - -Occupied vainly with this problem, which was impossible to solve -scientifically without experiment, he arrived, in the course of his -extensive wanderings that afternoon, at the foothills of the big -mountain group of Monte Sant' Angelo, rising south from Pompeii, and -here he unexpectedly came upon an elderly man, already grey-bearded, -who, from his equipment with all sorts of implements, seemed to be a -zoologist or botanist, and appeared to be making a search on a hot, -sunny slope. He turned his head as Norbert came close to him, looked at -the latter in surprise for a moment and then said, "Are you interested -in _Faraglionensis_? I should hardly have supposed it, but it seems -thoroughly probable that they are found, not only in the _Faraglioni_ of -Capri, but also dwell permanently on the mainland. The method suggested -by my colleague, Eimer, is really good; I have already used it often -with the best of success. Please remain quite still----" - -The speaker stopped, stepped carefully forward a few paces and, -stretched out motionless on the ground, held a little snare, made of a -long grass-blade, before a narrow crevice in the rock, from which the -blue, chatoyant little head of a lizard peeped. Thus the man remained -without the slightest movement, and Norbert Hanold turned about -noiselessly behind him and returned by the way he had come. It seemed to -him dimly that he had already seen the face of the lizard-hunter once, -probably in one of the two hotels; to this fact the latter's manner -pointed. It was hardly credible what foolishly remarkable purposes could -cause people to make the long trip to Pompeii; happy that he had -succeeded in so quickly ridding himself of the snare-layer, and being -again able to direct his thoughts to the problem of corporeal reality or -unreality, he started on the return. Yet a side street misled him once -to a wrong turn and took him, instead of to the west boundary, to the -east end of the extensive old city-wall; buried in thought, he did not -notice the mistake until he had come right up to a building which was -neither the "Diomed" nor the "Hotel Suisse." In spite of this it bore -the sign of an hotel; near by he recognized the ruins of the large -Pompeiian amphitheatre, and the memory came to him that near this latter -there was another hotel, the "Albergo del Sole," which, on account of -its remoteness from the station, was sought out by only a few guests, -and had remained unknown to even him. The walk had made him hot; -besides, the cloudy whirling in his head had not diminished; so he -stepped in through the open door and ordered the remedy deemed useful by -him for blood congestion, a bottle of lime-water. The room stood empty -except, of course, for the fly-visitors gathered in full numbers, and -the unoccupied host availed himself of the opportunity to recommend -highly his house and the excavated treasures it contained. He pointed -suggestively to the fact that there were, near Pompeii, people at whose -places there was not a single genuine piece among the many objects -offered for sale, but that all were imitations, while he, satisfying -himself with a smaller number, offered his guests only things -undoubtedly genuine. For he acquired no articles which he himself had -not seen brought to the light of day, and, in the course of his -eloquence, he revealed that he had also been present when they had found -near the Forum the young lovers who had clasped each other in firm -embrace when they realized their inevitable destruction, and had thus -awaited death. Norbert had already heard of this discovery, but had -shrugged his shoulders about it as a fabulous invention of some -especially imaginative narrator, and he did so now, too, when the host -brought in to him, as authentic proof, a metal brooch encrusted with -green patina, which, in his presence, had been gathered with the remains -of the girl from the ashes. When the arrival at the "Sun Hotel" took it -in his own hand, however, the power of imagination exercised such -ascendency over him that suddenly, without further critical -consideration, he paid for it the price asked from English people, and, -with his acquisition, hastily left the "Albergo del Sole," in which, -after another turn, he saw in an open window, nodding down, an asphodel -branch covered with white blossoms, which had been placed in a -water-glass; and without needing any logical connection, it rushed -through his mind, at the sight of the grave-flower, that it was an -attestation of the genuineness of his new possession. - -This he viewed with mingled feelings of excitement and shyness, keeping -now to the way along the city-wall to Porta Marina. Then it was no fairy -tale that a couple of young lovers had been excavated near the Forum in -such an embrace, and there at the Apollo temple he had seen Gradiva lie -down to sleep, but only in a dream; that he knew now quite definitely; -in reality she might have gone on still farther from the Forum, met some -one and died with him. - -From the green brooch between his fingers a feeling passed through him -that it had belonged to Zoë-Gradiva, and had held her dress closed at -the throat. Then she was the beloved fiancée, perhaps the young wife of -him with whom she had wished to die. - -It occurred to Norbert Hanold to hurl the brooch away. It burned his -fingers as if it had become glowing, or more exactly, it caused him the -pain such as he had felt at the idea that he might put his hand on that -of Gradiva and encounter only empty air. - -Reason, nevertheless, asserted the upper hand; he did not allow himself -to be controlled by imagination against his will. However probable it -might be, there was still lacking invincible proof that the brooch had -belonged to her and that it had been she who had been discovered in the -young man's arms. This judgment made it possible for him to breathe -freely, and when at the dawn of twilight he reached the "Diomed," his -long wandering had brought to his sound constitution need of physical -refreshment. Not without appetite did he devour the rather Spartan -evening meal which the "Diomed," in spite of its Argive origin, had -adopted, and he then noticed two guests newly-arrived in the course of -the afternoon. By appearance and language they marked themselves as -Germans, a man and a woman; they both had youthful, attractive features -endowed with intellectual expressions; their relation to each other -could not be determined, yet, because of a certain resemblance, Norbert -decided that they were brother and sister. To be sure the young man's -fair hair differed in colour from her light-brown tresses. In her gown -she wore a red Sorrento rose, the sight of which, as he looked across -from his corner, stirred something in his memory without his being able -to think what it was. The couple were the first people he had met on his -journey who seemed possibly congenial. They talked with one another, -over a little bottle, in not too plainly audible tones, nor in cautious -whisperings, apparently sometimes about serious things and sometimes -about gay things, for at times there passed over her face a -half-laughing expression which was very becoming to her, and aroused the -desire to participate in their conversation, or perhaps might have -awakened it in Norbert, if he had met them two days before in the room -otherwise populated only by Anglo-Americans. Yet he felt that what was -passing through his mind stood in too strong contrast to the happy -naïveté of the couple about whom there undeniably lay not the slightest -cloud, for they doubtless were not meditating profoundly over the -essential nature of a girl who had died two thousand years ago, but, -without any weariness, were taking pleasure in an enigmatical problem of -their life of the present. His condition did not harmonize with that; on -the one hand he seemed superfluous to them, and on the other, he -recoiled from an attempt to start an acquaintance with them, for he had -a dark feeling that their bright, merry eyes might look through his -forehead into his thoughts and thereby assume an expression as if they -did not consider him quite in his right mind. Therefore he went up to -his room, stood, as yesterday, at the window, looking over to the purple -night-mantle of Vesuvius, and then he lay down to rest. Exhausted, he -soon fell asleep and dreamed, but remarkably nonsensically. Somewhere in -the sun Gradiva sat making a trap out of a blade of grass in order to -catch a lizard, and she said, "Please stay quite still--my colleague is -right; the method is really good, and she has used it with the greatest -success." - -Norbert Hanold became conscious in his dream that it was actually the -most utter madness, and he cast about to free himself from it. He -succeeded in this by the aid of an invisible bird, who seemingly uttered -a short, merry call, and carried the lizard away in its beak; afterwards -everything disappeared. - - * * * * * - -On awakening he remembered that in the night a voice had said that in -the spring one gave roses, or rather this was recalled to him through -his eyes, for his gaze, passing down from the window, came upon a bright -bush of red flowers. They were of the same kind as those which the young -lady had worn in her bosom, and when he went down he involuntarily -plucked a couple and smelled of them. In fact, there must be something -peculiar about Sorrento roses, for their fragrance seemed to him not -only wonderful, but quite new and unfamiliar, and at the same time he -felt that they had a somewhat liberating effect upon his mind. At least -they freed him from yesterday's timidity before the gatekeepers, for he -went, according to directions, in through the "ingresso" to Pompeii, -paid double the amount of admission fee, and quickly struck out upon -streets which took him from the vicinity of other visitors. The little -sketch-book from the house of Meleager he carried along with the green -brooch and the red roses, but the fragrance of the latter had made him -forget to eat breakfast, and his thoughts were not in the present, but -were directed exclusively to the noon hour, which was still far off; he -had to pass the remaining interval, and for this purpose he entered now -one house, now another, as a result of which activity the idea probably -occurred to him that Gradiva had also walked there often before or even -now sought these places out sometimes--his supposition that she was able -to do it only at noon was tottering. Perhaps she was at liberty to do it -in other hours of the day, possibly even at night in the moonlight. The -roses strengthened this supposition strangely for him, when he inhaled, -as he held them to his nose; and his deliberations, complaisant, and -open to conviction, made advances to this new idea, for he could bear -witness that he did not cling to preconceived opinions at all, but -rather gave free rein to every reasonable objection, and such there was -here without any doubt, not only logically, but desirably valid. Only -the question arose whether, upon meeting her then, the eyes of others -could see her as a corporeal being, or whether only his possessed the -ability to do that. The former was not to be denied, claimed even -probability for itself, transformed the desirable thing into quite the -opposite, and transported him into a low-spirited, restless mood. The -thought that others might also speak to her and sit down near her to -carry on a conversation with her made him indignant; to that he alone -possessed a claim, or at any rate a privilege, for he had discovered -Gradiva, of whom no one had formerly known, had observed her daily, -taken her into his life, to a degree, imparted to her his life-strength, -and it seemed to him as if he had thereby again lent to her life that -she would not have possessed without him. Therefore he felt that there -devolved upon him a right, to which he alone might make a claim, and -which he might refuse to share with anyone else. - -The advancing day was hotter than the two preceding; the sun seemed to -have set her mind to-day on a quite extraordinary feat, and made it -regrettable, not only in an archæological, but also in a practical -connection, that the water system of Pompeii had lain burst and dried up -for two thousand years. Street fountains here and there commemorated it -and likewise gave evidence of their informal use by thirsty passers-by, -who had, in order to bend forward to the jet, leaned a hand on the -marble railing and gradually dug out a sort of trough in the place, in -the same way that dropping wears away stone; Norbert observed this at a -corner of the Strada della Fortuna, and from that the idea occurred to -him that the hand of Zoë-Gradiva, too, might formerly have rested here -in that way, and involuntarily he laid his hand into the little hollow, -yet he immediately rejected the idea, and felt annoyance at himself that -he could have done it; the thought did not harmonize at all with the -nature and bearing of the young Pompeiian girl of a refined family; -there was something profane in the idea that she could have bent over so -and placed her lips on the very pipe from which the plebeians drank with -coarse mouths. In a noble sense, he had never seen anything more seemly -than her actions and movements; he was frightened by the idea that she -might be able to see by looking at him that he had had the incredibly -unreasonable thought, for her eyes possessed something penetrating; a -couple of times, when he had been with her, the feeling had seized him -that she looked as if she were seeking for access to his inmost thoughts -and were looking about them as if with a bright steel probe. He was -obliged, therefore, to take great care that she might come upon nothing -foolish in his mental processes. - -It was now an hour until noon and in order to pass it, he went -diagonally across the street into the Casa del Fauno, the most extensive -and magnificent of all the excavated houses. Like no other, it possessed -a double inner court and showed, in the larger one, on the middle of the -ground, the empty base on which had stood the famous statue of the -dancing faun after which the house had been named. Yet there stirred in -Norbert Hanold not the least regret that this work of art, valued highly -by science, was no longer here, but, together with the mosaic picture of -the Battle of Alexander, had been transferred to the Museo Nazionale in -Naples; he possessed no further intention nor desire than to let time -move along, and he wandered about aimlessly in this place through the -large building. Behind the peristyle opened a wider room, surrounded by -numerous pillars, planned either as another repetition of the peristyle -or as an ornamental garden; so it seemed at present for, like the -dining-room of the Casa di Meleagro, it was completely covered with -poppy-blooms. Absent-mindedly the visitor passed through the silent -dereliction. - -Then, however, he stopped and rested on one foot; but he found himself -not alone here; at some distance his glance fell upon two figures, who -first gave the impression of only one, because they stood as closely as -possible to each other. They did not see him, for they were concerned -only with themselves, and, in that corner, because of the pillars, might -have believed themselves undiscoverable by any other eyes. Mutually -embracing each other, they held their lips also pressed together, and -the unsuspected spectator recognized, to his amazement, that they were -the young man and woman who had last evening seemed to him the first -congenial people encountered on this trip. For brother and sister, their -present position, the embrace and the kiss, it seemed to him had lasted -too long. So it was surely another pair of lovers, probably a young -bridal couple, an Augustus and Gretchen, too. - -Strange to relate, however, the two latter did not, at the moment, enter -Norbert's mind, and the incident seemed to him not at all ridiculous nor -repulsive, rather it heightened his pleasure in them. What they were -doing seemed to him as natural as it did comprehensible; his eyes clung -to the living picture, more widely open than they ever had been to any -of the most admired works of art, and he would have gladly devoted -himself for a longer time to his observation. Yet it seemed to him that -he had wrongfully penetrated into a consecrated place and was on the -point of disturbing a secret act of devotion; the idea of being noticed -there struck terror to his heart, and he quickly turned, went back some -distance noiselessly on tiptoe and, when he had passed beyond hearing -distance, ran out with bated breath and beating heart to the Vicolo del -Fauno. - - * * * * * - -When he arrived before the house of Meleager, he did not know whether it -was already noon, and did not happen to question his watch about it, but -remained before the door, standing looking down with indecision for some -time at the "Ave" in the entrance. A fear prevented him from stepping -in, and strangely, he was equally afraid of not meeting Gradiva within, -and of finding her there; for, during the last few moments, he had felt -quite sure that, in the first case, she would be staying somewhere else -with some younger man, and, in the second case, the latter would be in -company with her on the steps between the pillars. Toward the man, -however, he felt a hate far stronger than against all the assembled -common house-flies; until to-day he had not considered it possible that -he could be capable of such violent inner excitement. The duel, which he -had always considered stupid nonsense, suddenly appeared to him in a -different light; here it became a natural right which the man injured in -his own rights, or mortally insulted, made use of as the only available -means to secure satisfaction or to part with an existence which had -become purposeless. So he suddenly stepped forward to enter; he would -challenge the bold man and would--this rushed upon him almost more -powerfully--express unreservedly to her that he had considered her -something better, more noble, and incapable of such vulgarity. - -He was so filled to the brim with this rebellious idea that he uttered -it, even though there was not apparently the least occasion for it, for, -when he had covered the distance to the dining-room with stormy haste, -he demanded violently, "Are you alone?" although appearances allowed of -no doubt that Gradiva was sitting there on the steps, just as much alone -as on the two previous days. - -She looked at him amazed and replied, "Who should still be here after -noon? Then the people are all hungry and sit down to meals. Nature has -arranged that very happily for me." - -His surging excitement could not, however, be allayed so quickly, and -without his knowledge or desire, he let slip, with the conviction of -certainty, the conjecture which had come over him outside; for he added, -to be sure somewhat foolishly, that he could really not think otherwise. - -Her bright eyes remained fixed upon his face until he had finished. Then -she made a motion with one finger against her brow and said, "You----" -After that, however, she continued, "It seems to me quite enough that I -do not remain away from here, even though I must expect that you are -coming here at this time; but the place pleases me, and I see that you -have brought me my sketch-book that I forgot here yesterday. I thank you -for your vigilance. Won't you give it to me?" The last question was well -founded, for he showed no disposition to do so, but remained motionless. -It began to dawn upon him that he had imagined and worked out a -monstrous piece of nonsense, and had also given expression to it; in -order to compensate, as far as possible, he now stepped forward hastily, -handed Gradiva the book, and at the same time sat down near her on the -step, mechanically. Casting a glance at his hand, she said, "You seem to -be a lover of roses." - -At these words he suddenly became conscious of what had caused him to -pluck and bring them and he responded, "Yes,--of course, not for myself, -have I--you spoke yesterday--and last night, too, some one said it to -me--people give them in spring." - -She pondered briefly before she answered, "Ah, so--yes, I remember. To -others, I meant, one does not give asphodel, but roses. That is polite -of you; it seems your opinion of me is improved." - -Her hand stretched out to receive the red flowers, and, handing them to -her, he rejoined, "I believed at first that you could be here only -during the noon hour, but it has become probable to me that you also, at -some other time--that makes me very happy----" - -"Why does it make you happy?" - -Her face expressed lack of comprehension--only about her lips there -passed a slight, hardly noticeable quiver. Confused, he offered, "It is -beautiful to be alive; it has never seemed so much so to me before--I -wished to ask you?" He searched in his breast pocket and added, as he -drew out the object, "Has this brooch ever belonged to you?" - -She leaned forward a little toward it, but shook her head. "No, I can't -remember. Chronologically it would, of course, not be impossible, for it -probably did not exist until this year. Did you find it in the sun -perhaps? The beautiful green patina surely seems familiar to me, as if I -had already seen it." - -Involuntarily he repeated, "In the sun?--why in the sun?" - -"'Sole' it is called here. It brings to light many things of that sort. -Was the brooch said to have belonged to a young girl who is said to have -perished, I believe, in the vicinity of the Forum, with a companion?" - -"Yes, who held his arm about her----" - -"Ah, so----" - -The two little words apparently lay upon Gradiva's tongue as a favourite -interjection, and she stopped after it for a moment before she added, -"Did you think that on that account I might have worn it? and would that -have made you a little--how did you say it before?--unhappy?" - -It was apparent that he felt extraordinarily relieved and it was audible -in his answer, "I am very happy about it--for the idea that the brooch -belonged to you made me--dizzy." - -"You seem to have a tendency for that. Did you perhaps forget to eat -breakfast this morning? That easily aggravates such attacks; I do not -suffer from them, but I make provision, as it suits me best to be here -at noon. If I can help you out of your unfortunate condition a little by -sharing my lunch with you----" - -She drew out of her pocket a piece of white bread wrapped in tissue -paper, broke it, put half into his hand, and began to devour the other -with apparent appetite. Thereby her exceptionally dainty and perfect -teeth not only gleamed between her lips with pearly glitter, but in -biting the crust caused also a crunching sound so that they gave the -impression of being not unreal phantoms, but of actual, substantial -reality. Besides, with her conjecture about the postponed breakfast, she -had, to be sure, hit upon the right thing; mechanically he, too, ate, -and felt from it a decidedly favourable effect on the clearing of his -thoughts. So, for a little while, the couple did not speak further, but -devoted themselves silently to the same practical occupation until -Gradiva said, "It seems to me as if we had already eaten our bread thus -together once two thousand years ago. Can't you remember it?" - -He could not, but it seemed strange to him now that she spoke of so -infinitely remote a past, for the strengthening of his mind by the -nourishment had brought with it a change in his brain. The idea that she -had been going around here in Pompeii such a long time ago would no -longer harmonize with sound reason; everything about her seemed of the -present, as if it could be scarcely more than twenty years old. The form -and colour of her face, the especially charming, brown, wavy hair, and -the flawless teeth; also, the idea that the bright dress, marred by no -shadow of a spot, had lain countless years in the pumice ashes contained -something in the highest degree inconsistent. Norbert was seized by a -feeling of doubt whether he were really sitting here awake or were not -more probably dreaming in his study, where, in contemplation of the -likeness of Gradiva, he had been overcome by sleep, and had dreamed that -he had gone to Pompeii, had met her as a person still living, and was -dreaming further that he was still sitting so at her side in the Casa di -Meleagro. For that she was really still alive or had been living again -could only have happened in a dream--the laws of nature raised an -objection to it---- - -To be sure, it was strange that she had just said that she had once -shared her bread with him in that way two thousand years ago. Of that he -knew nothing, and even in the dream could find nothing about it. - -Her left hand lay with the slender fingers calmly on her knees. They -bore the key to the solution of an inscrutable riddle---- - -Even in the dining-room of the Casa di Meleagro the boldness of the -common house-fly was not deterred; on the yellow pillar opposite him he -saw one running up and down in a worthless way in greedy quest; now it -whizzed right past his nose. - -He, however, had to make some answer to her question, if he did not -remember the bread that he had formerly consumed with her, and he said -suddenly, "Were the flies then as devilish as now, so that they -tormented you to death?" - -She glanced at him with utterly incomprehending astonishment and -repeated, "The flies? Have you flies on your mind now?" - -Then suddenly the black monster sat upon her hand, which did not reveal -by the slightest quiver that she noticed it. Thereupon, however, there -united in the young archæologist two powerful impulses to execute the -same deed. His hand went up suddenly and clapped with no gentle stroke -on the fly and the hand of his neighbour. - -With this blow there came to him, for the first time, sense, -consternation and also a joyous fear. He had delivered the stroke not -through empty air, but on an undoubtedly real, living and warm, human -hand which, for a moment apparently absolutely startled, remained -motionless under his. Yet then she drew it away with a jerk, and the -mouth above it said, "You are surely apparently crazy, Norbert Hanold." - -The name, which he had disclosed to no one in Pompeii, passed so easily, -assuredly and clearly from her lips that its owner jumped up from the -steps, even more terrified. At the same time there sounded in the -colonnade footsteps of people who had come near unobserved; before his -confused eyes appeared the faces of the congenial pair of lovers from -the Casa del Fauno, and the young lady cried, with a tone of greatest -surprise, "Zoë! You here, too? and also on your honeymoon? You have not -written me a word about it, you know." - - * * * * * - -Norbert was again outside before Meleager's house in the Strada di -Mercurio. How he had come there was not clear to him, it must have -happened instinctively, and, caused by a lightning-like illumination in -him, was the only thing that he could do not to present a thoroughly -ridiculous figure to the young couple, even more to the girl greeted so -pleasantly by them, who had just addressed him by his Christian and -family names, and most of all to himself. For even if he grasped -nothing, one fact was indisputable. Gradiva, with a warm, human hand, -not unsubstantial, but possessing corporeal reality, had expressed an -indubitable truth; his mind had, in the last two days, been in a -condition of absolute madness; and not at all in a silly dream, but -rather with the use of eyes and ears such as is given by nature to man -for reasonable service. Like everything else, how such a thing had -happened escaped his understanding, and only darkly did he feel that -there must have also been in the game a sixth sense which, obtaining the -upper hand in some way, had transformed something perhaps precious to -the opposite. In order to get at least a little more light on the matter -by an attempt at meditation, a remote place in solitary silence was -absolutely required; at first, however, he was impelled to withdraw as -quickly as possible from the sphere of eyes, ears and other senses, -which use their natural functions as suits their own purpose. - -As for the owner of that warm hand, she had, at any rate, from her first -expression, been surprised by the unforeseen and unexpected visit at -noon in the Casa di Meleagro in a not entirely pleasant manner. Yet, of -this, in the next instant, there was no trace to be seen in her bright -countenance; she stood up quickly, stepped toward the young lady and -said, extending her hand, "It certainly is pleasant, Gisa; chance -sometimes has a clever idea too. So this is your husband of two weeks? I -am glad to see him, and, from the appearance of both of you, I -apparently need not change my congratulations for condolence. Couples to -whom that would be applied are at this time usually sitting at lunch in -Pompeii; you are probably staying near the 'ingresso'; I shall look you -up there this afternoon. No, I have not written you anything; you won't -be offended at me for that, for you see my hand, unlike yours, is not -adorned by a ring. The atmosphere here has an extremely powerful effect -on the imagination, which I can see in you; it is better, of course, -than if it made one too matter-of-fact. The young man who just went out -is labouring also under a remarkable delusion; it seems to me that he -believes a fly is buzzing in his head; well, everyone has, of course, -some kind of bee in his bonnet. As is my duty, I have some knowledge of -entomology and can, therefore, be of a little service in such cases. My -father and I live in the 'Sole'; he, too, had a sudden and pleasing idea -of bringing me here with him if I would be responsible for my own -entertainment, and make no demands upon him. I said to myself that I -should certainly dig up something interesting alone here. Of course I -had not reckoned at all on the find which I made--I mean the good -fortune of meeting you, Gisa; but I am talking away the time, as is -usually the case with an old friend---- My father comes in out of the -sun at two o'clock to eat at the 'Sole'; so I have to keep company there -with his appetite and, therefore, I am sorry to say, must for the moment -forego your society. You will, of course, be able to view the Casa di -Meleagro without me; that I think likely, though I can't understand it, -of course. Favorisca, signor! Arrivederci, Gisetta! That much Italian I -have already learned, and one really does not need more. Whatever else -is necessary one can invent--please, no, senza complimenti!" - -This last entreaty of the speaker concerned a polite movement by which -the young husband had seemed to wish to escort her. She had expressed -herself most vividly, naturally and in a manner quite fitting to the -circumstances of the unexpected meeting of a close friend, yet with -extraordinary celerity, which testified to the urgency of the -declaration that she could not at present remain longer. So not more -than a few minutes had passed since the hasty exit of Norbert Hanold, -when she also stepped from the house of Meleager into the Strada di -Mercurio. This lay, because of the hour, enlivened only here and there -by a cringing lizard, and for a few moments the girl, hesitating, -apparently gave herself over to a brief meditation. Then she quickly -struck out in the shortest way to the gate of Hercules, at the -intersection of the Vicolo di Mercurio and the Strada di Sallustio, -crossed the stepping-stones with the gracefully buoyant Gradiva-walk, -and thus arrived very quickly at the two ruins of the side wall near the -Porta Ercolanese. Behind this there stretched at some length the Street -of Tombs, yet not dazzlingly white, nor overhung with glittering -sunbeams, as twenty-four hours ago, when the young archæologist had thus -gazed down over it with searching eyes. To-day the sun seemed to be -overcome by a feeling that she had done a little too much good in the -morning; she held a grey veil drawn before her, the condensation of -which was visibly being increased, and, as a result, the cypresses, -which grew here and there in the Strada di Sepolcri, rose unusually -sharp and black against the heavens. It was a picture different from -that of yesterday; the brilliance which mysteriously glittered over -everything was lacking; the street also assumed a certain gloomy -distinctness, and had at present a dead aspect which honoured its name. -This impression was not diminished by an isolated movement at its end, -but was rather heightened by it; there, in the vicinity of the Villa of -Diomede, a phantom seemed to be looking for its grave, and disappeared -under one of the monuments. - -It was not the shortest way from the house of Meleager to the "Albergo -del Sole," rather the exactly opposite direction, but Zoë-Gradiva must -have also decided that time was not yet importuning so violently to -lunch, for after a quite brief stop at the Hercules Gate, she walked -farther along the lava-blocks of the Street of Tombs, every time raising -the sole of her lingering foot almost perpendicularly. - - * * * * * - -The Villa of Diomede--named thus, for people of the present, after a -monument which a certain freed-man, Marcus Arrius Diomedes, formerly -promoted to the directorship of this city-section, had erected near by -for his lady, Arria, as well as for himself and his relatives--was a -very extensive building and concealed within itself a part of the -history of the destruction of Pompeii not invented by imagination. A -confusion of extensive ruins formed the upper part; below lay an -unusually large sunken garden surrounded by a well-preserved portico of -pillars with scanty remnants of a fountain and a small temple in the -middle; and farther along two stairways led down to a circular -cellar-vault, lighted only dimly by gloomy twilight. The ashes of -Vesuvius had penetrated into this also, and the skeletons of eighteen -women and children had been found here; seeking protection they had -fled, with some hastily gathered provisions, into the half-subterranean -space, and the deceptive refuge had become the tomb of all. In another -place the supposed, nameless master of the house lay, also stretched out -choked on the ground; he had wished to escape through the locked -garden-door, for he held the key to it in his fingers. Beside him -cowered another skeleton, probably that of a servant, who was carrying a -considerable number of gold and silver coins. The bodies of the -unfortunates had been preserved by the hardened ashes; in the museum at -Naples there is under glass, the exact impression of the neck, shoulders -and beautiful bosom of a young girl clad in a fine, gauzy garment. - -The Villa of Diomede had, at one time, at least, been the inevitable -goal of every dutiful Pompeii visitor, but now, at noon, in its rather -roomy solitude, certainly no curiosity lingered in it, and therefore it -had seemed to Norbert Hanold the place of refuge best suited to his -newest mental needs. These longed most insistently for grave-like -loneliness, breathless silence, and quiescent peace; against the latter, -however, an impelling restlessness in his system raised counter-claims, -and he had been obliged to force an agreement between the two demands, -such that the mind tried to claim its own and yet gave the feet liberty -to follow their impulse. So he had been wandering around through the -portico since his entrance; he succeeded thus in preserving his bodily -equilibrium, and he busied himself with changing his mental state into -the same normal condition; that, however, seemed more difficult in -execution than in intention; of course it seemed to his judgment -unquestionable that he had been utterly foolish and irrational to -believe that he had sat with a young Pompeiian girl, who had become more -or less corporeally alive again, and this clear view of his madness -formed incontestably an essential advance on the return to sound reason; -but it was not yet restored entirely to normal condition, for, even if -it had occurred to him that Gradiva was only a dead bas-relief, it was -also equally beyond doubt that she was still alive. For that irrefutable -proof was adduced; not he alone, but others also, saw her, knew that her -name was Zoë and spoke with her, as with a being as much alive, in -substance, as they. On the other hand, however, she knew his name too, -and again, that could originate only from a supernatural power; this -dual nature remained enigmatic even for the rays of understanding that -were entering his mind. Yet to this incompatible duality there was -joined a similar one in him, for he cherished the earnest desire to have -been destroyed here in the Villa of Diomede two thousand years ago, in -order that he might not run the risk of meeting Zoë-Gradiva again -anywhere; at the same time, however, an extraordinary joyous feeling was -stirring within him, because he was still alive and was therefore able -to meet her again somewhere. To use a commonplace yet fitting simile, -this was turning in his head like a mill-wheel, and through the long -portico he ran around likewise without stopping, which did not aid him -in the explanation of the contradictions. On the contrary, he was moved -by an indefinite feeling that everything was growing darker and darker -about and within him. - -Then he suddenly recoiled, as he turned one of the four corners of the -colonnade. A half-dozen paces away from him there sat, rather high up on -a fragmentary wall-ruin, one of the young girls who had found death here -in the ashes. - -No, that was nonsense, which his reason rejected. His eyes, too, and a -nameless something else recognized that fact. It was Gradiva; she was -sitting on a stone ruin as she had formerly sat on the step, only, as -the former was considerably higher, her slender feet, which hung down -free in the sand-colour shoes, were visible up to her dainty ankles. - -With an instinctive movement, Norbert was at first about to run out -between the pillars through the garden; what, for a half-hour, he had -feared most of anything in the world had suddenly appeared, viewed him -with bright eyes and with lips which, he felt, were about to burst into -mocking laughter; yet they didn't, but the familiar voice rang out -calmly from them, "You'll get wet outside." - -Now, for the first time, he saw that it was raining; for that reason it -had become so dark. That unquestionably was an advantage to all the -plants about and in Pompeii, but that a human being in the place would -be benefited by it was ridiculous, and for the moment Norbert Hanold -feared, far more than danger of death, appearing ridiculous. Therefore -he involuntarily gave up the attempt to get away, stood there, helpless, -and looked at the two feet, which now, as if somewhat impatient, were -swinging back and forth; and as this view did not have so clearing an -effect upon his thoughts that he could find expression for them, the -owner of the dainty feet again took up the conversation. "We were -interrupted before; you were just going to tell me something about -flies--I imagined that you were making scientific investigations -here--or about a fly in your head. Did you succeed in catching and -destroying the one on my hand?" - -This last she said with a smiling expression about her lips, which, -however, was so faint and charming that it was not at all terrifying. On -the contrary, it now lent to the questioned man power of speech, but -with this limitation, that the young archæologist suddenly did not know -how to address her. In order to escape this dilemma, he found it best to -avoid that and replied, "I was--as they say--somewhat confused mentally -and ask pardon that I--the hand--in that way--how I could be so stupid, -I can't understand--but I can't understand either how its owner could -use my name in upbraiding me for my--my madness." - -Gradiva's feet stopped moving and she rejoined, still addressing him -familiarly, "Your power of understanding has not yet progressed that -far, Norbert Hanold. Of course, I cannot be surprised, for you have long -ago accustomed me to it. To make that discovery again I should not have -needed to come to Pompeii, and you could have confirmed it for me a good -hundred miles nearer." - -"A hundred miles nearer"--he repeated, perplexed and half -stuttering--"where is that?" - -"Diagonally across from your house, in the corner house; in my window, -in a cage, is a canary." - -Like a memory from far away this last word moved the hearer, who -repeated, "A canary"--and he added, stuttering more--"He--he sings?" - -"They usually do, especially in spring when the sun begins to seem warm -again. In that house lives my father, Richard Bertgang, professor of -zoology." - -Norbert Hanold's eyes opened to a width never before attained by them, -and then he said, "Bertgang--then are you--are you--Miss Zoë Bertgang? -But she looked quite different----" - -The two dangling feet began again to swing a little, and Miss Zoë -Bertgang said in reply, "If you find that form of address more suitable -between us, I can use it too, you know, but the other came to me more -naturally. I don't know whether I looked different when we used to run -about before with each other as friends every day, and occasionally beat -and cuffed each other, for a change, but if, in recent years, you had -favoured me with even one glance, you might perhaps have seen that I -have looked like this for a long time.--No, now, as they say, it's -pouring pitchforks; you won't have a dry stitch." - -Not only had the feet of the speaker indicated a return of impatience, -or whatever it might be, but also in the tones of her voice there -appeared a little didactic, ill-humoured curtness, and Norbert had -thereby been overwhelmed by a feeling that he was running the risk of -slipping into the rôle of a big school-boy scolded and slapped in the -face. That caused him to again seek mechanically for an exit between the -pillars, and to the movement which showed this impulse Miss Zoë's last -utterance, indifferently added, had reference; and, of course, in an -undeniably striking way, because for what was now occurring outside of -the shelter, "pouring" was really a mild term. A tropical cloudburst -such as only seldom took pity on the summer thirst of the meadows of the -Campagna, was shooting vertically and rushing as if the Tyrrhenian Sea -were pouring from heaven upon the Villa of Diomede, and yet it continued -like a firm wall composed of billions of drops gleaming like pearls and -large as nuts. That, indeed, made escape out into the open air -impossible, and forced Norbert Hanold to remain in the school-room of -the portico while the young school-mistress with the delicate, clever -face made use of the hindrance for further extension of her pedagogical -discussion by continuing, after a brief pause:-- - -"Then up to the time when people call us 'Backfisch,' for some unknown -reason, I had really acquired a remarkable attachment for you and -thought that I could never find a more pleasing friend in the world. -Mother, sister, or brother I had not, you know; to my father a slow-worm -in alcohol was far more interesting than I, and people (I count girls -such) must surely have something with which they can occupy their -thoughts and the like. Then you were that something, but when archæology -overcame you, I made the discovery that you--excuse the familiarity, but -your new formality sounds absurd to me--I was saying that I imagined -that you had become an intolerable person, who had no longer, at least -for me, an eye in his head, a tongue in his mouth, nor any of the -memories that I retained of our childhood friendship. So I probably -looked different from what I did formerly, for when, occasionally, I met -you at a party, even last winter, you did not look at me and I did not -hear your voice; in this, of course, there was nothing which marked me -out especially, for you treated all the others in the same way. To you I -was but air, and you, with your shock of light hair, which I had -formerly pulled so often, were as boresome, dry and tongue-tied as a -stuffed cockatoo and at the same time as grandiose as an--archæopteryx; -I believe the excavated, antediluvian bird-monster is so called; but -that your head harboured an imagination so magnificent as here in -Pompeii to consider me something excavated and restored to life--I had -not surmised that of you, and when you suddenly stood before me -unexpectedly, it cost me some effort at first to understand what kind of -incredible fancy your imagination had invented. Then I was amused, and, -in spite of its madness, it was not entirely displeasing to me. For, as -I said, I had not expected it of you." - -With that, her expression and tone somewhat mollified at the end, Miss -Zoë Bertgang finished her unreserved, detailed and instructive lecture, -and it was indeed notable how exactly she then resembled the figure of -Gradiva on the bas-relief, not only in her features, her form, her eyes, -expressive of wisdom, and her charmingly wavy hair, but also in her -graceful manner of walking which he had often seen; her drapery, too, -dress and scarf of a cream-coloured, fine cashmere material which fell -in soft, voluminous folds, completed the extraordinary resemblance of -her whole appearance. There might have been much foolishness in the -belief that a young Pompeiian girl, destroyed two thousand years ago by -Vesuvius, could sometimes walk around alive again, speak, draw and eat -bread, but even if the belief brought happiness, it assumed everywhere, -in the bargain, a considerable amount of incomprehensibility; and in -consideration of all the circumstances, there was incontestably present, -in the judgment of Norbert Hanold, some mitigating ground for his -madness in for two days considering Gradiva a resurrection. - -Although he stood there dry under the portico roof, there was -established, not quite ineptly, a comparison between him and a wet -poodle, who has had a bucketful of water thrown on his head; but the -cold shower-bath had really done him good. Without knowing exactly why, -he felt that he was breathing much more easily. In that, of course, the -change of tone at the end of the sermon--for the speaker sat as if in a -pulpit-chair--might have helped especially; at least thereat a -transfigured light appeared in his eyes, such as awakened hope for -salvation through faith produces in the eyes of an ardently affected -church-attendant; and as the rebuke was now over, and there seemed no -necessity for fearing a further continuation, he succeeded in saying, -"Yes, now I recognize--no, you have not changed at all--it is you, -Zoë--my good, happy, clever comrade--it is most strange----" - -"That a person must die to become alive again; but for archæologists -that is of course necessary." - -"No, I mean your name----" - -"Why is it strange?" - -The young archæologist showed himself familiar with not only the -classical languages, but also with the etymology of German, and -continued, "Because Bertgang has the same meaning as Gradiva and -signifies 'the one splendid in walking.'" - -Miss Zoë Bertgang's two sandal-like shoes were, for the moment, because -of their movement, reminiscent of an impatiently see-sawing wagtail -waiting for something; yet the possessor of the feet which walked so -magnificently seemed not at present to be paying any attention to -philological explanations; by her countenance she gave the impression of -being occupied with some hasty plan, but was restrained from it by an -exclamation of Norbert Hanold's which audibly emanated from deepest -conviction, "What luck, though, that you are not Gradiva, but are like -the congenial young lady!" - -That caused an expression as of interested surprise to pass over her -face, and she asked, "Who is that? Whom do you mean?" - -"The one who spoke to you in Meleager's house." - -"Do you know her?" - -"Yes, I had already seen her. She was the first person who seemed -especially congenial to me." - -"So? Where did you see her?" - -"This morning, in the House of the Faun. There the couple were doing -something very strange." - -"What were they doing?" - -"They did not see me and they kissed each other." - -"That was really very reasonable, you know. Why else are they in Pompeii -on their wedding trip?" - -At one blow with the last word the former picture changed before Norbert -Hanold's eyes, for the old wall-ruin lay there empty, because the girl, -who had chosen it as a seat, teacher's chair and pulpit, had come down, -or really flown, and with the same supple buoyancy as that of a wagtail -swinging through the air, so that she already stood again on -Gradiva-feet, before his glance had consciously caught up with her -descent; and continuing her speech directly, she said, "Well, the rain -has stopped; too severe rulers do not reign long. That is reasonable, -too, you know, and thus everything has again become reasonable. I, not -least of all, and you can look up Gisa Hartleben, or whatever new name -she has, to be of scientific assistance to her about the purpose of her -stay in Pompeii. I must now go to the 'Albergo del Sole,' for my father -is probably waiting for me already at lunch. Perhaps we shall meet again -sometime at a party in Germany or on the moon. Addio!" - -Zoë Bertgang said this in the absolutely polite, but also equally -indifferent tone of a most well-bred young lady, and, as was her custom, -placing her left foot forward, raised the sole of the right almost -perpendicularly to pass out. As she lifted her dress slightly with her -left hand, because of the thoroughly wet ground outside, the resemblance -to Gradiva was perfect and the man, standing hardly more than two -arm-lengths away, noticed for the first time a quite insignificant -deviation in the living picture from the stone one. The latter lacked -something possessed by the former, which appeared at the moment quite -clear, a little dimple in her cheek, which produced a slight, -indefinable effect. It puckered and wrinkled a little and could -therefore express annoyance or a suppressed impulse to laugh, possibly -both together. Norbert Hanold looked at it and although from the -evidence just presented to him he had completely regained his reason, -his eyes had to again submit to an optical illusion. For, in a tone -triumphing peculiarly over his discovery, he cried out, "There is the -fly again!" - -It sounded so strange that from the incomprehending listener, who could -not see herself, escaped the question, "The fly--where?" - -"There on your cheek!" and immediately the man, as he answered, suddenly -twined an arm about her neck and snapped, this time with his lips, at -the insect so deeply abhorrent to him, which vision juggled before his -eyes deceptively in the little dimple. Apparently, however, without -success, for right afterwards he cried again, "No, now it's on your -lips!" and thereupon, quick as a flash, he directed thither his attempt -to capture, now remaining so long that no doubt could survive that he -succeeded in completely accomplishing his purpose, and strange to relate -the living Gradiva did not hinder him at all, and when her mouth, after -about a minute, was forced to struggle for breath, restored to powers of -speech, she did not say, "You are really crazy, Norbert Hanold," but -rather allowed a most charming smile to play more visibly than before -about her red lips; she had been convinced more than ever of the -complete recovery of his reason. - -The Villa of Diomede had two thousand years ago seen and heard horrible -things in an evil hour, yet at the present it heard and saw, for about -an hour, only things not at all suited to inspire horror. Then, however, -a sensible idea became uppermost in Miss Zoë Bertgang's mind and as a -result, she said, against her wishes, "Now, I must _really_ go, or my -poor father will starve. It seems to me you can to-day forego Gisa -Hartleben's company at noon, for you have nothing more to learn from her -and ought to be content with us in the 'Sun Hotel.'" - -From this it was to be concluded that daring that hour something must -have been discussed, for it indicated a helpful desire to instruct, -which the young lady vented on Norbert. Yet, from the reminding words, -he did not gather this, but something which, for the first time, he was -becoming terribly conscious of; this was apparent in the repetition, -"Your father--what will he----?" - -Miss Zoë, however, interrupted, without any sign of awakened anxiety, -"Probably he will do nothing; I am not an indispensable piece in his -zoological collection; if I were, my heart would probably not have clung -to you so unwisely. Besides, from my early years, I have been sure that -a woman is of use in the world only when she relieves a man of the -trouble of deciding household matters; I generally do this for my -father, and therefore you can also be rather at ease about your future. -Should he, however, by chance, in this case, have an opinion different -from mine, we will make it as simple as possible. You go over to Capri -for a couple of days; there, with a grass snare--you can practise making -them on my little finger--catch a lizard _Faraglionensis_. Let it go -here again, and catch it before his eyes. Then give him free choice -between it and me, and you will have me so surely that I am sorry for -you. Toward his colleague, Eimer, however, I feel to-day that I have -formerly been ungrateful, for without his genial invention of -lizard-catching I should probably not have come into Meleager's house, -and that would have been a shame, not only for you, but for me too." - -This last view she expressed outside of the Villa of Diomede and, alas, -there was no person present on earth who could make any statements about -the voice and manner of talking of Gradiva. Yet even if they had -resembled those of Zoë Bertgang, as everything else about her did, they -must have possessed a quite unusually beautiful and roguish charm. - -By this, at least, Norbert Hanold was so strongly overwhelmed that, -exalted to poetic flights, he cried out, "Zoë, you dear life and lovely -present--we shall take our wedding-trip to Italy and Pompeii." - -That was a decided proof of how different circumstances can also produce -a transformation in a human being and at the same time unite with it a -weakening of the memory. For it did not occur to him at all that he -would thereby expose himself and his companion on the journey to the -danger of receiving, from misanthropic, ill-humoured railway companions, -the names Augustus and Gretchen, but at the moment he was thinking so -little about it that they walked along hand in hand through the old -Street of Tombs in Pompeii. Of course this, too, did not stamp itself -into their minds at present as such, for a cloudless sky shone and -laughed again above it; the sun stretched out a golden carpet on the old -lava-blocks; Vesuvius spread its misty pine-cone; and the whole -excavated city seemed overwhelmed, not with pumice and ashes, but with -pearls and diamonds, by the beneficent rain-storm. - -The brilliance in the eyes of the young daughter of the zoologist -rivalled these, but to the announced desire about the destination of -their journey by her childhood friend who had, in a way, also been -excavated from the ashes, her wise lips responded: "I think we won't -worry about that to-day; that is a thing which may better be left by -both of us to more and maturer consideration and future promptings. I, -at least, do not yet feel quite alive enough now for such geographical -decisions." - -That showed that the speaker possessed great modesty about the quality -of her insight into things about which she had never thought until -to-day. They had arrived again at the Hercules Gate, where, at the -beginning of the Strada Consolare, old stepping-stones crossed the -street. Norbert Hanold stopped before them and said with a peculiar -tone, "Please go ahead here." A merry, comprehending, laughing -expression lurked around his companion's mouth, and, raising her dress -slightly with her left hand, Gradiva _rediviva_ Zoë Bertgang, viewed by -him with dreamily observing eyes, crossed with her calmly buoyant walk, -through the sunlight, over the stepping-stones, to the other side of the -street. - - - - - _PART II_ - - DELUSION AND DREAM - - IN - - WILHELM JENSEN'S _GRADIVA_ - - BY - - DR. SIGMUND FREUD - - - - - DELUSION AND DREAM - - - I - -In a circle of men who take it for granted that the basic riddle of the -dream has been solved by the efforts of the present writer,[1] curiosity -was aroused one day concerning those dreams which have never been -dreamed, those created by authors, and attributed to fictitious -characters in their productions. The proposal to submit this kind of -dream to investigation might appear idle and strange; but from one -view-point it could be considered justifiable. It is, to be sure, not at -all generally believed that the dreamer dreams something senseful and -significant. Science and the majority of educated people smile when one -offers them the task of interpreting dreams. Only people still clinging -to superstition, who give continuity, thereby, to the convictions of the -ancients, will not refrain from interpreting dreams, and the writer of -_Traumdeutung_ has dared, against the protests of orthodox science, to -take sides with the ancients and superstitious. He is, of course, far -from accepting in dreams a prevision of the future, for the disclosure -of which man has, from time immemorial, striven vainly. He could not, -however, completely reject the connections of dreams with the future, -for, after completing some arduous analysis, the dreams seemed to him to -represent _the fulfilment of a wish_ of the dreamer; and who could -dispute that wishes are preponderantly concerned with the future? - -I have just said that the dream is a fulfilled wish. Whoever is not -afraid to toil through a difficult book, whoever does not demand that a -complicated problem be insincerely and untruthfully presented to him as -easy and simple, to save his own effort, may seek in the above-mentioned -_Traumdeutung_ ample proof of this statement, and may, until then, cast -aside the objection that will surely be expressed against the -equivalence of dreams and wish-fulfilment. - -We have, however, anticipated. The question is not now one of -establishing whether the meaning of a dream is, in every case, to be -interpreted as the fulfilment of a wish, or, just as frequently, as an -anxious expectation, an intention or deliberation, etc. The first -question is, rather, whether the dream has any meaning at all, whether -one should grant it the value of a psychic process. Science answers, -_No_; it explains the dream as a purely physiological process, behind -which one need not seek meaning, significance nor intention. Physical -excitations play, during sleep, on the psychic instrument and bring into -consciousness sometimes some, sometimes other ideas devoid of psychic -coherence. Dreams are comparable only to convulsions, not to expressive -movements. - -In this dispute over the estimation of dreams, writers seem to stand on -the same side with the ancients, superstitious people and the author of -_Traumdeutung_. For, when they cause the people created by their -imagination to dream, they follow the common experience that people's -thoughts and feelings continue into sleep, and they seek only to depict -the psychic states of their heroes through the dreams of the latter. -Story-tellers are valuable allies, and their testimony is to be rated -high, for they usually know many things between heaven and earth that -our academic wisdom does not even dream of. In psychic knowledge, -indeed, they are far ahead of us ordinary people, because they draw from -sources that we have not yet made accessible for science. Would that -this partizanship of literary workers for the senseful nature of dreams -were only more unequivocal! Sharper criticism might object that writers -take sides neither for nor against the psychic significance of an -isolated dream; they are satisfied to show how the sleeping psyche stirs -under the stimuli which have remained active in it as off-shoots of -waking life. - -Our interest for the way in which story-tellers make use of dreams is -not, however, made less intense by this disillusionment. Even if the -investigation should teach nothing of the nature of dreams, it may -perhaps afford us, from this angle, a little insight into the nature of -creative literary production. Actual dreams are considered to be -unrestrained and irregular formations, and now come the free copies of -such dreams; but there is much less freedom and arbitrariness in psychic -life than we are inclined to believe, perhaps none at all. What we, -laity, call chance resolves itself, to an acknowledged degree, into -laws; also, what we call arbitrariness in psychic life rests on laws -only now dimly surmised. Let us see! - -There are two possible methods for this investigation; one is -engrossment with a special case, with the dream-creations of one writer -in one of his works; the other consists in bringing together and -comparing all the examples of the use of dreams which are found in the -works of different story-tellers. The second way seems to be by far the -more effective, perhaps the only justifiable one, for it frees us -immediately from the dangers connected with the conception of "the -writer" as an artistic unity. This unity falls to pieces in -investigations of widely different writers, among whom we are wont to -honour some, individually, as the most profound connoisseurs of psychic -life. Yet these pages will be filled by an investigation of the former -kind. It so happened, in the group of men who started the idea, that -some one remembered that the bit of fiction which he had most recently -enjoyed contained several dreams which looked at him with familiar -expression and invited him to try on them the method of _Traumdeutung_. -He admitted that the material and setting of the little tale had been -partly responsible for the origin of his pleasure, for the story was -unfolded in Pompeii, and concerned a young archæologist who had given up -interest in life, for that in the remains of the classic past, and now, -by a remarkable but absolutely correct détour, was brought back to life. -During the perusal of this really poetic material, the reader -experienced all sorts of feelings of familiarity and concurrence. The -tale was Wilhelm Jensen's _Gradiva_, a little romance designated by its -author himself "A Pompeian Fancy." - -In order that my further references may be to familiar material, I must -now ask my readers to lay aside this pamphlet, and replace it for some -time with _Gradiva_, which first appeared in the book world in 1903. To -those who have already read _Gradiva_, I will recall the content of the -story in a short epitome, and hope that their memory will of itself -restore all the charm of which the story is thereby stripped. - -A young archæologist, Norbert Hanold, has discovered at Rome, in a -collection of antiques, a bas-relief which attracts him so exceptionally -that he is delighted to be able to get an excellent plaster-cast of it -which he can hang up in his study in a German university-city and study -with interest. The relief represents a mature young girl walking. She -has gathered up her voluminous gown slightly, so that her sandalled feet -become visible. One foot rests wholly on the ground; the other is raised -to follow and touches the ground only with the tips of the toes while -sole and heel rise almost perpendicularly. The unusual and especially -charming walk represented had probably aroused the artist's attention, -and now, after so many centuries, captivates the eye of our -archæological observer. - -This interest of the hero in the described bas-relief is the basic -psychological fact of our story. It is not immediately explicable. -"Doctor Norbert Hanold, docent of archæology, really found in the relief -nothing noteworthy for his science." (_Gradiva_, p. 14.) "He could not -explain what quality in it had aroused his attention; he knew only that -he had been attracted by something and this effect of the first view had -remained unchanged since then," but his imagination does not cease to be -occupied with the relief. He finds in it a "sense of present time," as -if the artist had fixed the picture on the street "from life." He -confers upon the girl represented walking a name, Gradiva, "the girl -splendid in walking," spins a yarn that she is the daughter of a -distinguished family, perhaps of a "patrician ædile, whose office was -connected with the worship of Ceres," and is on the way to the temple of -the goddess. Then it is repulsive to him to place her in the mob of a -metropolis; rather he convinces himself that she is to be transported to -Pompeii, and is walking there somewhere on the peculiar stepping-stones -which have been excavated; these made a dry crossing possible in rainy -weather, and yet also afforded passage for chariot-wheels. The cut of -her features seems to him Greek, her Hellenic ancestry unquestionable. -All of his science of antiquity gradually puts itself at the service of -this or other fancies connected with the relief. - -Then, however, there obtrudes itself upon him a would-be scientific -problem which demands solution. Now it is a matter of his passing a -critical judgment "whether the artist had reproduced Gradiva's manner of -walking from life." He cannot produce it in himself; in the search for -the "real existence" of this gait, he arrives only at "observation from -life for the purpose of enlightenment on the matter" (_G._ p. 18). This -forces him, to be sure, to a mode of action utterly foreign to him. -"Women had formerly been for him only a conception in marble or bronze, -and he had never given his feminine contemporaries the least -consideration." Society life has always seemed to him an unavoidable -torture; young ladies whom he meets, in such connections, he fails to -see and hear, to such a degree that, on the next encounter, he passes -without greeting, which, of course, serves to place him in an -unfavourable light with them. Now, however, the scientific task which he -has imposed upon himself forces him in dry weather, but especially in -wet weather, to observe diligently the feet of ladies and girls on the -street, an activity which yields him many a displeased and many an -encouraging glance from those observed. "Yet one was as incomprehensible -to him as the other." (_G._ p. 19.) As a result of these careful -studies, he finds that Gradiva's gait cannot be proved to exist really, -a fact which fills him with regret and annoyance. - -Soon afterwards he has a terribly frightful dream, which transports him -to old Pompeii on the day of the eruption of Vesuvius, and makes him an -eye-witness of the destruction of the city. "As he stood thus at the -edge of the Forum near the Jupiter temple, he suddenly saw Gradiva a -short distance in front of him. Until then no thought of her presence -there had moved him, but now suddenly it seemed natural to him, as she -was, of course, a Pompeiian girl, that she was living in her native city -and, _without his having any suspicion of it, was his contemporary_." -(_G._ p. 20.) Fear about her impending fate draws from him a cry of -warning, in answer to which the unperturbed apparition turns her face -toward him. Unconcerned, she continues her way to the portico of the -temple, sits down there on a step and slowly rests her head upon it, -while her face keeps growing paler, as if it were turning to white -marble. As he hastens after her, he finds her, with calm countenance, -stretched out, as if sleeping, on the broad step; soon the rain of ashes -buries her form. - -When he awakes, he thinks he is still hearing the confused cries of the -Pompeiians, who are seeking safety, and the dully resounding boom of the -turbulent sea; but even after his returning senses have recognized these -noises as the waking expressions of life in the noisy metropolis, he -retains for some time the belief in the reality of what he has dreamed; -when he has finally rid himself of the idea that he was really present, -nearly two thousand years ago, at the destruction of Pompeii, there yet -remains to him, as a firm conviction, the idea that Gradiva lived in -Pompeii and was buried there in the year 79. His fancies about Gradiva, -due to the after-effects of this dream, continue so that he now, for the -first time, begins to mourn her as lost. - -While he leans from his window, prepossessed with these ideas, a canary, -warbling his song in a cage at an open window of the house opposite, -attracts his attention. Suddenly something like a thrill passes through -the man not yet completely awakened from his dream. He believes that he -sees, in the street, a figure like that of his Gradiva, and even -recognizes the gait characteristic of her; without deliberation he -hastens to the street to overtake her, and the laughter and jeers of the -people, at his unconventional morning attire, first drive him quickly -back home. In his room, it is again the singing canary in the cage who -occupies him and stimulates him to a comparison with himself. He, too, -is sitting in a cage, he finds, yet it is easier for him to leave his -cage. As if from added after-effect of the dream, perhaps also under the -influence of the mild spring air, he decides to take a spring trip to -Italy, for which a scientific motive is soon found, even if "the impulse -for travel had originated in a nameless feeling" (_G._ p. 28). - -We will stop a moment at this most loosely motivated journey and take a -closer look at the personality, as well as the activities of our hero. -He seems to us still incomprehensible and foolish; we have no idea of -how his special folly is to acquire enough human appeal to compel our -interest. It is the privilege of the author of _Gradiva_ to leave us in -such a quandary; with his beauty of diction and his judicious selection -of incident, he presently rewards our confidence and the undeserved -sympathy which we still grant to his hero. Of the latter we learn that -he is already destined by family tradition to be an antiquarian, has -later, in isolation and independence, submerged himself completely in -his science, and has withdrawn entirely from life and its pleasures. -Marble and bronze are, for his feelings, the only things really alive -and expressing the purpose and value of human life. Yet, perhaps with -kind intent, Nature has put into his blood a thoroughly unscientific -sort of corrective, a most lively imagination, which can impress itself -not only on his dreams, but also on his waking life. By such separation -of imagination and intellectual capacity, he is destined to be a poet or -a neurotic, and he belongs to that race of beings whose realm is not of -this world. So it happens that his interest is fixed upon a bas-relief -which represents a girl walking in an unusual manner, that he spins a -web of fancies about it, invents a name and an ancestry for it, and -transports the person created by him into Pompeii, which was buried more -than eighteen hundred years ago. Finally, after a remarkable -anxiety-dream he intensifies the fancy of the existence and destruction -of the girl named Gradiva into a delusion which comes to influence his -acts. These performances of imagination would appear to us strange and -inscrutable, if we should encounter them in a really living person. As -our hero, Norbert Hanold, is a creature of an author, we should like to -ask the latter timidly if his fancy has been determined by any power -other than his own arbitrariness. - -We left our hero just as he is apparently being moved by the song of a -canary to take a trip to Italy, the motive for which is apparently not -clear to him. We learn, further, that neither destination nor purpose -are firmly established in his mind. An inner restlessness and -dissatisfaction drive him from Rome to Naples and farther on from there; -he encounters the swarm of honeymoon travellers, and, forced to notice -the tender "Augustuses" and "Gretchens," is utterly unable to understand -the acts and impulses of the couples. He arrives at the conclusion that, -of all the follies of humanity, "marriage, at any rate, took the prize -as the greatest and most incomprehensible one, and the senseless wedding -trips to Italy somehow capped the climax of this buffoonery." (_G._ p. -30.) At Rome, disturbed in his sleep by the proximity of a loving -couple, he flees, forthwith, to Naples, only to find there another -"Augustus" and "Gretchen." As he believes that he understands from their -conversation that the majority of those bird-couples does not intend to -nest in the rubbish of Pompeii, but to take flight to Capri, he decides -to do what they do not do, and finds himself in Pompeii, "contrary to -expectations and intentions," a few days after the beginning of his -journey--without, however, finding there the peace which he seeks. - -The rôle which, until then, has been played by the honeymoon couples, -who made him uneasy and vexed his senses, is now assumed by house-flies, -in which he is inclined to see the incarnation of absolute evil and -worthlessness. The two tormentors blend into one; many fly-couples -remind him of honeymoon travellers, address each other probably, in -their language, also as "My only Augustus" and "My sweet Gretchen." - -Finally he cannot help admitting "that his dissatisfaction was certainly -caused not by his surroundings alone, but to a degree found its origin -in him." (_G._ p. 40.) He feels that he is out of sorts because he lacks -something without being able to explain what. - -The next morning he goes through the "ingresso" to Pompeii and, after -taking leave of the guide, roams aimlessly through the city, notably, -however, without remembering that he has been present in a dream some -time before at the destruction of Pompeii. Therefore in the "hot, holy" -hour of noon, which the ancients, you know, considered the ghost-hour, -when the other visitors have taken flight and the heap of ruins, -desolate and steeped in sunlight, lies before him, there stirs in him -the ability to transport himself back into the buried life, but not with -the aid of science. "What it taught was a lifeless, archæological view -and what came from its mouth was a dead, philological language. These -helped in no way to a comprehension with soul, mind and heart, as the -saying is, but he, who possessed a desire for that, had to stand alone -here, the only living person in the hot noonday silence, among the -remains of the past, in order not to see with physical eyes nor hear -with corporeal ears. Then--the dead awoke, and Pompeii began to live -again." (_G._ p. 48.) While thus, by means of his imagination, he endows -the past with life, he suddenly sees, indubitably, the Gradiva of his -bas-relief step out of a house and buoyantly cross the lava -stepping-stones, just as he had seen her in the dream that night when -she had lain down to sleep on the steps of the Apollo temple. "With this -memory he became conscious, for the first time, of something else; he -had, without himself knowing the motive in his heart, come to Italy on -that account, and had, without stop, continued from Rome and Naples to -Pompeii to see if he could here find trace of her--and that in a literal -sense--for, with her unusual gait, she must have left behind in the -ashes a foot-print different from all the others." (_G._ p. 50.) - -The suspense, in which the author of _Gradiva_ has kept us up to this -point, mounts here, for a moment, to painful confusion. Not only because -our hero has apparently lost his equilibrium, but also because, -confronted with the appearance of Gradiva, who was formerly a -plaster-cast and then a creation of imagination, we are lost. Is it a -hallucination of our deluded hero, a "real" ghost, or a corporeal -person? Not that we need to believe in ghosts to draw up this list. -Jensen, who named his tale a "Fancy," has, of course, found no occasion, -as yet, to explain to us whether he wishes to leave us in our world, -decried as dull and ruled by the laws of science, or to conduct us into -another fantastic one, in which reality is ascribed to ghosts and -spirits. As _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_ show, we are ready to follow him into -such a place without hesitation. The delusion of the imaginative -archæologist would need, in that case, to be measured by another -standard. Yes, when we consider how improbable must be the real -existence of a person who faithfully reproduces in her appearance that -antique bas-relief, our list shrinks to an alternative: hallucination or -ghost of the noon hour. A slight touch in the description eliminates the -former possibility. A large lizard lies stretched out, motionless, in -the sunlight; it flees, however, before the approaching foot of Gradiva -and wriggles away over the lava pavement. So, no hallucination; -something outside of the mind of our dreamer. But ought the reality of a -_rediviva_ to be able to disturb a lizard? - -Before the house of Meleager Gradiva disappears. We are not surprised -that Norbert Hanold persists in his delusion that Pompeii has begun to -live again about him in the noon hour of spirits, and that Gradiva has -also returned to life and gone into the house where she lived before the -fateful August day of the year 79. There dart through his mind keen -conjectures about the personality of the owner, after whom the house may -have been named, and about Gradiva's relation to the latter; these show -that his science has now given itself over completely to the service of -his imagination. After entering this house, he again suddenly discovers -the apparition, sitting on low steps between two yellow pillars. "Spread -out on her knees lay something white, which he was unable to distinguish -clearly; it seemed to be a papyrus sheet" (_G._ p. 55). Taking for -granted his most recent suppositions about her ancestry, he speaks to -her in Greek, awaiting timorously the determination of whether the power -of speech may, perhaps, be granted to her in her phantom existence. As -she does not answer, he changes the greeting to Latin. Then, from -smiling lips, come the words, "If you wish to speak with me, you must do -so in German." - -What embarrassment for us, the readers! Thus the author of _Gradiva_ has -made sport of us and decoyed us, as if by means of the refulgence of -Pompeiian sunshine, into a little delusion so that we may be milder in -our judgment of the poor man, whom the real noonday sun actually burns; -but we know now, after recovering from brief confusion, that Gradiva is -a living German girl, a fact which we wish to reject as utterly -improbable. Reflecting calmly, we now await a discovery of what -connection exists between the girl and the stone representation of her, -and of how our young archæologist acquired the fancies which hint at her -real personality. - -Our hero is not freed so quickly as we from the delusion, for, "Even if -the belief brought happiness," says our author, "it assumed everywhere, -in the bargain, a considerable amount of incomprehensibility." (_G._ p. -102.) Besides, this delusion probably has subjective roots of which we -know nothing, which do not exist for us. He doubtless needs trenchant -treatment to bring him back to reality. For the present he can do -nothing but adapt the delusion to the wonderful discovery which he has -just made. Gradiva, who had perished at the destruction of Pompeii, can -be nothing but a ghost of the noon hour, who returns to life for the -noon hour of spirits; but why, after the answer given in German, does -the exclamation escape him: "I knew that your voice sounded like that"? -Not only we, but the girl, too, must ask, and Hanold must admit that he -has never heard her voice before, but expected to hear it in the dream, -when he called to her, as she lay down to sleep on the steps of the -temple. He begs her to repeat that action, but she then rises, directs a -strange glance at him, and, after a few steps, disappears between the -pillars of the court. A beautiful butterfly had, shortly before that, -fluttered about her a few times; in his interpretation it had been a -messenger from Hades, who was to admonish the departed one to return, as -the noon hour of spirits had passed. The call, "Are you coming here -again to-morrow in the noon hour?" Hanold can send after the -disappearing girl. To us, however, who venture a more sober -interpretation, it will seem that the young lady found something -improper in the request which Hanold had made of her, and therefore, -insulted, left him, as she could yet know nothing of his dream. May not -her delicacy of feeling have realized the erotic nature of the request, -which was prompted, for Hanold, only by the connection with his dream? - -After the disappearance of Gradiva, our hero examines all the guests at -the "Hotel Diomed" table and soon also those of "Hotel Suisse," and can -then assure himself that in neither of the only two lodgings known to -him in Pompeii is a person to be found who possesses the most remote -resemblance to Gradiva. Of course he had rejected, as unreasonable, the -supposition that he might really meet Gradiva in one of the two -hostelries. The wine pressed on the hot soil of Vesuvius then helps to -increase the day's dizziness. - -The only certainty about the next day is that Norbert must again be in -Meleager's house at noon; and, awaiting the hour, he enters Pompeii over -the old city-wall, a way which is against the rules. An asphodel cluster -of white bell-flowers seems, as flower of the lower world, significant -enough for him to pluck and carry away. All his knowledge of antiquity -appears to him, however, while he is waiting, as the most purposeless -and indifferent matter in the world, for another interest has acquired -control of him, the problem, "what is the nature of the physical -manifestation of a being like Gradiva, dead and alive at the same time, -although the latter was true only in the noon hour of spirits?" (_G._ p. -64.) He is also worried lest to-day he may not meet the lady sought, -because perhaps she may not be allowed to return for a long time, and -when he again sees her between the pillars, he considers her appearance -an illusion, which draws from him the grieved exclamation, "Oh, that you -were still alive!" This time, however, he has evidently been too -critical, for the apparition possesses a voice which asks him whether he -wishes to bring her the white flower, and draws the man, who has again -lost his composure, into a long conversation. Our author informs us, -readers, to whom Gradiva has already become interesting as a living -personality, that the ill-humoured and repellent glance of the day -before has given way to an expression of searching inquisitiveness or -curiosity. She really sounds him, demands, in explanation of his remark -of the preceding day, when he had stood near her as she lay down to -sleep, in this way learns of the dream in which she perished with her -native city, then of the bas-relief, and of the position of the foot, -which attracted the young archæologist. Now she shows herself ready to -demonstrate her manner of walking, whereby the substitution of light, -sand-coloured, fine leather shoes for the sandals, which she explains as -adaptation to the present, is established as the only deviation from the -original relief of Gradiva. Apparently she is entering into his -delusion, whose whole range she elicits from him, without once opposing -him. Only once she seems to have been wrested from her rôle by a -peculiar feeling when, his mind on the bas-relief, he asserts that he -has recognized her at first glance. As, at this stage of the -conversation, she, as yet, knows nothing of the relief, she must be on -the point of misunderstanding Hanold's words, but she has immediately -recovered herself again, and only to us will many of her speeches appear -to have a double meaning, besides their significance in connection with -the delusion, a real, present meaning, as, for example, when she regrets -that he did not succeed in confirming the Gradiva-gait on the street. -"What a shame; perhaps you would not have needed to take the long -journey here." (_G._ p. 69.) She learns also that he has named the -bas-relief of her "Gradiva," and tells him that her real name is Zoë! - -"The name suits you beautifully, but it sounds to me like bitter -mockery, for 'Zoë' means 'life.'" - -"One must adapt himself to the inevitable," she responds. "And I have -long accustomed myself to being dead." - -With the promise to be at the same place again on the morrow, she takes -leave of him, after she has obtained the asphodel cluster. "To those who -are more fortunate one gives roses in spring, but for me the flower of -oblivion is the right one from your hand." (_G._ p. 70.) Melancholy is -suited to one so long dead, who has now returned to life for a few short -hours. - -We begin now to understand and to hope. If the young lady, in whose form -Gradiva is again revived, accepts Hanold's delusion so completely, she -does it probably to free him from it. No other course is open; by -opposition, one would destroy that possibility. Even the serious -treatment of a real condition of this kind could proceed no differently -than to place itself first on the ground story of the -delusion-structure, and investigate it then as thoroughly as possible. -If Zoë is the right person, we shall soon learn how one cures delusions -like those of our hero. We should also like to know how such a delusion -originates. It would be very striking, and yet not without example and -parallel, if the treatment and investigation of the delusion should -coincide and, while it is being analysed, result in the explanation of -its origin. We have a suspicion, of course, that our case might then -turn out to be an "ordinary" love story, but one may not scorn love as a -healing power for delusions; and was not our hero's captivation by the -Gradiva-relief also a complete infatuation, directed, to be sure, at the -past and lifeless? - -After Gradiva's disappearance, there is heard once more a distant sound -like the merry note of a bird flying over the city of ruins. The man who -has remained behind picks up something white, which Gradiva has left, -not a papyrus leaf, but a sketch-book with pencil drawings of Pompeii. -We should say that the fact that she has forgotten the little book, in -this place, is a pledge of her return, for we assert that one forgets -nothing without a secret reason or a hidden motive. - -The remainder of the day brings to our hero all sorts of remarkable -discoveries and facts, which he neglects to fit together. In the wall of -the portico where Gradiva disappeared, he notices to-day a narrow cleft, -which is, however, wide enough to afford passage to an unusually slender -figure. He recognizes the fact that Zoë-Gradiva does not need to sink -into the ground here, an idea which is so senseless that he is now -ashamed of the discarded belief, but that she uses this route to go back -to her tomb. A faint shadow seems to him to dissolve at the end of the -Street of Tombs, before the so-called Villa of Diomede. Dizzy, as on the -previous day, and occupied with the same problem, he wanders now about -Pompeii, wondering of what physical nature Zoë-Gradiva may be and -whether one might feel anything if one touched her hand. A peculiar -impulse urges him to undertake this experiment, and yet an equally great -timidity in connection with the idea restrains him. On a hot, sunny -slope he meets an older man who, from his equipment, must be a zoologist -or a botanist, and seems to be busy catching things. The latter turns to -him and says: "Are you interested in _Faraglionensis_? I should hardly -have supposed it, but it seems thoroughly probable that they are found, -not only in the _Faraglioni_ of Capri, but also dwell permanently on the -mainland. The method suggested by my colleague, Eimer, is really good; I -have already used it often with the best of success. Please remain quite -still." (_G._ p. 74.) The speaker stops talking then, and holds a little -snare, made of a long grass-blade, before a narrow crevice, from which -the blue, chatoyant, little head of a lizard peeps. Hanold leaves the -lizard-hunter with the critical thought that it is hardly credible what -foolishly remarkable purposes can cause people to make the long trip to -Pompeii, in which criticism he does not, of course, include himself and -his intention of seeking foot-prints of Gradiva in the ashes of Pompeii. -The gentleman's face, moreover, seems familiar to him, as if he has -noticed it casually in one of the two hotels; the man's manner of -addressing him has also sounded as if directed at an acquaintance. As he -continues his wandering, a side street leads him to a house not -previously discovered by him; this proves to be the "Albergo del Sole." -The hotel-keeper, who is not busy, avails himself of the opportunity to -recommend highly his house and the excavated treasures in it. He asserts -that he was present when there were found near the Forum the young -lovers who, on realizing their inevitable destruction, had clasped each -other in firm embrace and thus awaited death. Hanold has already heard -of that before, and shrugged his shoulders over it, as a fabulous -invention of some especially imaginative narrator, but to-day the words -of the hotel-keeper awaken in him credulity, which soon stretches itself -more when the former brings forth a metal brooch encrusted with green -patina, which, in his presence, was gathered, with the remains of the -girl, from the ashes. He secures this brooch without further critical -consideration, and when, as he is leaving the hotel, he sees in an open -window, nodding down, a cluster of white asphodel blossoms, the sight of -the grave-flower thrills him as an attestation of the genuineness of his -new possession. - -With this brooch, however, a new delusion takes possession of him or, -rather, the old one continues for a while, apparently not a good omen -for the treatment which has been started. Not far from the Forum a -couple of young lovers were excavated in an embrace, and in the dream he -saw Gradiva lie down to sleep in that very neighbourhood, at the Apollo -temple. Was it not possible that in reality she went still farther from -the Forum to meet there some one with whom she then died? - -A tormenting feeling, which we can perhaps compare to jealousy, -originates from this supposition. He appeases it by referring to the -uncertainty of the combination, and so far regains his senses as to be -able to have his evening meal in "Hotel Diomed." His attention is -attracted by two newly arrived guests, a man and a woman, whom, because -of a certain resemblance, he considers brother and sister--in spite of -the difference in the colour of their hair. They are the first people -whom he has encountered on this trip who seem possibly congenial. A red -Sorrento rose, which the young girl wears, awakes in him some memory--he -cannot recall what. Finally he goes to bed and dreams; it is remarkable -nonsense, but apparently concocted of the day's experiences. "Somewhere -in the sun Gradiva sat making a trap out of a blade of grass, in order -to catch a lizard, and she said, 'Please stay quite still--my colleague -is right; the method is really good, and she has used it with greatest -success!'" He resists the dream, even in his sleep, with the criticism -that it is, of course, utter madness, and he succeeds in getting rid of -it with the aid of an invisible bird, who utters a short, merry call and -carries the lizard away in his beak. - -In spite of all this ghostly visitation, he awakes rather cleared and -settled mentally. A rose-bush, which bears flowers of the kind that he -noticed yesterday on the young lady, recalls to him that in the night -some one said that in the spring one gave roses. He plucks some of the -roses involuntarily, and there must be some association with these which -has a liberating effect upon his mind. Rid of his aversion to human -beings, he takes the customary road to Pompeii, laden with the roses, -the brooch and the sketch-book, and occupied by the different problems -relating to Gradiva. The old delusion has become full of flaws; he -already doubts if she is permitted to stay in Pompeii in the noon hour -only, and not at other times. Emphasis, on that account, is transferred -to the object recently acquired, and the jealousy connected with it -torments him in all sorts of disguises. He might almost wish that the -apparition should remain visible to only his eyes and escape the notice -of others; in that way, he might consider her his exclusive property. -During his ramble awaiting the noon hour he has a surprising encounter. -In the Casa del Fauno he happens upon two people who doubtless believe -themselves undiscoverable in a nook, for they are embracing each other -and their lips meet. With amazement he recognizes in them the congenial -couple of yesterday evening; but for brother and sister their present -position, the embrace and the kiss are of too long duration. So it is a -couple of lovers, probably a young bridal couple, another Augustus and -Gretchen. Strange to relate, the sight of this now arouses in him -nothing but pleasure, and fearful, as if he had disturbed a secret act -of devotion, he withdraws unobserved. A deference which has long been -lacking in him has been restored. - -Arriving at Meleager's house, he is afraid that he may find Gradiva in -the company of another man, and becomes so excited about it that he can -find no other greeting for her than the question: "Are you alone?" With -difficulty she makes him realize that he has picked the roses for her; -he confesses to her the latest delusion, that she is the girl who was -found in the Forum in her lover's embrace and to whom the green brooch -had belonged. Not without mockery, she inquires if he found the piece in -the sun. The latter--here called "Sole"--brings to light many things of -that sort. As cure for the dizziness which he admits, she proposes to -him to share a lunch with her and offers him half of a piece of white -bread wrapped in tissue paper; the other half of this she consumes with -apparent appetite. Thereat her faultless teeth gleam between her lips -and, in biting the crust, cause a slight crunching sound. To her remark, -"It seems to me as if we had already eaten our bread thus together once -two thousand years ago. Can't you remember it?" (_G._ p. 88.) he cannot -answer, but the strengthening of his mind by the nourishment, and all -the evidences of present time in her do not fail to have effect on him. -Reason stirs in him and makes him doubt the whole delusion that Gradiva -is only a noonday ghost; on the other hand, there is the objection that -she, herself, has just said that she had already shared her repast with -him two thousand years ago. As a means of settling this conflict there -occurs to him an experiment which he executes with slyness and restored -courage. Her left hand, with its slender fingers, is resting on her -knees, and one of the house-flies, about whose boldness and -worthlessness he formerly became so indignant, alights on this hand. -Suddenly Hanold's hand rises and claps, with no gentle stroke, on the -fly and on Gradiva's hand. This bold experiment affords him twofold -success: first the joyous conviction that he actually touched a really -living, warm hand, then, however, a reprimand, before which he starts up -in terror from his seat on the step. For from Gradiva's lips come the -words, after she has recovered from her amazement, "You are surely -apparently crazy, Norbert Hanold." - -Calling a person by name is recognized as the best method of awakening -him, when he is sleeping, or of awakening a somnambulist. Unfortunately -we are not permitted to observe the results, for Norbert Hanold, of -Gradiva's calling his name, which he had told to no one in Pompeii. For -at this critical moment, the congenial lovers appear from the Casa del -Fauno and the young lady calls, in a tone of pleasant surprise, "Zoë! -You here, too? and also on your honeymoon? You have not written me a -word about it, you know." Before this new proof of the living reality of -Gradiva, Hanold flees. - -Zoë-Gradiva, too, is not most pleasantly surprised by the unexpected -visit which disturbs her, it seems, in an important piece of work. Soon -composed, she answers the question with a glib speech, in which she -informs her friend, and especially us, about the situation; and thereby -she knows how to get rid of the young couple. She extends her -compliments, but she is not on her wedding-trip. "The young man who just -went out is labouring also under a remarkable delusion; it seems to me -that he believes a fly is buzzing in his head; well, every one has, of -course, some kind of bee in his bonnet. As is my duty, I have some -knowledge of entomology and can, therefore, be of a little service in -such cases. My father and I live in the 'Sole'; he, too, had a sudden -and pleasing idea of bringing me here with him if I would be responsible -for my own entertainment and make no demands upon him. I said to myself -that I should certainly dig up something interesting alone here. Of -course I had not reckoned at all on the find which I made--I mean the -good fortune of meeting you, Gisa." (_G._ p. 92.) Zoë now feels obliged -to leave at once, to be company for her father at the "Sole." So she -goes, after she has introduced herself to us as the daughter of the -zoologist and lizard-catcher, and has admitted in ambiguous words her -therapeutic intentions and other secret ones. The direction which she -takes is not that of the "Sun Hotel," in which her father is awaiting -her, but it seems to her, too, that in the region of the Villa of -Diomede a shadowy form is seeking its burial-place and disappears under -one of the monuments; therefore, with foot poised each time almost -perpendicularly, she directs her steps to the Street of Tombs. Thither, -in shame and confusion, Hanold has fled, and is wandering up and down in -the portico of the court without stopping, occupied with settling the -rest of his problem by mental efforts. One thing has become -unimpeachably clear to him; that he was utterly foolish and irrational -to believe that he communed with a young Pompeiian girl who had become -more or less physically alive again; and this clear insight into his -madness forms incontestably an essential bit of progress in the return -to sound reason. On the other hand, however, this living girl, with whom -other people also communicate, as with one of a corporeal reality like -theirs, is Gradiva, and she knows his name; for the solution of this -riddle his scarcely awakened reason is not strong enough. Emotionally, -also, he is not calm enough to be equal to so difficult a task, for he -would most gladly have been buried two thousand years ago in the Villa -of Diomede, only to be sure of never meeting Zoë-Gradiva again. A -violent longing to see her struggles meanwhile with the remnants of the -inclination to flee, which has persisted in him. - -Turning at one of the four corners of the colonnade, he suddenly -recoils. On a fragmentary wall-ruin there sits one of the girls who met -death here in the Villa of Diomede; but that attempt to take refuge -again in the realm of madness is soon put aside; no, it is Gradiva, who -has apparently come to give him the last bit of her treatment. She -interprets rightly his first instinctive movement to flee, as an attempt -to leave the place, and points out to him that he cannot escape, for -outside a frightful cloudburst is in progress. The merciless girl begins -the examination with the question as to what he intended in connection -with the fly on her hand. He does not find courage to make use of a -definite pronoun, but acquires the more valuable kind needed to put the -deciding question. - -"I was--as they say--somewhat confused mentally and ask pardon that -I--the hand--in that way--how I could be so stupid, I can't -understand--but I can't understand either how its owner could use my -name in upbraiding me for my--my madness." (_G._ p. 98.) - -"Your power of understanding has not yet progressed that far, Norbert -Hanold. Of course, I cannot be surprised, for you have long ago -accustomed me to it. To make that discovery again, I should not have -needed to come to Pompeii, and you could have confirmed it for me a good -hundred miles nearer." - -"A good hundred miles nearer; diagonally across from your house, in the -corner house; in my window, in a cage, is a canary," she discloses to -the still bewildered man. - -This last word touches the hero like a memory from afar. That is surely -the same bird whose song has suggested to him the trip to Italy. - -"In that house lives my father, Richard Bertgang, professor of zoology." - -As his neighbour, therefore, she is acquainted with him and his name. It -seems as if the disappointment of a superficial solution is threatening -us--a solution unworthy of our expectations. - -As yet Norbert Hanold shows no regained independence of thought, when he -repeats, "Then are you--are you Miss Zoë Bertgang? But she looked quite -different----" - -Miss Bertgang's answer shows then that other relations besides those of -neighbourliness have existed between them. She knows how to intercede -for the familiar manner of address, which he has, of course, used to the -noonday spirit, but withdrawn again from the living girl; she makes -former privileges of use to her here. "If you find that form of address -more suitable between us, I can use it too, you know, but the other came -to me more naturally. I don't know whether I looked different when we -used to run about before with each other as friends, every day, and -occasionally beat and cuffed each other for a change, but if, in recent -years, you had favoured me with even one glance you might perhaps have -seen that I have looked like this for a long time." - -A childhood friendship had therefore existed between the two, perhaps a -childhood love, from which the familiar form of address derived its -justification. Isn't this solution perhaps as superficial as the one -first supposed? The fact that it occurs to us that this childhood -relation explains in an unexpected way so many details of what has -occurred in the present intercourse between them makes the matter -essentially deeper. Does it not seem that the blow on Zoë-Gradiva's hand -which Norbert Hanold has so splendidly motivated by the necessity of -solving, experimentally, the question of the physical existence of the -apparition, is, from another standpoint, remarkably similar to a revival -of the impulse for "beating and cuffing," whose sway in childhood Zoë's -words have testified to? And when Gradiva puts to the archæologist the -question whether it does not seem to him that they have once already, -two thousand years ago, shared their luncheon, does not the -incomprehensible question become suddenly senseful, when we substitute -for the historical past the personal childhood, whose memories persist -vividly for the girl, but seem to be forgotten by the young man? Does -not the idea suddenly dawn upon us that the fancies of the young man -about his Gradiva may be an echo of his childhood memories? Then they -would, therefore, be no arbitrary products of his imagination, but -determined, without his knowing it, by the existing material of -childhood impressions already forgotten, but still active in him. We -must be able to point out in detail the origin of these fancies, even if -only by conjecture. If, for instance, Gradiva must be of pure Greek -ancestry, the daughter of a respected man, perhaps of a priest of Ceres, -that predisposes us fairly well for an after-effect of the knowledge of -her Greek name--Zoë, and of her membership in the family of a professor -of zoology. If, however, these fancies of Hanold's are transformed -memories, we may expect to find in the disclosures of Zoë Bertgang, the -suggestion of the sources of these fancies. Let us listen; she tells us -of an intimate friendship of childhood; we shall soon learn what further -development this childhood relation had in both. - -"Then up to the time when people call us 'Backfisch,' for some unknown -reason, I had really acquired a remarkable attachment for you, and -thought that I could never find a more pleasing friend in the world. -Mother, sister, or brother I had not, you know; to my father a slow-worm -in alcohol was far more interesting than I, and people (I count girls -such) must surely have something with which they can occupy their -thoughts and the like. Then you were that something, but when archæology -overcame you, I made the discovery that you--excuse the familiarity, but -your new formality sounds absurd to me--I was saying that I imagined -that you had become an intolerable person, who had no longer, at least -for me, an eye in his head, a tongue in his mouth, nor any of the -memories that I retained of our childhood friendship. So I probably -looked different from what I did formerly, for when, occasionally, I met -you at a party, even last winter, you did not look at me and I did not -hear your voice; in this, of course, there was nothing that marked me -out especially, for you treated all the others in the same way. To you I -was but air, and you, with your shock of light hair, which I had -formerly pulled so often, were as boresome, dry and tongue-tied as a -stuffed cockatoo and at the same time as grandiose as an--archæopteryx; -I believe the excavated antediluvian bird-monster is so called; but that -your head harboured an imagination so magnificent as here in Pompeii to -consider me as something excavated and restored to life--I had not -surmised that of you, and when you suddenly stood before me -unexpectedly, it cost me some effort at first to understand what kind of -incredible fancy your imagination had invented. Then I was amused and, -in spite of its madness, it was not entirely displeasing to me. For, as -I said, I had not expected it of you." (_G._ p. 101.) - -So she thus tells us clearly enough what, with the years, has become of -the childhood friendship for both of them. With her it expanded into an -intense love affair, for one must have something, you know, to which -one, that is, a girl, pins her affections. Miss Zoë, the incarnation of -cleverness and clarity, makes her psychic life, too, quite transparent -for us. If it is already the general rule for a normal girl that she -first turns her affection to her father, she is especially ready to do -it, she who has no one but her father in her family; but this father has -nothing left for her; the objects of science have captured all his -interest. So she has to look around for another person, and clings with -especial fervour to the playmate of her youth. When he, too, no longer -has any eyes for her, it does not destroy her love, rather augments it, -for he has become like her father, like him absorbed by science and, by -it, isolated from life and from Zoë. So it is granted to her to be -faithful in unfaithfulness, to find her father again in her beloved, to -embrace both with the same feeling as we may say, to make them both -identical in her emotions. Where do we get justification for this little -psychological analysis, which may easily seem autocratic? In a single, -but intensely characteristic detail the author of the romance gives it -to us. When Zoë pictures for us the transformation of the playmate of -her youth, which seems so sad for her, she insults him by a comparison -with the archæopteryx, that bird-monster which belongs to the archæology -of zoology. So she has found a single concrete expression for -identifying the two people; her resentment strikes the beloved as well -as the father with the same word. The archæopteryx is, so to speak, the -compromise, or intermediary representation in which the folly of her -beloved coincides with her thought of an analogous folly of her father. - -With the young man, things have taken a different turn. The science of -antiquity overcame him and left to him interest only in the women of -bronze and stone. The childhood friendship died, instead of developing -into a passion, and the memories of it passed into such absolute -forgetfulness that he does not recognize nor pay any attention to the -friend of his youth, when he meets her in society. Of course, when we -continue our observations, we may doubt if "forgetfulness" is the right -psychological term for the fate of these memories of our archæologist. -There is a kind of forgetting which distinguishes itself by the -difficulty with which the memory is awakened, even by strong objective -appeals, as if a subjective resistance struggled against the revival. -Such forgetting has received the name "repression" in psychopathology; -the case which Jensen has presented to us seems to be an example of -repression. Now we do not know, in general, whether, in psychic life, -forgetting an impression is connected with the destruction of its -memory-trace; about repression we can assert with certainty that it does -not coincide with the destruction, the obliteration, of the memory. The -repressed material cannot, as a rule, break through, of itself, as a -memory, but remains potent and effective. Some day, under external -influence, it causes psychic results which one may accept as products of -transformation or as remnants of forgotten memories; and if one does not -view them as such, they remain incomprehensible. In the fancies of -Norbert Hanold about Gradiva, we thought we recognized already the -remnants of the repressed memories of his childhood friendship with Zoë -Bertgang. Quite legitimately one may expect such a recurrence of the -repressed material, if the man's erotic feelings cling to the repressed -ideas, if his erotic life has been involved in the repression. Then -there is truth in the old Latin proverb which was perhaps originally -aimed at expulsion through external influences, not at inner conflict: -"You may drive out natural disposition with a two-pronged fork, but it -will always return," but it does not tell all, announces only the fact -of the recurrence of repressed material, and does not describe at all -the most remarkable manner of this recurrence, which is accomplished as -if by malicious treason; the very thing which has been chosen as a means -of repression--like the "two-pronged fork" of the proverb--becomes the -carrier of the thing recurring; in and behind the agencies of repression -the material repressed finally asserts itself victoriously. A well-known -etching by Félicien Rops illustrates this fact, which is generally -overlooked and lacks acceptance, more impressively than many -explanations could; and he does it in the typical case of the repression -in the lives of saints and penitents. From the temptations of the world, -an ascetic monk has sought refuge in the image of the crucified Saviour. -Then, phantom-like, this cross sinks and, in its stead, there rises -shining, the image of a voluptuous, unclad woman, in the same position -of the crucifixion. Other painters of less psychological insight have, -in such representations of temptation, depicted sin as bold and -triumphant, near the Saviour on the cross. Rops, alone, has allowed it -to take the place of the Saviour on the cross; he seems to have known -that the thing repressed proceeds, at its recurrence, from the agency of -repression itself. - -If Norbert Hanold were a living person, who had, by means of archæology, -driven love and the memory of his childhood friendship out of his life, -it would now be legitimate and correct that an antique relief should -awaken in him the forgotten memory of the girl beloved in his childhood; -it would be his well-deserved fate to have fallen in love with the stone -representation of Gradiva, behind which, by virtue of an unexplained -resemblance, the living and neglected Zoë becomes effective. - -Miss Zoë, herself, seems to share our conception of the delusion of the -young archæologist, for the pleasure which she expresses at the end of -her "unreserved, detailed and instructive lecture" is hardly based on -anything other than her readiness to refer his entire interest in -Gradiva to her person. This is exactly what she does not believe him -capable of, and what, in spite of all the disguises of the delusion, she -recognizes as such. Her psychic treatment of him has a beneficent -effect; he feels himself free, as the delusion is now replaced by that -of which it can be only a distorted and unsatisfactory copy. He -immediately remembers and recognizes her as his good, cheerful, clever -comrade who has not changed essentially; but he finds something else -most strange-- - -"That a person must die to become alive again," says the girl, "but for -archæologists that is of course necessary." (_G._ p. 102.) She has -apparently not yet pardoned him for the détour which he made from the -childhood friendship through the science of antiquity to this relation -which has recently been established. - -"No, I mean your name--Because Bertgang has the same meaning as Gradiva -and signifies 'the one splendid in walking.'" (_G._ p. 102.) - -Even we are not prepared for that. Our hero begins to rise from his -humility and to play an active rôle. He is, apparently, entirely cured -of his delusion, lifted far above it, and proves this by tearing asunder -the last threads of the web of delusion. Patients, also, who have been -freed from the compulsion of their delusion, by the disclosure of the -repression behind it, always act in just that way. When they have once -understood, they themselves offer the solutions for the last and most -significant riddles of their strange condition in suddenly emerging -ideas. We had already believed, of course, that the Greek ancestry of -the mythical Gradiva was an after-effect of the Greek name, Zoë, but -with the name, Gradiva, we had ventured nothing; we had supposed it the -free creation of Norbert Hanold's imagination, and behold! this very -name now shows itself to be a remnant, really a translation of the -repressed family-name of the supposedly forgotten beloved of his youth. - -The derivation and solution of the delusion are now completed. What -follows may well serve as a harmonious conclusion of the tale. In regard -to the future, it can have only a pleasant effect on us, if the -rehabilitation of the man, who formerly had to play the lamentable rôle -of one needing to be cured, progresses, and he succeeds in awakening in -the girl some of the emotions which he formerly experienced. Thus it -happens that he makes her jealous by mentioning the congenial young -lady, who disturbed them in Meleager's house, and by the acknowledgment -that the latter was the first girl who had impressed him much. When Zoë -is then about to take a cool departure, with the remark that now -everything is reasonable again, she herself not least of all, that he -might look up Gisa Hartleben, or whatever her name might now be, and be -of scientific assistance to her about the purpose of her stay in -Pompeii, but she has to go now to the "Albergo del Sole" where her -father is already waiting for her at lunch, perhaps they may see each -other again some time at a party in Germany or on the moon, he seizes -upon the troublesome fly as a means of taking possession of her cheek, -first, and then of her lips, and assumes the aggressive, which is the -duty of a man in the game of love. Only once more does a shadow seem to -fall on their happiness, when Zoë reminds him that now she must really -go to her father, who will otherwise starve in the "Sole." "Your -father--what will he----?" (_G._ p. 106.) - -But the clever girl knows how to silence the apprehension quickly. -"Probably he will do nothing; I am not an indispensable piece in his -zoological collection; if I were, my heart would probably not have clung -to you so unwisely." Should the father, however, by way of exception, in -this case, have an opinion different from hers, there is a sure method. -Hanold needs only to go over to Capri, there catch a _lacerta -faraglionensis_, for which purpose he may practise the technique on her -little finger, then set the animal free again here, catch it before the -eyes of the zoologist and give him the choice of the _faraglionensis_ on -the mainland or his daughter, a proposal in which mockery, as one may -easily note, is combined with bitterness, an admonition to the -betrothed, also, not to follow too closely the model after which his -beloved has chosen him. Norbert Hanold sets us at rest on this matter, -as he expresses, by all sorts of apparently trivial symptoms, the great -transformation which has come over him. He voices the intention of -taking a wedding trip with his Zoë to Italy and Pompeii, as if he had -never been indignant at the newly married travellers, Augustus and -Gretchen. His feelings towards this happy couple, who so unnecessarily -travelled more than one hundred miles from their German home, have -entirely disappeared from his memory. Certainly the author is right when -he cites such weakening of memory as the most valuable mark of a mental -change. Zoë replies to the announced desire about the destination of -their journey, "_by her childhood friend who had, in a way, also been -excavated from the ashes_," (_G._ p. 108), that she does not yet feel -quite alive enough for such geographical decision. - -Beautiful reality has now triumphed over the delusion. Yet an honour -still awaits the latter before the two leave Pompeii. When they have -arrived at the Hercules Gate, where, at the beginning of the Strada -Consolare, old stepping-stones cross the street, Norbert Hanold stops -and asks the girl to go ahead. She understands him and, "raising her -dress slightly with her left hand, Gradiva _rediviva_ Zoë Bertgang, -viewed by him with dreamily observing eyes, crossed with her calmly -buoyant walk, through the sunlight, over the stepping-stones." With the -triumph of eroticism, what was beautiful and valuable in the delusion is -now acknowledged. - -With the last comparison of "the childhood friend excavated from the -ashes," the author of the story has, however, put into our hand the key -of the symbolism which the delusion of the hero made use of in the -disguise of the repressed memory. There is no better analogy for -repression, which at the same time makes inaccessible and conserves -something psychic, than the burial which was the fate of Pompeii, and -from which the city was able to arise again through work with the spade. -Therefore in his imagination the young archæologist had to transport to -Pompeii the original figure of the relief which reminded him of the -forgotten beloved of his youth. Jensen, however, had a good right to -linger over the significant resemblance which his fine sense traced out -between a bit of psychic occurrence in the individual and a single -historical event in the history of man. - - - II - -It was really our intention to investigate with the aid of definite -analytic method only the two or three dreams which are found in the tale -_Gradiva_; how did it happen then that we allowed ourselves to be -carried away with the analysis of the whole story and the examination of -the psychic processes of the two chief characters? Well, that was no -superfluous work, but a necessary preparation. Even when we wish to -understand the real dreams of an actual person, we must concern -ourselves intensively with the character and the fortunes of this -person, not only the experiences shortly before the dream, but also -those of the remote past. I think, however, that we are not yet free to -turn to our real task, but must still linger over the piece of fiction -itself, and perform more preparatory work. - -Our readers will, of course, have noticed with surprise that till now we -have considered Norbert Hanold and Zoë Bertgang in all their psychic -expressions and activities, as if they were real individuals and not -creatures of an author, as if the mind of their creator were absolutely -transparent, not a refractory and cloudy medium; and our procedure must -seem all the more surprising when the author of _Gradiva_ expressly -disavows the portrayal of reality by calling his tale a "Fancy." We -find, however, that all his pictures copy reality so faithfully that we -should not contradict if _Gradiva_ were called not a "Fancy," but a -study in psychiatry. Only in two points has Wilhelm Jensen made use of -his license, to create suppositions which do not seem to have roots in -the earth of actual law: first, when he has the young archæologist find -a genuinely antique bas-relief which, not only in the detail of the -position of the foot in walking, but in all details, the shape of the -face, and the bearing, copies a person living much later, so that he can -consider the physical manifestation of this person to be the cast -endowed with life; second, when the hero is caused to meet the living -girl in Pompeii, whither his fancy has transported the dead girl, while -he separates himself, by the journey to Pompeii, from the living girl, -whom he has noticed on the street of his home city; this second instance -is no tremendous deviation from the possibilities of life; it asks aid -only of chance, which undeniably plays a part in so many human fates, -and, moreover, makes it reasonable, for this chance reflects again the -destiny which has decreed that through flight one is delivered over to -the very thing that one is fleeing from. More fantastic, and originating -solely in the author's arbitrariness, seems the first supposition which -brings in its train the detailed resemblance of the cast to the living -girl, where moderation might have limited the conformity to the one -trait of the position of the foot in walking. One might then have tried -to let one's own imagination play in order to establish connection with -reality. The name Bertgang might point to the fact that the women of -that family had been distinguished, even in ancient times, by the -characteristic of a beautiful gait, and by heredity the German Bertgang -was connected with those Romans, a woman of whose family had caused the -ancient artist to fix in a bas-relief the peculiarity of her walk. As -the individual variations of human structure are, however, not -independent of one another, and as the ancient types, which we come upon -in the collections, are actually always emerging again in our midst, it -would not be entirely impossible that a modern Bertgang should repeat -again the form of her ancient forbear, even in all the other traits of -her physique. Inquiry of the author of the story for the sources of this -creation might well be wiser than such speculation; a good prospect of -solving again a bit of supposed arbitrariness would probably then -appear. As, however, we have not access to the psychic life of the -author, we leave to him the undiminished right of building up a -thoroughly valid development on an improbable supposition, a right which -Shakespeare, for example, has asserted in _King Lear_. - -Otherwise, we wish to repeat, Wilhelm Jensen has given us an absolutely -correct study in psychiatry, in which we may measure our understanding -of psychic life, a story of illness and cure adapted to the inculcation -of certain fundamental teachings of medical psychology. Strange enough -that he should have done this! What if, in reply to questioning, he -should deny this intention? It is so easy to draw comparisons and to put -constructions on things. Are we not rather the ones who have woven -secret meanings, which were foreign to him, into the beautiful poetic -tale? Possibly; we shall come back to that later. As a preliminary, -however, we have tried to refrain from interpretations with that -tendency, by reproducing the story, in almost every case, from the very -words of the writer; and we have had him furnish text as well as -commentary, himself. Any one who will compare our text with that of -_Gradiva_ will have to grant this. - -Perhaps in the judgment of the majority we are doing a poor service for -him when we declare his work a study in psychiatry. An author is to -avoid all contact with psychiatry, we are told, and leave to physicians -the portrayal of morbid psychic conditions. In reality no true author -has ever heeded this commandment. The portrayal of the psychic life of -human beings is, of course, his most especial domain; he was always the -precursor of science and of scientific psychology. The borderline -between normal and morbid psychic conditions is, in a way, a -conventional one, and, in another way, in such a state of flux that -probably every one of us oversteps it many times in the course of a day. -On the other hand, psychiatry would do wrong to wish to limit itself -continually to the study of those serious and cloudy illnesses which -arise from rude disturbances of the delicate psychic apparatus. It has -no less interest in the lesser and adjustable deviations from the normal -which we cannot yet trace back farther than disturbances in the play of -psychic forces; indeed, it is by means of these that it can understand -normal conditions, as well as the manifestations of serious illness. -Thus the author cannot yield to the psychiatrist nor the psychiatrist to -the author, and the poetic treatment of a theme from psychiatry may -result correctly without damage to beauty. - -The imaginative representation of the story of illness and its -treatment, which we can survey better after finishing the story and -relieving our own suspense, is really correct. Now we wish to reproduce -it with the technical expressions of our science, in doing which it will -not be necessary to repeat what has already been related. - -Norbert Hanold's condition is called a "delusion" often enough by the -author of the story, and we also have no reason to reject this -designation. We can mention two chief characteristics of "delusion," by -which it is not, of course, exhaustively described, but is admittedly -differentiated from other disturbances. It belongs first to that group -of illnesses which do not directly affect the physical, but express -themselves only by psychic signs, and it is distinguished secondly by -the fact that "fancies" have assumed control, that is, are believed and -have acquired influence on actions. If we recall the journey to Pompeii -to seek in the ashes the peculiarly-formed foot-prints of Gradiva, we -have in it a splendid example of an act under the sway of the delusion. -The psychiatrist would perhaps assign Norbert Hanold's delusion to the -great group of paranoia and designate it as a "fetichistic erotomania," -because falling in love with the bas-relief would be the most striking -thing to him and because, to his conception, which coarsens everything, -the interest of the young archæologist in the feet and foot-position of -women must seem suspiciously like fetichism. All such names and -divisions of the different kinds of delusion are, however, substantially -useless and awkward.[2] - -The old-school psychiatrist would, moreover, stamp our hero as a -dégénéré, because he is a person capable, on account of such strange -predilections, of developing a delusion, and would investigate the -heredity which has unrelentingly driven him to such a fate. In this, -however, Jensen does not follow him; with good reason, he brings us -nearer to the hero to facilitate for us æsthetic sympathy with him; with -the diagnosis "dégénéré," whether or not it may be justifiable to us -scientifically, the young archæologist is at once moved farther from us, -for we, readers, are, of course, normal people and the measure of -humanity. The essential facts of heredity and constitution in connection -with this condition also concern the author of _Gradiva_ little; -instead, he is engrossed in the personal, psychic state which can give -rise to such a delusion. - -In an important point, Norbert Hanold acts quite differently from -ordinary people. He has no interest in the living woman; science, which -he serves, has taken this interest from him and transferred it to women -of stone or bronze. Let us not consider this an unimportant peculiarity; -it is really the basis of the story, for one day it happens that a -single such bas-relief claims for itself all the interest which would -otherwise belong only to the living woman, and thereby originates the -delusion. Before our eyes there is then unfolded the story of how this -delusion is cured by a fortunate set of circumstances, the interest -transferred back again from the cast to the living girl. The author of -the story does not allow us to trace the influences because of which our -hero begins to avoid women; he only suggests to us that such conduct is -not explained by his predisposition which is invested with a rather -fanciful--we might add, erotic--need. We learn later also that in his -childhood he did not avoid other children; he was then friendly with the -little girl, was inseparable from her, shared with her his lunches, -cuffed her, and was pulled around by her. In such attachment, such a -combination of tenderness and aggression, is expressed the incomplete -eroticism of child life, which expresses its activities first spitefully -and then irresistibly and which, during childhood, only physicians and -writers usually recognize as eroticism. Our author gives us to -understand clearly that he has those intentions, for he suddenly causes -to awaken in his hero, with suitable motive, a lively interest in the -gait and foot-position of women, an interest which, in science, as well -as among the ladies of his home-city, must bring him into disrepute as a -foot-fetichist, and is to us, however, necessarily derived from the -memory of his childhood playmate. The girl, to be sure, was -characterized, as a child, by the beautiful walk with her foot almost -perpendicular as she stepped out, and through the portrayal of this very -gait an antique bas-relief later acquired for Norbert Hanold great -significance. Let us add, moreover, immediately, that the author of -_Gradiva_ stands in complete agreement with science in regard to the -derivation of the remarkable manifestation of fetichism. Since the -investigations by Binet we really try to trace fetichism back to erotic -impressions of childhood. - -The condition of continued avoidance of women gives the personal -qualification, as we say, the disposition for the formation of a -delusion; the development of psychic disturbance begins at the moment -when a chance impression awakens the forgotten childhood experiences -which are emphasized in an erotic way that is at least traceable. -Awakened is really not the right term, however, when we consider the -further results. We must reproduce our author's correct representation -in a mode of expression artistically correct, and psychological. On -seeing the relief Norbert Hanold does not remember that he has seen such -a foot-position in the friend of his youth; he certainly does not -remember and yet every effect of the relief proceeds from such -connection with the impression of his childhood. The -childhood-impression, stirred, becomes active, so that it begins to show -activity, though it does not appear in consciousness, but remains -"unconscious," a term which we now use unavoidably in psychopathology. -This term "unconscious" we should now like to see withdrawn from all the -conflicts of philosophers and natural philosophers, which have only -etymological significance. For psychic processes which are active and -yet at the same time do not come through into the consciousness of the -person referred to, we have at present no better name and we mean -nothing else by "unconsciousness." If many thinkers wish to dispute as -unreasonable the existence of such an unconscious, we think they have -never busied themselves with analogous psychic phenomena, and are under -the spell of the common idea that everything psychic which is active and -intensive becomes, thereby, at the same time, conscious, and they have -still to learn what our author knows very well, that there are, of -course, psychic processes, which, in spite of the fact that they are -intensive and show energetic activities, remain far removed from -consciousness. - -We said once that the memories of the childhood relations with Zoë are -in a state of "repression" with Norbert Hanold; and we have called them -"unconscious memories." Here we must, of course, turn our attention to -the relation between the two technical terms which seem to coincide in -meaning. It is not hard to clear this up. "Unconscious" is the broader -term, "repressed" the narrower. Everything that is repressed is -unconscious; but we cannot assert that everything unconscious is -repressed. If Hanold, at the sight of the relief, had remembered his -Zoë's manner of walking, then a formerly unconscious memory would have -become immediately active and conscious, and thus would have shown that -it was not formerly repressed. "Unconscious" is a purely descriptive -term, in many respects indefinite and, so to speak, static; "repressed" -is a dynamic expression which takes into consideration the play of -psychic forces and the fact that there is present an effort to express -all psychic activities, among them that of becoming conscious again, but -also a counterforce, a resistance, which might hinder a part of these -psychic activities, among these, also, getting into consciousness. The -mark of the repressed material is that, in spite of its intensity, it -cannot break through into consciousness. In Hanold's case, therefore, it -was a matter, at the appearance of the bas-relief on his horizon, of a -repressed unconscious, in short of a repression. - -The memories of his childhood association with the girl who walks -beautifully are repressed in Norbert Hanold, but this is not yet the -correct view of the psychological situation. We remain on the surface so -long as we treat only of memories and ideas. The only valuable things in -psychic life are, rather, the emotions. All psychic powers are -significant only through their fitness to awaken emotions. Ideas are -repressed only because they are connected with liberations of emotions, -which are not to come to light; it would be more correct to say that -repression deals with the emotions, but these are comprehensible to us -only in connection with ideas. Thus, in Norbert Hanold, the erotic -feelings are repressed, and, as his eroticism neither knows nor has -known another object than Zoë Bertgang of his youth, the memories of her -are forgotten. The antique bas-relief awakens the slumbering eroticism -in him and makes the childhood memories active. On account of a -resistance in him to the eroticism, these memories can become active -only as unconscious. What now happens in him is a struggle between the -power of eroticism and the forces that are repressing it; the result of -this struggle is a delusion. - -Our author has omitted to give the motive whence originates the -repression of the erotic life in his hero; the latter's interest in -science is, of course, only the means of which the repression makes use; -the physician would have to probe deeper here, perhaps in this case -without finding the foundation. Probably, however, the author of -_Gradiva_, as we have admiringly emphasized, has not hesitated to -represent to us how the awakening of the repressed eroticism results -from the very sphere of the means which are serving the repression. It -is rightly an antique, the bas-relief of a woman, through which our -archæologist is snatched and admonished out of his alienation from love -to pay the debt with which we are charged by our birth. - -The first manifestations of the process now stimulated by the bas-relief -are fancies which play with the person represented by it. The model -appears to him to be something "of the present," in the best sense, as -if the artist had fixed the girl walking on the street from life. The -name, Gradiva, which he forms from the epithet of the war-god advancing -to battle, Mars Gradivus, he lends to the ancient girl; with more and -more definitions he endows her with a personality. She may be the -daughter of an esteemed man, perhaps of a patrician, who is associated -with the temple service of a divinity; he believes that he reads Greek -ancestry in her features, and finally this forces him to transport her -far from the confusion of a metropolis to more peaceful Pompeii, where -he has her walking over the lava stepping-stones which make possible the -crossing of the street. These feats of fancy seem arbitrary enough and -yet again harmlessly unsuspicious. Even when from them is produced, for -the first time, the impulse to act, when the archæologist, oppressed by -the problem whether such foot-position corresponds to reality, begins -observations from life, in looking at the feet of contemporary women and -girls, this act covers itself by conscious, scientific motives, as if -all the interest in the bas-relief of Gradiva had originated in his -professional interest in archæology. The women and girls on the street, -whom he uses as objects for his investigation, must, of course, assume a -different, coarsely erotic conception of his conduct, and we must admit -that they are right. For us, there is no doubt that Hanold knows as -little about his motives as about the origin of his fancies concerning -Gradiva. These latter are, as we shall learn later, echoes of his -memories of the beloved of his youth, remnants of these memories, -transformations and disfigurements of them, after they have failed to -push into consciousness in unchanged form. The so-called æsthetic -judgment that the relief represents "something of the present" is -substituted for the knowledge that such a gait belongs to a girl known -to him and crossing streets _in the present_; behind the impression -"from life" and the fancy about her Greek traits, is hidden the memory -of her name, Zoë, which, in Greek, means _life_; Gradiva is, as the man -finally cured of the delusion tells us, a good translation of her -family-name, Bertgang, which means _splendid or magnificent in walking_; -the decisions about her father arise from the knowledge that Zoë -Bertgang is the daughter of an esteemed university instructor, which is -probably translated into the antique as temple service. Finally his -imagination transports her to Pompeii not "because her calm, quiet -manner seems to require it," but because, in his science, there is found -no other nor better analogy to the remarkable condition in which he has -traced out, by vague reconnoitring, his memories of his childhood -friendship. If he once covered up what was so close to him, his own -childhood, with the classic past, then the burial of Pompeii, this -disappearance, with the preservation of the past, offers a striking -resemblance to the _repression_ of which he has knowledge by means of -so-called "endopsychic" perceptions. The same symbolism, therefore, -which the author has the girl use consciously at the end of the tale, is -working in him. - -"I said to myself that I should certainly dig up something interesting -alone here. Of course, I had not reckoned at all on the find which I -made." (_G._ p. 92.) At the end (_G._ p. 108), the girl answers to the -announced desire about the destination of their journey, "by her -childhood friend who had, in a way, also been excavated from the ashes." - -Thus we find at the very beginning of the performances of Hanold's -fancies and actions, a twofold determination, a derivation from two -different sources. One determination is the one which appears to Hanold, -himself; the other, the one which discloses itself to us upon -re-examination of his psychic processes. One, the conscious one, is -related to the person of Hanold; the other is the one entirely -unconscious to him. One originates entirely from the series of -associations connected with archæological science; the other, however, -proceeds from the repressed memories which have become active in him, -and the emotional impulses attached to them. The one seems superficial, -and covers up the other, which masks itself behind the former. One might -say that the scientific motivation serves the unconscious eroticism as -cloak, and that science has placed itself completely at the service of -the delusion, but one may not forget, either, that the unconscious -determination can effect nothing but what is at the time satisfactory to -the scientific conscious. The symptoms of delusion--fancies as well as -acts--are results of a compromise between two psychic streams, and in a -compromise the demands of each of the two parties are considered; each -party has been obliged to forego something that he wished to carry out. -Where a compromise has been established, there was a struggle, here the -conflict assumed by us between the suppressed eroticism and the forces -which keep it alive in the repression. In the formation of a delusion -this struggle is never ended. - -Attack and resistance are renewed after every compromise-formation, -which is, so to speak, never fully satisfactory. This our author also -knows and therefore he causes a feeling of discontent, a peculiar -restlessness, to dominate his hero in this phase of the disturbance, as -preliminary to and guarantee of further developments. - -These significant peculiarities of the twofold determination for fancies -and decisions, of the formation of conscious pretexts for actions, for -the motivation of which the repressed has given the greater -contribution, will, in the further progress of the story, occur to us -oftener, and perhaps more clearly; and this rightfully, for in this -Jensen has grasped and represented the never-failing, chief -characteristic of the morbid psychic processes. The development of -Norbert Hanold's delusion progresses in a dream, which, caused by no new -event, seems to proceed entirely from his psychic life, which is -occupied by a conflict. Yet let us stop before we proceed to test -whether the author of _Gradiva_, in the formation of his dreams, meets -our expectation of a deeper understanding. Let us first ask what -psychiatry has to say about his ideas of the origin of a delusion, how -it stands on the matter of the rôle of repression and the unconscious, -of conflict and compromise-formation. Briefly, can our author's -representation of the genesis of a delusion stand before the judgment of -science? - -And here we must give the perhaps unexpected answer that, unfortunately, -matters are here actually just reversed; science does not stand before -the accomplishment of our author. Between the essential facts of -heredity and constitution, and the seemingly complete creations of -delusion, there yawns a breach which we find filled up by the writer of -_Gradiva_. Science does not yet recognize the significance of repression -nor the fact that it needs the unconscious for explanation to the world -of psychopathological phenomena; it does not seek the basis of delusion -in psychic conflict, and does not regard its symptoms as a -compromise-formation. Then our author stands alone against all science? -No, not that--if the present writer may reckon his own works as science. -For he, himself, has for some years interceded--and until recently -almost alone[3]--for the views which he finds here in _Gradiva_ by W. -Jensen, and he has presented them in technical terms. He has pointed out -exhaustively, for the conditions known as hysteria and obsession, the -suppression of impulses and the repression of the ideas, through which -the suppressed impulse is represented, as a characteristic condition of -psychic disturbance, and he has repeated the same view soon afterwards -for many kinds of delusion.[4] Whether the impulses which are, for this -reason, considered are always components of the sex-impulse, or might be -of a different nature, is a problem of indifference in the analysis of -_Gradiva_, as, in the case chosen by the author, it is a matter only of -the suppression of the erotic feeling. The views concerning psychic -conflict, and the formation of symptoms by compromises between the two -psychic forces which are struggling with each other, the present writer -has found valid in cases professionally treated and actually observed, -in exactly the same way that he was able to observe it in Norbert -Hanold, the invention of our author.[5] The tracing back of neurotic, -especially of hysterically morbid activities to the influence of -unconscious thoughts, P. Janet, the pupil of the great Charcot, had -undertaken before the present writer, and in conjunction with Josef -Breuer in Vienna.[6] - -It had actually occurred to the present writer, when, in the years -following 1893, he devoted himself to investigations of the origin of -psychic disturbances, to seek confirmation of his results from authors, -and therefore it was no slight surprise to him to learn that in -_Gradiva_, published in 1903, an author gave to his creation the very -foundation which the former supposed that he, himself, was finding -authority for, as new, from his experiences as a physician. How did the -author come upon the same knowledge as the physician, at least upon a -procedure which would suggest that he possessed it? - -Norbert Hanold's delusion, we said, acquires further development through -a dream, which he has in the midst of his efforts to authenticate a gait -like Gradiva's in the streets of his home-city. The content of this -dream we can outline briefly. The dreamer is in Pompeii on that day -which brought destruction to the unfortunate city, experiences the -horrors without himself getting into danger, suddenly sees Gradiva -walking there and immediately understands, as quite natural, that, as -she is, of course, a Pompeiian, she is living in her native city and -"without his having any suspicion of it, was his contemporary." He is -seized with fear for her, calls to her, whereupon she turns her face -toward him momentarily. Yet she walks on without heeding him at all, -lies down on the steps of the Apollo temple, and is buried by the rain -of ashes, after her face has changed colour as if it were turning to -white marble, until it completely resembles a bas-relief. On awakening, -he interprets the noise of the metropolis, which reaches his ear, as the -cries for help of the desperate inhabitants of Pompeii and the booming -of the turbulent sea. The feeling that what he has dreamed has really -happened to him persists for some time after his awakening, and the -conviction that Gradiva lived in Pompeii and died on that fatal day -remains from this dream as a new, supplementary fact for his delusion. - -It is less easy for us to say what the author of _Gradiva_ intended by -this dream, and what caused him to connect the development of this -delusion directly with a dream. Assiduous investigation of dreams has, -to be sure, gathered enough examples of the fact that mental disturbance -is connected with and proceeds from dreams,[7] and even in the -life-history of certain eminent men, impulses for important deeds and -decisions are said to have been engendered by dreams; but our -comprehension does not gain much by these analogies; let us hold, -therefore, to our case, the case of the archæologist, Norbert Hanold, a -fiction of our author. At which end must one lay hold of such a dream to -introduce meaning into it, if it is not to remain an unnecessary -adornment of fiction? I can imagine that the reader exclaims at this -place: "The dream is, of course, easy to explain--a simple -anxiety-dream, caused by the noise of the metropolis, which is given the -new interpretation of the destruction of Pompeii, by the archæologist -busied with his Pompeiian girl!" On account of the commonly prevailing -disregard of the activities of dreams, one usually limits the demands -for dream-explanations so that one seeks for a part of the dream-content -an external excitation which covers itself by means of the content. This -external excitation for the dream would be given by the noise which -wakens the sleeper; the interest in this dream would be thereby -terminated. Would that we had even one reason to suppose that the -metropolis had been noisier than usual on this morning! If, for example, -our author had not omitted to inform us that Hanold had that night, -contrary to his custom, slept by an open window! What a shame that our -author didn't take the trouble! And if an anxiety-dream were only so -simple a thing! No, this interest is not terminated in so simple a way. - -The connection with the external, sensory stimulus is not at all -essential for the dream-formation. The sleeper can neglect this -excitation from the outer world; he may be awakened by it without -forming a dream, he may also weave it into his dream, as happens here, -if it is of no use to him from any other motive; and there is an -abundance of dreams for whose content such a determination by a sensory -excitation of the sleeper cannot be shown. No, let us try another way. - -Perhaps we can start from the residue which the dream leaves in Hanold's -waking life. It had formerly been his fancy that Gradiva was a -Pompeiian. Now this assumption becomes a certainty and the second -certainty is added that she was buried there in the year 79.[8] -Sorrowful feelings accompany this progress of the formation of the -delusion like an echo of the fear which had filled the dream. This new -grief about Gradiva will seem to us not exactly comprehensible; Gradiva -would now have been dead for many centuries even if she had been saved -in the year 79 from destruction. Or ought one to be permitted to -squabble thus with either Norbert Hanold or his creator? Here, too, no -way seems to lead to explanation. We wish, nevertheless, to remark that -a very painful, emotional stress clings to the augmentation which the -delusion derives from this dream. - -Otherwise, however, our perplexity is not dispelled. This dream does not -explain itself; we must decide to borrow from _Traumdeutung_ by the -present writer, and to use some of the rules given there for the -solution of dreams. - -One of these rules is that a dream is regularly connected with the day -before the dream. Our author seems to wish to intimate that he has -followed this rule by connecting the dream directly with Hanold's -"pedestrian investigations." Now the latter means nothing but a search -for Gradiva whom he expects to recognize by her characteristic manner of -walking. The dream ought, therefore, to contain a reference to where -Gradiva is to be found. It really does contain it by showing her in -Pompeii, but that is no news for us. - -Another rule says: If, after the dream, the reality of the -dream-pictures continues unusually long so that one cannot free himself -from the dream, this is not a kind of mistake in judgment called forth -by the vividness of the dream-pictures, but is a psychic act in itself, -an assurance which refers to the dream-content, that something in it is -as real as it has been dreamed to be, and one is right to believe this -assurance. If we stop at these two rules, we must decide that the dream -gives real information about the whereabouts of Gradiva, who is being -sought. We now know Hanold's dream; does the application of these two -rules lead to any sensible meaning? - -Strange to say, yes. This meaning is disguised only in a special way so -that one does not recognize it immediately. Hanold learns in the dream -that the girl sought lives in the city and in his own day. That is, of -course, true of Zoë Bertgang, only that in his dream the city is not the -German university-city, but Pompeii, the time not the present, but the -year 79, according to our reckoning. It is a kind of disfigurement by -displacement; not Gradiva is transported to the present, but the dreamer -to the past; but we are also given the essential and new fact _that he -shares locality and time with the girl sought_. Whence, then, this -dissimulation and disguise which must deceive us as well as the dreamer -about the peculiar meaning and content of the dream? Well, we have -already means at hand to give us a satisfactory answer to this question. - -Let us recall all that we have heard about the nature and origin of -fancies, these preliminaries of delusion. They are substitution for and -remnants of different repressed memories, which a resistance does not -allow to push into consciousness, which, however, become conscious by -heeding the censor of resistance, by means of transformations and -disfigurements. After this compromise is completed, the former memories -have become fancies, which may easily be misunderstood by the conscious -person, that is, may be understood to be the ruling psychic force. Now -let us suppose that the dream-pictures are the so-called physiological -delusion-products of a man, the compromise-results of that struggle -between what is repressed and what is dominant, which exist probably -even in people absolutely normal in the daytime. Then we understand that -we have to consider the dream something disfigured behind which there is -to be sought something else, not disfigured, but, in a sense, something -offensive, like Hanold's repressed memories behind his fancies. One -expresses the admitted opposition by distinguishing what the dreamer -remembers on waking, as _manifest dream-content_, from what formed the -basis of the dream before the censor's disfigurement, _the latent -dream-thoughts_. To interpret a dream, then, means to translate the -manifest dream-content into the latent dream-thoughts, which make -retrogressive the disfigurement that had to be approved by the -resistance censor. When we turn these deliberations to the dream which -is occupying us, we find that the latent dream-thoughts must have been -as follows: "The girl who has that beautiful walk, whom you are seeking, -lives really in this city with you;" but in this form the thought could -not become conscious; in its way there stood the fact that a fancy had -established, as a result of a former compromise, the idea that Gradiva -was a Pompeiian girl, and therefore nothing remained, if the actual fact -of her living in the same locality and at the same time was to be -perceived, but to assume the disfigurement: you are living in Pompeii at -the time of Gradiva; and this then is the idea which the manifest -dream-content realizes and represents as a present time which he is -living in. - -A dream is rarely the representation, one might say the staging, of a -single thought, but generally of a number of them, a web of thoughts. In -Hanold's dream there is conspicuous another component of the content, -whose disfigurement is easily put aside so that one may learn the latent -idea represented by it. This is the end of the dream to which the -assurance of reality can also be extended. In the dream the beautiful -walker, Gradiva, is transformed into a bas-relief. That is, of course, -nothing but an ingenious and poetic representation of the actual -procedure. Hanold had, indeed, transferred his interest from the living -girl to the bas-relief; the beloved had been transformed into a stone -relief. The latent dream-thoughts, which remain unconscious, wish to -transform the relief back into the living girl; in connection with the -foregoing they speak to him somewhat as follows: "You are, of course, -interested in the bas-relief of Gradiva only because it reminds you of -the present, here-living Zoë." But this insight would mean the end of -the delusion, if it could become conscious. - -Is it our duty to substitute unconscious thoughts thus for every single -bit of the manifest dream-content? Strictly speaking, yes; in the -interpretation of a dream which had actually been dreamed, we should not -be allowed to avoid this duty. The dreamer would then have to give us an -exhaustive account. It is easily understood that we cannot enforce such -a demand in connection with the creature of our author; we will not, -however, overlook the fact that we have not yet submitted the chief -content of this dream to the work of interpretation and translation. - -Hanold's dream is, of course, an anxiety-dream. Its content is fearful; -anxiety is felt by the dreamer in sleep, and painful feelings remain -after it. That is not of any great help for our attempt at explanation; -we are again forced to borrow largely from the teachings of -dream-interpretation. This admonishes us not to fall into the error of -deriving the fear that is felt in a dream from the content of a dream, -not to use the dream-content like the content of ideas of waking life. -It calls to our attention how often we dream the most horrible things -without feeling any trace of fear. Rather the true fact is a quite -different one, which cannot be easily guessed, but can certainly be -proved. The fear of the anxiety-dream corresponds to a sex-feeling, a -libidinous emotion, like every neurotic fear, and has, through the -process of repression, proceeded from the libido.[9] In the -interpretation of dreams, therefore, one must substitute for fear sexual -excitement. The fear which has thus come into existence, exercises -now--not regularly, but often--a selective influence on the -dream-content and brings into the dream ideational elements which seem -suitable to this fear for the conscious and erroneous conception of the -dream. This is, as has been said, by no means regularly the case, for -there are anxiety dreams in which the content is not at all frightful, -in which, therefore, one cannot explain consciously the anxiety -experienced. - -I know that this explanation of fear in dreams sounds odd, and is not -easily believed; but I can only advise making friends with it. It would, -moreover, be remarkable if Norbert Hanold's dream allowed itself to be -connected with this conception of fear and to be explained by it. We -should then say that in the dreamer, at night, the erotic desire stirs, -makes a powerful advance to bring his memory of the beloved into -consciousness and thus snatch him from the delusion, experiences -rejection and transformation into fear, which now, on its part, brings -the fearful pictures from the academic memory of the dreamer into the -dream-content. In this way the peculiar unconscious content of the -dream, the amorous longing for the once known Zoë, is transformed into -the manifest-content of the destruction of Pompeii and the loss of -Gradiva. - -I think that sounds quite plausible so far. One might justly demand that -if erotic wishes form the undisfigured content of this dream, then one -must be able to point out, in the transformed dream, at least a -recognizable remnant of them hidden somewhere. Well, perhaps even this -will come about with the help of a suggestion which appears later in the -story. At the first meeting with the supposed Gradiva, Hanold remembers -this dream and requests the apparition to lie down again as he has seen -her.[10] Thereupon the young lady rises, indignant, and leaves her -strange companion, in whose delusion-ridden speech she has heard the -suggestion of an improper erotic wish. I think we may adopt Gradiva's -interpretation; even from a real dream one cannot always demand more -definiteness for the representation of an erotic wish. - -Thus the application of some rules of dream-interpretation have been -successful on Hanold's first dream, in making this dream comprehensible -to us in its chief features, and in fitting it into the sequence of the -story. Then it must probably have been produced by its author with due -consideration for these rules. One could raise only one more question: -why the author should introduce a dream for further development of the -delusion. Well, I think that is very cleverly arranged and again keeps -faith with reality. We have already heard that in actual illness the -formation of a delusion is very often connected with a dream, but after -our explanation of the nature of dreams, we need find no new riddle in -this fact. Dreams and delusion spring from the same source, the -repressed; the dream is, so to speak, the physiological delusion of the -normal human being. Before the repressed has become strong enough to -push itself up into waking life as delusion, it may easily have won its -first success under the more favourable circumstances of sleep, in the -form of a dream having after-effects. During sleep, with the diminution -of psychic activity, there enters a slackening in the strength of the -resistance, which the dominant psychic forces oppose to the repressed. -This slackening is what makes the dream-formation possible and therefore -the dream becomes, for us, the best means of approach to knowledge of -the unconscious psyche. Only the dream usually passes rapidly with the -re-establishment of the psychic revival of waking life, and the ground -won by the unconscious is again vacated. - - - III - -In the further course of the story there is another dream, which can -tempt us, even more perhaps than the first, to try to interpret it and -fit it into the psychic life of the hero; but we save little if we leave -the representation of the author of _Gradiva_ here, to hasten directly -to this second dream, for whoever wishes to interpret the dream of -another, cannot help concerning himself, as extensively as possible, -with every subjective and objective experience of the dreamer. Therefore -it would be best to hold to the thread of the story and provide this -with our commentaries as we progress. - -The new delusion of the death of Gradiva at the destruction of Pompeii -in the year 79 is not the only after-effect of the first dream analysed -by us. Directly afterwards Hanold decides upon a trip to Italy, which -finally takes him to Pompeii. Before this, however, something else has -happened to him; leaning from his window, he thinks he sees on the -street a figure with the bearing and walk of his Gradiva, hastens after -her, in spite of his scanty attire, does not overtake her, but is driven -back by the jeers of the people on the street. After he has returned to -his room, the song of a canary whose cage hangs in the window of the -opposite house calls forth in him a mood such as if he wished to get -from prison into freedom, and the spring trip is immediately decided -upon and accomplished. - -Our author has put this trip of Hanold's in an especially strong light, -and has given to the latter partial clearness about his subjective -processes. Hanold has, of course, given himself a scientific purpose for -his journey, but this is not substantial. Yet he knows that the "impulse -to travel has originated in a nameless feeling." A peculiar restlessness -makes him dissatisfied with everything he encounters and drives him from -Rome to Naples, from there to Pompeii, without his mood's being set -right, even at the last halting-place. He is annoyed by the foolishness -of honeymoon travellers, and is enraged over the boldness of -house-flies, which populate the hotels of Pompeii; but finally he does -not deceive himself over the fact that "his dissatisfaction was -certainly not caused by his surroundings alone, but, to a degree, found -its origin in him." He considers himself over-excited, feels "that he -was out of sorts because he lacked something without being able to -explain what, and this ill-humour he took everywhere with him." In such -a mood he is enraged even at his mistress, science; as he wanders for -the first time in the glow of the midday sun through Pompeii, all his -science had left him without the least desire to rediscover it; "he -remembered it as from a great distance, and he felt that it had been an -old, dried-up, boresome aunt, dullest and most superfluous creature in -the world." (_G._ p. 48.) - -In this uncomfortable and confused state of mind, one of the riddles -which are connected with this journey is solved for him at the moment -when he first sees Gradiva walking through Pompeii; "he became -conscious, for the first time, that he had, without himself knowing the -motive in his heart, come to Italy on that account and had, without -stop, continued from Rome and Naples to Pompeii to see if he could here -find trace of her--and that in a literal sense--for, with her unusual -gait, she must have left behind in the ashes a foot-print different from -all the others." (_G._ p. 50.) - -As our author has put so much care into the delineation of this trip, it -must be worth our while to explain its relation to Hanold's delusion and -its place in the sequence of events. The journey is undertaken for -motives which the character does not at first recognize and does not -admit until later, motives which our author designates directly as -"unconscious." This is certainly true to life; one does not need to have -a delusion to act thus; rather it is an everyday occurrence, even for -normal people, that they are deceived about the motives of their actions -and do not become conscious of them until subsequently, when a conflict -of several emotional currents re-establishes for them the condition for -such confusion. Hanold's trip, therefore, was intended, from the -beginning, to serve the delusion, and was to take him to Pompeii to -continue there the search for Gradiva. Let us remember that before, and -directly after the dream, this search filled his mind and that the dream -itself was only a stifled answer of his consciousness to the question of -the whereabouts of Gradiva. Some force which we do not recognize, -however, next prevents the plan of the delusion from becoming conscious, -so that only insufficient pretexts, which can be but partially revived, -remain as a conscious motivation for the trip. The author gives us -another riddle by having the dream, the discovery of the supposed -Gradiva on the street, and the decision to make the journey because of -the influence of the singing canary follow one another like chance -occurrences without inner coherence. - -With the help of the explanations which we gather from the later -speeches of Zoë Bertgang, this obscure part of the tale is illuminated -for our understanding. It was really the original of Gradiva, Miss Zoë, -herself, whom Hanold saw from his window walking on the street (_G._ p. -23), and whom he would soon have overtaken. The statement of the -dreamer--"she is really living now in the present, in the same city with -you,"--would, therefore, by a lucky chance, have experienced an -irrefutable corroboration, before which his inner resistance would have -collapsed. The canary, however, whose song impelled Hanold to go away, -belonged to Zoë, and his cage was in her window, in the house diagonally -opposite from Hanold's (_G._ p. 98). Hanold, who, according to the -girl's arraignment, was endowed with negative hallucination, understood -the art of not seeing nor recognizing people, and must from the -beginning have had unconscious knowledge of what we do not discover -until later. The signs of Zoë's proximity, her appearance on the street, -and her bird's song so near his window intensify the effect of the -dream, and in this condition, so dangerous for his resistance to the -eroticism, he takes flight. The journey arises from the recovery of the -resistance after that advance of erotic desire in the dream, an attempt -at flight from the living and present beloved. It means practically a -victory for repression, which, this time, in the delusion keeps the -upper hand, as, in his former action, the "pedestrian investigations" of -women and girls, the eroticism had been victorious. Everywhere, however, -the indecision of the struggle, the compromise nature of the results was -evident; the trip to Pompeii, which is to take him away from the living -Zoë leads, at any rate, to her substitute, Gradiva. The journey, which -is undertaken in defiance of the most recent dream-thoughts, follows, -however, the order of the manifest dream-content to Pompeii. Thus -delusion triumphs anew every time that eroticism and resistance struggle -anew. - -This conception of Hanold's trip, as a flight from the erotic desire for -the beloved, who is so near, which is awakening in him, harmonizes, -however, with the frame of mind portrayed in him during his stay in -Italy. The rejection of the eroticism, which dominates him, expresses -itself there in his abhorrence of honeymoon travellers. A little dream -in the "albergo" in Rome, caused by the proximity of a couple of German -lovers, "Augustus" and "Gretchen," whose evening conversation he is -forced to overhear through the thin partition, casts a further light on -the erotic tendencies of his first great dream. The new dream transports -him again to Pompeii where Vesuvius is just having another eruption, and -thus refers to the dream which continues active during his trip; but -among the imperilled people he sees this time--not as before himself and -Gradiva--but Apollo Belvedere and the Capitoline Venus,--doubtless -ironic exaltation of the couple in the adjoining room. Apollo lifts -Venus, carries her away, and lays her on an object in the dark, which -seems to be a carriage or a cart, for a "rattling sound" comes from it. -Otherwise the dream needs no special skill for its interpretation. (_G._ -p. 32.) - -Our author, whom we have long relied on not to make a single stroke in -his picture idly and without purpose, has given us another bit of -testimony for the non-sexual force dominating Hanold on the trip. During -hours of wandering in Pompeii, it happens that "remarkably, it did not -once appear in his memory that he had dreamed some time ago that he had -been present at the destruction of Pompeii by the volcanic eruption of -79." (_G._ p. 42.) At sight of Gradiva he first suddenly remembers this -dream, and at the same time the motive of the delusion for his puzzling -journey becomes conscious. Then what other meaning could there be for -forgetting the dream, this repression-boundary between the dream and the -psychic condition of the journey, than that the journey is not the -result of the direct instigation of the dream, but of the rejection of -this latter, as the emanation from a psychic force which desires no -knowledge of the secret meaning of the dream? - -On the other hand, however, Hanold is not happy at this victory over his -eroticism. The suppressed psychic impulse remains strong enough to -revenge itself, by discontent and interception, on the suppressing -agency. His longing has changed to restlessness and dissatisfaction, -which make the trip seem senseless to him. His insight into the -motivation of his trip is obstructed in service of the delusion; his -relation to science, which ought, in such a place, to stir all his -interest, is upset. So our author shows his hero, after flight from -love, in a sort of crisis, in an utterly confused and unsettled -condition, in a derangement such as usually appears at the climax of -illness if neither of the two struggling forces is so much stronger than -the other, that the difference could establish a strict, psychic régime. -Here then our author takes hold to help and to settle, for, at this -place, he introduces Gradiva, who undertakes the cure of the delusion. -With his power to direct to a happy solution the fortunes of all the -characters created by him, in spite of all the requirements which he has -them conform to, he transports the girl, from whom Hanold has fled to -Pompeii, to that very place and thus corrects the folly which the -delusion caused the young man to commit in leaving the home-city of his -beloved for the dead abode of the one substituted for her by his fancy. - -With the appearance of Zoë Bertgang as Gradiva, which marks the climax -of the suspense of the story, our interest is soon diverted. If we have -hitherto been living through the developments of a delusion, we shall -now become witnesses of its cure, and may ask ourselves if our author -has merely invented the procedure of this cure or has carried it out -according to actually existing possibilities. From Zoë's own words in -the conversation with her friend, we have decidedly the right to ascribe -to her the intention to cure the hero (_G._ p. 97). But how does she go -about it? After she has cast aside the indignation which the -unreasonable request, to lie down to sleep again, as "then," had evoked -in her, she appears again next day, at the same place, and elicits from -Hanold all the secret knowledge that was lacking to her for an -understanding of his conduct of the previous day. She learns of his -dream, of the bas-relief of Gradiva, and of the peculiarity of walk -which she shares with the relief. She accepts the rôle of a spirit -awakened to life for a short hour, which, she observes, his delusion -assigns to her, and in ambiguous words, she gently puts him in the way -of a new rôle by accepting from him the grave-flower which he had -brought along without conscious purpose, and expresses regret that he -has not given her roses (_G._ p. 70). - -Our interest in the conduct of the eminently clever girl, who has -decided to win the lover of her youth as husband, after she has -recognized his love behind his delusion as its impelling force, is, -however, restrained at this place probably because of the strange -feelings that the delusion can arouse even in us. Its latest -development, that Gradiva, who was buried in the year 79, can now -exchange conversation with him as a noon-spirit, for an hour, after the -passing of which she sinks out of sight or seeks her grave again, this -chimæra, which is not confused by the perception of her modern -foot-covering, nor by her ignorance of the ancient tongues, nor by her -command of German, which did not exist in former times, seems indeed to -justify the author's designation, "A Pompeiian Fancy," but to exclude -every standard of clinical reality; and yet on closer consideration the -improbability in this delusion seems to me, for the most part, to -vanish. To be sure, our author has taken upon himself a part of the -blame, and in the first part of the story has offered the fact that Zoë -was the image of the bas-relief in every trait. One must, therefore, -guard against transferring the improbability of this preliminary to its -logical conclusion that Hanold considers the girl to be Gradiva come to -life. The explanation of the delusion is here enhanced by the fact that -our author has offered us no rational disposal of it. In the glowing sun -of the Campagna and in the bewildering magic powers of the vine which -grows on Vesuvius, our author has introduced helpful and mitigating -circumstances of the transgression of the hero. The most important of -all explanatory and exonerating considerations remains, however, the -facility with which our intellect decides to accept an absurd content if -impulses with a strong emotional stress find thereby their satisfaction. -It is astonishing, and generally meets with too little acceptance, how -easily and often intelligent people, under such psychological -constellations, give the reactions of partial mental weakness, and any -one who is not too conceited may observe this in himself as often as he -wishes, and especially when a part of the thought-processes under -consideration is connected with unconscious or repressed motives. I -cite, in this connection, the words of a philosopher who writes to me, -"I have also begun to make note of cases of striking mistakes, from my -own experience, and of thoughtless actions which one subsequently -explains to himself (in a very unreasonable way). It is amazing but -typical how much stupidity thereby comes to light." Now let us consider -the fact that belief in spirits, apparitions and returning souls (which -finds so much support in the religions to which, at least as children, -we have all clung) is by no means destroyed among all educated people, -and that many otherwise reasonable people find their interest in -spiritism compatible with their reason. Yes, even one become -dispassionate and incredulous may perceive with shame how easily he -turns back for a moment to a belief in spirits, when emotions and -perplexity concur in him. I know of a physician who had once lost a -patient by Basedow's disease and could not rid himself of the slight -suspicion that he had perhaps contributed by unwise medication to the -unfortunate outcome. One day several years later there stepped into his -office a girl, in whom, in spite of all reluctance, he was obliged to -recognize the dead woman. His only thought was that it was true that the -dead could return, and his fear did not give way to shame until the -visitor introduced herself as the sister of the woman who had died of -that disease. Basedow's disease lends to those afflicted with it a great -similarity of features, which has often been noticed, and in this case -the typical resemblance was far more exaggerated than the family -resemblance. The physician, moreover, to whom this happened was I, and -therefore I am not inclined to quarrel with Norbert Hanold over the -clinical possibility of his short delusion about Gradiva, who had -returned to life. That in serious cases of chronic delusion (paranoia) -the most extreme absurdities, ingeniously devised and well supported, -are active is, finally, well known to every psychiatrist. - -After his first meeting with Gradiva, Norbert Hanold had drunk his wine -in first one and then another of the hotels of Pompeii known to him, -while the other guests were having their regular meals. "Of course, in -no way had the absurd supposition entered his mind" that he was doing -this to find out what hotel Gradiva lived and ate in, but it is hard to -say what other significance his action could have. On the day after his -second meeting in Meleager's house, he has all sorts of remarkable and -apparently disconnected experiences; he finds a narrow cleft in the wall -of the portico where Gradiva had disappeared, meets a foolish -lizard-catcher, who addresses him as an acquaintance, discovers a -secluded hotel, the "Albergo del Sole," whose owner talks him into -buying a metal brooch encrusted with green patina, which had been found -with the remains of a Pompeiian girl, and finally notices in his own -hotel a newly-arrived young couple, whom he diagnoses to be brother and -sister, and congenial. All these impressions are then woven into a -"remarkably nonsensical" dream as follows: - -"Somewhere in the sun Gradiva sat making a trap out of a blade of grass -in order to catch a lizard, and she said, 'Please stay quite still--my -colleague is right; the method is really good and she has used it with -the greatest success.'" - -To this dream he offers resistance even while sleeping, with the -critique that it is indeed the most utter madness, and he casts about to -free himself from it. He succeeds in doing this, too, with the aid of an -invisible bird who utters a short, merry call, and carries the lizard -away in his beak. - -Shall we risk an attempt to interpret this dream also, that is, to -substitute for it the latent thoughts from whose disfigurement it must -have proceeded? It is as nonsensical as one could expect a dream to be -and this absurdity of dreams is the mainstay of the view which denies to -the dream the character of a valid psychic act, and has it proceed from -a desultory stimulus of the psychic elements. - -We can apply to this dream the technique which can be designated as the -regular procedure of dream-interpretation. It consists in disregarding -the apparent sequence in the manifest dream but in examining separately -every part of the content, and in seeking its derivation in the -impressions, memories and free ideas of the dreamer. As we cannot -examine Hanold, however, we must be satisfied with reference to his -impressions, and may with due caution substitute our own ideas for his. - -"Somewhere in the sun Gradiva sat catching lizards, and said ..." What -impression of the day is this part of the dream reminiscent of? -Unquestionably of the meeting with the older man, the lizard-catcher, -for whom Gradiva is substituted in the dream. He was sitting or lying on -a "hot, sunny" slope and spoke to Hanold, too. Even the utterances of -Gradiva in the dream are copied from those of the man. Let us compare: -"'The method suggested by my colleague, Eimer, is really good; I have -already used it often with the best of success. Please remain quite -still.'"--Quite similarly Gradiva speaks in the dream, only that for the -_colleague, Eimer_, is substituted an unnamed woman-colleague; the -_often_ from the zoologist's speech is missing in the dream, and the -connection between the statements has been somewhat changed. It seems, -therefore, that this experience of the day has been transformed into a -dream by some changes and disfigurements. Why thus, and what is the -meaning of the disfigurements, the substitution of Gradiva for the old -gentleman, and the introduction of the puzzling "woman-colleague"? - -There is a rule of dream-interpretation as follows: A speech heard in a -dream always originates from a speech either heard or uttered in waking -life. Well, this rule seems followed here; the speech of Gradiva is only -a modification of a speech heard in the daytime from the zoologist. -Another rule of dream-interpretation would tell us that the substitution -of one person for another, or the mixture of two people by showing one -in a position which characterizes the other means equivalence of the two -people, a correspondence between them. Let us venture to apply this rule -also to our dream; then the interpretation would follow: "Gradiva -catches lizards, as that old gentleman does, and like him, is skilled in -lizard-catching." This result is not comprehensible yet, but we have -another riddle before us. To which impression of the day shall we refer -the "woman colleague," who is substituted in the dream for the famous -zoologist, Eimer? We have here fortunately not much choice; only one -other girl can be meant by "woman-colleague," the congenial young lady -in whom Hanold has conjectured a sister travelling with her brother. "In -her gown she wore a red Sorrento rose, the sight of which, as he looked -across from his corner, stirred something in his memory without his -being able to think what it was." This observation on the part of the -author surely gives us the right to assert that she is the -"woman-colleague" of the dream. What Hanold cannot remember is certainly -nothing but the remark of the supposed Gradiva, as she asked him for the -grave-flower, that to more fortunate girls one brought roses in spring. -In this speech, however, lay a hidden wooing. What kind of -lizard-catching is it that this more fortunate woman-colleague has been -so successful with? - -On the next day Hanold surprises the supposed brother and sister in -tender embrace and can thus correct his mistake of the previous day. -They are really a couple of lovers, on their honeymoon, as we later -learn, when the two disturb, so unexpectedly, Hanold's third meeting -with Zoë. If we will now accept the idea that Hanold, who consciously -considers them brother and sister, has, in his unconscious, recognized -at once their real relation, which on the next day betrays itself so -unequivocally, there results a good meaning for Gradiva's remark in the -dream. The red rose then becomes a symbol for being in love; Hanold -understands that the two are as Gradiva and he are soon to be; the -lizard-catching acquires the meaning of husband-catching, and Gradiva's -speech means something like this: "Let me arrange things; I know how to -win a husband as well as this other girl does." - -Why must this penetration of Zoë's intentions appear throughout in the -form of the speech of the old zoologist? Why is Zoë's skill in -husband-catching represented by that of the old man in lizard-catching? -Well, it is easy for us to answer that question; we have long ago -guessed that the lizard-catcher is none other than the professor of -zoology, Bertgang, Zoë's father, who must, of course, also know Hanold, -so that it is a matter of course that he addresses Hanold as an -acquaintance. Again, let us accept the idea that Hanold, in his -unconscious, immediately recognizes the professor--"It seemed to him -dimly that he had already seen the face of the lizard-hunter probably in -one of the two hotels." Thus is explained the strange cloaking of the -purpose attributed to Zoë. She is the daughter of the lizard-catcher; -she has inherited this skill from him. The substitution of Gradiva for -the lizard-catcher in the dream-content, is, therefore, the -representation of the relation between the two people, which was -recognized by the unconscious; the introduction of "woman-colleague" in -place of _colleague, Eimer_, allows the dream to express comprehension -of her courtship of the man. The dream has welded two of the day's -experiences in one situation, "condensed" as we say, in order to -procure, to be sure, very indiscernible expression for two ideas which -are not allowed to become conscious; but we can go on diminishing the -strangeness of the dream still more and pointing out the influence of -other experiences of the day on the formation of the manifest dream. - -Dissatisfied by the former information, we might explain why the scene -of the lizard-catching was made the nucleus of the dream, and suppose -that the other elements in the dream-thoughts influence the term -"lizard" in the manifest dream. It might really be very easy. Let us -recall that Hanold has discovered a cleft in the wall, in the place -where Gradiva seems to him to disappear; this is "wide enough to afford -passage to an unusually slender figure." By this perception he is forced -in the day-time to an alteration in his delusion; Gradiva did not sink -into the ground when she disappeared from his sight, but was going back, -by this route, to her grave. In his unconscious thought he might say to -himself that he had now found the natural explanation for the surprising -disappearance of the girl; but must not forcing one's self through -narrow clefts, and disappearing in such clefts recall the conduct of -lizards? Does not Gradiva herself, then, in this connection, behave like -an agile little lizard? We think, therefore, that the discovery of this -cleft in the wall had worked as a determinant on the choice of the -"lizard" element for the manifest dream-content; the lizard-situation of -the dream, therefore, represented this impression of the day, and the -meeting with the zoologist, Zoë's father. - -What if, become bold, we now wished to attempt to find in the -dream-content a representation also for the one experience of the day -which has not yet been turned to account, the discovery of the third -hotel, "del Sole"? Our author has treated this episode so exhaustively -and linked so much with it, we should be surprised if it, alone, had -yielded no contribution to the dream-formation. Hanold enters this -hotel, which, because of its secluded situation and its distance from -the station, has remained unknown to him, to get a bottle of lime-water -for congestion of blood. The hotel-keeper uses this opportunity to extol -his antiques and shows him a brooch which, it was alleged, had belonged -to that Pompeiian girl who was found near the Forum in fond embrace with -her lover. Hanold, who had never before believed this frequently -repeated story, is now compelled, by a force strange to him, to believe -in the truth of this touching story and in the genuineness of the -article found, buys the brooch and leaves the hotel with his purchase. -In passing, he sees nodding down at him from one of the windows a -cluster of white, asphodel blossoms which had been placed in a -water-glass, and he feels that this sight is an attestation of the -genuineness of his new possession. The sincere conviction is now -impressed upon him that the green brooch belonged to Gradiva, and that -she was the girl who died in her lover's embrace. The tormenting -jealousy, which thereupon seizes him, he appeases with the resolution to -assure himself about this suspicion, the next day, from Gradiva, -herself, by showing the brooch. This is a strange bit of new delusion; -and shouldn't any trace point to it in the dream of the following night? - -It will be well worth our while to get an understanding of the origin of -this augmentation of the delusion, to look up the new unconscious idea -for which the new bit of delusion is substituted. The delusion -originates under the influence of the proprietor of the "Sun Hotel," -toward whom Hanold conducts himself in so remarkably credulous a manner, -as if he has received a suggestion from him. The proprietor shows him a -small metal brooch as genuine, and as the possession of that girl who -was found in the arms of her lover, buried in the ashes, and Hanold, who -could be critical enough to doubt the truth of the story as well as the -genuineness of the brooch, is caught, credulous, and buys the more than -doubtful antique. It is quite incomprehensible why he should act so, and -no hint is given that the personality of the proprietor himself might -solve this riddle for us. There is, however, another riddle in this -incident, and two riddles sometimes solve each other. On leaving the -"albergo," he catches sight of an asphodel cluster in a glass at a -window, and finds in it an attestation of the genuineness of the metal -brooch. How can that be? This last stroke is fortunately easy of -solution. The white flower is, of course, the one which he presented to -Gradiva at noon, and it is quite right that through the sight of it at -one of the windows of this hotel, something is corroborated, not the -genuineness of the brooch, but something else which has become clear to -him at the discovery of this formerly overlooked "albergo." In the -forenoon he has already acted as if he were seeking, in the two hotels -of Pompeii, where the person lived who appeared to him as Gradiva. Now, -as he stumbles so unexpectedly upon a third, he must say in the -unconscious: "So she lives here"; and then, on leaving: "Right there is -the asphodel flower I gave her; that is, therefore, her window." This, -then, is the new idea for which the delusion is substituted, and which -cannot become conscious because its assumption that Gradiva is living, a -person known by him, cannot become conscious. - -How then is the substitution of the delusion for the new idea supposed -to have occurred? I think thus: that the feeling of conviction which -clung to the idea was able to assert itself and persisted, while another -ideational content related to it by thought-connection acted as -substitute for the idea itself which was incapable of consciousness. -Thus the feeling of conviction was connected with a really strange -content, and this latter attained, as delusion, a recognition which did -not belong to it. Hanold transfers his conviction that Gradiva lives in -this house to other impressions which he receives in this house, -becomes, in a way, credulous about what the proprietor says, the -genuineness of the metal brooch, and the truth of the anecdote about the -lovers found in an embrace, but only by this route, that he connects -what he has heard in this house with Gradiva. The jealousy which has -been lying ready in him gets possession of this material, and even in -contradiction to his first dream there appears the delusion that Gradiva -was the girl who died in the arms of her lover, and that the brooch -which he bought belonged to her. - -We notice that the conversation with Gradiva, and her gentle wooing -"through the flower," have already evoked important changes in Hanold. -Traits of male desire, components of the libido are awakened in him, -which, to be sure, cannot yet dispense with the concealment through -conscious pretexts; but the problem of the corporeal nature of Gradiva, -which has pursued him this whole day, cannot disavow its derivation from -the erotic desire of the young man for possession of the woman, even if -it is dragged into the scientific world by conscious stress on Gradiva's -peculiar hovering between life and death. Jealousy is an added mark of -Hanold's awakening activity in love; he expresses this at the opening of -the conversation on the next day, and with the aid of a new pretext -achieves his object of touching the girl's body, and of striking her, as -in times long past. - -Now, however, it is time to ask if the course of delusion-formation -which we have inferred from our author's representation is one otherwise -admitted or possible. From my experience as physician, I can answer only -that it is surely the right way, perhaps the only one, in which the -delusion receives the unswerving recognition due to its clinical -character. If the patient believes in his delusion so firmly, it does -not happen because of inversion of his powers of judgment, and does not -proceed from what is erroneous in the delusion; but in every delusion -there lies also a little grain of truth; there is something in it which -really deserves belief, and this is the source of the conviction of the -patient, who is, to this extent, justified. This true element, however, -has been repressed for a long time; if it finally succeeds in pushing -into consciousness (this time in disfigured form), the feeling of a -conviction clinging to it, as if in compensation, is over-strong and now -clings to and protects the disfigurement-substitute of the repressed, -true element against every critical impugnment. The conviction at once -shifts itself from the unconscious, true element to the conscious, -erroneous one connected with it, and remains fixed there as a result of -this very displacement. The case of delusion-formation which resulted -from Hanold's first dream is nothing but a similar, if not identical, -case of such displacement. Yes, the depicted manner of development of -conviction in the delusion is not fundamentally different from the way -in which conviction is formed in normal cases, where repression does not -enter into play. All our convictions lie in thought-contents in which -the true and the false are combined and _they stretch over the former -and the latter_. They differentiate at once between the true and -whatever false is associated with it and protect this, even if not so -immutably as in the delusion, against merited critique. Associations, -protection, likewise, have their own value even for normal psychology. - -I will now return to the dream and lay stress on a small, but not -uninteresting feature which establishes a connection between two -occasions of the dream. Gradiva had placed the white asphodel flower in -definite contrast to the red rose; the finding of the asphodel flower -again in the window of the "Albergo del Sole" becomes a weighty proof -for Hanold's unconscious idea which expresses itself in a new delusion; -and to this is added the fact that the red rose in the dress of the -congenial young girl helps Hanold again, in the unconscious, to a right -estimation of her relation to her companion so that he can have her -enter the dream as "woman colleague." - -But where in the manifest dream-content is found the trace and -representation of that discovery of Hanold's for which we find that the -new delusion is substituted, the discovery that Gradiva lives with her -father in the third hotel of Pompeii, the "Albergo del Sole," which he -has not been acquainted with? Well, it stands in its entirety and not -even much disfigured in the dream; but I dread to point it out, for I -know that even with the readers whose patience with me has lasted so -long, a strong opposition to my attempts at interpretation will be -stirred up. Hanold's discovery is given in full in the dream-content, I -repeat, but so cleverly concealed that one must needs overlook it. It is -hidden there behind a play on words, an ambiguity. "Somewhere in the sun -Gradiva sat"; this we have rightly connected with the locality where -Hanold met the zoologist, her father; but can it not also mean in the -"Sun," that is, in the "Albergo del Sole," in the "Sun Hotel" Gradiva -lives? And doesn't the "somewhere" which has no reference to the meeting -with her father sound so hypocritically indefinite for the very reason -that it introduces the definite information about the whereabouts of -Gradiva? According to previous experience in the interpretation of real -dreams, I am quite sure of such a meaning in the ambiguity, but I should -really not venture to offer this bit of interpretation to my readers, if -our author did not lend me here his powerful assistance. On the next day -he puts into the mouth of the girl, when she sees the metal brooch, the -same pun which we accept for the interpretation of the dream-content. -"Did you find it in the sun, perhaps? It brings to light many such works -of art"; and as Hanold does not understand the speech, she explains that -she means the "Sun Hotel," which is called "Sole" here, whence the -supposed antique is also familiar to her. - -And now may we make the attempt to substitute for Hanold's "remarkably -nonsensical" dream unconscious thoughts hidden behind it and as unlike -it as possible? It runs somewhat as follows: "She lives in the 'Sun' -with her father; why is she playing such a game with me? Does she wish -to make fun of me? Or could it be possible that she loves me and wishes -me for a husband?" To this latter possibility there now follows in sleep -the rejection, "That is the most utter madness," which is apparently -directed against the whole manifest dream. - -Critical readers have now the right to inquire about the origin of that -interpolation, not formerly established, which refers to being made fun -of by Gradiva. To this _Traumdeutung_ gives the answer; if in -dream-thoughts, taunts and sneers, or bitter contradictions occur, they -are expressed by the nonsensical course of the manifest dream, through -the absurdity in the dream. The latter means, therefore, no paralysis of -psychic activity, but is one of the means of representation which the -dream-work makes use of. As always in especially difficult passages, our -author here comes to our assistance. The nonsensical dream has another -postlude in which a bird utters a merry call and takes away the lizard -in his beak. Such a laughing call Hanold had heard after Gradiva's -disappearance. It really came from Zoë who was shaking off the -melancholy seriousness of her lower world rôle; with this laugh Gradiva -had really derided him. The dream-picture, however, of the bird carrying -away the lizard may recall that other one in a former dream in which -Apollo Belvedere carried away the Capitoline Venus. - -Perhaps the impression now exists with many readers that the -interpretation of the lizard-catching situation by the idea of wooing is -not sufficiently justified. Additional support is found here, perhaps in -the hint that Zoë, in conversation with her colleague, admits about -herself that very thing which Hanold's thoughts suppose about her, when -she tells that she had been sure of "digging up" something interesting -for herself here in Pompeii. She thereby delves into the archæological -series of associations as he did into the zoological with his allegory -of lizard-catching, as if they were opposing each other and each wished -to assume properties of the other. - -Thus we have finished the interpretation of the second dream. Both have -become accessible to our understanding under the presupposition that the -dreamer, in his unconscious thought, knows all that he has forgotten in -his conscious, has in the former rightly judged everything which, in the -latter, he delusively misconstrues. In this connection we have, of -course, been obliged to make many assertions which sounded odd to the -reader because they were strange to him and probably often awakened the -suspicion that we were giving out as our author's meaning what is only -our own meaning. We are ready to do everything to dissipate this -suspicion and will therefore gladly consider more exhaustively one of -the most knotty points--I mean the use of ambiguous words and speeches -as in the example, "Somewhere in the Sun Gradiva sat." - -It must be striking to every reader of _Gradiva_ how often our author -puts into the mouths of both the leading characters speeches which have -double meaning. For Hanold these speeches are intended to have only one -meaning, and only his companion, Gradiva, is affected by their other -meaning. Thus, after her first answer, he exclaims: "I knew that your -voice sounded so," and the yet unenlightened Zoë has to ask how that is -possible, as he has never before heard her speak. In the second -conversation, the girl is for a moment puzzled by his delusion, as he -assures her that he recognized her at once. She must understand these -words in the meaning that is correct for his unconscious, as his -recognition of their acquaintance which reaches back into childhood, -while he, of course, knows nothing of this meaning of his speech and -explains it only by reference to the delusion which dominates him. The -speeches of the girl, on the other hand, in whose person the most -brilliant mental clarity is opposed to the delusion, are made -intentionally ambiguous. One meaning of them falls in with the ideas of -Hanold's delusion, in order to enable her to penetrate into his -conscious comprehension, the other raises itself above the delusion, -and, as a rule, gives us the interpretation of it in the unconscious -truth which has been represented by it. It is a triumph of wit to be -able to represent the delusion and the truth in the same expression. - -Interspersed with such ambiguities is Zoë's speech in which she explains -the situation to her girl friend and at the same time rids herself of -her disturbing society; it is really spoken out of the book, calculated -more for us readers than for her happy colleague. In the conversations -with Hanold, the double meaning is chiefly established by the fact that -Zoë makes use of the symbolism which we find followed in Hanold's first -dream, in the equivalence of repression and destruction, Pompeii and -childhood. Thus on the one hand she can, in her speeches, continue in -the rôle which Hanold's delusion assigns to her, on the other, she can -touch upon the real relations, and awaken in Hanold's unconscious a -knowledge of them. - -"I have long accustomed myself to being dead." (_G._ p. 70.) "For me, -the flower of oblivion is the right one from your hand" (_G._ p. 70). In -these speeches is given lightly the reproof which then breaks out -clearly enough in her last sermon when she compares him to an -archæopteryx. "That a person must die to become alive again; but for -archæologists that is, of course, necessary" (_G._ p. 102), she -continues after the solution of the delusion as if to give us the key to -her ambiguous speeches. The most beautiful symbolism appears, however, -in the question (_G._ p. 88): "It seems to me as if we had already eaten -our bread thus together once two thousand years ago. Can't you remember -it?" In this speech the substitution of historic antiquity for -childhood, and the effort to awaken his memory of the latter are quite -unmistakable. - -Whence, therefore, comes this striking preference for ambiguous speeches -in _Gradiva_? It seems to us not chance, but the necessary sequence from -the preliminaries of the tale. It is nothing but the counterpart of the -twofold determination of symptoms in so far as the speeches are -themselves symptoms and proceed from compromises between the conscious -and the unconscious; but one notices this double origin in the speeches -more easily than in the acts; and when, as the pliability of the -material of conversation often makes possible, each of the two -intentions of a speech succeeds by the same arrangement of words in -expressing itself well, then there is present what we call an -"ambiguity." - -During the psychotherapeutic treatment of a delusion, or an analogous -disturbance, one often evolves such ambiguous speeches in patients as -new symptoms of the most fleeting duration, and can even succeed in -making use of them, whereby, with the meaning intended for the -consciousness of the patient, one can, not infrequently, stimulate the -understanding for the one valid in the unconscious. I know from -experience that among the uninitiate this rôle of ambiguity usually -gives the greatest offence, and causes the grossest misunderstanding, -but our author was right, at any rate, in representing in his production -this characteristic feature of the processes of the formation of dream -and delusion. - - - IV - -With Zoë's entrance as physician there is awakened in us, we said, a new -interest. We are eager to learn if such a cure as she accomplishes on -Hanold is comprehensible or possible, whether our author has observed -the conditions of the passing of a delusion as correctly as those of its -development. - -Without doubt a view will be advanced denying to the case portrayed by -our author such a principal interest, and recognizing no problem -requiring an explanation. For Hanold nothing more remains, it might be -asserted, but to solve his delusion again, after its object, the -supposed Gradiva, conveys to him the incorrectness of all his assertions -and gives him the most natural explanations for everything puzzling; for -example, how she knows his name. Thereby the affair would be settled -logically; as, however, the girl in this case has confessed her love, -for the satisfaction of his feminine readers, our author would surely -allow the otherwise not uninteresting story to end in the usually happy -way, marriage. More consistent, and just as possible, would have been -the different conclusion that the young scholar, after the explanation -of his mistake, should, with polite thanks, take his leave of the young -lady and in that way motivate the rejection of her love so that he might -offer an intense interest to ancient women of bronze or stone, or the -originals of these, if they were attainable, but might have no idea of -how to deal with a girl of flesh and blood of his own time. The -archæological fancy was most arbitrarily cemented into a love-story by -our author, himself. - -In discountenancing this conception as impossible, our attention is -first called to the fact that we have to attribute the change beginning -in Norbert Hanold not to the relinquishment of the delusion alone. At -the same time, indeed before the solution of the latter, there is in him -an undeniable awakening of the desire for love, which, of course, -results in his asking for the hand of the girl who has freed him from -delusion. We have already shown under what pretexts and cloakings, -curiosity about her corporeal nature, jealousy, and the brutal male -impulse for possession are expressed in him in the midst of the -delusion, since repressed desire put the first dream into his mind. Let -us add the further testimony that in the evening after the second talk -with Gradiva a living woman for the first time seems congenial to him, -although he still makes the concession to his abhorrence of honeymoon -travellers, by not recognizing the congenial girl as newly married. The -next forenoon, however, chance makes him witness of an exchange of -caresses between the girl and her supposed brother, and he draws back -shyly as if he had disturbed a holy ceremony. Disdain for "Augustus" and -"Gretchen" is forgotten and respect for love is restored to him. - -Thus our author has connected the treatment of the delusion and the -breaking forth of the desire for love most closely with one another, and -prepared the outcome in a love-affair as necessary. He knows the nature -of the delusion even better than his critics; he knows that a component -of amorous desire has combined with a component of resistance in the -formation of the delusion, and he has the girl who undertakes the cure -discover in Hanold's delusion the component referring to her. Only this -insight can make her decide to devote herself to treating him, only the -certainty of knowing herself loved by him can move her to confess to him -her love. The treatment consists in restoring to him, from without, the -repressed memories which he cannot release from within; it would be -ineffective if the therapeutist did not consider the emotions; and the -interpretation of the delusion would not finally be: "See; all that -means only that you love me." - -The procedure which our author has his Zoë follow for the cure of the -delusion of the friend of her youth, shows a considerable resemblance, -no, complete agreement, essentially, with a therapeutic method which Dr. -J. Breuer and the present writer introduced into medicine in 1895, and -to the perfection of which the latter has since devoted himself. This -method of treatment, first called the "cathartic" by Breuer, which the -present writer has preferred to designate as "analytic," consists in -rather forcibly bringing into the consciousness of the patients who -suffer from disturbances analogous to Hanold's delusion, the -unconscious, through the repression of which they have become ill, just -as Gradiva does with the repressed memories of their childhood -relations. To be sure, accomplishment of this task is easier for Gradiva -than for the physician; she is, in this connection, in a position which -might be called ideal from many view-points. The physician who does not -fathom his patient in advance, and does not possess within himself, as -conscious memory, what is working in the patient as unconscious, must -call to his aid a complicated technique in order to overcome this -disadvantage. He must learn to gather with absolute certainty, from the -patient's conscious ideas and statements, the repressed material in him, -to guess the unconscious, when it betrays itself behind the patient's -conscious expressions and acts. The latter then does something similar -to what Norbert Hanold did at the end of the story, when he -re-translates the name, Gradiva, into _Bertgang_. The disturbance -disappears then by being traced back to its origin; analysis brings cure -at the same time. - -The similarity between the procedure of Gradiva and the analytic method -of psychotherapy is, however, not limited to these two points, making -the repressed conscious, and the concurrence of explanation and cure. It -extends itself to what proves the essential of the whole change, the -awakening of the emotions. Every disturbance analogous to Hanold's -delusion, which in science we usually designate as a psychoneurosis, -has, as a preliminary, the repression of part of the emotional life, to -speak boldly, of the sex-impulse, and at every attempt to introduce the -unconscious and repressed cause of illness into consciousness, the -emotional component necessarily awakens to renewed struggle with the -forces repressing it, to adjust itself for final result, often under -violent manifestations of reaction. In reawakening, in consciousness, of -repressed love, the process of recuperation is accomplished when we sum -up all the various components of sex-impulse as "love," and this -reawakening is irremissible, for the symptoms on account of which the -treatment was undertaken are nothing but the precipitations of former -struggles of repression and recurrence and can be solved and washed away -only by a new high-tide of these very passions. Every psychoanalytic -treatment is an attempt to free repressed love, which has formed a -miserable compromise-outlet in a symptom. Yes, the conformity with the -therapeutic process pictured by the author in _Gradiva_ reaches its -height when we add that even in analytical psychotherapy the reawakened -passion, whether love or hate, chooses the person of the physician as -its object every time. - -Then, of course, appear the differences which make the case of Gradiva -an ideal one such as the technique of physicians cannot attain. Gradiva -can respond to the love which is pushing through from the unconscious -into the conscious; the physician cannot; Gradiva was herself the object -of the former repressed love; her person offers at once a desirable -object to the freed erotic activity. The physician has been a stranger, -and after the cure must try to become a stranger again; often he does -not know how to advise the cured patient to apply in life her regained -capacity for love. To suggest what resources and makeshifts the -physician then employs to approach with more or less success the model -of a love-cure which our author has drawn for us, would carry us too far -away from our present task. - -Now, however, the last question which we have already evaded answering -several times. Our views about repression, the formation of delusion and -related disturbances, the formation and interpretation of dreams, the -rôle of erotic life, and the manner of cure for such disturbances are, -of course, not by any means the common property of science, to say -nothing of being the possession of educated people. If the insight which -makes our author able to create his "Fancy" in such a way that we can -analyse it like a real history of disease has for its foundation the -above-mentioned knowledge, we should like to find out the source of it. -One of the circle who, as was explained at the beginning, was interested -in the dreams of _Gradiva_ and their possible interpretation, put the -direct question to Wilhelm Jensen, whether any such similar theories of -science had been known to him. Our author answered, as was to be -expected, in the negative, and rather testily. His imagination had put -into his mind the _Gradiva_ in whom he had his joy; any one whom she did -not please might leave her alone. He did not suspect how much she had -pleased the readers. - -It is easily possible that our author's rejection does not stop at that. -Perhaps he denies knowledge of the rules which we have shown that he -follows, and disavows all the intentions which we recognized in his -production; I do not consider this improbable; then, however, only two -possibilities remain. Either we have presented a true caricature of -interpretation, by transferring to a harmless work of art tendencies of -which its creator had no idea, and have thereby shown again how easy it -is to find what one seeks and what one is engrossed with, a possibility -of which most strange examples are recorded in the history of -literature. Every reader may now decide for himself whether he cares to -accept such an explanation; we, of course, hold fast to the other, still -remaining view. We think that our author needed to know nothing of such -rules and intentions, so that he may disavow them in good faith, and -that we have surely found nothing in his romance which was not contained -in it. We are probably drawing from the same source, working over the -same material, each of us with a different method, and agreement in -results seems to vouch for the fact that both have worked correctly. Our -procedure consists of the conscious observation of abnormal psychic -processes in others, in order to be able to discover and express their -laws. Our author proceeds in another way; he directs his attention to -the unconscious in his own psyche, listens to its possibilities of -development and grants them artistic expression, instead of suppressing -them with conscious critique. Thus he learns from himself what we learn -from others, what laws the activity of this unconscious must follow, but -he does not need to express these laws, need not even recognize them -clearly; they are, as a result of his intelligent patience, contained -incarnate in his creatures. We unfold these laws by analysis of his -fiction as we discover them from cases of real illness, but the -conclusion seems irrefutable, that either both (our author, as well as -the physician) have misunderstood the unconscious in the same way or we -have both understood it correctly. This conclusion is very valuable for -us; for its sake, it was worth while for us to investigate the -representation of the formation and cure of delusion, as well as the -dreams, in Jensen's _Gradiva_ by the methods of therapeutic -psychoanalysis. - -We have reached the end. An observant reader might remind us that, at -the beginning, we had remarked that dreams are wishes represented as -fulfilled and that we still owe the proof of it. Well, we reply, our -arguments might well show how unjustifiable it would be to wish to cover -the explanations which we have to give of the dream with the formula -that the dream is a wish-fulfilment; but the assertion stands, and is -also easy to demonstrate for the dreams in _Gradiva_. The latent -dream-thoughts--we know now what is meant by that--may be of numerous -kinds; in _Gradiva_ they are day-remnants, thoughts which are left over -unheard, and not disposed of by the psychic activity of waking life. In -order that a dream may originate from them the co-operation of -a--generally unconscious--wish is required; this establishes the motive -power for the dream-formation; the day-remnants give the material for -it. In Norbert Hanold's first dream two wishes concur in producing the -dream, one capable of consciousness, the other, of course, belonging to -the unconscious, and active because of repression. This was the wish, -comprehensible to every archæologist, to have been an eye-witness of -that catastrophe of 79. What sacrifice would be too great, for an -antiquarian, to realize this wish otherwise than through dreams! The -other wish and dream-maker is of an erotic nature: to be present when -the beloved lies down to sleep, to express it crudely. It is the -rejection of this which makes the dream an anxiety-dream. Less striking -are, perhaps, the impelling wishes of the second dream, but if we recall -its interpretation, we shall not hesitate to pronounce it also erotic. -The wish to be captured by the beloved, to yield and surrender to her, -as it may be construed behind the lizard-catching, has really a passive -masochistic character. On the next day the dreamer strikes the beloved, -as if under the sway of the antagonistic, erotic force; but we must stop -or we may forget that Hanold and Gradiva are only creatures of our -author. - - - THE END - - - _Printed in Great Britain by_ - UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOXING AND LONDON - - - - - [Footnotes] - - -Footnote 1: - -Freud, _Traumdeutung_, 1900 (Leipzig and Wien, 1911), translated by A. -A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B. _Interpretation of Dreams_, George Allen and -Unwin, Ltd., 1913. - -Footnote 2: - -The case N.H. would have to be designated as hysterical, not paranoiac -delusion. The marks of paranoia are lacking here. - -Footnote 3: - -See the important work by E. Bleuler, Affektivität, Suggestibilität, -Paranoia, translated by Dr. Charles Ricksher in N. Y. State Hospitals -Bulletin, Feb., 1912, and _Die diagnostischen Assoziationsstudien_ by C. -Jung, both Zürich, 1906. - -Footnote 4: - -Cf. Freud: _Sammlung der kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre_, 1906. -Translated in part by A. A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B. Nervous and Mental -Diseases Monograph Series No. 4. Selected Papers on Hysteria and other -Psychoneuroses. N. Y., 1912. - -Footnote 5: - -Cf. _Bruchstück einer Hysterie-Analyse_, 1905. - -Footnote 6: - -Cf. Breuer u. Freud, _Studien, über Hysterie_, 1905. Leipzig and Wien, -translated by A. A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B. Nervous and Mental Diseases -Monograph Series No. 4. Selected Papers on Hysteria and other -Psychoneuroses. - -Footnote 7: - -_Sante de Sanctis_, I. Sogni. (Original in Italian.) Translated into -German, _Die Träume_, by Mr. Otto Schmidt, 1901, Hallé, a. S. - -Footnote 8: - -Compare the text of _Gradiva_, p. 21. - -Footnote 9: - -Cf. _Sammlung kl. Schriften zur Neurosenlehre_, V., and _Traumdeutung_, -p. 344. _Traumdeutung_ translated by A. A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B., -_Interpretation of Dreams_, George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1913 (p. 441). - -Footnote 10: - -_G._ p. 57: "No--not talked--but I called to you when you lay down to -sleep and stood near you then--your face was as calmly beautiful as if -it were of marble. May I beg you--rest it again on the step in that -way." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Delusion and Dream, by -Wilhelm Jensen and Sigmund Freud - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DELUSION AND DREAM *** - -***** This file should be named 44917-8.txt or 44917-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/9/1/44917/ - -Produced by Sean (scribe_for_hire@yahoo.com), based on -page images generously made available by the Internet -Archive -(https://archive.org/details/delusiondreamint00freuuoft). - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Delusion and Dream - An Interpretation in the Light of Psychoanalysis of Gradiva - -Author: Wilhelm Jensen - Sigmund Freud - -Translator: Helen M. Downey - -Release Date: February 15, 2014 [EBook #44917] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DELUSION AND DREAM *** - - - - -Produced by Sean (scribe_for_hire@yahoo.com), based on -page images generously made available by the Internet -Archive -(https://archive.org/details/delusiondreamint00freuuoft). - - - - - - - - - - DELUSION & DREAM - - AN INTERPRETATION IN THE LIGHT - OF PSYCHOANALYSIS OF _GRADIVA_, - A NOVEL, BY WILHELM JENSEN, - WHICH IS HERE TRANSLATED - - - BY DR. SIGMUND FREUD - Author of "The Interpretation of Dreams," ETC. - - - TRANSLATED BY HELEN M. DOWNEY, M.A. - - - INTRODUCTION BY DR. G. STANLEY HALL - President of Clark University - - - NEW YORK - MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY - 1922 - - - - - PREFACE - - -To Dr. G. Stanley Hall, President of Clark University, who first called -to my attention the charm of _Gradiva_, by Wilhelm Jensen, and suggested -the possibility of the translation and publication combined with the -translation of Freud's commentary, I am deeply grateful for his kindly -interest and effort in connection with the publication of the book, and -his assistance with the technical terms of psychopathology. - -In this connection I am also indebted to Dr. Smith Ely Jelliffe, who -gave many helpful suggestions as a result of his thorough reading of the -manuscript of the commentary. - -I wish also to express my profound appreciation to my friend, Miss M. -Evelyn Fitzsimmons, for her generous help with the original manuscript -and other valuable comments offered while she was reading the entire -proof. - - HELEN M. DOWNEY. - Worcester, Mass. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - PREFACE 5 - - INTRODUCTION 9 - By _Dr. G. Stanley Hall_ - - PART I - - GRADIVA 13 - _A Novel, by Wilhelm Jensen_ - - PART II - - DELUSION AND DREAM 111 - _In "Gradiva," by Dr. Sigmund Freud_ - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - -Jensen's brilliant and unique story of _Gradiva_ has not only literary -merit of very high order, but may be said to open up a new field for -romance. It is the story of a young archaeologist who suffered a very -characteristic mental disturbance and was gradually but effectively -cured by a kind of native psychotherapeutic instinct, which probably -inheres in all of us, but which in this case was found in the girl he -formerly loved but had forgotten, and who restored at the same time his -health and his old affection for her. - -Perhaps the most extraordinary thing about the work is that the author -knew nothing of psychotherapy as such, but wrought his way through the -labyrinth of mechanisms that he in a sense rediscovered and set to work, -so that it needed only the application of technical terms to make this -romance at the same time a pretty good key to the whole domain of -psychoanalysis. In a sense it is a dream-story, but no single dream ever -began to be so true to the typical nature of dreams; it is a clinical -picture, but I can think of no clinical picture that had its natural -human interest so enhanced by a moving romance. _Gradiva_ might be an -introduction to psychoanalysis, and is better than anything else we can -think of to popularize it. - -It might be added that while this romance has been more thoroughly -analysed than any other, and that by Freud himself, it is really only -one of many which in the literature of the subject have been used to -show forth the mysterious ways of the unconscious. It indicates that -psychoanalysis has a future in literary criticism, if not that all art -and artists have, from the beginning, more or less anticipated as they -now illustrate it. - -The translator is thoroughly competent and has done her work with -painstaking conscientiousness, and she has had the great advantage of -having it revised, especially with reference to the translation of -technical terms from the German, by no less an eminent expert in -psychotherapy than Dr. Smith Ely Jelliffe. - - G. STANLEY HALL. - - - - - _PART I_ - - GRADIVA - - A POMPEIIAN FANCY - - BY - - WILHELM JENSEN - - - - - GRADIVA - - -On a visit to one of the great antique collections of Rome, Norbert -Hanold had discovered a bas-relief which was exceptionally attractive to -him, so he was much pleased, after his return to Germany, to be able to -get a splendid plaster-cast of it. This had now been hanging for some -years on one of the walls of his work-room, all the other walls of which -were lined with bookcases. Here it had the advantage of a position with -the right light exposure, on a wall visited, though but briefly, by the -evening sun. About one-third life-size, the bas-relief represented a -complete female figure in the act of walking; she was still young, but -no longer in childhood and, on the other hand, apparently not a woman, -but a Roman virgin about in her twentieth year. In no way did she remind -one of the numerous extant bas-reliefs of a Venus, a Diana, or other -Olympian goddess, and equally little of a Psyche or nymph. In her was -embodied something humanly commonplace--not in a bad sense--to a degree -a sense of present time, as if the artist, instead of making a pencil -sketch of her on a sheet of paper, as is done in our day, had fixed her -in a clay model quickly, from life, as she passed on the street, a tall, -slight figure, whose soft, wavy hair a folded kerchief almost completely -bound; her rather slender face was not at all dazzling; and the desire -to produce such effect was obviously equally foreign to her; in the -delicately formed features was expressed a nonchalant equanimity in -regard to what was occurring about her; her eye, which gazed calmly -ahead, bespoke absolutely unimpaired powers of vision and thoughts -quietly withdrawn. So the young woman was fascinating, not at all -because of plastic beauty of form, but because she possessed something -rare in antique sculpture, a realistic, simple, maidenly grace which -gave the impression of imparting life to the relief. This was effected -chiefly by the movement represented in the picture. With her head bent -forward a little, she held slightly raised in her left hand, so that her -sandalled feet became visible, her garment which fell in exceedingly -voluminous folds from her throat to her ankles. The left foot had -advanced, and the right, about to follow, touched the ground only -lightly with the tips of the toes, while the sole and heel were raised -almost vertically. This movement produced a double impression of -exceptional agility and of confident composure, and the flight-like -poise, combined with a firm step, lent her the peculiar grace. - -Where had she walked thus and whither was she going? Doctor Norbert -Hanold, docent of archaeology, really found in the relief nothing -noteworthy for his science. It was not a plastic production of great art -of the antique times, but was essentially a Roman _genre_ production, -and he could not explain what quality in it had aroused his attention; -he knew only that he had been attracted by something and this effect of -the first view had remained unchanged since then. In order to bestow a -name upon the piece of sculpture, he had called it to himself Gradiva, -"the girl splendid in walking." That was an epithet applied by the -ancient poets solely to Mars Gradivus, the war-god going out to battle, -yet to Norbert it seemed the most appropriate designation for the -bearing and movement of the young girl, or, according to the expression -of our day, of the young lady, for obviously she did not belong to a -lower class but was the daughter of a nobleman, or at any rate was of -honourable family. Perhaps--her appearance brought the idea to his mind -involuntarily--she might be of the family of a patrician aedile whose -office was connected with the worship of Ceres, and she was on her way -to the temple of the goddess on some errand. - -Yet it was contrary to the young archaeologist's feeling to put her in -the frame of great, noisy, cosmopolitan Rome. To his mind, her calm, -quiet manner did not belong in this complex machine where no one heeded -another, but she belonged rather in a smaller place where every one knew -her, and, stopping to glance after her, said to a companion, "That is -Gradiva"--her real name Norbert could not supply--"the daughter of ----, -she walks more beautifully than any other girl in our city." - -As if he had heard it thus with his own ears, the idea had become firmly -rooted in his mind, where another supposition had developed almost into -a conviction. On his Italian journey, he had spent several weeks in -Pompeii studying the ruins; and in Germany, the idea had suddenly come -to him one day that the girl depicted by the relief was walking there, -somewhere, on the peculiar stepping-stones which have been excavated; -these had made a dry crossing possible in rainy weather, but had -afforded passage for chariot-wheels. Thus he saw her putting one foot -across the interstice while the other was about to follow, and as he -contemplated the girl, her immediate and more remote environment rose -before his imagination like an actuality. It created for him, with the -aid of his knowledge of antiquity, the vista of a long street, among the -houses of which were many temples and porticoes. Different kinds of -business and trades, stalls, work-shops, taverns came into view; bakers -had their breads on display; earthenware jugs, set into marble counters, -offered everything requisite for household and kitchen; at the street -corner sat a woman offering vegetables and fruit for sale from baskets; -from a half-dozen large walnuts she had removed half of the shell to -show the meat, fresh and sound, as a temptation for purchasers. Wherever -the eye turned, it fell upon lively colours, gaily painted wall -surfaces, pillars with red and yellow capitals; everything reflected the -glitter and glare of the dazzling noonday sun. Farther off on a high -base rose a gleaming, white statue, above which, in the distance, half -veiled by the tremulous vibrations of the hot air, loomed Mount -Vesuvius, not yet in its present cone shape and brown aridity, but -covered to its furrowed, rocky peak with glistening verdure. In the -street only a few people moved about, seeking shade wherever possible, -for the scorching heat of the summer noon hour paralysed the usually -bustling activities. There Gradiva walked over the stepping-stones and -scared away from them a shimmering, golden-green lizard. - -Thus the picture stood vividly before Norbert Hanold's eyes, but from -daily contemplation of her head, another new conjecture had gradually -arisen. The cut of her features seemed to him, more and more, not Roman -or Latin, but Greek, so that her Hellenic ancestry gradually became for -him a certainty. The ancient settlement of all southern Italy by Greeks -offered sufficient ground for that, and more ideas pleasantly associated -with the settlers developed. Then the young "domina" had perhaps spoken -Greek in her parental home, and had grown up fostered by Greek culture. -Upon closer consideration he found this also confirmed by the expression -of the face, for quite decidedly wisdom and a delicate spirituality lay -hidden beneath her modesty. - -These conjectures or discoveries could, however, establish no real -archaeological interest in the little relief, and Norbert was well aware -that something else, which no doubt might be under the head of science, -made him return to frequent contemplation of the likeness. For him it -was a question of critical judgment as to whether the artist had -reproduced Gradiva's manner of walking from life. About that he could -not become absolutely certain, and his rich collection of copies of -antique plastic works did not help him in this matter. The nearly -vertical position of the right foot seemed exaggerated; in all -experiments which he himself made, the movement left his rising foot -always in a much less upright position; mathematically formulated, his -stood, during the brief moment of lingering, at an angle of only -forty-five degrees from the ground, and this seemed to him natural for -the mechanics of walking, because it served the purpose best. Once he -used the presence of a young anatomist friend as an opportunity for -raising the question, but the latter was not able to deliver a definite -decision, as he had made no observations in this connection. He -confirmed the experience of his friend, as agreeing with his own, but -could not say whether a woman's manner of walking was different from -that of a man, and the question remained unanswered. - -In spite of this, the discussion had not been without profit, for it -suggested something that had not formerly occurred to him; namely, -observation from life for the purpose of enlightenment on the matter. -That forced him, to be sure, to a mode of action utterly foreign to him; -women had formerly been for him only a conception in marble or bronze, -and he had never given his feminine contemporaries the least -consideration; but his desire for knowledge transported him into a -scientific passion in which he surrendered himself to the peculiar -investigation which he recognized as necessary. This was hindered by -many difficulties in the human throng of the large city, and results of -the research were to be hoped for only in the less frequented streets. -Yet, even there, long skirts generally made the mode of walking -undiscernible, for almost no one but housemaids wore short skirts and -they, with the exception of a few, because of their heavy shoes could -not well be considered in solving the question. In spite of this he -steadfastly continued his survey in dry, as well as in wet weather; he -perceived that the latter promised the quickest results, for it caused -the ladies to raise their skirts. To many ladies, his searching glances -directed at their feet must have inevitably been quite noticeable; -sometimes a displeased expression of the lady observed showed that she -considered his demeanour a mark of boldness or ill-breeding; sometimes, -as he was a young man of very captivating appearance, the opposite, a -bit of encouragement, was expressed by a pair of eyes. Yet one was as -incomprehensible to him as the other. Gradually his perseverance -resulted in the collection of a considerable number of observations, -which brought to his attention many differences. Some walked slowly, -some fast, some ponderously, some buoyantly. Many let their soles merely -glide over the ground; not many raised them more obliquely to a smarter -position. Among all, however, not a single one presented to view -Gradiva's manner of walking. That filled him with satisfaction that he -had not been mistaken in his archaeological judgment of the relief. On -the other hand, however, his observations caused him annoyance, for he -found the vertical position of the lingering foot beautiful, and -regretted that it had been created by the imagination or arbitrary act -of the sculptor and did not correspond to reality. - -Soon after his pedestrian investigations had yielded him this knowledge, -he had, one night, a dream which caused him great anguish of mind. In it -he was in old Pompeii, and on the twenty-fourth of August of the year -79, which witnessed the eruption of Vesuvius. The heavens held the -doomed city wrapped in a black mantle of smoke; only here and there the -flaring masses of flame from the crater made distinguishable, through a -rift, something steeped in blood-red light; all the inhabitants, either -individually or in confused crowd, stunned out of their senses by the -unusual horror, sought safety in flight; the pebbles and the rain of -ashes fell down on Norbert also, but, after the strange manner of -dreams, they did not hurt him, and in the same way, he smelled the -deadly sulphur fumes of the air without having his breathing impeded by -them. As he stood thus at the edge of the Forum near the Jupiter temple, -he suddenly saw Gradiva a short distance in front of him. Until then no -thought of her presence there had moved him, but now suddenly it seemed -natural to him, as she was, of course, a Pompeiian girl, that she was -living in her native city and, without his having any suspicion of it, -was his contemporary. He recognized her at first glance; the stone model -of her was splendidly striking in every detail, even to her gait; -involuntarily he designated this as "lente festinans." So with buoyant -composure and the calm unmindfulness of her surroundings peculiar to -her, she walked across the flagstones of the Forum to the Temple of -Apollo. She seemed not to notice the impending fate of the city, but to -be given up to her thoughts; on that account he also forgot the -frightful occurrence, for at least a few moments, and because of a -feeling that the living reality would quickly disappear from him again, -he tried to impress it accurately on his mind. Then, however, he became -suddenly aware that if she did not quickly save herself, she must perish -in the general destruction, and violent fear forced from him a cry of -warning. She heard it, too, for her head turned toward him so that her -face now appeared for a moment in full view, yet with an utterly -uncomprehending expression; and, without paying any more attention to -him, she continued in the same direction as before. At the same time, -her face became paler as if it were changing to white marble; she -stepped up to the portico of the Temple, and then, between the pillars, -she sat down on a step and slowly laid her head upon it. Now the pebbles -were falling in such masses that they condensed into a completely opaque -curtain; hastening quickly after her, however, he found his way to the -place where she had disappeared from his view, and there she lay, -protected by the projecting roof, stretched out on the broad step, as if -for sleep, but no longer breathing, apparently stifled by the sulphur -fumes. From Vesuvius the red glow flared over her countenance, which, -with closed eyes, was exactly like that of a beautiful statue. No fear -nor distortion was apparent, but a strange equanimity, calmly submitting -to the inevitable, was manifest in her features. Yet they quickly became -more indistinct as the wind drove to the place the rain of ashes, which -spread over them, first like a grey gauze veil, then extinguished the -last glimpse of her face, and soon, like a Northern winter snowfall, -buried the whole figure under a smooth cover. Outside, the pillars of -the Temple of Apollo rose, now, however, only half of them, for the grey -fall of ashes heaped itself likewise against them. - -When Norbert Hanold awoke, he still heard the confused cries of the -Pompeiians who were seeking safety, and the dully resounding boom of the -surf of the turbulent sea. Then he came to his senses; the sun cast a -golden gleam of light across his bed; it was an April morning and -outside sounded the various noises of the city, cries of venders, and -the rumbling of vehicles. Yet the dream picture still stood most -distinctly in every detail before his open eyes, and some time was -necessary before he could get rid of a feeling that he had really been -present at the destruction on the bay of Naples, that night nearly two -thousand years ago. While he was dressing, he first became gradually -free from it, yet he did not succeed, even by the use of critical -thought, in breaking away from the idea that Gradiva had lived in -Pompeii and had been buried there in 79. Rather, the former conjecture -had now become to him an established certainty, and now the second also -was added. With woful feeling he now viewed in his living-room the old -relief which had assumed new significance for him. It was, in a way, a -tombstone by which the artist had preserved for posterity the likeness -of the girl who had so early departed this life. Yet if one looked at -her with enlightened understanding, the expression of her whole being -left no doubt that, on that fateful night, she had actually lain down to -die with just such calm as the dream had showed. An old proverb says -that the darlings of the gods are taken from the earth in the full -vigour of youth. - -Without having yet put on a collar, in morning array, with slippers on -his feet, Norbert leaned on the open window and gazed out. The spring, -which had finally arrived in the north also, was without, but announced -itself in the great quarry of the city only by the blue sky and the soft -air, yet a foreboding of it reached the senses, and awoke in remote, -sunny places a desire for leaf-green, fragrance and bird song; a breath -of it came as far as this place; the market women on the street had -their baskets adorned with a few, bright wild flowers, and at an open -window, a canary in a cage warbled his song. Norbert felt sorry for the -poor fellow for, beneath the clear tone, in spite of the joyful note, he -heard the longing for freedom and the open. - -Yet the thoughts of the young archaeologist dallied but briefly there, -for something else had crowded into them. Not until then had he become -aware that in the dream he had not noticed exactly whether the living -Gradiva had really walked as the piece of sculpture represented her, and -as the women of to-day, at any rate, did not walk. That was remarkable -because it was the basis of his scientific interest in the relief; on -the other hand, it could be explained by his excitement over the danger -to her life. He tried, in vain, however, to recall her gait. - -Then suddenly something like a thrill passed through him; in the first -moment he could not say whence. But then he realized; down in the -street, with her back toward him, a female, from figure and dress -undoubtedly a young lady, was walking along with easy, elastic step. Her -dress, which reached only to her ankles, she held lifted a little in her -left hand, and he saw that in walking the sole of her slender foot, as -it followed, rose for a moment vertically on the tips of the toes. It -appeared so, but the distance and the fact that he was looking down did -not admit of certainty. - -Quickly Norbert Hanold was in the street without yet knowing exactly how -he had come there. He had, like a boy sliding down a railing, flown like -lightning down the steps, and was running down among the carriages, -carts and people. The latter directed looks of wonder at him, and from -several lips came laughing, half mocking exclamations. He was unaware -that these referred to him; his glance was seeking the young lady and he -thought that he distinguished her dress a few dozen steps ahead of him, -but only the upper part; of the lower half, and of her feet, he could -perceive nothing, for they were concealed by the crowd thronging on the -sidewalk. - -Now an old, comfortable, vegetable woman stretched her hand toward his -sleeve, stopped him and said, half grinning, "Say, my dear, you probably -drank a little too much last night, and are you looking for your bed -here in the street? You would do better to go home and look at yourself -in the mirror." - -A burst of laughter from those near by proved it true that he had shown -himself in garb not suited to public appearance, and brought him now to -realization that he had heedlessly run from his room. That surprised him -because he insisted upon conventionality of attire and, forsaking his -project, he quickly returned home, apparently, however, with his mind -still somewhat confused by the dream and dazed by illusion, for he had -perceived that, at the laughter and exclamation, the young lady had -turned her head a moment, and he thought he had seen not the face of a -stranger, but that of Gradiva looking down upon him. - - * * * * * - -Because of considerable property, Doctor Norbert Hanold was in the -pleasant position of being unhampered master of his own acts and wishes -and, upon the appearance of any inclination, of not depending for expert -counsel about it on any higher court than his own decision. In this way -he differed most favourably from the canary, who could only warble out, -without success, his inborn impulse to get out of the cage into the -sunny open. Otherwise, however, the young archaeologist resembled the -latter in many respects. He had not come into the world and grown up in -natural freedom, but already at birth had been hedged in by the grating -with which family tradition, by education and predestination, had -surrounded him. From his early childhood no doubt had existed in his -parents' house that he, as the only son of a university professor and -antiquarian, was called upon to preserve, if possible to exalt, by that -very activity the glory of his father's name; so this business -continuity had always seemed to him the natural task of his future. He -had clung loyally to it even after the early deaths of his parents had -left him absolutely alone; in connection with his brilliantly passed -examination in philology, he had taken the prescribed student trip to -Italy and had seen in the original a number of old works of art whose -imitations, only, had formerly been accessible to him. Nothing more -instructive for him than the collections of Florence, Rome, Naples could -be offered anywhere; he could furnish evidence that the period of his -stay there had been used excellently for the enrichment of his -knowledge, and he had returned home fully satisfied to devote himself -with the new acquisitions to his science. That besides these objects -from the distant past, the present still existed round about him, he -felt only in the most shadowy way; for his feelings marble and bronze -were not dead, but rather the only really vital thing which expressed -the purpose and value of human life; and so he sat in the midst of his -walls, books and pictures, with no need of any other intercourse, but -whenever possible avoiding the latter as an empty squandering of time -and only very reluctantly submitting occasionally to an inevitable -party, attendance at which was required by the connections handed down -from his parents. Yet it was known that at such gatherings he was -present without eyes or ears for his surroundings, and as soon as it was -any way permissible, he always took his leave, under some pretext, at -the end of the lunch or dinner, and on the street he greeted none of -those whom he had sat with at the table. That served, especially with -young ladies, to put him in a rather unfavourable light; for upon -meeting even a girl with whom he had, by way of exception, spoken a few -words, he looked at her without a greeting as at a quite unknown person -whom he had never seen. Although perhaps archaeology, in itself, might be -a rather curious science and although its alloy had effected a -remarkable amalgamation with Norbert Hanold's nature, it could not -exercise much attraction for others and afforded even him little -enjoyment in life according to the usual views of youth. Yet with a -perhaps kindly intent Nature had added to his blood, without his knowing -of the possession, a kind of corrective of a thoroughly unscientific -sort, an unusually lively imagination which was present not only in -dreams, but often in his waking hours, and essentially made his mind not -preponderantly adapted to strict research method devoid of interest. -From this endowment, however, originated another similarity between him -and the canary. The latter was born in captivity, had never known -anything else than the cage which confined him in narrow quarters, but -he had an inner feeling that something was lacking to him, and sounded -from his throat his desire for the unknown. Thus Norbert Hanold -understood it, pitied him for it, returned to his room, leaned again -from the window and was thereupon moved by a feeling that he, too, -lacked a nameless something. Meditation on it, therefore, could be of no -use. The indefinite stir of emotion came from the mild, spring air, the -sunbeams and the broad expanse with its fragrant breath, and formed a -comparison for him; he was likewise sitting in a cage behind a grating. -Yet this idea was immediately followed by the palliating one that his -position was more advantageous than that of the canary, for he had in -his possession wings which were hindered by nothing from flying out into -the open at his pleasure. - -But that was an idea which developed more upon reflection. Norbert gave -himself up for a time to this occupation, yet it was not long before the -project of a spring journey assumed definite shape. This he carried out -that very day, packed a light valise, and before he went south by the -night express, cast at nightfall another regretful departing glance on -Gradiva, who, steeped in the last rays of the sun, seemed to step out -with more buoyancy than ever over the invisible stepping-stones beneath -her feet. Even if the impulse for travel had originated in a nameless -feeling, further reflection had, however, granted, as a matter of -course, that it must serve a scientific purpose. It had occurred to him -that he had neglected to inform himself with accuracy about some -important archaeological questions in connection with some statues in -Rome and, without stopping on the way, he made the journey of a day and -a half thither. - - * * * * * - -Not very many personally experience the beauty of going from Germany to -Italy in the spring when one is young, wealthy and independent, for even -those endowed with the three latter requirements are not always -accessible to such a feeling for beauty, especially if they (and alas -they form the majority) are in couples on the days or weeks after a -wedding, for such allow nothing to pass without an extraordinary -delight, which is expressed in numerous superlatives; and finally they -bring back home, as profit, only what they would have discovered, felt -or enjoyed exactly as much by staying there. In the spring such dualists -usually swarm over the Alpine passes in exactly opposite direction to -the birds of passage. During the whole journey they billed and cooed -around Norbert as if they were in a rolling dove-cot, and for the first -time in his life he was compelled to observe his fellow beings more -closely with eye and ear. Although, from their speech, they were all -German country people, his racial identity with them awoke in him no -feeling of pride, but rather the opposite one, that he had done -reasonably well to bother as little as possible with the _homo sapiens_ -of Linnaean classification, especially in connection with the feminine -half of this species; for the first time he saw also, in his immediate -vicinity, people brought together by the mating impulse without his -being able to understand what had been the mutual cause. It remained -incomprehensible to him why the women had chosen these men, and still -more perplexing why the choice of the men had fallen upon these women. -Every time he raised his eyes, his glance had to fall on the face of -some one of them and it found none which charmed the eye by outer -attraction or possessed indication of intellect or good nature. To be -sure, he lacked a standard for measuring, for of course one could not -compare the women of to-day with the sublime beauty of the old works of -art, yet he had a dark suspicion that he was not to blame for this -unkind view, but that in all expressions there was something lacking -which ordinary life was in duty bound to offer. So he reflected for many -hours on the strange impulses of human beings, and came to the -conclusion that of all their follies, marriage, at any rate, took the -prize as the greatest and most incomprehensible one, and the senseless -wedding trips to Italy somehow capped the climax of this buffoonery. - -Again, however, he was reminded of the canary that he had left behind in -captivity, for he also sat here in a cage, cooped in by the faces of -young bridal couples which were as rapturous as vapid, past which his -glance could only occasionally stray through the window. Therefore it -can be easily explained that the things passing outside before his eyes -made other impressions on him than when he had seen them some years -before. The olive foliage had more of a silver sheen; the solitary, -towering cypresses and pines here and there were delineated with more -beautiful and more distinctive outlines; the places situated on the -mountain heights seemed to him more charming, as if each one, in a -manner, were an individual with different expression; and Trasimene Lake -seemed to him of a soft blue such as he had never noticed in any surface -of water. He had a feeling that a Nature unknown to him was surrounding -the railway tracks, as if he must have passed through these places -before in continual twilight, or during a grey rainfall, and was now -seeing them for the first time in their golden abundance of colour. A -few times he surprised himself in a desire, formerly unknown to him, to -alight and seek afoot the way to this or that place because it looked to -him as if it might be concealing something peculiar or mysterious. Yet -he did not allow himself to be misled by such unreasonable impulses, but -the "diretissimo" took him directly to Rome where, already, before the -entrance into the station, the ancient world with the ruins of the -temple of Minerva Medica received him. When he had finally freed himself -from his cage filled with "inseparables," he immediately secured -accommodations in a hotel well known to him, in order to look about from -there, without excessive haste, for a private house satisfactory to him. - -Such a one he had not yet found in the course of the next day, but -returned to his "albergo" again in the evening and went to sleep rather -exhausted by the unaccustomed Italian air, the strong sun, much -wandering about and the noise of the streets. Soon consciousness began -to fade, but just as he was about to fall asleep he was again awakened, -for his room was connected with the adjoining one by a door concealed -only by a wardrobe, and into this came two guests, who had taken -possession of it that morning. From the voices which sounded through the -thin partition, they were a man and a woman who unmistakably belonged to -that class of German spring birds of passage with whom he had yesterday -journeyed hither from Florence. Their frame of mind seemed to give -decidedly favourable testimony concerning the hotel cuisine, and it -might be due to the good quality of a Castellin-romani wine that they -exchanged ideas and feelings most distinctly and audibly in North German -tongue: - -"My only Augustus." - -"My sweet Gretchen." - -"Now again we have each other." - -"Yes, at last we are alone again." - -"Must we do more sight-seeing to-morrow?" - -"At breakfast we shall look in _Baedeker_ for what is still to be done." - -"My only Augustus, to me you are much more pleasing than Apollo -Belvedere." - -"And I have often thought, my sweet Gretchen, that you are much more -beautiful than the Capitoline Venus." - -"Is the volcano that we want to climb near here?" - -"No, I think we'll have to ride a few hours more in the train to get -there." - -"If it should begin to belch flame just as we got to the middle, what -would you do?" - -"Then my only thought would be to save you, and I would take you in my -arms--so." - -"Don't scratch yourself on that pin!" - -"I can think of nothing more beautiful than to shed my blood for you." - -"My only Augustus." - -"My sweet Gretchen." - -With that the conversation ceased, Norbert heard another ill-defined -rustling and moving of chairs, then it became quiet and he fell back -into a doze which transported him to Pompeii just as Vesuvius again -began its eruption. A vivid throng of fleeing people caught him, and -among them he saw Apollo Belvedere lift up the Capitoline Venus, take -her away and place her safely upon some object in a dark shadow; it -seemed to be a carriage or cart on which she was to be carried off, for -a rattling sound was soon heard from that direction. This mythological -occurrence did not amaze the young archaeologist, but it struck him as -remarkable that the two talked German, not Greek, to each other for, as -they half regained their senses, he heard them say: - -"My sweet Gretchen." - -"My only Augustus." - -But after that the dream picture changed completely. Absolute silence -took the place of the confused sound, and instead of smoke and -fire-glow, bright, hot sunlight rested on the ruins of the buried city. -This likewise changed gradually, became a bed on whose white linen -golden beams circled up to his eyes, and Norbert Hanold awoke in the -scintillating spring morning of Rome. - -Within him, also, however, something had changed; why, he could not -surmise, but a strangely oppressive feeling had again taken possession -of him, a feeling that he was imprisoned in a cage which this time was -called Rome. As he opened the window, there screamed up from the street -dozens of venders' cries far more shrill to his ear than those in his -German home; he had come only from one noisy quarry to another, and a -strangely uncanny horror of antique collections, of meeting there Apollo -Belvedere or the Capitoline Venus, frightened him away. Thus, after -brief consideration, he refrained from his intention of looking for a -dwelling, hastily packed his valise again and went farther south by -train. To escape the "inseparables," he did this in a third-class coach, -expecting at the same time to find there an interesting and -scientifically useful company of Italian folk-types, the former models -of antique works of art. Yet he found nothing but the usual dirt, -Monopol cigars which smelled horribly, little warped fellows beating -about with arms and legs, and members of the female sex, in contrast to -whom his coupled country-women seemed to his memory almost like Olympian -goddesses. - - * * * * * - -Two days later Norbert Hanold occupied a rather questionable space -called a "room" in "Hotel Diomed" beside the eucalyptus-guarded -"ingresso" to the excavations of Pompeii. He had intended to stay in -Naples for some time to study again more closely the sculptures and -wall-paintings in the Museo Nazionale, but he had had an experience -there similar to that in Rome. In the room for the collection of -Pompeiian household furniture he found himself wrapped in a cloud of -feminine, ultra-fashionable travel-costumes, which had doubtless all -quickly replaced the virgin radiance of satin, silk or lace bridal -finery; each one clung to the arm of a young or old companion, likewise -faultlessly attired, according to men's fashion standards; and Norbert's -newly gained insight into a field of knowledge formerly unknown to him -had advanced so far as to permit him to recognize them at first glance; -every man was Augustus, every girl was Gretchen. Only this came to light -here by means of other forms of conversation tempered, moderated and -modified by the ear of publicity. - -"Oh, look, that was practical of them; we'll surely have to get a meat -warmer like that, too." - -"Yes, but for the food that my wife cooks it must be made of silver." - -"How do you know that what I cook will taste so good to you?" - -The question was accompanied by a roguish, arch glance and was answered -in the affirmative, with a glance varnished with lacquer, "What you -serve to me can be nothing but delicious." - -"No; that surely is a thimble! Did the people of those days have -needles?" - -"It almost seems so, but you could not have done anything with that, my -darling, it would be much too large even for your thumb." - -"Do you really think that? And do you like slender fingers better than -broad ones?" - -"Yours I do not need to see; by touch I could discover them, in the -deepest darkness, among all the others in the world." - -"That is really awfully interesting. Do we still really have to go to -Pompeii also?" - -"No, that will hardly pay; there are only old stones and rubbish there; -whatever was of value, _Baedeker_ says, was brought here. I fear the sun -there would be too hot for your delicate complexion, and I could never -forgive myself that." - -"What if you should suddenly have a negress for a wife?" - -"No, my imagination fortunately does not reach that far, but a freckle -on your little nose would make me unhappy. I think, if it is agreeable -to you, we'll go to Capri to-morrow, my dear. There everything is said -to be very comfortable, and in the wonderful light of the Blue Grotto I -shall first realize completely what a great prize I have drawn in the -lottery of happiness." - -"You--if any one hears that, I shall be almost ashamed. But wherever you -take me, it is agreeable to me, and makes no difference, for I have you -with me." - -Augustus and Gretchen over again, somewhat toned down and tempered for -eye and ear. It seemed to Norbert Hanold that he had had thin honey -poured upon him from all sides and that he had to dispose of it swallow -by swallow. A sick feeling came over him, and he ran out of the Museo -Nazionale to the nearest "osteria" to drink a glass of vermuth. Again -and again the thought intruded itself upon his mind: Why did these -hundredfold dualities fill the museums of Florence, Rome, Naples, -instead of devoting themselves to their plural occupations in their -native Germany? Yet from a number of chats and tender talks, it seemed -to him that the majority of these bird couples did not intend to nest in -the rubbish of Pompeii, but considered a side trip to Capri much more -profitable, and thence originated his sudden impulse to do what they did -not do. There was at any rate offered to him a chance to be freed from -the main flock of this migration and to find what he was vainly seeking -here in Italy. That was also a duality, not a wedding duality, but two -members of the same family without cooing bills, silence and science, -two calm sisters with whom only one could count upon satisfactory -shelter. His desire for them contained something formerly unknown to -him; if it had not been a contradiction in itself, he could have applied -to this impulse the epithet "passionate"--and an hour later he was -already sitting in a "carrozzella" which bore him through the -interminable Portici and Resina. The journey was like one through a -street splendidly adorned for an old Roman victor; to the right and left -almost every house spread out to dry in the sun, like yellow tapestry -hangings, a super-abundant wealth of "pasta di Napoli," the greatest -dainty of the country, thick or thin macaroni, vermicelli, spaghetti, -canelloni and fidelini, to which smoke of fats from cook-shops, -dust-clouds, flies and fleas, the fish scales flying about in the air, -chimney smoke and other day and night influences lent the familiar -delicacy of its taste. Then the cone of Vesuvius looked down close by -across brown lava fields; at the right extended the gulf of shimmering -blue, as if composed of liquid malachite and lapis lazuli. The little -nutshell on wheels flew, as if whirled forth by a mad storm and as if -every moment must be its last, over the dreadful pavement of Torre del -Greco, rattled through Torre dell'Annunziata, reached the Dioscuri, -"Hotel Suisse" and "Hotel Diomed," which measured their power of -attraction in a ceaseless, silent, but ferocious struggle, and stopped -before the latter whose classic name, again, as on his first visit, had -determined the choice of the young archaeologist. With apparently, at -least, the greatest composure, however, the modern Swiss competitor -viewed this event before its very door. It was calm because no different -water from what it used was boiled in the pots of its classic neighbour; -and the antique splendours temptingly displayed for sale over there had -not come to light again after two thousand years under the ashes, any -more than the ones which it had. - -Thus Norbert Hanold, contrary to all expectations and intentions, had -been transported in a few days from northern Germany to Pompeii, found -the "Diomed" not too much filled with human guests, but on the other -hand populously inhabited by the _musca domestica communis_, the common -house-fly. He had never been subject to violent emotions; yet a hatred -of these two-winged creatures burned within him; he considered them the -basest evil invention of Nature, on their account much preferred the -winter to the summer as the only time suited to human life, and -recognized in them invincible proof against the existence of a rational -world-system. Now they received him here several months earlier than he -would have fallen to their infamy in Germany, rushed immediately about -him in dozens, as upon a patiently awaited victim, whizzed before his -eyes, buzzed in his ears, tangled themselves in his hair, tickled his -nose, forehead and hands. Therein many reminded him of honeymoon -couples, probably were also saying to each other in their language, "My -only Augustus" and "My sweet Gretchen"; in the mind of the tormented man -rose a longing for a "scacciamosche," a splendidly made fly-flapper like -one unearthed from a burial vault, which he had seen in the Etruscan -museum in Bologna. Thus, in antiquity, this worthless creature had -likewise been the scourge of humanity, more vicious and more inevitable -than scorpions, venomous snakes, tigers and sharks, which were bent upon -only physical injury, rending or devouring the ones attacked; against -the former one could guard himself by thoughtful conduct. From the -common house-fly, however, there was no protection, and it paralysed, -disturbed and finally shattered the psychic life of human beings, their -capacity for thinking and working, every lofty flight of imagination and -every beautiful feeling. Hunger or thirst for blood did not impel them, -but solely the diabolical desire to torture; it was the "Ding an sich" -in which absolute evil had found its incarnation. The Etruscan -"scacciamosche," a wooden handle with a bunch of fine leather strips -fastened to it, proved the following: they had destroyed the most -exalted poetic thoughts in the mind of AEschylus; they had caused the -chisel of Phidias to make an irremediable slip, had run over the brow of -Zeus, the breast of Aphrodite, and from head to foot of all Olympian -gods and goddesses; and Norbert felt in his soul that the service of a -human being was to be estimated, above all, according to the number of -flies which he had killed, pierced, burned up or exterminated in -hecatombs during his life, as avenger of his whole race from remotest -antiquity. - -For the achievement of such fame, he lacked here the necessary weapon, -and like the greatest battle hero of antiquity, who had, however, been -alone and unable to do otherwise, he left the field, or rather his room, -in view of the hundredfold overwhelming number of the common foe. -Outside it dawned upon him that he had thereby done in a small way what -he would have to repeat on a larger scale on the morrow. Pompeii, too, -apparently offered no peacefully gratifying abode for his needs. To this -idea was added, at least dimly, another, that his dissatisfaction was -certainly caused not by his surroundings alone, but to a degree found -its origin in him. To be sure, flies had always been very repulsive to -him, but they had never before transported him into such raging fury as -this. On account of the journey his nerves were undeniably in an excited -and irritable condition, for which indoor air and overwork at home -during the winter had probably begun to pave the way. He felt that he -was out of sorts because he lacked something without being able to -explain what, and this ill-humour he took everywhere with him; of course -flies and bridal couples swarming _en masse_ were not calculated to make -life agreeable anywhere. Yet if he did not wish to wrap himself in a -thick cloud of self-righteousness, it could not remain concealed from -him that he was travelling around Italy just as aimless, senseless, -blind and deaf as they, only with considerably less capacity for -enjoyment. For his travelling companion, science, had, most decidedly, -much of an old Trappist about her, did not open her mouth when she was -not spoken to, and it seemed to him that he was almost forgetting in -what language he had communed with her. - -It was now too late in the day to go into Pompeii through the -"ingresso." Norbert remembered a circuit he had once made on the old -city-wall, and attempted to mount the latter by means of all sorts of -bushes and wild growth. Thus he wandered along for some distance a -little above the city of graves, which lay on his right, motionless and -quiet. It looked like a dead rubbish field already almost covered with -shadow, for the evening sun stood in the west not far from the edge of -the Tyrrhenian Sea. Round about, on the other hand, it still bathed all -the hilltops and fields with an enchanting brilliancy of life, gilded -the smoke-cone rising above the Vesuvius crater and clad the peaks and -pinnacles of Monte Sant' Angelo in purple. High and solitary rose Monte -Epomeo from the sparkling, blue sea glittering with golden light, from -which Cape Misenum reared itself with dark outline, like a mysterious, -titanic structure. Wherever the gaze rested, a wonderful picture was -spread combining charm and sublimity, remote past and joyous present. -Norbert Hanold had expected to find here what he longed for vaguely. Yet -he was not in the mood for it, although no bridal couples and flies -molested him on the deserted wall; even nature was unable to offer him -what he lacked in his surroundings and within himself. With a calmness -bordering closely on indifference, he let his eyes pass over the -all-pervading beauty, and did not regret in the least that it was -growing pale and fading away in the sunset, but returned to the -"Diomed," as he had come, dissatisfied. - - * * * * * - -But as he had now, although with ill-success, been conveyed to this -place through his indiscretion, he reached the decision overnight, to -get from the folly he had committed at least one day of scientific -profit, and went to Pompeii on the regular road as soon as the -"ingresso" was opened in the morning. In little groups commanded by -official guides, armed with red _Baedekers_ or their foreign cousins, -longing for secret excavations of their own, there wandered before and -behind him the population of the two hotels. The still fresh, morning -air was filled almost exclusively by English or Anglo-American chatter; -the German couples were making each other mutually happy with German -sweets and inspiration up there on Capri behind Monte Sant' Angelo at -the breakfast table of the Pagano. Norbert remembered how to free -himself soon, by well chosen words, combined with a good "mancia," from -the burden of a "guida," and was able to pursue his purposes alone and -unhindered. It afforded him some satisfaction to know that he possessed -a faultless memory; wherever his glance rested, everything lay and stood -exactly as he remembered it, as if only yesterday he had imprinted it in -his mind by means of expert observation. This continually repeated -experience brought, however, the added feeling that his presence there -seemed really very unnecessary, and a decided indifference took -possession of his eyes and his intellect more and more, as during the -evening on the wall. Although, when he looked up, the pine-shaped -smoke-cone of Vesuvius generally stood before him against the blue sky, -yet, remarkably, it did not once appear in his memory that he had -dreamed some time ago that he had been present at the destruction of -Pompeii by the volcanic eruption of 79. Wandering around for hours made -him tired and half-sleepy, of course, yet he felt not the least -suggestion of anything dreamlike, but there lay about him only a -confusion of fragments of ancient gate arches, pillars and walls -significant to the highest degree for archaeology, but, viewed without -the esoteric aid of this science, really not much else than a big pile -of rubbish, neatly arranged, to be sure, but extremely devoid of -interest; and although science and dreams were wont formerly to stand on -footings exactly opposed, they had apparently here to-day come to an -agreement to withdraw their aid from Norbert Hanold and deliver him over -absolutely to the aimlessness of his walking and standing around. - -So he had wandered in all directions from the Forum to the Amphitheatre, -from the Porta di Stabia to the Porta del Vesuvio through the Street of -Tombs as well as through countless others, and the sun had likewise, in -the meanwhile, made its accustomed morning journey to the position where -it usually changes to the more comfortable descent toward the sea. -Thereby, to the great satisfaction of their misunderstood, hoarsely -eloquent guides, it gave the English and American men and women, forced -to go there by a traveller's sense of duty, a signal to become mindful -of the superior comfort of sitting at the lunch-tables of the twin -hotels; besides, they had seen with their own eyes everything that could -be required for conversation on the other side of the ocean and channel; -so the separate groups, satiated by the past, started on the return, -ebbed in common movement down through the Via Marina, in order not to -lose meals at the, to be sure somewhat euphemistically Lucullan, tables -of the present, in the house of "Diomed" or of Mr. Swiss. In -consideration of all the outer and inner circumstances, this was -doubtless also the wisest thing that they could do, for the noon sun of -May was decidedly well disposed toward the lizards, butterflies and -other winged inhabitants or visitors of the extensive mass of ruins, but -for the northern complexion of a Madame or Miss its perpendicular -obtrusiveness was unquestionably beginning to become less kindly, and, -supposedly in some causal connection with that, the "charmings" had -already in the last hour considerably diminished, the "shockings" had -increased in the same proportion, and the masculine "ah's" proceeding -from rows of teeth even more widely distended than before had begun a -noticeable transition to yawning. - -It was remarkable, however, that simultaneously with their vanishing, -what had formerly been the city of Pompeii assumed an entirely changed -appearance, but not a living one; it now appeared rather to be becoming -completely petrified in dead immobility. Yet out of it stirred a feeling -that death was beginning to talk, although not in a manner intelligible -to human ears. To be sure, here and there was a sound as if a whisper -were proceeding from the stone which, however, only the softly murmuring -south wind, Atabulus, awoke, he who, two thousand years ago, had buzzed -in this fashion about the temples, halls and houses, and was now -carrying on his playful game with the green, shimmering stalks on the -low ruins. From the coast of Africa he often rushed across, casting -forth wild, full blasts: he was not doing that to-day, but was gently -fanning again the old acquaintances which had come to light again. He -could not, however, refrain from his natural tendency to devastate, and -blew with hot breath, even though lightly, on everything that he -encountered on the way. - -In this, the sun, his eternally youthful mother, helped him. She -strengthened his fiery breath, and accomplished, besides, what he could -not, steeped everything with trembling, glittering, dazzling splendour. -As with a golden eraser, she effaced from the edges of the houses on the -_semitae_ and _crepidine viarum_, as the sidewalks were once called, -every slight shadow, cast into all the vestibules, inner courts, -peristyles and balconies her luminous radiance, or desultory rays where -a shelter blocked her direct approach. Hardly anywhere was there a nook -which successfully protected itself against the ocean of light and -veiled itself in a dusky, silver web; every street lay between the old -walls like long, rippling, white strips of linen spread out to bleach; -and without exception all were equally motionless and mute, for not only -had the last of the rasping and nasal tones of the English and American -messengers disappeared, but the former slight evidences of lizard- and -butterfly-life seemed also to have left the silent city of ruins. They -had not really done so, but the gaze perceived no more movement from -them. - -As had been the custom of their ancestors out on the mountain slopes and -cliff walls for thousands of years, when the great Pan laid himself to -sleep, here, too, in order not to disturb him, they had stretched -themselves out motionless or, folding their wings, had squatted here and -there; and it seemed as if, in this place, they felt even more strongly -the command of the hot, holy, noonday quiet in whose ghostly hour life -must be silent and suppressed, because during it the dead awake and -begin to talk in toneless spirit-language. - -This changed aspect which the things round about had assumed really -thrust itself less upon the vision than it aroused the emotions, or, -more correctly, an unnamed sixth sense; this latter, however, was -stimulated so strongly and persistently that a person endowed with it -could not throw off the effect produced upon him. To be sure, of those -estimable boarders already busy with their soup spoons at the two -"alberghi" near the "ingresso," hardly a man or woman would have been -counted among those thus invested, but Nature had once bestowed this -great attention upon Norbert Hanold and he had to submit to its effects, -not at all because he had an understanding with it, however, for he -wished nothing at all and desired nothing more than that he might be -sitting quietly in his study with an instructive book in his hand, -instead of having undertaken this aimless spring journey. Yet as he had -turned back from the Street of Tombs through the Hercules gate into the -centre of the city, and at Casa di Sallustio had turned to the left, -quite without purpose or thought, into the narrow "vicolo," suddenly -that sixth sense was awakened in him; but this last expression was not -really fitting, rather he was transported by it into a strangely dreamy -condition, about half-way between a waking state and loss of senses. As -if guarding a secret, everywhere round about him, suffused in light, lay -deathly silence, so breathless that even his own lungs hardly dared to -take in air. He stood at the intersection of two streets where the -Vicolo Mercurio crossed the broader Strada di Mercurio, which stretched -out to right and left; in answer to the god of commerce, business and -trades had formerly had their abodes here; the street corners spoke -silently of it; many shops with broken counters, inlaid with marble, -opened out upon them; here the arrangement indicated a bakery, there, a -number of large, convex, earthenware jugs, an oil or flour business. -Opposite more slender, two-handled jars set into the counters showed -that the space behind them had been a bar-room; surely in the evening, -slaves and maids of the neighbourhood might have thronged here to get -wine for their masters in their own jugs; one could see that the now -illegible inscription inlaid with mosaic on the sidewalk in front of the -shop was worn by many feet; probably it had held out to passers-by a -recommendation of the excellent wine. On the outer wall, at about half -the height of a man, was visible a "graffito" probably scratched into -the plastering, with his finger-nail or an iron nail, by a schoolboy, -perhaps derisively explaining the praise, in this way, that the owner's -wine owed its peerlessness to a generous addition of water. For from the -scratch there seemed raised before Norbert Hanold's eyes the word -"caupo," or was it an illusion. Certainly he could not settle it. He -possessed a certain skill in deciphering "graffiti" which were -difficult, and had already accomplished widely recognized work in that -field, yet at this time it completely failed him. Not only that, he had -a feeling that he did not understand any Latin, and it was absurd of him -to wish to read what a Pompeiian school youth had scratched into the -wall two thousand years before. - -Not only had all his science left him, but it left him without the least -desire to regain it; he remembered it as from a great distance, and he -felt that it had been an old, dried-up, boresome aunt, dullest and most -superfluous creature in the world. What she uttered with puckered lips -and sapient mien, and presented as wisdom, was all vain, empty -pompousness, and merely gnawed at the dry rind of the fruit of knowledge -without revealing anything of its content, the germ of life, or bringing -anything to the point of inner, intelligent enjoyment. What it taught -was a lifeless, archaeological view, and what came from its mouth was a -dead, philological language. These helped in no way to a comprehension -with soul, mind and heart, as the saying is, but he, who possessed a -desire for that, had to stand alone here, the only living person in the -hot noonday silence among the remains of the past, in order not to see -with physical eyes nor hear with corporeal ears. Then something came -forth everywhere without movement and a soundless speech began; then the -sun dissolved the tomblike rigidity of the old stones, a glowing thrill -passed through them, the dead awoke, and Pompeii began to live again. - -The thoughts in Norbert Hanold's mind were not really blasphemous, but -he had an indefinite feeling deserving of that adjective, and with this, -standing motionless, he looked before him down the Strada di Mercurio -toward the city-wall. The angular lava-blocks of its pavement still lay -as faultlessly fitted together as before the devastation, and each one -was of a light-grey colour, yet such dazzling lustre brooded over them -that they stretched like a quilted silver-white ribbon passing in -faintly glowing void between the silent walls and by the side of column -fragments. - -Then suddenly-- - -With open eyes he gazed along the street, yet it seemed to him as if he -were doing it in a dream. A little to the right something suddenly -stepped forth from the Casa di Castore e Polluce, and across the lava -stepping-stones, which led from the house to the other side of the -Strada di Mercurio, Gradiva stepped buoyantly. - -Quite indubitably it was she; even if the sunbeams did surround her -figure as with a thin veil of gold, he perceived her in profile as -plainly and as distinctly as on the bas-relief. Her head, whose crown -was entwined with a scarf which fell to her neck, inclined forward a -little; her left hand held up lightly the extremely voluminous dress -and, as it reached only to her ankles, one could perceive clearly that -in advancing, the right foot, lingering, if only for a moment, rose on -the tips of the toes almost perpendicularly. Here, however, it was not a -stone representation, everything in uniform colourlessness; the dress, -apparently made of extremely soft, clinging material, was not of cold -marble-white, but of a warm tone verging faintly on yellow, and her -hair, wavy under the scarf on her brow, and peeping forth at the -temples, stood out, with golden-brown radiance, in bold contrast to her -alabaster countenance. - -As soon as he caught sight of her, Norbert's memory was clearly awakened -to the fact that he had seen her here once already in a dream, walking -thus, the night that she had lain down as if to sleep over there in the -Forum on the steps of the Temple of Apollo. With this memory he became -conscious, for the first time, of something else; he had, without -himself knowing the motive in his heart, come to Italy on that account -and had, without stop, continued from Rome and Naples to Pompeii to see -if he could here find trace of her--and that in a literal sense--for, -with her unusual gait, she must have left behind in the ashes a -foot-print different from all the others. - -Again it was a noonday dream-picture that passed there before him and -yet also a reality. For that was apparent from an effect which it -produced. On the last stepping-stone on the farther side, there lay -stretched out motionless, in the burning sunlight, a big lizard, whose -body, as if woven of gold and malachite, glistened brightly to Norbert's -eyes. Before the approaching foot, however, it darted down suddenly and -wriggled away over the white, gleaming lava pavement. - -Gradiva crossed the stepping-stones with her calm buoyancy, and now, -turning her back, walked along on the opposite sidewalk; her destination -seemed to be the house of Adonis. Before it she stopped a moment, too, -but passed then, as if after further deliberation, down farther through -the Strada di Mercurio. On the left, of the more elegant buildings, -there now stood only the Casa di Apollo, named after the numerous -representations of Apollo excavated there, and, to the man who was -gazing after her, it seemed again that she had also surely chosen the -portico of the Temple of Apollo for her death sleep. Probably she was -closely associated with the cult of the sun-god and was going there. -Soon, however, she stopped again; stepping-stones crossed the street -here, too, and she walked back again to the right side. Thus she turned -the other side of her face toward him and looked a little different, for -her left hand, which held up her gown, was not visible and instead of -her curved arm, the right one hung down straight. At a greater distance -now, however, the golden waves of sunlight floated around her with a -thicker web of veiling, and did not allow him to distinguish where she -had stopped, for she disappeared suddenly before the house of Meleager. -Norbert Hanold still stood without having moved a limb. With his eyes, -and this time with his corporeal ones, he had surveyed, step by step, -her vanishing form. Now, at length, he drew a deep breath, for his -breast too had remained almost motionless. - -Simultaneously the sixth sense, suppressing the others completely, held -him absolutely in its sway. Had what had just stood before him been a -product of his imagination or a reality? - -He did not know that, nor whether he was awake or dreaming, and tried in -vain to collect his thoughts. Then, however, a strange shudder passed -down his spine. He saw and heard nothing, yet he felt from the secret -inner vibrations that Pompeii had begun to live about him in the noonday -hour of spirits, and so Gradiva lived again, too, and had gone into the -house which she had occupied before the fateful August day of the year -79. - -From his former visit, he was acquainted with the Casa di Meleagro, had -not yet gone there this time, however, but had merely stopped briefly in -the Museo Nazionale of Naples before the wall paintings of Meleager and -his Arcadian huntress companion, Atalanta, which had been found in the -Strada di Mercurio in that house, and after which the latter had been -named. Yet as he now again acquired the ability to move and walked -toward it, he began to doubt whether it really bore its name after the -slayer of the Caledonian boar. He suddenly recalled a Greek poet, -Meleager, who, to be sure, had probably lived about a century before the -destruction of Pompeii. A descendant of his, however, might have come -here and built the house for himself. That agreed with something else -that had awakened in his memory, for he remembered his supposition, or -rather a definite conviction, that Gradiva had been of Greek descent. To -be sure there mingled with his idea the figure of Atalanta as Ovid had -pictured it in his _Metamorphoses_: - - --her floating vest - A polished buckle clasped--her careless locks - In simple knot were gathered-- - - _Trans. by_ Henry King. - -He could not recall the verses word for word, but their content was -present in his mind; and from his store of knowledge was added the fact -that Cleopatra was the name of the young wife of OEneus' son, Meleager. -More probably this had nothing to do with him, but with the Greek poet, -Meleager. Thus, under the glowing sun of the Campagna, there was a -mythological-literary-historical-archaeological juggling in his head. - -When he had passed the house of Castor and Pollux and that of the -Centaur, he stood before the Casa di Meleagro from whose threshold there -looked up at him, still discernible, the inlaid greeting "Ave." On the -wall of the vestibule, Mercury was handing Fortuna a pouch filled with -money; that probably indicated, allegorically, the riches and other -fortunate circumstances of the former dweller. Behind this opened up the -inner court, the centre of which was occupied by a marble table -supported by three griffins. - -Empty and silent, the room lay there, appearing absolutely unfamiliar to -the man, as he entered, awaking no memory that he had already been here, -yet he then recalled it, for the interior of the house offered a -deviation from that of the other excavated buildings of the city. The -peristyle adjoined the inner court on the other side of the balcony -toward the rear--not in the usual way, but at the left side and on that -account was of greater extent and more splendid appearance than any -other in Pompeii. It was framed by a colonnade supported by two dozen -pillars painted red on the lower, and white on the upper half. These -lent solemnity to the great, silent space; here in the centre was a -spring with a beautifully wrought enclosure, which served as a -fish-pool. Apparently the house must have been the dwelling of an -estimable man of culture and artistic sense. - -Norbert's gaze passed around, and he listened. Yet nowhere about did -anything stir, nor was the slightest sound audible. Amidst this cold -stone there was no longer a breath; if Gradiva had gone into Meleager's -house, she had already dissolved again into nothing. At the rear of the -peristyle was another room, an _oecus_, the former dining-room, likewise -surrounded on three sides by pillars painted yellow, which shimmered -from a distance in the light, as if they were encrusted with gold. -Between them, however, shone a red far more dazzling than that from the -walls, with which no brush of antiquity, but young Nature of the present -had painted the ground. The former artistic pavement lay completely -ruined, fallen to decay and weather worn; it was May which exercised -here again its most ancient dominion and covered the whole _oecus_, as it -did at the time in many houses of the buried city, with red, flowering, -wild poppies, whose seeds the winds had carried thither, and these had -sprouted in the ashes. It was a wave of densely crowded blossoms, or so -it appeared, although, in reality, they stood there motionless, for -Atabulus found no way down to them, but only hummed away softly above. -Yet the sun cast such flaming, radiant vibrations down upon them that it -gave an impression of red ripples in a pond undulating hither and -thither. Norbert Hanold's eyes had passed unheeding over a similar sight -in other houses, but here he was strangely thrilled by it. The -dream-flower grown at the edge of Lethe filled the space, and Hypnos lay -stretched in their midst dispensing sleep, which dulls the senses, with -the saps which night has gathered in the red chalices. It seemed to the -man who had entered the dining-room through the portico of the peristyle -as if he felt his temples touched by the invisible slumber wand of the -old vanquisher of gods and men, but not with heavy stupor; only a -dreamily sweet loveliness floated about his consciousness. At the same -time, however, he still remained in control of his feet and stepped -along by the wall of the former dining-room from which gazed old -pictures: Paris, awarding the apple; a satyr, carrying in his hand an -asp and tormenting a young Bacchante with it. - -But there again suddenly, unforeseen--only about five paces away from -him--in the narrow shadow cast down by a single piece of the upper part -of the dining-room portico, which still remained in a state of -preservation, sitting on the low steps between two of the yellow pillars -was a brightly clad woman who now raised her head. In that way she -disclosed to the unnoticed arrival, whose footstep she had apparently -just heard, a full view of her face, which produced in him a double -feeling, for it appeared to him at the same time unknown and yet also -familiar, already seen or imagined; but by his arrested breathing and -his heart palpitations, he recognized, unmistakably, to whom it -belonged. He had found what he was looking for, what had driven him -unconsciously to Pompeii; Gradiva continued her visible existence in the -noonday spirit hour and sat here before him, as, in the dream, he had -seen her on the steps of the Temple of Apollo. Spread out on her knees -lay something white, which he was unable to distinguish clearly; it -seemed to be a papyrus sheet, and a red poppy-blossom stood out from it -in marked contrast. - -In her face surprise was expressed; under the lustrous, brown hair and -the beautiful, alabaster brow, two rarely bright, starlike eyes looked -at him with questioning amazement. It required only a few moments for -him to recognize the conformity of her features with those of the -profile. They must be thus, viewed from the front, and therefore, at -first glance, they had not been really unfamiliar to him. Near to, her -white dress, by its slight tendency to yellow, heightened still more the -warm colour; apparently it consisted of a fine, extremely soft, woollen -material, which produced abundant folds, and the scarf around her head -was of the same. Below, on the nape of the neck, appeared again the -shimmering, brown hair artlessly gathered in a single knot; at her -throat, under a dainty chin, a little gold clasp held her gown together. - -Norbert Hanold dimly perceived that involuntarily he had raised his hand -to his soft Panama hat and removed it; and now he said in Greek, "Are -you Atalanta, the daughter of Jason, or are you a descendant of the -family of the poet, Meleager?" - -Without giving an answer, the lady addressed looked at him silently with -a calmly wise expression in her eyes, and two thoughts passed through -his mind; either her resurrected self could not speak, or she was not of -Greek descent and was ignorant of the language. He therefore substituted -Latin for it and asked: "Was your father a distinguished Pompeiian -citizen of Latin origin?" - -To this she was equally silent, only about her delicately curved lips -there was a slight quiver as if she were repressing a burst of laughter. -Now a feeling of fright came upon him; apparently she was sitting there -before him like a silent image, a phantom to whom speech was denied. -Consternation at this discovery was stamped fully and distinctly upon -his features. - -Then, however, her lips could no longer resist the impulse; a real smile -played about them and at the same time a voice sounded from between -them, "If you wish to speak with me, you must do so in German." - -That was really remarkable from the mouth of a Pompeiian woman who had -died two centuries before, or would have been so for a person hearing it -in a different state of mind. Yet every oddity escaped Norbert because -of two waves of emotion which had rushed over him, one because Gradiva -possessed the power of speech, and the other was one which had been -forced from his inmost being by her voice. It sounded as clear as was -her glance; not sharp, but reminiscent of the tones of a bell, her voice -passed through the sunny silence over the blooming poppy-field, and the -young archaeologist suddenly realized that he had already heard it thus -in his imagination, and involuntarily he gave audible expression to his -feeling, "I knew that your voice sounded like that." - -One could read in her countenance that she was seeking comprehension of -something, but was not finding it. To his last remark she now responded, -"How could you? You have never talked with me." - -To him it was not at all remarkable that she spoke German, and, -according to present usage, addressed him formally; as she did it, he -understood completely that it could not have happened otherwise, and he -answered quickly, "No--not talked--but I called to you when you lay down -to sleep and stood near you then--your face was as calmly beautiful as -if it were of marble. May I beg you--rest it again on the step in that -way." - -While he was speaking, something peculiar had occurred. A golden -butterfly, faintly tinged with red on the inner edge of its upper wing, -fluttered from the poppies toward the pillars, flitted a few times about -Gradiva's head and then rested on the brown, wavy hair above her brow. -At the same time, however, she rose, slender and tall, for she stood up -with deliberate haste, curtly and silently directed at Norbert another -glance, in which something suggested that she considered him demented; -then, thrusting her foot forward, she walked out in her characteristic -way along the pillars of the old portico. Only fleetingly visible for a -while, she finally seemed to have sunk into the earth. - -He stood up, breathless, as if stunned; yet with heavy understanding he -had grasped what had occurred before his eyes. The noonday ghost hour -was over, and in the form of a butterfly, a winged messenger had come up -from the asphodel meadows of Hades to admonish the departed one to -return. For him something else was associated with this, although in -confused indistinctness. He knew that the beautiful butterfly of -Mediterranean countries bore the name Cleopatra, and this had also been -the name of Caledonian Meleager's young wife who, in grief over his -death, had given herself as sacrifice to those of the lower world. - -From his mouth issued a call to the girl who was departing, "Are you -coming here again to-morrow in the noon hour?" Yet she did not turn -around, gave no answer, and disappeared after a few moments in the -corner of the dining-room behind the pillar. Now a compelling impulse -suddenly incited him to hasten after her, but her bright dress was no -longer visible anywhere; glowing with the hot sun's rays, the Casa di -Meleagro lay about him motionless and silent; only Cleopatra hovered on -her red, shimmering, golden wings, making slow circles again above the -multitude of poppies. - - * * * * * - -When and how he had returned to the "ingresso," Norbert Hanold could not -recall; in his memory he retained only the idea that his appetite had -peremptorily demanded to be appeased, though very tardily, at the -"Diomed," and then he had wandered forth aimlessly on the first good -street, had arrived at the beach north of Castellamare, where he had -seated himself on a lava-block, and the sea-wind had blown around his -head until the sun had set about half-way between Monte Sant' Angelo -above Sorrento and Monte Epomeo on Ischia. Yet, in spite of this stay of -at least several hours by the water, he had obtained from the fresh air -there no mental relief, but was returning to the hotel in the same -condition in which he had left it. He found the other guests busily -occupied with dinner, had a little bottle of Vesuvio wine brought to him -in a corner of the room, viewed the faces of those eating, and listened -to their conversations. From the faces of all, as well as from their -talk, it appeared to him absolutely certain that in the noon hour none -of them had either met or spoken to a dead Pompeiian woman who had -returned again briefly to life. Of course, all this had been a foregone -conclusion, as they had all been at lunch at that time; why and -wherefore, he himself could not state, yet after a while he went over to -the competitor of the "Diomed," "Hotel Suisse," sat down there also in a -corner, and, as he had to order something, likewise before a little -bottle of Vesuvio, and here he gave himself over to the same kind of -investigations with eye and ear. They led to the same results but also -to the further conclusion that he now knew by sight all the temporary, -living visitors of Pompeii. To be sure, this effected an increase of his -knowledge which he could hardly consider an enrichment, but from it he -experienced a certain satisfying feeling that, in the two hostelries, no -guest, either male or female, was present with whom, by means of sight -and hearing, he had not entered into a personal, even if one-sided, -relation. Of course, in no way had the absurd supposition entered his -mind that he might possibly meet Gradiva in one of the two hotels, but -he could have taken his oath that no one was staying in them who -possessed, in the remotest way, any trace of resemblance to her. During -his observations, he had occasionally poured wine from his little bottle -to his glass, and had drunk from time to time; and when, in this manner, -the former had gradually become empty, he rose and went back to the -"Diomed." The heavens were now strewn with countless, flashing, -twinkling stars, but not in the traditionally stationary way, for -Norbert gathered the impression that Perseus, Cassiopeia and Andromeda -with some neighbours, bowing lightly hither and thither, were performing -a singing dance, and below, on earth, too, it seemed to him that the -dark shadows of the tree-tops and buildings did not stay in the same -place. Of course on the ground of this region--unsteady from ancient -times--this could not be exactly surprising, for the subterranean glow -lurked everywhere, after an eruption, and let a little of itself rise in -the vines and grapes from which was pressed Vesuvio, which was not one -of Norbert Hanold's usual evening drinks. He still remembered, however, -even if a little of the circular movement of things might be ascribed to -the wine, too, that since noon all objects had displayed an inclination -to whirl softly about his head, and therefore he found, in the slight -increase, nothing new, but only a continuation of the formerly existing -conditions. He went up to his room and stood for a little while at the -open window, looking over toward the Vesuvius mound, above which now no -cone of smoke spread its top, but rather something like the fluctuations -of a dark, purple cloak flowed back and forth around it. Then the young -archaeologist undressed, without having lighted the light, and sought his -couch. Yet, as he stretched himself out upon it, it was not his bed at -the "Diomed," but a red poppy-field whose blossoms closed over him like -a soft cushion heated by the sun. His enemy, the common house-fly, -constrained by darkness to lethargic stupidity, sat fiftyfold above his -head, on the wall, and only one moved, even in its sleepiness, by desire -to torture, buzzed about his nose. He recognized it, however, not as the -absolute evil, the century-old scourge of humanity, for before his eyes -it poised like a red-gold Cleopatra. - -When, in the morning, the sun, with lively assistance from the flies, -awoke him, he could not recall what, besides strange, Ovid-like -metamorphoses, had occurred during the night about his bed. Yet -doubtless some mystic being, continuously weaving dream-webs, had been -sitting beside him, for he felt his head completely overhung and filled -with them, so that all ability to think lay inextricably imprisoned in -it and only one thing remained in his consciousness; he must again be in -Meleager's house at exactly noon. In this connection, however, a fear -overcame him, for if the gatekeepers at the "ingresso" looked at him, -they would not let him in. Anyway it was not advisable that he should -expose himself to close observation by human eyes. To escape that, there -was, for one well informed about Pompeii, a means which was, to be sure, -against the rules, but he was not in a condition to grant to legal -regulation a determination of his conduct. So he climbed again, as on -the evening of his arrival, along the old city-wall, and upon it walked, -in a wide semicircle, around the city of ruins to the solitary, -unguarded Porta di Nola. Here it was not difficult to get down into the -inside and he went, without burdening his conscience very much over the -fact that by his autocratic deed he had deprived the administration of a -two-lira entrance fee, which he could, of course, let it have later in -some other way. - -Thus, unseen, he had reached an uninteresting part of the city, never -before investigated by any one and still mostly unexcavated; he sat down -in a secluded, shady nook and waited, now and then drawing his watch to -observe the progress of time. Once his glance fell upon something in the -distance gleaming, silvery-white, rising from the ashes, but with his -unreliable vision, he was unable to distinguish what it was. Yet -involuntarily he was impelled to go up to it and there it stood, a tall, -flowering asphodel-plant with white, bell-like blossoms whose seeds the -wind had carried thither from outside. It was the flower of the lower -world, significant and, as he felt, destined to grow here for his -purpose. He broke the slender stem and returned with it to his seat. -Hotter and hotter the May sun burned down as on the day before, and -finally approached its noonday position; so now he started out through -the long Strada di Nola. This lay deathly still and deserted, as did -almost all the others; over there to the west all the morning visitors -were already crowding again to the Porta Marina and the soup-plates. -Only the air, suffused with heat, stirred, and in the dazzling glare the -solitary figure of Norbert Hanold with the asphodel branch appeared like -that of Hermes, Psyche's escort, in modern attire, starting out upon the -journey to conduct a departed soul to Hades. - -Not consciously, yet following an instinctive impulse, he found his way -through the Strada della Fortuna farther along to the Strada di -Mercurio, and turning to the right arrived at the Casa di Meleagro. Just -as lifelessly as yesterday, the vestibule, inner court and peristyle -received him, and between the pillars of the latter the poppies of the -dining-room flamed across to him. As he entered, however, it was not -clear to him whether he had been here yesterday or two thousand years -ago to seek from the owner of the house some information of great -importance to archaeology; what it was, however, he could not state, and -besides, it seemed to him, even though in contradiction to the above, -that all the science of antiquity was the most purposeless and -indifferent thing in the world. He could not understand how a human -being could occupy himself with it, for there was only a single thing to -which all thinking and investigation must be directed: what is the -nature of the physical manifestation of a being like Gradiva, dead and -alive at the same time, although the latter was true only in the noon -hour of spirits--or had been the day before, perhaps the one time in a -century or a thousand years, for it suddenly seemed certain that his -return to-day was in vain. He did not meet the girl he was looking for, -because she was not allowed to come again until a time when he too would -have been dead for many years, and was buried and forgotten. Of course, -as he walked now along by the wall below Paris awarding the apple, he -perceived Gradiva before him, just as on yesterday, in the same gown, -sitting between the same two yellow pillars on the same step. Yet he did -not allow himself to be deceived by tricks of imagination, but knew that -fancy alone was deceptively depicting before his eyes what he had really -seen there the day before. He could not refrain, however, from stopping -to indulge in the view of the shadowy apparition created by himself and, -without his knowing it, there passed from his lips in a grieved tone the -words, "Oh, that you were still alive!" - -His voice rang out, but, after that, breathless silence again reigned -among the ruins of the old dining-room. Yet soon another sounded through -the vacant stillness, saying, "Won't you sit down too? You look -exhausted." - -Norbert Hanold's heart stood still a moment. His head, however, -collected this much reason; a vision could not speak; or was an aural -hallucination practising deception upon him? With fixed gaze, he -supported himself against the pillar. - -Then again asked the voice, and it was the one which none other than -Gradiva possessed, "Are you bringing me the white flowers?" - -Dizziness rushed upon him; he felt that his feet no longer supported -him, but forced him to be seated; and he slid down opposite her on the -step, against the pillar. Her bright eyes were directed toward his face, -yet with a different look from the one with which she had gazed at him -yesterday when she suddenly rose and went away. In that, something -ill-humoured and repellent had spoken; but it had disappeared, as if she -had, in the meanwhile, arrived at a different view-point, and an -expression of searching inquisitiveness or curiosity had taken its -place. Likewise, she spoke with an easy familiarity. As he remained -silent, however, to the last question also, she again resumed, "You told -me yesterday that you had once called to me when I lay down to sleep and -that you had afterwards stood near me; my face was as white as marble. -When and where was that? I cannot remember it, and I beg you to explain -more exactly." - -Norbert had now acquired enough power of speech to answer, "In the night -when you sat on the steps of the Temple of Apollo in the Forum and the -fall of ashes from Vesuvius covered you." - -"So--then. Yes, to be sure--that had not occurred to me, but I might -have thought that it would be a case like that. When you said it -yesterday, I was not expecting it, and I was utterly unprepared. Yet -that happened, if I recall correctly, two thousand years ago. Were you -living then? It seems to me you look younger." She spoke very seriously, -but at the end a faint, extremely sweet smile played about her mouth. He -hesitated in embarrassment and answered, stuttering slightly, "No, I -really don't believe I was alive in the year 79--it was perhaps--yes, it -surely is a psychic condition which is called a dream that transported -me into the time of the destruction of Pompeii--but I recognized you -again at first glance." - -In the expression of the girl sitting opposite him, a few feet away, -surprise was apparent, and she repeated in a tone of amazement, "You -recognized me again? In the dream? By what?" - -"At the very first; by your manner of walking." - -"Had you noticed that? And have I a special manner of walking?" - -Her astonishment had grown perceptibly. He replied, "Yes--don't you -realize that? A more graceful one--at least among those now living--does -not exist. Yet I recognized you immediately by everything else too, your -figure, face, bearing and drapery, for everything agreed most minutely -with the bas-relief of you in Rome." - -"Ah, really--" she repeated in her former tone--"with the bas-relief of -me in Rome. Yes, I hadn't thought of that either, and at this moment I -don't know exactly--what is it--and you saw it there then?" - -Now he told her that the sight of it had attracted him so that he had -been highly pleased to get a plaster-cast of it in Germany, and that for -years it had hung in his room. He observed it daily, and the idea had -come to him that it must represent a young Pompeiian girl who was -walking on the stepping-stones of a street in her native city; and the -dream had confirmed it. Now he knew also that he had been impelled by it -to travel here again to see whether he could find some trace of her; and -as he had stood yesterday noon at the corner of Strada di Mercurio, she, -herself, exactly like her image, had suddenly walked before him across -the stepping-stones, as if she were about to go over into the house of -Apollo. Then farther along she had recrossed the street and disappeared -before the house of Meleager. - -To this she nodded and said, "Yes, I intended to look up the house of -Apollo, but I came here." - -He continued, "On that account the Greek poet, Meleager, came to my -mind, and I thought that you were one of his descendants and were -returning--in the hour which you are allowed--to your ancestral home. -When I spoke to you in Greek, however, you did not understand." - -"Was that Greek? No, I don't understand it or I've probably forgotten -it. Yet as you came again just now, I heard you say something that I -could understand. You expressed the wish that some one might still be -alive here. Only I did not understand whom you meant by that." - -That caused him to reply that, at sight of her, he had believed that it -was not really she, but that his imagination was deceptively putting her -image before him in the place where he had met her yesterday. At that -she smiled and agreed, "It seems that you have reason to be on your -guard against an excess of imagination, although, when I have been with -you, I never supposed so." She stopped, however, and added, "What is -there peculiar about my way of walking, which you spoke of before?" - -It was noteworthy that her aroused interest brought her back to that, -and he said, "If I may ask----" - -With that he stopped, for he suddenly remembered with fear that -yesterday she had suddenly risen and gone away when he had asked her to -lie down to sleep again on that step, as on that of the Temple of -Apollo, and, associated darkly with this, there came to him the glance -which she had directed upon him in departing. Yet now the calm, friendly -expression of her eyes remained, and as he spoke no further, she said, -"It was nice that your wish that some one might still be alive concerned -me. If you wish to ask anything of me on that account, I will gladly -respond." - -That overcame his fear, and he replied, "It would make me happy to get a -close view of you walking as you do in the bas-relief." - -Willingly, without answering, she stood up and walked along between the -wall and the pillars. It was the very buoyantly reposeful gait, with the -sole raised almost perpendicularly, that was so firmly imprinted on his -mind, but for the first time he saw that she wore, below the raised -gown, not sandals, but light, sand-coloured shoes of fine leather. When -she came back and sat down again silently, he involuntarily started to -talk of the difference in her foot-covering from that of the bas-relief. -To that she rejoined, "Time, of course, always changes everything, and -for the present sandals are not suitable, so I put on shoes, which are a -better protection against rain and dust; but why did you ask me to walk -before you? What is there peculiar about it?" - -Her repeated wish to learn this proved her not entirely free from -feminine curiosity. He now explained that it was a matter of the -peculiarly upright position of the rising foot, as she walked, and he -added how for weeks he had tried to observe the gait of modern women on -the streets in his native city. Yet it seemed that this beautiful way of -walking had been completely lost to them, with the exception, perhaps, -of a single one who had given him the impression that she walked in that -way. To be sure, he had not been able to establish this fact because of -the crowd about her, and he had probably experienced an illusion, for it -had seemed to him that her features had resembled somewhat those of -Gradiva. - -"What a shame," she answered. "For confirmation of the fact would surely -have been of great scientific importance, and if you had succeeded, -perhaps you would not have needed to take the long journey here; but -whom were you just speaking of? Who is Gradiva?" - -"I have named the bas-relief that, because I didn't know your real name, -and don't know it yet, either." - -This last he added with some hesitancy, and she faltered a moment before -replying to the indirect question. "My name is Zoe." - -With pained tone the words escaped him: "The name suits you beautifully, -but it sounds to me like bitter mockery, for 'Zoe' means 'life.'" - -"One must adapt himself to the inevitable," she responded, "and I have -long accustomed myself to being dead; but now my time is over for -to-day; you have brought the grave-flower with you to conduct me back. -So give it to me." - -As she rose and stretched forth her slender hand, he gave her the -asphodel cluster, but was careful not to touch her fingers. Accepting -the flowering branch she said, "I thank you. To those who are more -fortunate one gives roses in spring, but for me the flower of oblivion -is the right one from your hand. To-morrow I shall be allowed to come -here again at this hour. If your way leads you again into the house of -Meleager, we can sit together at the edge of the poppies, as we did -to-day. On the threshold stands 'Ave,' and I say it to you 'Ave'!" - -She went out and disappeared, as yesterday, at the turn in the portico, -as if she had there sunk into the ground. Everything lay empty and -silent again, but, from some distance, there once rang, short and clear, -a sound like the merry note of a bird flying over the devastated city. -This was stifled immediately, however. Norbert, who had remained behind, -looked down at the step where she had just been sitting; there something -white shimmered; it seemed to be the papyrus leaf which Gradiva had held -on her knees yesterday and had forgotten to take with her to-day. Yet, -as he shyly reached for it, he found it to be a little sketch-book with -pencil drawings of the different ruins in several houses of Pompeii. The -page next to the last showed a drawing of the griffin-table in the -central court of the Casa di Meleagro, and on the last was the beginning -of a reproduction of the view across the poppies of the dining-room -through the row of pillars of the peristyle. That the departed girl made -drawings in a sketch-book of the present mode was as amazing as had been -the fact that she expressed her thoughts in German. Yet those were only -insignificant prodigies beside the great one of her revivification, and -apparently she used the midday hour of freedom to preserve for herself, -in their present state, with unusual artistic talent, the surroundings -in which she had once lived. The drawings testified to delicately -cultivated powers of perception, as each of her words did to a clever -intellect; and she had probably often sat by the old griffin-table, so -that it was a particularly precious reminder. - -Mechanically Norbert also went, with the little book, along the portico, -and at the place where this turned he noticed in the wall a narrow cleft -wide enough to afford, to an unusually slender figure, passage into the -adjoining building, and even farther to the Vicolo del Fauno at the -other side of the house. Suddenly, however, the idea flashed through his -mind that Zoe-Gradiva did not sink into the ground here--that was -essentially unreasonable, and he could not understand how he had ever -believed it--but went, on this street, back to her tomb. That must be in -the Street of Tombs, and rushing forth, he hastened out into the Strada -di Mercurio and as far as the gate of Hercules; but when, breathless and -reeking with perspiration, he entered this, it was already too late. The -broad Strada di Sepolcri stretched out empty and dazzlingly white, only -at its extremity, behind the glimmering curtain of radiance, a faint -shadow seemed to dissolve uncertainly before the Villa of Diomede. - - * * * * * - -Norbert Hanold passed the second half of the day with a feeling that -Pompeii was everywhere, or at least wherever he stopped, veiled in a -cloud of mist. It was not grey, gloomy and melancholy as formerly, but -rather cheerful and vari-coloured to an extraordinary degree; blue, red -and brown, chiefly a light-yellowish white and alabaster white, -interwoven with golden threads of sunbeams. This injured neither his -power of vision nor that of hearing, only, because of it, thinking was -impossible, and that produced a cloud-wall whose effect rivalled the -thickest mist. To the young archaeologist it seemed almost as if hourly, -in an invisible and not otherwise noticeable way, there was brought to -him a little bottle of Vesuvio wine, which produced a continuous -whirling in his head. From this he instinctively sought to free himself -by the use of correctives, on the one hand drinking water frequently, -and on the other hand moving about as much and as far as possible. His -knowledge of medicine was not comprehensive, but it helped him to the -diagnosis that this strange condition must arise from excessive -congestion of blood in his head, perhaps associated with accelerated -action of the heart; for he felt the latter--something formerly quite -unknown to him--occasionally beating fast against his chest. Otherwise, -his thoughts, which could not penetrate into the outer world, were not -in the least inactive within, or more exactly, there was only one -thought there, which had come into sole possession and carried on a -restless, though vain activity. It continually turned about the question -of what physical nature Zoe-Gradiva might possess, whether during her -stay in the house of Meleager she was a corporeal being or only an -illusory representation of what she had formerly been. For the former, -physical, physiological and anatomical facts seemed to argue that she -had at her disposal organs of speech, and could hold a pencil with her -fingers. Yet Norbert was overwhelmed with the idea that if he should -touch her, even lightly place his hand on hers, he would then encounter -only empty air. A peculiar impulse urged him to make sure of this, but -an equally great timidity hindered him from even thinking of doing it. -For he felt that the confirmation of either of the two possibilities -must bring with it something inspiring fear. The corporeal existence of -the hand would thrill him with horror, and its lack of substance would -cause him deep pain. - -Occupied vainly with this problem, which was impossible to solve -scientifically without experiment, he arrived, in the course of his -extensive wanderings that afternoon, at the foothills of the big -mountain group of Monte Sant' Angelo, rising south from Pompeii, and -here he unexpectedly came upon an elderly man, already grey-bearded, -who, from his equipment with all sorts of implements, seemed to be a -zoologist or botanist, and appeared to be making a search on a hot, -sunny slope. He turned his head as Norbert came close to him, looked at -the latter in surprise for a moment and then said, "Are you interested -in _Faraglionensis_? I should hardly have supposed it, but it seems -thoroughly probable that they are found, not only in the _Faraglioni_ of -Capri, but also dwell permanently on the mainland. The method suggested -by my colleague, Eimer, is really good; I have already used it often -with the best of success. Please remain quite still----" - -The speaker stopped, stepped carefully forward a few paces and, -stretched out motionless on the ground, held a little snare, made of a -long grass-blade, before a narrow crevice in the rock, from which the -blue, chatoyant little head of a lizard peeped. Thus the man remained -without the slightest movement, and Norbert Hanold turned about -noiselessly behind him and returned by the way he had come. It seemed to -him dimly that he had already seen the face of the lizard-hunter once, -probably in one of the two hotels; to this fact the latter's manner -pointed. It was hardly credible what foolishly remarkable purposes could -cause people to make the long trip to Pompeii; happy that he had -succeeded in so quickly ridding himself of the snare-layer, and being -again able to direct his thoughts to the problem of corporeal reality or -unreality, he started on the return. Yet a side street misled him once -to a wrong turn and took him, instead of to the west boundary, to the -east end of the extensive old city-wall; buried in thought, he did not -notice the mistake until he had come right up to a building which was -neither the "Diomed" nor the "Hotel Suisse." In spite of this it bore -the sign of an hotel; near by he recognized the ruins of the large -Pompeiian amphitheatre, and the memory came to him that near this latter -there was another hotel, the "Albergo del Sole," which, on account of -its remoteness from the station, was sought out by only a few guests, -and had remained unknown to even him. The walk had made him hot; -besides, the cloudy whirling in his head had not diminished; so he -stepped in through the open door and ordered the remedy deemed useful by -him for blood congestion, a bottle of lime-water. The room stood empty -except, of course, for the fly-visitors gathered in full numbers, and -the unoccupied host availed himself of the opportunity to recommend -highly his house and the excavated treasures it contained. He pointed -suggestively to the fact that there were, near Pompeii, people at whose -places there was not a single genuine piece among the many objects -offered for sale, but that all were imitations, while he, satisfying -himself with a smaller number, offered his guests only things -undoubtedly genuine. For he acquired no articles which he himself had -not seen brought to the light of day, and, in the course of his -eloquence, he revealed that he had also been present when they had found -near the Forum the young lovers who had clasped each other in firm -embrace when they realized their inevitable destruction, and had thus -awaited death. Norbert had already heard of this discovery, but had -shrugged his shoulders about it as a fabulous invention of some -especially imaginative narrator, and he did so now, too, when the host -brought in to him, as authentic proof, a metal brooch encrusted with -green patina, which, in his presence, had been gathered with the remains -of the girl from the ashes. When the arrival at the "Sun Hotel" took it -in his own hand, however, the power of imagination exercised such -ascendency over him that suddenly, without further critical -consideration, he paid for it the price asked from English people, and, -with his acquisition, hastily left the "Albergo del Sole," in which, -after another turn, he saw in an open window, nodding down, an asphodel -branch covered with white blossoms, which had been placed in a -water-glass; and without needing any logical connection, it rushed -through his mind, at the sight of the grave-flower, that it was an -attestation of the genuineness of his new possession. - -This he viewed with mingled feelings of excitement and shyness, keeping -now to the way along the city-wall to Porta Marina. Then it was no fairy -tale that a couple of young lovers had been excavated near the Forum in -such an embrace, and there at the Apollo temple he had seen Gradiva lie -down to sleep, but only in a dream; that he knew now quite definitely; -in reality she might have gone on still farther from the Forum, met some -one and died with him. - -From the green brooch between his fingers a feeling passed through him -that it had belonged to Zoe-Gradiva, and had held her dress closed at -the throat. Then she was the beloved fiancee, perhaps the young wife of -him with whom she had wished to die. - -It occurred to Norbert Hanold to hurl the brooch away. It burned his -fingers as if it had become glowing, or more exactly, it caused him the -pain such as he had felt at the idea that he might put his hand on that -of Gradiva and encounter only empty air. - -Reason, nevertheless, asserted the upper hand; he did not allow himself -to be controlled by imagination against his will. However probable it -might be, there was still lacking invincible proof that the brooch had -belonged to her and that it had been she who had been discovered in the -young man's arms. This judgment made it possible for him to breathe -freely, and when at the dawn of twilight he reached the "Diomed," his -long wandering had brought to his sound constitution need of physical -refreshment. Not without appetite did he devour the rather Spartan -evening meal which the "Diomed," in spite of its Argive origin, had -adopted, and he then noticed two guests newly-arrived in the course of -the afternoon. By appearance and language they marked themselves as -Germans, a man and a woman; they both had youthful, attractive features -endowed with intellectual expressions; their relation to each other -could not be determined, yet, because of a certain resemblance, Norbert -decided that they were brother and sister. To be sure the young man's -fair hair differed in colour from her light-brown tresses. In her gown -she wore a red Sorrento rose, the sight of which, as he looked across -from his corner, stirred something in his memory without his being able -to think what it was. The couple were the first people he had met on his -journey who seemed possibly congenial. They talked with one another, -over a little bottle, in not too plainly audible tones, nor in cautious -whisperings, apparently sometimes about serious things and sometimes -about gay things, for at times there passed over her face a -half-laughing expression which was very becoming to her, and aroused the -desire to participate in their conversation, or perhaps might have -awakened it in Norbert, if he had met them two days before in the room -otherwise populated only by Anglo-Americans. Yet he felt that what was -passing through his mind stood in too strong contrast to the happy -naivete of the couple about whom there undeniably lay not the slightest -cloud, for they doubtless were not meditating profoundly over the -essential nature of a girl who had died two thousand years ago, but, -without any weariness, were taking pleasure in an enigmatical problem of -their life of the present. His condition did not harmonize with that; on -the one hand he seemed superfluous to them, and on the other, he -recoiled from an attempt to start an acquaintance with them, for he had -a dark feeling that their bright, merry eyes might look through his -forehead into his thoughts and thereby assume an expression as if they -did not consider him quite in his right mind. Therefore he went up to -his room, stood, as yesterday, at the window, looking over to the purple -night-mantle of Vesuvius, and then he lay down to rest. Exhausted, he -soon fell asleep and dreamed, but remarkably nonsensically. Somewhere in -the sun Gradiva sat making a trap out of a blade of grass in order to -catch a lizard, and she said, "Please stay quite still--my colleague is -right; the method is really good, and she has used it with the greatest -success." - -Norbert Hanold became conscious in his dream that it was actually the -most utter madness, and he cast about to free himself from it. He -succeeded in this by the aid of an invisible bird, who seemingly uttered -a short, merry call, and carried the lizard away in its beak; afterwards -everything disappeared. - - * * * * * - -On awakening he remembered that in the night a voice had said that in -the spring one gave roses, or rather this was recalled to him through -his eyes, for his gaze, passing down from the window, came upon a bright -bush of red flowers. They were of the same kind as those which the young -lady had worn in her bosom, and when he went down he involuntarily -plucked a couple and smelled of them. In fact, there must be something -peculiar about Sorrento roses, for their fragrance seemed to him not -only wonderful, but quite new and unfamiliar, and at the same time he -felt that they had a somewhat liberating effect upon his mind. At least -they freed him from yesterday's timidity before the gatekeepers, for he -went, according to directions, in through the "ingresso" to Pompeii, -paid double the amount of admission fee, and quickly struck out upon -streets which took him from the vicinity of other visitors. The little -sketch-book from the house of Meleager he carried along with the green -brooch and the red roses, but the fragrance of the latter had made him -forget to eat breakfast, and his thoughts were not in the present, but -were directed exclusively to the noon hour, which was still far off; he -had to pass the remaining interval, and for this purpose he entered now -one house, now another, as a result of which activity the idea probably -occurred to him that Gradiva had also walked there often before or even -now sought these places out sometimes--his supposition that she was able -to do it only at noon was tottering. Perhaps she was at liberty to do it -in other hours of the day, possibly even at night in the moonlight. The -roses strengthened this supposition strangely for him, when he inhaled, -as he held them to his nose; and his deliberations, complaisant, and -open to conviction, made advances to this new idea, for he could bear -witness that he did not cling to preconceived opinions at all, but -rather gave free rein to every reasonable objection, and such there was -here without any doubt, not only logically, but desirably valid. Only -the question arose whether, upon meeting her then, the eyes of others -could see her as a corporeal being, or whether only his possessed the -ability to do that. The former was not to be denied, claimed even -probability for itself, transformed the desirable thing into quite the -opposite, and transported him into a low-spirited, restless mood. The -thought that others might also speak to her and sit down near her to -carry on a conversation with her made him indignant; to that he alone -possessed a claim, or at any rate a privilege, for he had discovered -Gradiva, of whom no one had formerly known, had observed her daily, -taken her into his life, to a degree, imparted to her his life-strength, -and it seemed to him as if he had thereby again lent to her life that -she would not have possessed without him. Therefore he felt that there -devolved upon him a right, to which he alone might make a claim, and -which he might refuse to share with anyone else. - -The advancing day was hotter than the two preceding; the sun seemed to -have set her mind to-day on a quite extraordinary feat, and made it -regrettable, not only in an archaeological, but also in a practical -connection, that the water system of Pompeii had lain burst and dried up -for two thousand years. Street fountains here and there commemorated it -and likewise gave evidence of their informal use by thirsty passers-by, -who had, in order to bend forward to the jet, leaned a hand on the -marble railing and gradually dug out a sort of trough in the place, in -the same way that dropping wears away stone; Norbert observed this at a -corner of the Strada della Fortuna, and from that the idea occurred to -him that the hand of Zoe-Gradiva, too, might formerly have rested here -in that way, and involuntarily he laid his hand into the little hollow, -yet he immediately rejected the idea, and felt annoyance at himself that -he could have done it; the thought did not harmonize at all with the -nature and bearing of the young Pompeiian girl of a refined family; -there was something profane in the idea that she could have bent over so -and placed her lips on the very pipe from which the plebeians drank with -coarse mouths. In a noble sense, he had never seen anything more seemly -than her actions and movements; he was frightened by the idea that she -might be able to see by looking at him that he had had the incredibly -unreasonable thought, for her eyes possessed something penetrating; a -couple of times, when he had been with her, the feeling had seized him -that she looked as if she were seeking for access to his inmost thoughts -and were looking about them as if with a bright steel probe. He was -obliged, therefore, to take great care that she might come upon nothing -foolish in his mental processes. - -It was now an hour until noon and in order to pass it, he went -diagonally across the street into the Casa del Fauno, the most extensive -and magnificent of all the excavated houses. Like no other, it possessed -a double inner court and showed, in the larger one, on the middle of the -ground, the empty base on which had stood the famous statue of the -dancing faun after which the house had been named. Yet there stirred in -Norbert Hanold not the least regret that this work of art, valued highly -by science, was no longer here, but, together with the mosaic picture of -the Battle of Alexander, had been transferred to the Museo Nazionale in -Naples; he possessed no further intention nor desire than to let time -move along, and he wandered about aimlessly in this place through the -large building. Behind the peristyle opened a wider room, surrounded by -numerous pillars, planned either as another repetition of the peristyle -or as an ornamental garden; so it seemed at present for, like the -dining-room of the Casa di Meleagro, it was completely covered with -poppy-blooms. Absent-mindedly the visitor passed through the silent -dereliction. - -Then, however, he stopped and rested on one foot; but he found himself -not alone here; at some distance his glance fell upon two figures, who -first gave the impression of only one, because they stood as closely as -possible to each other. They did not see him, for they were concerned -only with themselves, and, in that corner, because of the pillars, might -have believed themselves undiscoverable by any other eyes. Mutually -embracing each other, they held their lips also pressed together, and -the unsuspected spectator recognized, to his amazement, that they were -the young man and woman who had last evening seemed to him the first -congenial people encountered on this trip. For brother and sister, their -present position, the embrace and the kiss, it seemed to him had lasted -too long. So it was surely another pair of lovers, probably a young -bridal couple, an Augustus and Gretchen, too. - -Strange to relate, however, the two latter did not, at the moment, enter -Norbert's mind, and the incident seemed to him not at all ridiculous nor -repulsive, rather it heightened his pleasure in them. What they were -doing seemed to him as natural as it did comprehensible; his eyes clung -to the living picture, more widely open than they ever had been to any -of the most admired works of art, and he would have gladly devoted -himself for a longer time to his observation. Yet it seemed to him that -he had wrongfully penetrated into a consecrated place and was on the -point of disturbing a secret act of devotion; the idea of being noticed -there struck terror to his heart, and he quickly turned, went back some -distance noiselessly on tiptoe and, when he had passed beyond hearing -distance, ran out with bated breath and beating heart to the Vicolo del -Fauno. - - * * * * * - -When he arrived before the house of Meleager, he did not know whether it -was already noon, and did not happen to question his watch about it, but -remained before the door, standing looking down with indecision for some -time at the "Ave" in the entrance. A fear prevented him from stepping -in, and strangely, he was equally afraid of not meeting Gradiva within, -and of finding her there; for, during the last few moments, he had felt -quite sure that, in the first case, she would be staying somewhere else -with some younger man, and, in the second case, the latter would be in -company with her on the steps between the pillars. Toward the man, -however, he felt a hate far stronger than against all the assembled -common house-flies; until to-day he had not considered it possible that -he could be capable of such violent inner excitement. The duel, which he -had always considered stupid nonsense, suddenly appeared to him in a -different light; here it became a natural right which the man injured in -his own rights, or mortally insulted, made use of as the only available -means to secure satisfaction or to part with an existence which had -become purposeless. So he suddenly stepped forward to enter; he would -challenge the bold man and would--this rushed upon him almost more -powerfully--express unreservedly to her that he had considered her -something better, more noble, and incapable of such vulgarity. - -He was so filled to the brim with this rebellious idea that he uttered -it, even though there was not apparently the least occasion for it, for, -when he had covered the distance to the dining-room with stormy haste, -he demanded violently, "Are you alone?" although appearances allowed of -no doubt that Gradiva was sitting there on the steps, just as much alone -as on the two previous days. - -She looked at him amazed and replied, "Who should still be here after -noon? Then the people are all hungry and sit down to meals. Nature has -arranged that very happily for me." - -His surging excitement could not, however, be allayed so quickly, and -without his knowledge or desire, he let slip, with the conviction of -certainty, the conjecture which had come over him outside; for he added, -to be sure somewhat foolishly, that he could really not think otherwise. - -Her bright eyes remained fixed upon his face until he had finished. Then -she made a motion with one finger against her brow and said, "You----" -After that, however, she continued, "It seems to me quite enough that I -do not remain away from here, even though I must expect that you are -coming here at this time; but the place pleases me, and I see that you -have brought me my sketch-book that I forgot here yesterday. I thank you -for your vigilance. Won't you give it to me?" The last question was well -founded, for he showed no disposition to do so, but remained motionless. -It began to dawn upon him that he had imagined and worked out a -monstrous piece of nonsense, and had also given expression to it; in -order to compensate, as far as possible, he now stepped forward hastily, -handed Gradiva the book, and at the same time sat down near her on the -step, mechanically. Casting a glance at his hand, she said, "You seem to -be a lover of roses." - -At these words he suddenly became conscious of what had caused him to -pluck and bring them and he responded, "Yes,--of course, not for myself, -have I--you spoke yesterday--and last night, too, some one said it to -me--people give them in spring." - -She pondered briefly before she answered, "Ah, so--yes, I remember. To -others, I meant, one does not give asphodel, but roses. That is polite -of you; it seems your opinion of me is improved." - -Her hand stretched out to receive the red flowers, and, handing them to -her, he rejoined, "I believed at first that you could be here only -during the noon hour, but it has become probable to me that you also, at -some other time--that makes me very happy----" - -"Why does it make you happy?" - -Her face expressed lack of comprehension--only about her lips there -passed a slight, hardly noticeable quiver. Confused, he offered, "It is -beautiful to be alive; it has never seemed so much so to me before--I -wished to ask you?" He searched in his breast pocket and added, as he -drew out the object, "Has this brooch ever belonged to you?" - -She leaned forward a little toward it, but shook her head. "No, I can't -remember. Chronologically it would, of course, not be impossible, for it -probably did not exist until this year. Did you find it in the sun -perhaps? The beautiful green patina surely seems familiar to me, as if I -had already seen it." - -Involuntarily he repeated, "In the sun?--why in the sun?" - -"'Sole' it is called here. It brings to light many things of that sort. -Was the brooch said to have belonged to a young girl who is said to have -perished, I believe, in the vicinity of the Forum, with a companion?" - -"Yes, who held his arm about her----" - -"Ah, so----" - -The two little words apparently lay upon Gradiva's tongue as a favourite -interjection, and she stopped after it for a moment before she added, -"Did you think that on that account I might have worn it? and would that -have made you a little--how did you say it before?--unhappy?" - -It was apparent that he felt extraordinarily relieved and it was audible -in his answer, "I am very happy about it--for the idea that the brooch -belonged to you made me--dizzy." - -"You seem to have a tendency for that. Did you perhaps forget to eat -breakfast this morning? That easily aggravates such attacks; I do not -suffer from them, but I make provision, as it suits me best to be here -at noon. If I can help you out of your unfortunate condition a little by -sharing my lunch with you----" - -She drew out of her pocket a piece of white bread wrapped in tissue -paper, broke it, put half into his hand, and began to devour the other -with apparent appetite. Thereby her exceptionally dainty and perfect -teeth not only gleamed between her lips with pearly glitter, but in -biting the crust caused also a crunching sound so that they gave the -impression of being not unreal phantoms, but of actual, substantial -reality. Besides, with her conjecture about the postponed breakfast, she -had, to be sure, hit upon the right thing; mechanically he, too, ate, -and felt from it a decidedly favourable effect on the clearing of his -thoughts. So, for a little while, the couple did not speak further, but -devoted themselves silently to the same practical occupation until -Gradiva said, "It seems to me as if we had already eaten our bread thus -together once two thousand years ago. Can't you remember it?" - -He could not, but it seemed strange to him now that she spoke of so -infinitely remote a past, for the strengthening of his mind by the -nourishment had brought with it a change in his brain. The idea that she -had been going around here in Pompeii such a long time ago would no -longer harmonize with sound reason; everything about her seemed of the -present, as if it could be scarcely more than twenty years old. The form -and colour of her face, the especially charming, brown, wavy hair, and -the flawless teeth; also, the idea that the bright dress, marred by no -shadow of a spot, had lain countless years in the pumice ashes contained -something in the highest degree inconsistent. Norbert was seized by a -feeling of doubt whether he were really sitting here awake or were not -more probably dreaming in his study, where, in contemplation of the -likeness of Gradiva, he had been overcome by sleep, and had dreamed that -he had gone to Pompeii, had met her as a person still living, and was -dreaming further that he was still sitting so at her side in the Casa di -Meleagro. For that she was really still alive or had been living again -could only have happened in a dream--the laws of nature raised an -objection to it---- - -To be sure, it was strange that she had just said that she had once -shared her bread with him in that way two thousand years ago. Of that he -knew nothing, and even in the dream could find nothing about it. - -Her left hand lay with the slender fingers calmly on her knees. They -bore the key to the solution of an inscrutable riddle---- - -Even in the dining-room of the Casa di Meleagro the boldness of the -common house-fly was not deterred; on the yellow pillar opposite him he -saw one running up and down in a worthless way in greedy quest; now it -whizzed right past his nose. - -He, however, had to make some answer to her question, if he did not -remember the bread that he had formerly consumed with her, and he said -suddenly, "Were the flies then as devilish as now, so that they -tormented you to death?" - -She glanced at him with utterly incomprehending astonishment and -repeated, "The flies? Have you flies on your mind now?" - -Then suddenly the black monster sat upon her hand, which did not reveal -by the slightest quiver that she noticed it. Thereupon, however, there -united in the young archaeologist two powerful impulses to execute the -same deed. His hand went up suddenly and clapped with no gentle stroke -on the fly and the hand of his neighbour. - -With this blow there came to him, for the first time, sense, -consternation and also a joyous fear. He had delivered the stroke not -through empty air, but on an undoubtedly real, living and warm, human -hand which, for a moment apparently absolutely startled, remained -motionless under his. Yet then she drew it away with a jerk, and the -mouth above it said, "You are surely apparently crazy, Norbert Hanold." - -The name, which he had disclosed to no one in Pompeii, passed so easily, -assuredly and clearly from her lips that its owner jumped up from the -steps, even more terrified. At the same time there sounded in the -colonnade footsteps of people who had come near unobserved; before his -confused eyes appeared the faces of the congenial pair of lovers from -the Casa del Fauno, and the young lady cried, with a tone of greatest -surprise, "Zoe! You here, too? and also on your honeymoon? You have not -written me a word about it, you know." - - * * * * * - -Norbert was again outside before Meleager's house in the Strada di -Mercurio. How he had come there was not clear to him, it must have -happened instinctively, and, caused by a lightning-like illumination in -him, was the only thing that he could do not to present a thoroughly -ridiculous figure to the young couple, even more to the girl greeted so -pleasantly by them, who had just addressed him by his Christian and -family names, and most of all to himself. For even if he grasped -nothing, one fact was indisputable. Gradiva, with a warm, human hand, -not unsubstantial, but possessing corporeal reality, had expressed an -indubitable truth; his mind had, in the last two days, been in a -condition of absolute madness; and not at all in a silly dream, but -rather with the use of eyes and ears such as is given by nature to man -for reasonable service. Like everything else, how such a thing had -happened escaped his understanding, and only darkly did he feel that -there must have also been in the game a sixth sense which, obtaining the -upper hand in some way, had transformed something perhaps precious to -the opposite. In order to get at least a little more light on the matter -by an attempt at meditation, a remote place in solitary silence was -absolutely required; at first, however, he was impelled to withdraw as -quickly as possible from the sphere of eyes, ears and other senses, -which use their natural functions as suits their own purpose. - -As for the owner of that warm hand, she had, at any rate, from her first -expression, been surprised by the unforeseen and unexpected visit at -noon in the Casa di Meleagro in a not entirely pleasant manner. Yet, of -this, in the next instant, there was no trace to be seen in her bright -countenance; she stood up quickly, stepped toward the young lady and -said, extending her hand, "It certainly is pleasant, Gisa; chance -sometimes has a clever idea too. So this is your husband of two weeks? I -am glad to see him, and, from the appearance of both of you, I -apparently need not change my congratulations for condolence. Couples to -whom that would be applied are at this time usually sitting at lunch in -Pompeii; you are probably staying near the 'ingresso'; I shall look you -up there this afternoon. No, I have not written you anything; you won't -be offended at me for that, for you see my hand, unlike yours, is not -adorned by a ring. The atmosphere here has an extremely powerful effect -on the imagination, which I can see in you; it is better, of course, -than if it made one too matter-of-fact. The young man who just went out -is labouring also under a remarkable delusion; it seems to me that he -believes a fly is buzzing in his head; well, everyone has, of course, -some kind of bee in his bonnet. As is my duty, I have some knowledge of -entomology and can, therefore, be of a little service in such cases. My -father and I live in the 'Sole'; he, too, had a sudden and pleasing idea -of bringing me here with him if I would be responsible for my own -entertainment, and make no demands upon him. I said to myself that I -should certainly dig up something interesting alone here. Of course I -had not reckoned at all on the find which I made--I mean the good -fortune of meeting you, Gisa; but I am talking away the time, as is -usually the case with an old friend---- My father comes in out of the -sun at two o'clock to eat at the 'Sole'; so I have to keep company there -with his appetite and, therefore, I am sorry to say, must for the moment -forego your society. You will, of course, be able to view the Casa di -Meleagro without me; that I think likely, though I can't understand it, -of course. Favorisca, signor! Arrivederci, Gisetta! That much Italian I -have already learned, and one really does not need more. Whatever else -is necessary one can invent--please, no, senza complimenti!" - -This last entreaty of the speaker concerned a polite movement by which -the young husband had seemed to wish to escort her. She had expressed -herself most vividly, naturally and in a manner quite fitting to the -circumstances of the unexpected meeting of a close friend, yet with -extraordinary celerity, which testified to the urgency of the -declaration that she could not at present remain longer. So not more -than a few minutes had passed since the hasty exit of Norbert Hanold, -when she also stepped from the house of Meleager into the Strada di -Mercurio. This lay, because of the hour, enlivened only here and there -by a cringing lizard, and for a few moments the girl, hesitating, -apparently gave herself over to a brief meditation. Then she quickly -struck out in the shortest way to the gate of Hercules, at the -intersection of the Vicolo di Mercurio and the Strada di Sallustio, -crossed the stepping-stones with the gracefully buoyant Gradiva-walk, -and thus arrived very quickly at the two ruins of the side wall near the -Porta Ercolanese. Behind this there stretched at some length the Street -of Tombs, yet not dazzlingly white, nor overhung with glittering -sunbeams, as twenty-four hours ago, when the young archaeologist had thus -gazed down over it with searching eyes. To-day the sun seemed to be -overcome by a feeling that she had done a little too much good in the -morning; she held a grey veil drawn before her, the condensation of -which was visibly being increased, and, as a result, the cypresses, -which grew here and there in the Strada di Sepolcri, rose unusually -sharp and black against the heavens. It was a picture different from -that of yesterday; the brilliance which mysteriously glittered over -everything was lacking; the street also assumed a certain gloomy -distinctness, and had at present a dead aspect which honoured its name. -This impression was not diminished by an isolated movement at its end, -but was rather heightened by it; there, in the vicinity of the Villa of -Diomede, a phantom seemed to be looking for its grave, and disappeared -under one of the monuments. - -It was not the shortest way from the house of Meleager to the "Albergo -del Sole," rather the exactly opposite direction, but Zoe-Gradiva must -have also decided that time was not yet importuning so violently to -lunch, for after a quite brief stop at the Hercules Gate, she walked -farther along the lava-blocks of the Street of Tombs, every time raising -the sole of her lingering foot almost perpendicularly. - - * * * * * - -The Villa of Diomede--named thus, for people of the present, after a -monument which a certain freed-man, Marcus Arrius Diomedes, formerly -promoted to the directorship of this city-section, had erected near by -for his lady, Arria, as well as for himself and his relatives--was a -very extensive building and concealed within itself a part of the -history of the destruction of Pompeii not invented by imagination. A -confusion of extensive ruins formed the upper part; below lay an -unusually large sunken garden surrounded by a well-preserved portico of -pillars with scanty remnants of a fountain and a small temple in the -middle; and farther along two stairways led down to a circular -cellar-vault, lighted only dimly by gloomy twilight. The ashes of -Vesuvius had penetrated into this also, and the skeletons of eighteen -women and children had been found here; seeking protection they had -fled, with some hastily gathered provisions, into the half-subterranean -space, and the deceptive refuge had become the tomb of all. In another -place the supposed, nameless master of the house lay, also stretched out -choked on the ground; he had wished to escape through the locked -garden-door, for he held the key to it in his fingers. Beside him -cowered another skeleton, probably that of a servant, who was carrying a -considerable number of gold and silver coins. The bodies of the -unfortunates had been preserved by the hardened ashes; in the museum at -Naples there is under glass, the exact impression of the neck, shoulders -and beautiful bosom of a young girl clad in a fine, gauzy garment. - -The Villa of Diomede had, at one time, at least, been the inevitable -goal of every dutiful Pompeii visitor, but now, at noon, in its rather -roomy solitude, certainly no curiosity lingered in it, and therefore it -had seemed to Norbert Hanold the place of refuge best suited to his -newest mental needs. These longed most insistently for grave-like -loneliness, breathless silence, and quiescent peace; against the latter, -however, an impelling restlessness in his system raised counter-claims, -and he had been obliged to force an agreement between the two demands, -such that the mind tried to claim its own and yet gave the feet liberty -to follow their impulse. So he had been wandering around through the -portico since his entrance; he succeeded thus in preserving his bodily -equilibrium, and he busied himself with changing his mental state into -the same normal condition; that, however, seemed more difficult in -execution than in intention; of course it seemed to his judgment -unquestionable that he had been utterly foolish and irrational to -believe that he had sat with a young Pompeiian girl, who had become more -or less corporeally alive again, and this clear view of his madness -formed incontestably an essential advance on the return to sound reason; -but it was not yet restored entirely to normal condition, for, even if -it had occurred to him that Gradiva was only a dead bas-relief, it was -also equally beyond doubt that she was still alive. For that irrefutable -proof was adduced; not he alone, but others also, saw her, knew that her -name was Zoe and spoke with her, as with a being as much alive, in -substance, as they. On the other hand, however, she knew his name too, -and again, that could originate only from a supernatural power; this -dual nature remained enigmatic even for the rays of understanding that -were entering his mind. Yet to this incompatible duality there was -joined a similar one in him, for he cherished the earnest desire to have -been destroyed here in the Villa of Diomede two thousand years ago, in -order that he might not run the risk of meeting Zoe-Gradiva again -anywhere; at the same time, however, an extraordinary joyous feeling was -stirring within him, because he was still alive and was therefore able -to meet her again somewhere. To use a commonplace yet fitting simile, -this was turning in his head like a mill-wheel, and through the long -portico he ran around likewise without stopping, which did not aid him -in the explanation of the contradictions. On the contrary, he was moved -by an indefinite feeling that everything was growing darker and darker -about and within him. - -Then he suddenly recoiled, as he turned one of the four corners of the -colonnade. A half-dozen paces away from him there sat, rather high up on -a fragmentary wall-ruin, one of the young girls who had found death here -in the ashes. - -No, that was nonsense, which his reason rejected. His eyes, too, and a -nameless something else recognized that fact. It was Gradiva; she was -sitting on a stone ruin as she had formerly sat on the step, only, as -the former was considerably higher, her slender feet, which hung down -free in the sand-colour shoes, were visible up to her dainty ankles. - -With an instinctive movement, Norbert was at first about to run out -between the pillars through the garden; what, for a half-hour, he had -feared most of anything in the world had suddenly appeared, viewed him -with bright eyes and with lips which, he felt, were about to burst into -mocking laughter; yet they didn't, but the familiar voice rang out -calmly from them, "You'll get wet outside." - -Now, for the first time, he saw that it was raining; for that reason it -had become so dark. That unquestionably was an advantage to all the -plants about and in Pompeii, but that a human being in the place would -be benefited by it was ridiculous, and for the moment Norbert Hanold -feared, far more than danger of death, appearing ridiculous. Therefore -he involuntarily gave up the attempt to get away, stood there, helpless, -and looked at the two feet, which now, as if somewhat impatient, were -swinging back and forth; and as this view did not have so clearing an -effect upon his thoughts that he could find expression for them, the -owner of the dainty feet again took up the conversation. "We were -interrupted before; you were just going to tell me something about -flies--I imagined that you were making scientific investigations -here--or about a fly in your head. Did you succeed in catching and -destroying the one on my hand?" - -This last she said with a smiling expression about her lips, which, -however, was so faint and charming that it was not at all terrifying. On -the contrary, it now lent to the questioned man power of speech, but -with this limitation, that the young archaeologist suddenly did not know -how to address her. In order to escape this dilemma, he found it best to -avoid that and replied, "I was--as they say--somewhat confused mentally -and ask pardon that I--the hand--in that way--how I could be so stupid, -I can't understand--but I can't understand either how its owner could -use my name in upbraiding me for my--my madness." - -Gradiva's feet stopped moving and she rejoined, still addressing him -familiarly, "Your power of understanding has not yet progressed that -far, Norbert Hanold. Of course, I cannot be surprised, for you have long -ago accustomed me to it. To make that discovery again I should not have -needed to come to Pompeii, and you could have confirmed it for me a good -hundred miles nearer." - -"A hundred miles nearer"--he repeated, perplexed and half -stuttering--"where is that?" - -"Diagonally across from your house, in the corner house; in my window, -in a cage, is a canary." - -Like a memory from far away this last word moved the hearer, who -repeated, "A canary"--and he added, stuttering more--"He--he sings?" - -"They usually do, especially in spring when the sun begins to seem warm -again. In that house lives my father, Richard Bertgang, professor of -zoology." - -Norbert Hanold's eyes opened to a width never before attained by them, -and then he said, "Bertgang--then are you--are you--Miss Zoe Bertgang? -But she looked quite different----" - -The two dangling feet began again to swing a little, and Miss Zoe -Bertgang said in reply, "If you find that form of address more suitable -between us, I can use it too, you know, but the other came to me more -naturally. I don't know whether I looked different when we used to run -about before with each other as friends every day, and occasionally beat -and cuffed each other, for a change, but if, in recent years, you had -favoured me with even one glance, you might perhaps have seen that I -have looked like this for a long time.--No, now, as they say, it's -pouring pitchforks; you won't have a dry stitch." - -Not only had the feet of the speaker indicated a return of impatience, -or whatever it might be, but also in the tones of her voice there -appeared a little didactic, ill-humoured curtness, and Norbert had -thereby been overwhelmed by a feeling that he was running the risk of -slipping into the role of a big school-boy scolded and slapped in the -face. That caused him to again seek mechanically for an exit between the -pillars, and to the movement which showed this impulse Miss Zoe's last -utterance, indifferently added, had reference; and, of course, in an -undeniably striking way, because for what was now occurring outside of -the shelter, "pouring" was really a mild term. A tropical cloudburst -such as only seldom took pity on the summer thirst of the meadows of the -Campagna, was shooting vertically and rushing as if the Tyrrhenian Sea -were pouring from heaven upon the Villa of Diomede, and yet it continued -like a firm wall composed of billions of drops gleaming like pearls and -large as nuts. That, indeed, made escape out into the open air -impossible, and forced Norbert Hanold to remain in the school-room of -the portico while the young school-mistress with the delicate, clever -face made use of the hindrance for further extension of her pedagogical -discussion by continuing, after a brief pause:-- - -"Then up to the time when people call us 'Backfisch,' for some unknown -reason, I had really acquired a remarkable attachment for you and -thought that I could never find a more pleasing friend in the world. -Mother, sister, or brother I had not, you know; to my father a slow-worm -in alcohol was far more interesting than I, and people (I count girls -such) must surely have something with which they can occupy their -thoughts and the like. Then you were that something, but when archaeology -overcame you, I made the discovery that you--excuse the familiarity, but -your new formality sounds absurd to me--I was saying that I imagined -that you had become an intolerable person, who had no longer, at least -for me, an eye in his head, a tongue in his mouth, nor any of the -memories that I retained of our childhood friendship. So I probably -looked different from what I did formerly, for when, occasionally, I met -you at a party, even last winter, you did not look at me and I did not -hear your voice; in this, of course, there was nothing which marked me -out especially, for you treated all the others in the same way. To you I -was but air, and you, with your shock of light hair, which I had -formerly pulled so often, were as boresome, dry and tongue-tied as a -stuffed cockatoo and at the same time as grandiose as an--archaeopteryx; -I believe the excavated, antediluvian bird-monster is so called; but -that your head harboured an imagination so magnificent as here in -Pompeii to consider me something excavated and restored to life--I had -not surmised that of you, and when you suddenly stood before me -unexpectedly, it cost me some effort at first to understand what kind of -incredible fancy your imagination had invented. Then I was amused, and, -in spite of its madness, it was not entirely displeasing to me. For, as -I said, I had not expected it of you." - -With that, her expression and tone somewhat mollified at the end, Miss -Zoe Bertgang finished her unreserved, detailed and instructive lecture, -and it was indeed notable how exactly she then resembled the figure of -Gradiva on the bas-relief, not only in her features, her form, her eyes, -expressive of wisdom, and her charmingly wavy hair, but also in her -graceful manner of walking which he had often seen; her drapery, too, -dress and scarf of a cream-coloured, fine cashmere material which fell -in soft, voluminous folds, completed the extraordinary resemblance of -her whole appearance. There might have been much foolishness in the -belief that a young Pompeiian girl, destroyed two thousand years ago by -Vesuvius, could sometimes walk around alive again, speak, draw and eat -bread, but even if the belief brought happiness, it assumed everywhere, -in the bargain, a considerable amount of incomprehensibility; and in -consideration of all the circumstances, there was incontestably present, -in the judgment of Norbert Hanold, some mitigating ground for his -madness in for two days considering Gradiva a resurrection. - -Although he stood there dry under the portico roof, there was -established, not quite ineptly, a comparison between him and a wet -poodle, who has had a bucketful of water thrown on his head; but the -cold shower-bath had really done him good. Without knowing exactly why, -he felt that he was breathing much more easily. In that, of course, the -change of tone at the end of the sermon--for the speaker sat as if in a -pulpit-chair--might have helped especially; at least thereat a -transfigured light appeared in his eyes, such as awakened hope for -salvation through faith produces in the eyes of an ardently affected -church-attendant; and as the rebuke was now over, and there seemed no -necessity for fearing a further continuation, he succeeded in saying, -"Yes, now I recognize--no, you have not changed at all--it is you, -Zoe--my good, happy, clever comrade--it is most strange----" - -"That a person must die to become alive again; but for archaeologists -that is of course necessary." - -"No, I mean your name----" - -"Why is it strange?" - -The young archaeologist showed himself familiar with not only the -classical languages, but also with the etymology of German, and -continued, "Because Bertgang has the same meaning as Gradiva and -signifies 'the one splendid in walking.'" - -Miss Zoe Bertgang's two sandal-like shoes were, for the moment, because -of their movement, reminiscent of an impatiently see-sawing wagtail -waiting for something; yet the possessor of the feet which walked so -magnificently seemed not at present to be paying any attention to -philological explanations; by her countenance she gave the impression of -being occupied with some hasty plan, but was restrained from it by an -exclamation of Norbert Hanold's which audibly emanated from deepest -conviction, "What luck, though, that you are not Gradiva, but are like -the congenial young lady!" - -That caused an expression as of interested surprise to pass over her -face, and she asked, "Who is that? Whom do you mean?" - -"The one who spoke to you in Meleager's house." - -"Do you know her?" - -"Yes, I had already seen her. She was the first person who seemed -especially congenial to me." - -"So? Where did you see her?" - -"This morning, in the House of the Faun. There the couple were doing -something very strange." - -"What were they doing?" - -"They did not see me and they kissed each other." - -"That was really very reasonable, you know. Why else are they in Pompeii -on their wedding trip?" - -At one blow with the last word the former picture changed before Norbert -Hanold's eyes, for the old wall-ruin lay there empty, because the girl, -who had chosen it as a seat, teacher's chair and pulpit, had come down, -or really flown, and with the same supple buoyancy as that of a wagtail -swinging through the air, so that she already stood again on -Gradiva-feet, before his glance had consciously caught up with her -descent; and continuing her speech directly, she said, "Well, the rain -has stopped; too severe rulers do not reign long. That is reasonable, -too, you know, and thus everything has again become reasonable. I, not -least of all, and you can look up Gisa Hartleben, or whatever new name -she has, to be of scientific assistance to her about the purpose of her -stay in Pompeii. I must now go to the 'Albergo del Sole,' for my father -is probably waiting for me already at lunch. Perhaps we shall meet again -sometime at a party in Germany or on the moon. Addio!" - -Zoe Bertgang said this in the absolutely polite, but also equally -indifferent tone of a most well-bred young lady, and, as was her custom, -placing her left foot forward, raised the sole of the right almost -perpendicularly to pass out. As she lifted her dress slightly with her -left hand, because of the thoroughly wet ground outside, the resemblance -to Gradiva was perfect and the man, standing hardly more than two -arm-lengths away, noticed for the first time a quite insignificant -deviation in the living picture from the stone one. The latter lacked -something possessed by the former, which appeared at the moment quite -clear, a little dimple in her cheek, which produced a slight, -indefinable effect. It puckered and wrinkled a little and could -therefore express annoyance or a suppressed impulse to laugh, possibly -both together. Norbert Hanold looked at it and although from the -evidence just presented to him he had completely regained his reason, -his eyes had to again submit to an optical illusion. For, in a tone -triumphing peculiarly over his discovery, he cried out, "There is the -fly again!" - -It sounded so strange that from the incomprehending listener, who could -not see herself, escaped the question, "The fly--where?" - -"There on your cheek!" and immediately the man, as he answered, suddenly -twined an arm about her neck and snapped, this time with his lips, at -the insect so deeply abhorrent to him, which vision juggled before his -eyes deceptively in the little dimple. Apparently, however, without -success, for right afterwards he cried again, "No, now it's on your -lips!" and thereupon, quick as a flash, he directed thither his attempt -to capture, now remaining so long that no doubt could survive that he -succeeded in completely accomplishing his purpose, and strange to relate -the living Gradiva did not hinder him at all, and when her mouth, after -about a minute, was forced to struggle for breath, restored to powers of -speech, she did not say, "You are really crazy, Norbert Hanold," but -rather allowed a most charming smile to play more visibly than before -about her red lips; she had been convinced more than ever of the -complete recovery of his reason. - -The Villa of Diomede had two thousand years ago seen and heard horrible -things in an evil hour, yet at the present it heard and saw, for about -an hour, only things not at all suited to inspire horror. Then, however, -a sensible idea became uppermost in Miss Zoe Bertgang's mind and as a -result, she said, against her wishes, "Now, I must _really_ go, or my -poor father will starve. It seems to me you can to-day forego Gisa -Hartleben's company at noon, for you have nothing more to learn from her -and ought to be content with us in the 'Sun Hotel.'" - -From this it was to be concluded that daring that hour something must -have been discussed, for it indicated a helpful desire to instruct, -which the young lady vented on Norbert. Yet, from the reminding words, -he did not gather this, but something which, for the first time, he was -becoming terribly conscious of; this was apparent in the repetition, -"Your father--what will he----?" - -Miss Zoe, however, interrupted, without any sign of awakened anxiety, -"Probably he will do nothing; I am not an indispensable piece in his -zoological collection; if I were, my heart would probably not have clung -to you so unwisely. Besides, from my early years, I have been sure that -a woman is of use in the world only when she relieves a man of the -trouble of deciding household matters; I generally do this for my -father, and therefore you can also be rather at ease about your future. -Should he, however, by chance, in this case, have an opinion different -from mine, we will make it as simple as possible. You go over to Capri -for a couple of days; there, with a grass snare--you can practise making -them on my little finger--catch a lizard _Faraglionensis_. Let it go -here again, and catch it before his eyes. Then give him free choice -between it and me, and you will have me so surely that I am sorry for -you. Toward his colleague, Eimer, however, I feel to-day that I have -formerly been ungrateful, for without his genial invention of -lizard-catching I should probably not have come into Meleager's house, -and that would have been a shame, not only for you, but for me too." - -This last view she expressed outside of the Villa of Diomede and, alas, -there was no person present on earth who could make any statements about -the voice and manner of talking of Gradiva. Yet even if they had -resembled those of Zoe Bertgang, as everything else about her did, they -must have possessed a quite unusually beautiful and roguish charm. - -By this, at least, Norbert Hanold was so strongly overwhelmed that, -exalted to poetic flights, he cried out, "Zoe, you dear life and lovely -present--we shall take our wedding-trip to Italy and Pompeii." - -That was a decided proof of how different circumstances can also produce -a transformation in a human being and at the same time unite with it a -weakening of the memory. For it did not occur to him at all that he -would thereby expose himself and his companion on the journey to the -danger of receiving, from misanthropic, ill-humoured railway companions, -the names Augustus and Gretchen, but at the moment he was thinking so -little about it that they walked along hand in hand through the old -Street of Tombs in Pompeii. Of course this, too, did not stamp itself -into their minds at present as such, for a cloudless sky shone and -laughed again above it; the sun stretched out a golden carpet on the old -lava-blocks; Vesuvius spread its misty pine-cone; and the whole -excavated city seemed overwhelmed, not with pumice and ashes, but with -pearls and diamonds, by the beneficent rain-storm. - -The brilliance in the eyes of the young daughter of the zoologist -rivalled these, but to the announced desire about the destination of -their journey by her childhood friend who had, in a way, also been -excavated from the ashes, her wise lips responded: "I think we won't -worry about that to-day; that is a thing which may better be left by -both of us to more and maturer consideration and future promptings. I, -at least, do not yet feel quite alive enough now for such geographical -decisions." - -That showed that the speaker possessed great modesty about the quality -of her insight into things about which she had never thought until -to-day. They had arrived again at the Hercules Gate, where, at the -beginning of the Strada Consolare, old stepping-stones crossed the -street. Norbert Hanold stopped before them and said with a peculiar -tone, "Please go ahead here." A merry, comprehending, laughing -expression lurked around his companion's mouth, and, raising her dress -slightly with her left hand, Gradiva _rediviva_ Zoe Bertgang, viewed by -him with dreamily observing eyes, crossed with her calmly buoyant walk, -through the sunlight, over the stepping-stones, to the other side of the -street. - - - - - _PART II_ - - DELUSION AND DREAM - - IN - - WILHELM JENSEN'S _GRADIVA_ - - BY - - DR. SIGMUND FREUD - - - - - DELUSION AND DREAM - - - I - -In a circle of men who take it for granted that the basic riddle of the -dream has been solved by the efforts of the present writer,[1] curiosity -was aroused one day concerning those dreams which have never been -dreamed, those created by authors, and attributed to fictitious -characters in their productions. The proposal to submit this kind of -dream to investigation might appear idle and strange; but from one -view-point it could be considered justifiable. It is, to be sure, not at -all generally believed that the dreamer dreams something senseful and -significant. Science and the majority of educated people smile when one -offers them the task of interpreting dreams. Only people still clinging -to superstition, who give continuity, thereby, to the convictions of the -ancients, will not refrain from interpreting dreams, and the writer of -_Traumdeutung_ has dared, against the protests of orthodox science, to -take sides with the ancients and superstitious. He is, of course, far -from accepting in dreams a prevision of the future, for the disclosure -of which man has, from time immemorial, striven vainly. He could not, -however, completely reject the connections of dreams with the future, -for, after completing some arduous analysis, the dreams seemed to him to -represent _the fulfilment of a wish_ of the dreamer; and who could -dispute that wishes are preponderantly concerned with the future? - -I have just said that the dream is a fulfilled wish. Whoever is not -afraid to toil through a difficult book, whoever does not demand that a -complicated problem be insincerely and untruthfully presented to him as -easy and simple, to save his own effort, may seek in the above-mentioned -_Traumdeutung_ ample proof of this statement, and may, until then, cast -aside the objection that will surely be expressed against the -equivalence of dreams and wish-fulfilment. - -We have, however, anticipated. The question is not now one of -establishing whether the meaning of a dream is, in every case, to be -interpreted as the fulfilment of a wish, or, just as frequently, as an -anxious expectation, an intention or deliberation, etc. The first -question is, rather, whether the dream has any meaning at all, whether -one should grant it the value of a psychic process. Science answers, -_No_; it explains the dream as a purely physiological process, behind -which one need not seek meaning, significance nor intention. Physical -excitations play, during sleep, on the psychic instrument and bring into -consciousness sometimes some, sometimes other ideas devoid of psychic -coherence. Dreams are comparable only to convulsions, not to expressive -movements. - -In this dispute over the estimation of dreams, writers seem to stand on -the same side with the ancients, superstitious people and the author of -_Traumdeutung_. For, when they cause the people created by their -imagination to dream, they follow the common experience that people's -thoughts and feelings continue into sleep, and they seek only to depict -the psychic states of their heroes through the dreams of the latter. -Story-tellers are valuable allies, and their testimony is to be rated -high, for they usually know many things between heaven and earth that -our academic wisdom does not even dream of. In psychic knowledge, -indeed, they are far ahead of us ordinary people, because they draw from -sources that we have not yet made accessible for science. Would that -this partizanship of literary workers for the senseful nature of dreams -were only more unequivocal! Sharper criticism might object that writers -take sides neither for nor against the psychic significance of an -isolated dream; they are satisfied to show how the sleeping psyche stirs -under the stimuli which have remained active in it as off-shoots of -waking life. - -Our interest for the way in which story-tellers make use of dreams is -not, however, made less intense by this disillusionment. Even if the -investigation should teach nothing of the nature of dreams, it may -perhaps afford us, from this angle, a little insight into the nature of -creative literary production. Actual dreams are considered to be -unrestrained and irregular formations, and now come the free copies of -such dreams; but there is much less freedom and arbitrariness in psychic -life than we are inclined to believe, perhaps none at all. What we, -laity, call chance resolves itself, to an acknowledged degree, into -laws; also, what we call arbitrariness in psychic life rests on laws -only now dimly surmised. Let us see! - -There are two possible methods for this investigation; one is -engrossment with a special case, with the dream-creations of one writer -in one of his works; the other consists in bringing together and -comparing all the examples of the use of dreams which are found in the -works of different story-tellers. The second way seems to be by far the -more effective, perhaps the only justifiable one, for it frees us -immediately from the dangers connected with the conception of "the -writer" as an artistic unity. This unity falls to pieces in -investigations of widely different writers, among whom we are wont to -honour some, individually, as the most profound connoisseurs of psychic -life. Yet these pages will be filled by an investigation of the former -kind. It so happened, in the group of men who started the idea, that -some one remembered that the bit of fiction which he had most recently -enjoyed contained several dreams which looked at him with familiar -expression and invited him to try on them the method of _Traumdeutung_. -He admitted that the material and setting of the little tale had been -partly responsible for the origin of his pleasure, for the story was -unfolded in Pompeii, and concerned a young archaeologist who had given up -interest in life, for that in the remains of the classic past, and now, -by a remarkable but absolutely correct detour, was brought back to life. -During the perusal of this really poetic material, the reader -experienced all sorts of feelings of familiarity and concurrence. The -tale was Wilhelm Jensen's _Gradiva_, a little romance designated by its -author himself "A Pompeian Fancy." - -In order that my further references may be to familiar material, I must -now ask my readers to lay aside this pamphlet, and replace it for some -time with _Gradiva_, which first appeared in the book world in 1903. To -those who have already read _Gradiva_, I will recall the content of the -story in a short epitome, and hope that their memory will of itself -restore all the charm of which the story is thereby stripped. - -A young archaeologist, Norbert Hanold, has discovered at Rome, in a -collection of antiques, a bas-relief which attracts him so exceptionally -that he is delighted to be able to get an excellent plaster-cast of it -which he can hang up in his study in a German university-city and study -with interest. The relief represents a mature young girl walking. She -has gathered up her voluminous gown slightly, so that her sandalled feet -become visible. One foot rests wholly on the ground; the other is raised -to follow and touches the ground only with the tips of the toes while -sole and heel rise almost perpendicularly. The unusual and especially -charming walk represented had probably aroused the artist's attention, -and now, after so many centuries, captivates the eye of our -archaeological observer. - -This interest of the hero in the described bas-relief is the basic -psychological fact of our story. It is not immediately explicable. -"Doctor Norbert Hanold, docent of archaeology, really found in the relief -nothing noteworthy for his science." (_Gradiva_, p. 14.) "He could not -explain what quality in it had aroused his attention; he knew only that -he had been attracted by something and this effect of the first view had -remained unchanged since then," but his imagination does not cease to be -occupied with the relief. He finds in it a "sense of present time," as -if the artist had fixed the picture on the street "from life." He -confers upon the girl represented walking a name, Gradiva, "the girl -splendid in walking," spins a yarn that she is the daughter of a -distinguished family, perhaps of a "patrician aedile, whose office was -connected with the worship of Ceres," and is on the way to the temple of -the goddess. Then it is repulsive to him to place her in the mob of a -metropolis; rather he convinces himself that she is to be transported to -Pompeii, and is walking there somewhere on the peculiar stepping-stones -which have been excavated; these made a dry crossing possible in rainy -weather, and yet also afforded passage for chariot-wheels. The cut of -her features seems to him Greek, her Hellenic ancestry unquestionable. -All of his science of antiquity gradually puts itself at the service of -this or other fancies connected with the relief. - -Then, however, there obtrudes itself upon him a would-be scientific -problem which demands solution. Now it is a matter of his passing a -critical judgment "whether the artist had reproduced Gradiva's manner of -walking from life." He cannot produce it in himself; in the search for -the "real existence" of this gait, he arrives only at "observation from -life for the purpose of enlightenment on the matter" (_G._ p. 18). This -forces him, to be sure, to a mode of action utterly foreign to him. -"Women had formerly been for him only a conception in marble or bronze, -and he had never given his feminine contemporaries the least -consideration." Society life has always seemed to him an unavoidable -torture; young ladies whom he meets, in such connections, he fails to -see and hear, to such a degree that, on the next encounter, he passes -without greeting, which, of course, serves to place him in an -unfavourable light with them. Now, however, the scientific task which he -has imposed upon himself forces him in dry weather, but especially in -wet weather, to observe diligently the feet of ladies and girls on the -street, an activity which yields him many a displeased and many an -encouraging glance from those observed. "Yet one was as incomprehensible -to him as the other." (_G._ p. 19.) As a result of these careful -studies, he finds that Gradiva's gait cannot be proved to exist really, -a fact which fills him with regret and annoyance. - -Soon afterwards he has a terribly frightful dream, which transports him -to old Pompeii on the day of the eruption of Vesuvius, and makes him an -eye-witness of the destruction of the city. "As he stood thus at the -edge of the Forum near the Jupiter temple, he suddenly saw Gradiva a -short distance in front of him. Until then no thought of her presence -there had moved him, but now suddenly it seemed natural to him, as she -was, of course, a Pompeiian girl, that she was living in her native city -and, _without his having any suspicion of it, was his contemporary_." -(_G._ p. 20.) Fear about her impending fate draws from him a cry of -warning, in answer to which the unperturbed apparition turns her face -toward him. Unconcerned, she continues her way to the portico of the -temple, sits down there on a step and slowly rests her head upon it, -while her face keeps growing paler, as if it were turning to white -marble. As he hastens after her, he finds her, with calm countenance, -stretched out, as if sleeping, on the broad step; soon the rain of ashes -buries her form. - -When he awakes, he thinks he is still hearing the confused cries of the -Pompeiians, who are seeking safety, and the dully resounding boom of the -turbulent sea; but even after his returning senses have recognized these -noises as the waking expressions of life in the noisy metropolis, he -retains for some time the belief in the reality of what he has dreamed; -when he has finally rid himself of the idea that he was really present, -nearly two thousand years ago, at the destruction of Pompeii, there yet -remains to him, as a firm conviction, the idea that Gradiva lived in -Pompeii and was buried there in the year 79. His fancies about Gradiva, -due to the after-effects of this dream, continue so that he now, for the -first time, begins to mourn her as lost. - -While he leans from his window, prepossessed with these ideas, a canary, -warbling his song in a cage at an open window of the house opposite, -attracts his attention. Suddenly something like a thrill passes through -the man not yet completely awakened from his dream. He believes that he -sees, in the street, a figure like that of his Gradiva, and even -recognizes the gait characteristic of her; without deliberation he -hastens to the street to overtake her, and the laughter and jeers of the -people, at his unconventional morning attire, first drive him quickly -back home. In his room, it is again the singing canary in the cage who -occupies him and stimulates him to a comparison with himself. He, too, -is sitting in a cage, he finds, yet it is easier for him to leave his -cage. As if from added after-effect of the dream, perhaps also under the -influence of the mild spring air, he decides to take a spring trip to -Italy, for which a scientific motive is soon found, even if "the impulse -for travel had originated in a nameless feeling" (_G._ p. 28). - -We will stop a moment at this most loosely motivated journey and take a -closer look at the personality, as well as the activities of our hero. -He seems to us still incomprehensible and foolish; we have no idea of -how his special folly is to acquire enough human appeal to compel our -interest. It is the privilege of the author of _Gradiva_ to leave us in -such a quandary; with his beauty of diction and his judicious selection -of incident, he presently rewards our confidence and the undeserved -sympathy which we still grant to his hero. Of the latter we learn that -he is already destined by family tradition to be an antiquarian, has -later, in isolation and independence, submerged himself completely in -his science, and has withdrawn entirely from life and its pleasures. -Marble and bronze are, for his feelings, the only things really alive -and expressing the purpose and value of human life. Yet, perhaps with -kind intent, Nature has put into his blood a thoroughly unscientific -sort of corrective, a most lively imagination, which can impress itself -not only on his dreams, but also on his waking life. By such separation -of imagination and intellectual capacity, he is destined to be a poet or -a neurotic, and he belongs to that race of beings whose realm is not of -this world. So it happens that his interest is fixed upon a bas-relief -which represents a girl walking in an unusual manner, that he spins a -web of fancies about it, invents a name and an ancestry for it, and -transports the person created by him into Pompeii, which was buried more -than eighteen hundred years ago. Finally, after a remarkable -anxiety-dream he intensifies the fancy of the existence and destruction -of the girl named Gradiva into a delusion which comes to influence his -acts. These performances of imagination would appear to us strange and -inscrutable, if we should encounter them in a really living person. As -our hero, Norbert Hanold, is a creature of an author, we should like to -ask the latter timidly if his fancy has been determined by any power -other than his own arbitrariness. - -We left our hero just as he is apparently being moved by the song of a -canary to take a trip to Italy, the motive for which is apparently not -clear to him. We learn, further, that neither destination nor purpose -are firmly established in his mind. An inner restlessness and -dissatisfaction drive him from Rome to Naples and farther on from there; -he encounters the swarm of honeymoon travellers, and, forced to notice -the tender "Augustuses" and "Gretchens," is utterly unable to understand -the acts and impulses of the couples. He arrives at the conclusion that, -of all the follies of humanity, "marriage, at any rate, took the prize -as the greatest and most incomprehensible one, and the senseless wedding -trips to Italy somehow capped the climax of this buffoonery." (_G._ p. -30.) At Rome, disturbed in his sleep by the proximity of a loving -couple, he flees, forthwith, to Naples, only to find there another -"Augustus" and "Gretchen." As he believes that he understands from their -conversation that the majority of those bird-couples does not intend to -nest in the rubbish of Pompeii, but to take flight to Capri, he decides -to do what they do not do, and finds himself in Pompeii, "contrary to -expectations and intentions," a few days after the beginning of his -journey--without, however, finding there the peace which he seeks. - -The role which, until then, has been played by the honeymoon couples, -who made him uneasy and vexed his senses, is now assumed by house-flies, -in which he is inclined to see the incarnation of absolute evil and -worthlessness. The two tormentors blend into one; many fly-couples -remind him of honeymoon travellers, address each other probably, in -their language, also as "My only Augustus" and "My sweet Gretchen." - -Finally he cannot help admitting "that his dissatisfaction was certainly -caused not by his surroundings alone, but to a degree found its origin -in him." (_G._ p. 40.) He feels that he is out of sorts because he lacks -something without being able to explain what. - -The next morning he goes through the "ingresso" to Pompeii and, after -taking leave of the guide, roams aimlessly through the city, notably, -however, without remembering that he has been present in a dream some -time before at the destruction of Pompeii. Therefore in the "hot, holy" -hour of noon, which the ancients, you know, considered the ghost-hour, -when the other visitors have taken flight and the heap of ruins, -desolate and steeped in sunlight, lies before him, there stirs in him -the ability to transport himself back into the buried life, but not with -the aid of science. "What it taught was a lifeless, archaeological view -and what came from its mouth was a dead, philological language. These -helped in no way to a comprehension with soul, mind and heart, as the -saying is, but he, who possessed a desire for that, had to stand alone -here, the only living person in the hot noonday silence, among the -remains of the past, in order not to see with physical eyes nor hear -with corporeal ears. Then--the dead awoke, and Pompeii began to live -again." (_G._ p. 48.) While thus, by means of his imagination, he endows -the past with life, he suddenly sees, indubitably, the Gradiva of his -bas-relief step out of a house and buoyantly cross the lava -stepping-stones, just as he had seen her in the dream that night when -she had lain down to sleep on the steps of the Apollo temple. "With this -memory he became conscious, for the first time, of something else; he -had, without himself knowing the motive in his heart, come to Italy on -that account, and had, without stop, continued from Rome and Naples to -Pompeii to see if he could here find trace of her--and that in a literal -sense--for, with her unusual gait, she must have left behind in the -ashes a foot-print different from all the others." (_G._ p. 50.) - -The suspense, in which the author of _Gradiva_ has kept us up to this -point, mounts here, for a moment, to painful confusion. Not only because -our hero has apparently lost his equilibrium, but also because, -confronted with the appearance of Gradiva, who was formerly a -plaster-cast and then a creation of imagination, we are lost. Is it a -hallucination of our deluded hero, a "real" ghost, or a corporeal -person? Not that we need to believe in ghosts to draw up this list. -Jensen, who named his tale a "Fancy," has, of course, found no occasion, -as yet, to explain to us whether he wishes to leave us in our world, -decried as dull and ruled by the laws of science, or to conduct us into -another fantastic one, in which reality is ascribed to ghosts and -spirits. As _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_ show, we are ready to follow him into -such a place without hesitation. The delusion of the imaginative -archaeologist would need, in that case, to be measured by another -standard. Yes, when we consider how improbable must be the real -existence of a person who faithfully reproduces in her appearance that -antique bas-relief, our list shrinks to an alternative: hallucination or -ghost of the noon hour. A slight touch in the description eliminates the -former possibility. A large lizard lies stretched out, motionless, in -the sunlight; it flees, however, before the approaching foot of Gradiva -and wriggles away over the lava pavement. So, no hallucination; -something outside of the mind of our dreamer. But ought the reality of a -_rediviva_ to be able to disturb a lizard? - -Before the house of Meleager Gradiva disappears. We are not surprised -that Norbert Hanold persists in his delusion that Pompeii has begun to -live again about him in the noon hour of spirits, and that Gradiva has -also returned to life and gone into the house where she lived before the -fateful August day of the year 79. There dart through his mind keen -conjectures about the personality of the owner, after whom the house may -have been named, and about Gradiva's relation to the latter; these show -that his science has now given itself over completely to the service of -his imagination. After entering this house, he again suddenly discovers -the apparition, sitting on low steps between two yellow pillars. "Spread -out on her knees lay something white, which he was unable to distinguish -clearly; it seemed to be a papyrus sheet" (_G._ p. 55). Taking for -granted his most recent suppositions about her ancestry, he speaks to -her in Greek, awaiting timorously the determination of whether the power -of speech may, perhaps, be granted to her in her phantom existence. As -she does not answer, he changes the greeting to Latin. Then, from -smiling lips, come the words, "If you wish to speak with me, you must do -so in German." - -What embarrassment for us, the readers! Thus the author of _Gradiva_ has -made sport of us and decoyed us, as if by means of the refulgence of -Pompeiian sunshine, into a little delusion so that we may be milder in -our judgment of the poor man, whom the real noonday sun actually burns; -but we know now, after recovering from brief confusion, that Gradiva is -a living German girl, a fact which we wish to reject as utterly -improbable. Reflecting calmly, we now await a discovery of what -connection exists between the girl and the stone representation of her, -and of how our young archaeologist acquired the fancies which hint at her -real personality. - -Our hero is not freed so quickly as we from the delusion, for, "Even if -the belief brought happiness," says our author, "it assumed everywhere, -in the bargain, a considerable amount of incomprehensibility." (_G._ p. -102.) Besides, this delusion probably has subjective roots of which we -know nothing, which do not exist for us. He doubtless needs trenchant -treatment to bring him back to reality. For the present he can do -nothing but adapt the delusion to the wonderful discovery which he has -just made. Gradiva, who had perished at the destruction of Pompeii, can -be nothing but a ghost of the noon hour, who returns to life for the -noon hour of spirits; but why, after the answer given in German, does -the exclamation escape him: "I knew that your voice sounded like that"? -Not only we, but the girl, too, must ask, and Hanold must admit that he -has never heard her voice before, but expected to hear it in the dream, -when he called to her, as she lay down to sleep on the steps of the -temple. He begs her to repeat that action, but she then rises, directs a -strange glance at him, and, after a few steps, disappears between the -pillars of the court. A beautiful butterfly had, shortly before that, -fluttered about her a few times; in his interpretation it had been a -messenger from Hades, who was to admonish the departed one to return, as -the noon hour of spirits had passed. The call, "Are you coming here -again to-morrow in the noon hour?" Hanold can send after the -disappearing girl. To us, however, who venture a more sober -interpretation, it will seem that the young lady found something -improper in the request which Hanold had made of her, and therefore, -insulted, left him, as she could yet know nothing of his dream. May not -her delicacy of feeling have realized the erotic nature of the request, -which was prompted, for Hanold, only by the connection with his dream? - -After the disappearance of Gradiva, our hero examines all the guests at -the "Hotel Diomed" table and soon also those of "Hotel Suisse," and can -then assure himself that in neither of the only two lodgings known to -him in Pompeii is a person to be found who possesses the most remote -resemblance to Gradiva. Of course he had rejected, as unreasonable, the -supposition that he might really meet Gradiva in one of the two -hostelries. The wine pressed on the hot soil of Vesuvius then helps to -increase the day's dizziness. - -The only certainty about the next day is that Norbert must again be in -Meleager's house at noon; and, awaiting the hour, he enters Pompeii over -the old city-wall, a way which is against the rules. An asphodel cluster -of white bell-flowers seems, as flower of the lower world, significant -enough for him to pluck and carry away. All his knowledge of antiquity -appears to him, however, while he is waiting, as the most purposeless -and indifferent matter in the world, for another interest has acquired -control of him, the problem, "what is the nature of the physical -manifestation of a being like Gradiva, dead and alive at the same time, -although the latter was true only in the noon hour of spirits?" (_G._ p. -64.) He is also worried lest to-day he may not meet the lady sought, -because perhaps she may not be allowed to return for a long time, and -when he again sees her between the pillars, he considers her appearance -an illusion, which draws from him the grieved exclamation, "Oh, that you -were still alive!" This time, however, he has evidently been too -critical, for the apparition possesses a voice which asks him whether he -wishes to bring her the white flower, and draws the man, who has again -lost his composure, into a long conversation. Our author informs us, -readers, to whom Gradiva has already become interesting as a living -personality, that the ill-humoured and repellent glance of the day -before has given way to an expression of searching inquisitiveness or -curiosity. She really sounds him, demands, in explanation of his remark -of the preceding day, when he had stood near her as she lay down to -sleep, in this way learns of the dream in which she perished with her -native city, then of the bas-relief, and of the position of the foot, -which attracted the young archaeologist. Now she shows herself ready to -demonstrate her manner of walking, whereby the substitution of light, -sand-coloured, fine leather shoes for the sandals, which she explains as -adaptation to the present, is established as the only deviation from the -original relief of Gradiva. Apparently she is entering into his -delusion, whose whole range she elicits from him, without once opposing -him. Only once she seems to have been wrested from her role by a -peculiar feeling when, his mind on the bas-relief, he asserts that he -has recognized her at first glance. As, at this stage of the -conversation, she, as yet, knows nothing of the relief, she must be on -the point of misunderstanding Hanold's words, but she has immediately -recovered herself again, and only to us will many of her speeches appear -to have a double meaning, besides their significance in connection with -the delusion, a real, present meaning, as, for example, when she regrets -that he did not succeed in confirming the Gradiva-gait on the street. -"What a shame; perhaps you would not have needed to take the long -journey here." (_G._ p. 69.) She learns also that he has named the -bas-relief of her "Gradiva," and tells him that her real name is Zoe! - -"The name suits you beautifully, but it sounds to me like bitter -mockery, for 'Zoe' means 'life.'" - -"One must adapt himself to the inevitable," she responds. "And I have -long accustomed myself to being dead." - -With the promise to be at the same place again on the morrow, she takes -leave of him, after she has obtained the asphodel cluster. "To those who -are more fortunate one gives roses in spring, but for me the flower of -oblivion is the right one from your hand." (_G._ p. 70.) Melancholy is -suited to one so long dead, who has now returned to life for a few short -hours. - -We begin now to understand and to hope. If the young lady, in whose form -Gradiva is again revived, accepts Hanold's delusion so completely, she -does it probably to free him from it. No other course is open; by -opposition, one would destroy that possibility. Even the serious -treatment of a real condition of this kind could proceed no differently -than to place itself first on the ground story of the -delusion-structure, and investigate it then as thoroughly as possible. -If Zoe is the right person, we shall soon learn how one cures delusions -like those of our hero. We should also like to know how such a delusion -originates. It would be very striking, and yet not without example and -parallel, if the treatment and investigation of the delusion should -coincide and, while it is being analysed, result in the explanation of -its origin. We have a suspicion, of course, that our case might then -turn out to be an "ordinary" love story, but one may not scorn love as a -healing power for delusions; and was not our hero's captivation by the -Gradiva-relief also a complete infatuation, directed, to be sure, at the -past and lifeless? - -After Gradiva's disappearance, there is heard once more a distant sound -like the merry note of a bird flying over the city of ruins. The man who -has remained behind picks up something white, which Gradiva has left, -not a papyrus leaf, but a sketch-book with pencil drawings of Pompeii. -We should say that the fact that she has forgotten the little book, in -this place, is a pledge of her return, for we assert that one forgets -nothing without a secret reason or a hidden motive. - -The remainder of the day brings to our hero all sorts of remarkable -discoveries and facts, which he neglects to fit together. In the wall of -the portico where Gradiva disappeared, he notices to-day a narrow cleft, -which is, however, wide enough to afford passage to an unusually slender -figure. He recognizes the fact that Zoe-Gradiva does not need to sink -into the ground here, an idea which is so senseless that he is now -ashamed of the discarded belief, but that she uses this route to go back -to her tomb. A faint shadow seems to him to dissolve at the end of the -Street of Tombs, before the so-called Villa of Diomede. Dizzy, as on the -previous day, and occupied with the same problem, he wanders now about -Pompeii, wondering of what physical nature Zoe-Gradiva may be and -whether one might feel anything if one touched her hand. A peculiar -impulse urges him to undertake this experiment, and yet an equally great -timidity in connection with the idea restrains him. On a hot, sunny -slope he meets an older man who, from his equipment, must be a zoologist -or a botanist, and seems to be busy catching things. The latter turns to -him and says: "Are you interested in _Faraglionensis_? I should hardly -have supposed it, but it seems thoroughly probable that they are found, -not only in the _Faraglioni_ of Capri, but also dwell permanently on the -mainland. The method suggested by my colleague, Eimer, is really good; I -have already used it often with the best of success. Please remain quite -still." (_G._ p. 74.) The speaker stops talking then, and holds a little -snare, made of a long grass-blade, before a narrow crevice, from which -the blue, chatoyant, little head of a lizard peeps. Hanold leaves the -lizard-hunter with the critical thought that it is hardly credible what -foolishly remarkable purposes can cause people to make the long trip to -Pompeii, in which criticism he does not, of course, include himself and -his intention of seeking foot-prints of Gradiva in the ashes of Pompeii. -The gentleman's face, moreover, seems familiar to him, as if he has -noticed it casually in one of the two hotels; the man's manner of -addressing him has also sounded as if directed at an acquaintance. As he -continues his wandering, a side street leads him to a house not -previously discovered by him; this proves to be the "Albergo del Sole." -The hotel-keeper, who is not busy, avails himself of the opportunity to -recommend highly his house and the excavated treasures in it. He asserts -that he was present when there were found near the Forum the young -lovers who, on realizing their inevitable destruction, had clasped each -other in firm embrace and thus awaited death. Hanold has already heard -of that before, and shrugged his shoulders over it, as a fabulous -invention of some especially imaginative narrator, but to-day the words -of the hotel-keeper awaken in him credulity, which soon stretches itself -more when the former brings forth a metal brooch encrusted with green -patina, which, in his presence, was gathered, with the remains of the -girl, from the ashes. He secures this brooch without further critical -consideration, and when, as he is leaving the hotel, he sees in an open -window, nodding down, a cluster of white asphodel blossoms, the sight of -the grave-flower thrills him as an attestation of the genuineness of his -new possession. - -With this brooch, however, a new delusion takes possession of him or, -rather, the old one continues for a while, apparently not a good omen -for the treatment which has been started. Not far from the Forum a -couple of young lovers were excavated in an embrace, and in the dream he -saw Gradiva lie down to sleep in that very neighbourhood, at the Apollo -temple. Was it not possible that in reality she went still farther from -the Forum to meet there some one with whom she then died? - -A tormenting feeling, which we can perhaps compare to jealousy, -originates from this supposition. He appeases it by referring to the -uncertainty of the combination, and so far regains his senses as to be -able to have his evening meal in "Hotel Diomed." His attention is -attracted by two newly arrived guests, a man and a woman, whom, because -of a certain resemblance, he considers brother and sister--in spite of -the difference in the colour of their hair. They are the first people -whom he has encountered on this trip who seem possibly congenial. A red -Sorrento rose, which the young girl wears, awakes in him some memory--he -cannot recall what. Finally he goes to bed and dreams; it is remarkable -nonsense, but apparently concocted of the day's experiences. "Somewhere -in the sun Gradiva sat making a trap out of a blade of grass, in order -to catch a lizard, and she said, 'Please stay quite still--my colleague -is right; the method is really good, and she has used it with greatest -success!'" He resists the dream, even in his sleep, with the criticism -that it is, of course, utter madness, and he succeeds in getting rid of -it with the aid of an invisible bird, who utters a short, merry call and -carries the lizard away in his beak. - -In spite of all this ghostly visitation, he awakes rather cleared and -settled mentally. A rose-bush, which bears flowers of the kind that he -noticed yesterday on the young lady, recalls to him that in the night -some one said that in the spring one gave roses. He plucks some of the -roses involuntarily, and there must be some association with these which -has a liberating effect upon his mind. Rid of his aversion to human -beings, he takes the customary road to Pompeii, laden with the roses, -the brooch and the sketch-book, and occupied by the different problems -relating to Gradiva. The old delusion has become full of flaws; he -already doubts if she is permitted to stay in Pompeii in the noon hour -only, and not at other times. Emphasis, on that account, is transferred -to the object recently acquired, and the jealousy connected with it -torments him in all sorts of disguises. He might almost wish that the -apparition should remain visible to only his eyes and escape the notice -of others; in that way, he might consider her his exclusive property. -During his ramble awaiting the noon hour he has a surprising encounter. -In the Casa del Fauno he happens upon two people who doubtless believe -themselves undiscoverable in a nook, for they are embracing each other -and their lips meet. With amazement he recognizes in them the congenial -couple of yesterday evening; but for brother and sister their present -position, the embrace and the kiss are of too long duration. So it is a -couple of lovers, probably a young bridal couple, another Augustus and -Gretchen. Strange to relate, the sight of this now arouses in him -nothing but pleasure, and fearful, as if he had disturbed a secret act -of devotion, he withdraws unobserved. A deference which has long been -lacking in him has been restored. - -Arriving at Meleager's house, he is afraid that he may find Gradiva in -the company of another man, and becomes so excited about it that he can -find no other greeting for her than the question: "Are you alone?" With -difficulty she makes him realize that he has picked the roses for her; -he confesses to her the latest delusion, that she is the girl who was -found in the Forum in her lover's embrace and to whom the green brooch -had belonged. Not without mockery, she inquires if he found the piece in -the sun. The latter--here called "Sole"--brings to light many things of -that sort. As cure for the dizziness which he admits, she proposes to -him to share a lunch with her and offers him half of a piece of white -bread wrapped in tissue paper; the other half of this she consumes with -apparent appetite. Thereat her faultless teeth gleam between her lips -and, in biting the crust, cause a slight crunching sound. To her remark, -"It seems to me as if we had already eaten our bread thus together once -two thousand years ago. Can't you remember it?" (_G._ p. 88.) he cannot -answer, but the strengthening of his mind by the nourishment, and all -the evidences of present time in her do not fail to have effect on him. -Reason stirs in him and makes him doubt the whole delusion that Gradiva -is only a noonday ghost; on the other hand, there is the objection that -she, herself, has just said that she had already shared her repast with -him two thousand years ago. As a means of settling this conflict there -occurs to him an experiment which he executes with slyness and restored -courage. Her left hand, with its slender fingers, is resting on her -knees, and one of the house-flies, about whose boldness and -worthlessness he formerly became so indignant, alights on this hand. -Suddenly Hanold's hand rises and claps, with no gentle stroke, on the -fly and on Gradiva's hand. This bold experiment affords him twofold -success: first the joyous conviction that he actually touched a really -living, warm hand, then, however, a reprimand, before which he starts up -in terror from his seat on the step. For from Gradiva's lips come the -words, after she has recovered from her amazement, "You are surely -apparently crazy, Norbert Hanold." - -Calling a person by name is recognized as the best method of awakening -him, when he is sleeping, or of awakening a somnambulist. Unfortunately -we are not permitted to observe the results, for Norbert Hanold, of -Gradiva's calling his name, which he had told to no one in Pompeii. For -at this critical moment, the congenial lovers appear from the Casa del -Fauno and the young lady calls, in a tone of pleasant surprise, "Zoe! -You here, too? and also on your honeymoon? You have not written me a -word about it, you know." Before this new proof of the living reality of -Gradiva, Hanold flees. - -Zoe-Gradiva, too, is not most pleasantly surprised by the unexpected -visit which disturbs her, it seems, in an important piece of work. Soon -composed, she answers the question with a glib speech, in which she -informs her friend, and especially us, about the situation; and thereby -she knows how to get rid of the young couple. She extends her -compliments, but she is not on her wedding-trip. "The young man who just -went out is labouring also under a remarkable delusion; it seems to me -that he believes a fly is buzzing in his head; well, every one has, of -course, some kind of bee in his bonnet. As is my duty, I have some -knowledge of entomology and can, therefore, be of a little service in -such cases. My father and I live in the 'Sole'; he, too, had a sudden -and pleasing idea of bringing me here with him if I would be responsible -for my own entertainment and make no demands upon him. I said to myself -that I should certainly dig up something interesting alone here. Of -course I had not reckoned at all on the find which I made--I mean the -good fortune of meeting you, Gisa." (_G._ p. 92.) Zoe now feels obliged -to leave at once, to be company for her father at the "Sole." So she -goes, after she has introduced herself to us as the daughter of the -zoologist and lizard-catcher, and has admitted in ambiguous words her -therapeutic intentions and other secret ones. The direction which she -takes is not that of the "Sun Hotel," in which her father is awaiting -her, but it seems to her, too, that in the region of the Villa of -Diomede a shadowy form is seeking its burial-place and disappears under -one of the monuments; therefore, with foot poised each time almost -perpendicularly, she directs her steps to the Street of Tombs. Thither, -in shame and confusion, Hanold has fled, and is wandering up and down in -the portico of the court without stopping, occupied with settling the -rest of his problem by mental efforts. One thing has become -unimpeachably clear to him; that he was utterly foolish and irrational -to believe that he communed with a young Pompeiian girl who had become -more or less physically alive again; and this clear insight into his -madness forms incontestably an essential bit of progress in the return -to sound reason. On the other hand, however, this living girl, with whom -other people also communicate, as with one of a corporeal reality like -theirs, is Gradiva, and she knows his name; for the solution of this -riddle his scarcely awakened reason is not strong enough. Emotionally, -also, he is not calm enough to be equal to so difficult a task, for he -would most gladly have been buried two thousand years ago in the Villa -of Diomede, only to be sure of never meeting Zoe-Gradiva again. A -violent longing to see her struggles meanwhile with the remnants of the -inclination to flee, which has persisted in him. - -Turning at one of the four corners of the colonnade, he suddenly -recoils. On a fragmentary wall-ruin there sits one of the girls who met -death here in the Villa of Diomede; but that attempt to take refuge -again in the realm of madness is soon put aside; no, it is Gradiva, who -has apparently come to give him the last bit of her treatment. She -interprets rightly his first instinctive movement to flee, as an attempt -to leave the place, and points out to him that he cannot escape, for -outside a frightful cloudburst is in progress. The merciless girl begins -the examination with the question as to what he intended in connection -with the fly on her hand. He does not find courage to make use of a -definite pronoun, but acquires the more valuable kind needed to put the -deciding question. - -"I was--as they say--somewhat confused mentally and ask pardon that -I--the hand--in that way--how I could be so stupid, I can't -understand--but I can't understand either how its owner could use my -name in upbraiding me for my--my madness." (_G._ p. 98.) - -"Your power of understanding has not yet progressed that far, Norbert -Hanold. Of course, I cannot be surprised, for you have long ago -accustomed me to it. To make that discovery again, I should not have -needed to come to Pompeii, and you could have confirmed it for me a good -hundred miles nearer." - -"A good hundred miles nearer; diagonally across from your house, in the -corner house; in my window, in a cage, is a canary," she discloses to -the still bewildered man. - -This last word touches the hero like a memory from afar. That is surely -the same bird whose song has suggested to him the trip to Italy. - -"In that house lives my father, Richard Bertgang, professor of zoology." - -As his neighbour, therefore, she is acquainted with him and his name. It -seems as if the disappointment of a superficial solution is threatening -us--a solution unworthy of our expectations. - -As yet Norbert Hanold shows no regained independence of thought, when he -repeats, "Then are you--are you Miss Zoe Bertgang? But she looked quite -different----" - -Miss Bertgang's answer shows then that other relations besides those of -neighbourliness have existed between them. She knows how to intercede -for the familiar manner of address, which he has, of course, used to the -noonday spirit, but withdrawn again from the living girl; she makes -former privileges of use to her here. "If you find that form of address -more suitable between us, I can use it too, you know, but the other came -to me more naturally. I don't know whether I looked different when we -used to run about before with each other as friends, every day, and -occasionally beat and cuffed each other for a change, but if, in recent -years, you had favoured me with even one glance you might perhaps have -seen that I have looked like this for a long time." - -A childhood friendship had therefore existed between the two, perhaps a -childhood love, from which the familiar form of address derived its -justification. Isn't this solution perhaps as superficial as the one -first supposed? The fact that it occurs to us that this childhood -relation explains in an unexpected way so many details of what has -occurred in the present intercourse between them makes the matter -essentially deeper. Does it not seem that the blow on Zoe-Gradiva's hand -which Norbert Hanold has so splendidly motivated by the necessity of -solving, experimentally, the question of the physical existence of the -apparition, is, from another standpoint, remarkably similar to a revival -of the impulse for "beating and cuffing," whose sway in childhood Zoe's -words have testified to? And when Gradiva puts to the archaeologist the -question whether it does not seem to him that they have once already, -two thousand years ago, shared their luncheon, does not the -incomprehensible question become suddenly senseful, when we substitute -for the historical past the personal childhood, whose memories persist -vividly for the girl, but seem to be forgotten by the young man? Does -not the idea suddenly dawn upon us that the fancies of the young man -about his Gradiva may be an echo of his childhood memories? Then they -would, therefore, be no arbitrary products of his imagination, but -determined, without his knowing it, by the existing material of -childhood impressions already forgotten, but still active in him. We -must be able to point out in detail the origin of these fancies, even if -only by conjecture. If, for instance, Gradiva must be of pure Greek -ancestry, the daughter of a respected man, perhaps of a priest of Ceres, -that predisposes us fairly well for an after-effect of the knowledge of -her Greek name--Zoe, and of her membership in the family of a professor -of zoology. If, however, these fancies of Hanold's are transformed -memories, we may expect to find in the disclosures of Zoe Bertgang, the -suggestion of the sources of these fancies. Let us listen; she tells us -of an intimate friendship of childhood; we shall soon learn what further -development this childhood relation had in both. - -"Then up to the time when people call us 'Backfisch,' for some unknown -reason, I had really acquired a remarkable attachment for you, and -thought that I could never find a more pleasing friend in the world. -Mother, sister, or brother I had not, you know; to my father a slow-worm -in alcohol was far more interesting than I, and people (I count girls -such) must surely have something with which they can occupy their -thoughts and the like. Then you were that something, but when archaeology -overcame you, I made the discovery that you--excuse the familiarity, but -your new formality sounds absurd to me--I was saying that I imagined -that you had become an intolerable person, who had no longer, at least -for me, an eye in his head, a tongue in his mouth, nor any of the -memories that I retained of our childhood friendship. So I probably -looked different from what I did formerly, for when, occasionally, I met -you at a party, even last winter, you did not look at me and I did not -hear your voice; in this, of course, there was nothing that marked me -out especially, for you treated all the others in the same way. To you I -was but air, and you, with your shock of light hair, which I had -formerly pulled so often, were as boresome, dry and tongue-tied as a -stuffed cockatoo and at the same time as grandiose as an--archaeopteryx; -I believe the excavated antediluvian bird-monster is so called; but that -your head harboured an imagination so magnificent as here in Pompeii to -consider me as something excavated and restored to life--I had not -surmised that of you, and when you suddenly stood before me -unexpectedly, it cost me some effort at first to understand what kind of -incredible fancy your imagination had invented. Then I was amused and, -in spite of its madness, it was not entirely displeasing to me. For, as -I said, I had not expected it of you." (_G._ p. 101.) - -So she thus tells us clearly enough what, with the years, has become of -the childhood friendship for both of them. With her it expanded into an -intense love affair, for one must have something, you know, to which -one, that is, a girl, pins her affections. Miss Zoe, the incarnation of -cleverness and clarity, makes her psychic life, too, quite transparent -for us. If it is already the general rule for a normal girl that she -first turns her affection to her father, she is especially ready to do -it, she who has no one but her father in her family; but this father has -nothing left for her; the objects of science have captured all his -interest. So she has to look around for another person, and clings with -especial fervour to the playmate of her youth. When he, too, no longer -has any eyes for her, it does not destroy her love, rather augments it, -for he has become like her father, like him absorbed by science and, by -it, isolated from life and from Zoe. So it is granted to her to be -faithful in unfaithfulness, to find her father again in her beloved, to -embrace both with the same feeling as we may say, to make them both -identical in her emotions. Where do we get justification for this little -psychological analysis, which may easily seem autocratic? In a single, -but intensely characteristic detail the author of the romance gives it -to us. When Zoe pictures for us the transformation of the playmate of -her youth, which seems so sad for her, she insults him by a comparison -with the archaeopteryx, that bird-monster which belongs to the archaeology -of zoology. So she has found a single concrete expression for -identifying the two people; her resentment strikes the beloved as well -as the father with the same word. The archaeopteryx is, so to speak, the -compromise, or intermediary representation in which the folly of her -beloved coincides with her thought of an analogous folly of her father. - -With the young man, things have taken a different turn. The science of -antiquity overcame him and left to him interest only in the women of -bronze and stone. The childhood friendship died, instead of developing -into a passion, and the memories of it passed into such absolute -forgetfulness that he does not recognize nor pay any attention to the -friend of his youth, when he meets her in society. Of course, when we -continue our observations, we may doubt if "forgetfulness" is the right -psychological term for the fate of these memories of our archaeologist. -There is a kind of forgetting which distinguishes itself by the -difficulty with which the memory is awakened, even by strong objective -appeals, as if a subjective resistance struggled against the revival. -Such forgetting has received the name "repression" in psychopathology; -the case which Jensen has presented to us seems to be an example of -repression. Now we do not know, in general, whether, in psychic life, -forgetting an impression is connected with the destruction of its -memory-trace; about repression we can assert with certainty that it does -not coincide with the destruction, the obliteration, of the memory. The -repressed material cannot, as a rule, break through, of itself, as a -memory, but remains potent and effective. Some day, under external -influence, it causes psychic results which one may accept as products of -transformation or as remnants of forgotten memories; and if one does not -view them as such, they remain incomprehensible. In the fancies of -Norbert Hanold about Gradiva, we thought we recognized already the -remnants of the repressed memories of his childhood friendship with Zoe -Bertgang. Quite legitimately one may expect such a recurrence of the -repressed material, if the man's erotic feelings cling to the repressed -ideas, if his erotic life has been involved in the repression. Then -there is truth in the old Latin proverb which was perhaps originally -aimed at expulsion through external influences, not at inner conflict: -"You may drive out natural disposition with a two-pronged fork, but it -will always return," but it does not tell all, announces only the fact -of the recurrence of repressed material, and does not describe at all -the most remarkable manner of this recurrence, which is accomplished as -if by malicious treason; the very thing which has been chosen as a means -of repression--like the "two-pronged fork" of the proverb--becomes the -carrier of the thing recurring; in and behind the agencies of repression -the material repressed finally asserts itself victoriously. A well-known -etching by Felicien Rops illustrates this fact, which is generally -overlooked and lacks acceptance, more impressively than many -explanations could; and he does it in the typical case of the repression -in the lives of saints and penitents. From the temptations of the world, -an ascetic monk has sought refuge in the image of the crucified Saviour. -Then, phantom-like, this cross sinks and, in its stead, there rises -shining, the image of a voluptuous, unclad woman, in the same position -of the crucifixion. Other painters of less psychological insight have, -in such representations of temptation, depicted sin as bold and -triumphant, near the Saviour on the cross. Rops, alone, has allowed it -to take the place of the Saviour on the cross; he seems to have known -that the thing repressed proceeds, at its recurrence, from the agency of -repression itself. - -If Norbert Hanold were a living person, who had, by means of archaeology, -driven love and the memory of his childhood friendship out of his life, -it would now be legitimate and correct that an antique relief should -awaken in him the forgotten memory of the girl beloved in his childhood; -it would be his well-deserved fate to have fallen in love with the stone -representation of Gradiva, behind which, by virtue of an unexplained -resemblance, the living and neglected Zoe becomes effective. - -Miss Zoe, herself, seems to share our conception of the delusion of the -young archaeologist, for the pleasure which she expresses at the end of -her "unreserved, detailed and instructive lecture" is hardly based on -anything other than her readiness to refer his entire interest in -Gradiva to her person. This is exactly what she does not believe him -capable of, and what, in spite of all the disguises of the delusion, she -recognizes as such. Her psychic treatment of him has a beneficent -effect; he feels himself free, as the delusion is now replaced by that -of which it can be only a distorted and unsatisfactory copy. He -immediately remembers and recognizes her as his good, cheerful, clever -comrade who has not changed essentially; but he finds something else -most strange-- - -"That a person must die to become alive again," says the girl, "but for -archaeologists that is of course necessary." (_G._ p. 102.) She has -apparently not yet pardoned him for the detour which he made from the -childhood friendship through the science of antiquity to this relation -which has recently been established. - -"No, I mean your name--Because Bertgang has the same meaning as Gradiva -and signifies 'the one splendid in walking.'" (_G._ p. 102.) - -Even we are not prepared for that. Our hero begins to rise from his -humility and to play an active role. He is, apparently, entirely cured -of his delusion, lifted far above it, and proves this by tearing asunder -the last threads of the web of delusion. Patients, also, who have been -freed from the compulsion of their delusion, by the disclosure of the -repression behind it, always act in just that way. When they have once -understood, they themselves offer the solutions for the last and most -significant riddles of their strange condition in suddenly emerging -ideas. We had already believed, of course, that the Greek ancestry of -the mythical Gradiva was an after-effect of the Greek name, Zoe, but -with the name, Gradiva, we had ventured nothing; we had supposed it the -free creation of Norbert Hanold's imagination, and behold! this very -name now shows itself to be a remnant, really a translation of the -repressed family-name of the supposedly forgotten beloved of his youth. - -The derivation and solution of the delusion are now completed. What -follows may well serve as a harmonious conclusion of the tale. In regard -to the future, it can have only a pleasant effect on us, if the -rehabilitation of the man, who formerly had to play the lamentable role -of one needing to be cured, progresses, and he succeeds in awakening in -the girl some of the emotions which he formerly experienced. Thus it -happens that he makes her jealous by mentioning the congenial young -lady, who disturbed them in Meleager's house, and by the acknowledgment -that the latter was the first girl who had impressed him much. When Zoe -is then about to take a cool departure, with the remark that now -everything is reasonable again, she herself not least of all, that he -might look up Gisa Hartleben, or whatever her name might now be, and be -of scientific assistance to her about the purpose of her stay in -Pompeii, but she has to go now to the "Albergo del Sole" where her -father is already waiting for her at lunch, perhaps they may see each -other again some time at a party in Germany or on the moon, he seizes -upon the troublesome fly as a means of taking possession of her cheek, -first, and then of her lips, and assumes the aggressive, which is the -duty of a man in the game of love. Only once more does a shadow seem to -fall on their happiness, when Zoe reminds him that now she must really -go to her father, who will otherwise starve in the "Sole." "Your -father--what will he----?" (_G._ p. 106.) - -But the clever girl knows how to silence the apprehension quickly. -"Probably he will do nothing; I am not an indispensable piece in his -zoological collection; if I were, my heart would probably not have clung -to you so unwisely." Should the father, however, by way of exception, in -this case, have an opinion different from hers, there is a sure method. -Hanold needs only to go over to Capri, there catch a _lacerta -faraglionensis_, for which purpose he may practise the technique on her -little finger, then set the animal free again here, catch it before the -eyes of the zoologist and give him the choice of the _faraglionensis_ on -the mainland or his daughter, a proposal in which mockery, as one may -easily note, is combined with bitterness, an admonition to the -betrothed, also, not to follow too closely the model after which his -beloved has chosen him. Norbert Hanold sets us at rest on this matter, -as he expresses, by all sorts of apparently trivial symptoms, the great -transformation which has come over him. He voices the intention of -taking a wedding trip with his Zoe to Italy and Pompeii, as if he had -never been indignant at the newly married travellers, Augustus and -Gretchen. His feelings towards this happy couple, who so unnecessarily -travelled more than one hundred miles from their German home, have -entirely disappeared from his memory. Certainly the author is right when -he cites such weakening of memory as the most valuable mark of a mental -change. Zoe replies to the announced desire about the destination of -their journey, "_by her childhood friend who had, in a way, also been -excavated from the ashes_," (_G._ p. 108), that she does not yet feel -quite alive enough for such geographical decision. - -Beautiful reality has now triumphed over the delusion. Yet an honour -still awaits the latter before the two leave Pompeii. When they have -arrived at the Hercules Gate, where, at the beginning of the Strada -Consolare, old stepping-stones cross the street, Norbert Hanold stops -and asks the girl to go ahead. She understands him and, "raising her -dress slightly with her left hand, Gradiva _rediviva_ Zoe Bertgang, -viewed by him with dreamily observing eyes, crossed with her calmly -buoyant walk, through the sunlight, over the stepping-stones." With the -triumph of eroticism, what was beautiful and valuable in the delusion is -now acknowledged. - -With the last comparison of "the childhood friend excavated from the -ashes," the author of the story has, however, put into our hand the key -of the symbolism which the delusion of the hero made use of in the -disguise of the repressed memory. There is no better analogy for -repression, which at the same time makes inaccessible and conserves -something psychic, than the burial which was the fate of Pompeii, and -from which the city was able to arise again through work with the spade. -Therefore in his imagination the young archaeologist had to transport to -Pompeii the original figure of the relief which reminded him of the -forgotten beloved of his youth. Jensen, however, had a good right to -linger over the significant resemblance which his fine sense traced out -between a bit of psychic occurrence in the individual and a single -historical event in the history of man. - - - II - -It was really our intention to investigate with the aid of definite -analytic method only the two or three dreams which are found in the tale -_Gradiva_; how did it happen then that we allowed ourselves to be -carried away with the analysis of the whole story and the examination of -the psychic processes of the two chief characters? Well, that was no -superfluous work, but a necessary preparation. Even when we wish to -understand the real dreams of an actual person, we must concern -ourselves intensively with the character and the fortunes of this -person, not only the experiences shortly before the dream, but also -those of the remote past. I think, however, that we are not yet free to -turn to our real task, but must still linger over the piece of fiction -itself, and perform more preparatory work. - -Our readers will, of course, have noticed with surprise that till now we -have considered Norbert Hanold and Zoe Bertgang in all their psychic -expressions and activities, as if they were real individuals and not -creatures of an author, as if the mind of their creator were absolutely -transparent, not a refractory and cloudy medium; and our procedure must -seem all the more surprising when the author of _Gradiva_ expressly -disavows the portrayal of reality by calling his tale a "Fancy." We -find, however, that all his pictures copy reality so faithfully that we -should not contradict if _Gradiva_ were called not a "Fancy," but a -study in psychiatry. Only in two points has Wilhelm Jensen made use of -his license, to create suppositions which do not seem to have roots in -the earth of actual law: first, when he has the young archaeologist find -a genuinely antique bas-relief which, not only in the detail of the -position of the foot in walking, but in all details, the shape of the -face, and the bearing, copies a person living much later, so that he can -consider the physical manifestation of this person to be the cast -endowed with life; second, when the hero is caused to meet the living -girl in Pompeii, whither his fancy has transported the dead girl, while -he separates himself, by the journey to Pompeii, from the living girl, -whom he has noticed on the street of his home city; this second instance -is no tremendous deviation from the possibilities of life; it asks aid -only of chance, which undeniably plays a part in so many human fates, -and, moreover, makes it reasonable, for this chance reflects again the -destiny which has decreed that through flight one is delivered over to -the very thing that one is fleeing from. More fantastic, and originating -solely in the author's arbitrariness, seems the first supposition which -brings in its train the detailed resemblance of the cast to the living -girl, where moderation might have limited the conformity to the one -trait of the position of the foot in walking. One might then have tried -to let one's own imagination play in order to establish connection with -reality. The name Bertgang might point to the fact that the women of -that family had been distinguished, even in ancient times, by the -characteristic of a beautiful gait, and by heredity the German Bertgang -was connected with those Romans, a woman of whose family had caused the -ancient artist to fix in a bas-relief the peculiarity of her walk. As -the individual variations of human structure are, however, not -independent of one another, and as the ancient types, which we come upon -in the collections, are actually always emerging again in our midst, it -would not be entirely impossible that a modern Bertgang should repeat -again the form of her ancient forbear, even in all the other traits of -her physique. Inquiry of the author of the story for the sources of this -creation might well be wiser than such speculation; a good prospect of -solving again a bit of supposed arbitrariness would probably then -appear. As, however, we have not access to the psychic life of the -author, we leave to him the undiminished right of building up a -thoroughly valid development on an improbable supposition, a right which -Shakespeare, for example, has asserted in _King Lear_. - -Otherwise, we wish to repeat, Wilhelm Jensen has given us an absolutely -correct study in psychiatry, in which we may measure our understanding -of psychic life, a story of illness and cure adapted to the inculcation -of certain fundamental teachings of medical psychology. Strange enough -that he should have done this! What if, in reply to questioning, he -should deny this intention? It is so easy to draw comparisons and to put -constructions on things. Are we not rather the ones who have woven -secret meanings, which were foreign to him, into the beautiful poetic -tale? Possibly; we shall come back to that later. As a preliminary, -however, we have tried to refrain from interpretations with that -tendency, by reproducing the story, in almost every case, from the very -words of the writer; and we have had him furnish text as well as -commentary, himself. Any one who will compare our text with that of -_Gradiva_ will have to grant this. - -Perhaps in the judgment of the majority we are doing a poor service for -him when we declare his work a study in psychiatry. An author is to -avoid all contact with psychiatry, we are told, and leave to physicians -the portrayal of morbid psychic conditions. In reality no true author -has ever heeded this commandment. The portrayal of the psychic life of -human beings is, of course, his most especial domain; he was always the -precursor of science and of scientific psychology. The borderline -between normal and morbid psychic conditions is, in a way, a -conventional one, and, in another way, in such a state of flux that -probably every one of us oversteps it many times in the course of a day. -On the other hand, psychiatry would do wrong to wish to limit itself -continually to the study of those serious and cloudy illnesses which -arise from rude disturbances of the delicate psychic apparatus. It has -no less interest in the lesser and adjustable deviations from the normal -which we cannot yet trace back farther than disturbances in the play of -psychic forces; indeed, it is by means of these that it can understand -normal conditions, as well as the manifestations of serious illness. -Thus the author cannot yield to the psychiatrist nor the psychiatrist to -the author, and the poetic treatment of a theme from psychiatry may -result correctly without damage to beauty. - -The imaginative representation of the story of illness and its -treatment, which we can survey better after finishing the story and -relieving our own suspense, is really correct. Now we wish to reproduce -it with the technical expressions of our science, in doing which it will -not be necessary to repeat what has already been related. - -Norbert Hanold's condition is called a "delusion" often enough by the -author of the story, and we also have no reason to reject this -designation. We can mention two chief characteristics of "delusion," by -which it is not, of course, exhaustively described, but is admittedly -differentiated from other disturbances. It belongs first to that group -of illnesses which do not directly affect the physical, but express -themselves only by psychic signs, and it is distinguished secondly by -the fact that "fancies" have assumed control, that is, are believed and -have acquired influence on actions. If we recall the journey to Pompeii -to seek in the ashes the peculiarly-formed foot-prints of Gradiva, we -have in it a splendid example of an act under the sway of the delusion. -The psychiatrist would perhaps assign Norbert Hanold's delusion to the -great group of paranoia and designate it as a "fetichistic erotomania," -because falling in love with the bas-relief would be the most striking -thing to him and because, to his conception, which coarsens everything, -the interest of the young archaeologist in the feet and foot-position of -women must seem suspiciously like fetichism. All such names and -divisions of the different kinds of delusion are, however, substantially -useless and awkward.[2] - -The old-school psychiatrist would, moreover, stamp our hero as a -degenere, because he is a person capable, on account of such strange -predilections, of developing a delusion, and would investigate the -heredity which has unrelentingly driven him to such a fate. In this, -however, Jensen does not follow him; with good reason, he brings us -nearer to the hero to facilitate for us aesthetic sympathy with him; with -the diagnosis "degenere," whether or not it may be justifiable to us -scientifically, the young archaeologist is at once moved farther from us, -for we, readers, are, of course, normal people and the measure of -humanity. The essential facts of heredity and constitution in connection -with this condition also concern the author of _Gradiva_ little; -instead, he is engrossed in the personal, psychic state which can give -rise to such a delusion. - -In an important point, Norbert Hanold acts quite differently from -ordinary people. He has no interest in the living woman; science, which -he serves, has taken this interest from him and transferred it to women -of stone or bronze. Let us not consider this an unimportant peculiarity; -it is really the basis of the story, for one day it happens that a -single such bas-relief claims for itself all the interest which would -otherwise belong only to the living woman, and thereby originates the -delusion. Before our eyes there is then unfolded the story of how this -delusion is cured by a fortunate set of circumstances, the interest -transferred back again from the cast to the living girl. The author of -the story does not allow us to trace the influences because of which our -hero begins to avoid women; he only suggests to us that such conduct is -not explained by his predisposition which is invested with a rather -fanciful--we might add, erotic--need. We learn later also that in his -childhood he did not avoid other children; he was then friendly with the -little girl, was inseparable from her, shared with her his lunches, -cuffed her, and was pulled around by her. In such attachment, such a -combination of tenderness and aggression, is expressed the incomplete -eroticism of child life, which expresses its activities first spitefully -and then irresistibly and which, during childhood, only physicians and -writers usually recognize as eroticism. Our author gives us to -understand clearly that he has those intentions, for he suddenly causes -to awaken in his hero, with suitable motive, a lively interest in the -gait and foot-position of women, an interest which, in science, as well -as among the ladies of his home-city, must bring him into disrepute as a -foot-fetichist, and is to us, however, necessarily derived from the -memory of his childhood playmate. The girl, to be sure, was -characterized, as a child, by the beautiful walk with her foot almost -perpendicular as she stepped out, and through the portrayal of this very -gait an antique bas-relief later acquired for Norbert Hanold great -significance. Let us add, moreover, immediately, that the author of -_Gradiva_ stands in complete agreement with science in regard to the -derivation of the remarkable manifestation of fetichism. Since the -investigations by Binet we really try to trace fetichism back to erotic -impressions of childhood. - -The condition of continued avoidance of women gives the personal -qualification, as we say, the disposition for the formation of a -delusion; the development of psychic disturbance begins at the moment -when a chance impression awakens the forgotten childhood experiences -which are emphasized in an erotic way that is at least traceable. -Awakened is really not the right term, however, when we consider the -further results. We must reproduce our author's correct representation -in a mode of expression artistically correct, and psychological. On -seeing the relief Norbert Hanold does not remember that he has seen such -a foot-position in the friend of his youth; he certainly does not -remember and yet every effect of the relief proceeds from such -connection with the impression of his childhood. The -childhood-impression, stirred, becomes active, so that it begins to show -activity, though it does not appear in consciousness, but remains -"unconscious," a term which we now use unavoidably in psychopathology. -This term "unconscious" we should now like to see withdrawn from all the -conflicts of philosophers and natural philosophers, which have only -etymological significance. For psychic processes which are active and -yet at the same time do not come through into the consciousness of the -person referred to, we have at present no better name and we mean -nothing else by "unconsciousness." If many thinkers wish to dispute as -unreasonable the existence of such an unconscious, we think they have -never busied themselves with analogous psychic phenomena, and are under -the spell of the common idea that everything psychic which is active and -intensive becomes, thereby, at the same time, conscious, and they have -still to learn what our author knows very well, that there are, of -course, psychic processes, which, in spite of the fact that they are -intensive and show energetic activities, remain far removed from -consciousness. - -We said once that the memories of the childhood relations with Zoe are -in a state of "repression" with Norbert Hanold; and we have called them -"unconscious memories." Here we must, of course, turn our attention to -the relation between the two technical terms which seem to coincide in -meaning. It is not hard to clear this up. "Unconscious" is the broader -term, "repressed" the narrower. Everything that is repressed is -unconscious; but we cannot assert that everything unconscious is -repressed. If Hanold, at the sight of the relief, had remembered his -Zoe's manner of walking, then a formerly unconscious memory would have -become immediately active and conscious, and thus would have shown that -it was not formerly repressed. "Unconscious" is a purely descriptive -term, in many respects indefinite and, so to speak, static; "repressed" -is a dynamic expression which takes into consideration the play of -psychic forces and the fact that there is present an effort to express -all psychic activities, among them that of becoming conscious again, but -also a counterforce, a resistance, which might hinder a part of these -psychic activities, among these, also, getting into consciousness. The -mark of the repressed material is that, in spite of its intensity, it -cannot break through into consciousness. In Hanold's case, therefore, it -was a matter, at the appearance of the bas-relief on his horizon, of a -repressed unconscious, in short of a repression. - -The memories of his childhood association with the girl who walks -beautifully are repressed in Norbert Hanold, but this is not yet the -correct view of the psychological situation. We remain on the surface so -long as we treat only of memories and ideas. The only valuable things in -psychic life are, rather, the emotions. All psychic powers are -significant only through their fitness to awaken emotions. Ideas are -repressed only because they are connected with liberations of emotions, -which are not to come to light; it would be more correct to say that -repression deals with the emotions, but these are comprehensible to us -only in connection with ideas. Thus, in Norbert Hanold, the erotic -feelings are repressed, and, as his eroticism neither knows nor has -known another object than Zoe Bertgang of his youth, the memories of her -are forgotten. The antique bas-relief awakens the slumbering eroticism -in him and makes the childhood memories active. On account of a -resistance in him to the eroticism, these memories can become active -only as unconscious. What now happens in him is a struggle between the -power of eroticism and the forces that are repressing it; the result of -this struggle is a delusion. - -Our author has omitted to give the motive whence originates the -repression of the erotic life in his hero; the latter's interest in -science is, of course, only the means of which the repression makes use; -the physician would have to probe deeper here, perhaps in this case -without finding the foundation. Probably, however, the author of -_Gradiva_, as we have admiringly emphasized, has not hesitated to -represent to us how the awakening of the repressed eroticism results -from the very sphere of the means which are serving the repression. It -is rightly an antique, the bas-relief of a woman, through which our -archaeologist is snatched and admonished out of his alienation from love -to pay the debt with which we are charged by our birth. - -The first manifestations of the process now stimulated by the bas-relief -are fancies which play with the person represented by it. The model -appears to him to be something "of the present," in the best sense, as -if the artist had fixed the girl walking on the street from life. The -name, Gradiva, which he forms from the epithet of the war-god advancing -to battle, Mars Gradivus, he lends to the ancient girl; with more and -more definitions he endows her with a personality. She may be the -daughter of an esteemed man, perhaps of a patrician, who is associated -with the temple service of a divinity; he believes that he reads Greek -ancestry in her features, and finally this forces him to transport her -far from the confusion of a metropolis to more peaceful Pompeii, where -he has her walking over the lava stepping-stones which make possible the -crossing of the street. These feats of fancy seem arbitrary enough and -yet again harmlessly unsuspicious. Even when from them is produced, for -the first time, the impulse to act, when the archaeologist, oppressed by -the problem whether such foot-position corresponds to reality, begins -observations from life, in looking at the feet of contemporary women and -girls, this act covers itself by conscious, scientific motives, as if -all the interest in the bas-relief of Gradiva had originated in his -professional interest in archaeology. The women and girls on the street, -whom he uses as objects for his investigation, must, of course, assume a -different, coarsely erotic conception of his conduct, and we must admit -that they are right. For us, there is no doubt that Hanold knows as -little about his motives as about the origin of his fancies concerning -Gradiva. These latter are, as we shall learn later, echoes of his -memories of the beloved of his youth, remnants of these memories, -transformations and disfigurements of them, after they have failed to -push into consciousness in unchanged form. The so-called aesthetic -judgment that the relief represents "something of the present" is -substituted for the knowledge that such a gait belongs to a girl known -to him and crossing streets _in the present_; behind the impression -"from life" and the fancy about her Greek traits, is hidden the memory -of her name, Zoe, which, in Greek, means _life_; Gradiva is, as the man -finally cured of the delusion tells us, a good translation of her -family-name, Bertgang, which means _splendid or magnificent in walking_; -the decisions about her father arise from the knowledge that Zoe -Bertgang is the daughter of an esteemed university instructor, which is -probably translated into the antique as temple service. Finally his -imagination transports her to Pompeii not "because her calm, quiet -manner seems to require it," but because, in his science, there is found -no other nor better analogy to the remarkable condition in which he has -traced out, by vague reconnoitring, his memories of his childhood -friendship. If he once covered up what was so close to him, his own -childhood, with the classic past, then the burial of Pompeii, this -disappearance, with the preservation of the past, offers a striking -resemblance to the _repression_ of which he has knowledge by means of -so-called "endopsychic" perceptions. The same symbolism, therefore, -which the author has the girl use consciously at the end of the tale, is -working in him. - -"I said to myself that I should certainly dig up something interesting -alone here. Of course, I had not reckoned at all on the find which I -made." (_G._ p. 92.) At the end (_G._ p. 108), the girl answers to the -announced desire about the destination of their journey, "by her -childhood friend who had, in a way, also been excavated from the ashes." - -Thus we find at the very beginning of the performances of Hanold's -fancies and actions, a twofold determination, a derivation from two -different sources. One determination is the one which appears to Hanold, -himself; the other, the one which discloses itself to us upon -re-examination of his psychic processes. One, the conscious one, is -related to the person of Hanold; the other is the one entirely -unconscious to him. One originates entirely from the series of -associations connected with archaeological science; the other, however, -proceeds from the repressed memories which have become active in him, -and the emotional impulses attached to them. The one seems superficial, -and covers up the other, which masks itself behind the former. One might -say that the scientific motivation serves the unconscious eroticism as -cloak, and that science has placed itself completely at the service of -the delusion, but one may not forget, either, that the unconscious -determination can effect nothing but what is at the time satisfactory to -the scientific conscious. The symptoms of delusion--fancies as well as -acts--are results of a compromise between two psychic streams, and in a -compromise the demands of each of the two parties are considered; each -party has been obliged to forego something that he wished to carry out. -Where a compromise has been established, there was a struggle, here the -conflict assumed by us between the suppressed eroticism and the forces -which keep it alive in the repression. In the formation of a delusion -this struggle is never ended. - -Attack and resistance are renewed after every compromise-formation, -which is, so to speak, never fully satisfactory. This our author also -knows and therefore he causes a feeling of discontent, a peculiar -restlessness, to dominate his hero in this phase of the disturbance, as -preliminary to and guarantee of further developments. - -These significant peculiarities of the twofold determination for fancies -and decisions, of the formation of conscious pretexts for actions, for -the motivation of which the repressed has given the greater -contribution, will, in the further progress of the story, occur to us -oftener, and perhaps more clearly; and this rightfully, for in this -Jensen has grasped and represented the never-failing, chief -characteristic of the morbid psychic processes. The development of -Norbert Hanold's delusion progresses in a dream, which, caused by no new -event, seems to proceed entirely from his psychic life, which is -occupied by a conflict. Yet let us stop before we proceed to test -whether the author of _Gradiva_, in the formation of his dreams, meets -our expectation of a deeper understanding. Let us first ask what -psychiatry has to say about his ideas of the origin of a delusion, how -it stands on the matter of the role of repression and the unconscious, -of conflict and compromise-formation. Briefly, can our author's -representation of the genesis of a delusion stand before the judgment of -science? - -And here we must give the perhaps unexpected answer that, unfortunately, -matters are here actually just reversed; science does not stand before -the accomplishment of our author. Between the essential facts of -heredity and constitution, and the seemingly complete creations of -delusion, there yawns a breach which we find filled up by the writer of -_Gradiva_. Science does not yet recognize the significance of repression -nor the fact that it needs the unconscious for explanation to the world -of psychopathological phenomena; it does not seek the basis of delusion -in psychic conflict, and does not regard its symptoms as a -compromise-formation. Then our author stands alone against all science? -No, not that--if the present writer may reckon his own works as science. -For he, himself, has for some years interceded--and until recently -almost alone[3]--for the views which he finds here in _Gradiva_ by W. -Jensen, and he has presented them in technical terms. He has pointed out -exhaustively, for the conditions known as hysteria and obsession, the -suppression of impulses and the repression of the ideas, through which -the suppressed impulse is represented, as a characteristic condition of -psychic disturbance, and he has repeated the same view soon afterwards -for many kinds of delusion.[4] Whether the impulses which are, for this -reason, considered are always components of the sex-impulse, or might be -of a different nature, is a problem of indifference in the analysis of -_Gradiva_, as, in the case chosen by the author, it is a matter only of -the suppression of the erotic feeling. The views concerning psychic -conflict, and the formation of symptoms by compromises between the two -psychic forces which are struggling with each other, the present writer -has found valid in cases professionally treated and actually observed, -in exactly the same way that he was able to observe it in Norbert -Hanold, the invention of our author.[5] The tracing back of neurotic, -especially of hysterically morbid activities to the influence of -unconscious thoughts, P. Janet, the pupil of the great Charcot, had -undertaken before the present writer, and in conjunction with Josef -Breuer in Vienna.[6] - -It had actually occurred to the present writer, when, in the years -following 1893, he devoted himself to investigations of the origin of -psychic disturbances, to seek confirmation of his results from authors, -and therefore it was no slight surprise to him to learn that in -_Gradiva_, published in 1903, an author gave to his creation the very -foundation which the former supposed that he, himself, was finding -authority for, as new, from his experiences as a physician. How did the -author come upon the same knowledge as the physician, at least upon a -procedure which would suggest that he possessed it? - -Norbert Hanold's delusion, we said, acquires further development through -a dream, which he has in the midst of his efforts to authenticate a gait -like Gradiva's in the streets of his home-city. The content of this -dream we can outline briefly. The dreamer is in Pompeii on that day -which brought destruction to the unfortunate city, experiences the -horrors without himself getting into danger, suddenly sees Gradiva -walking there and immediately understands, as quite natural, that, as -she is, of course, a Pompeiian, she is living in her native city and -"without his having any suspicion of it, was his contemporary." He is -seized with fear for her, calls to her, whereupon she turns her face -toward him momentarily. Yet she walks on without heeding him at all, -lies down on the steps of the Apollo temple, and is buried by the rain -of ashes, after her face has changed colour as if it were turning to -white marble, until it completely resembles a bas-relief. On awakening, -he interprets the noise of the metropolis, which reaches his ear, as the -cries for help of the desperate inhabitants of Pompeii and the booming -of the turbulent sea. The feeling that what he has dreamed has really -happened to him persists for some time after his awakening, and the -conviction that Gradiva lived in Pompeii and died on that fatal day -remains from this dream as a new, supplementary fact for his delusion. - -It is less easy for us to say what the author of _Gradiva_ intended by -this dream, and what caused him to connect the development of this -delusion directly with a dream. Assiduous investigation of dreams has, -to be sure, gathered enough examples of the fact that mental disturbance -is connected with and proceeds from dreams,[7] and even in the -life-history of certain eminent men, impulses for important deeds and -decisions are said to have been engendered by dreams; but our -comprehension does not gain much by these analogies; let us hold, -therefore, to our case, the case of the archaeologist, Norbert Hanold, a -fiction of our author. At which end must one lay hold of such a dream to -introduce meaning into it, if it is not to remain an unnecessary -adornment of fiction? I can imagine that the reader exclaims at this -place: "The dream is, of course, easy to explain--a simple -anxiety-dream, caused by the noise of the metropolis, which is given the -new interpretation of the destruction of Pompeii, by the archaeologist -busied with his Pompeiian girl!" On account of the commonly prevailing -disregard of the activities of dreams, one usually limits the demands -for dream-explanations so that one seeks for a part of the dream-content -an external excitation which covers itself by means of the content. This -external excitation for the dream would be given by the noise which -wakens the sleeper; the interest in this dream would be thereby -terminated. Would that we had even one reason to suppose that the -metropolis had been noisier than usual on this morning! If, for example, -our author had not omitted to inform us that Hanold had that night, -contrary to his custom, slept by an open window! What a shame that our -author didn't take the trouble! And if an anxiety-dream were only so -simple a thing! No, this interest is not terminated in so simple a way. - -The connection with the external, sensory stimulus is not at all -essential for the dream-formation. The sleeper can neglect this -excitation from the outer world; he may be awakened by it without -forming a dream, he may also weave it into his dream, as happens here, -if it is of no use to him from any other motive; and there is an -abundance of dreams for whose content such a determination by a sensory -excitation of the sleeper cannot be shown. No, let us try another way. - -Perhaps we can start from the residue which the dream leaves in Hanold's -waking life. It had formerly been his fancy that Gradiva was a -Pompeiian. Now this assumption becomes a certainty and the second -certainty is added that she was buried there in the year 79.[8] -Sorrowful feelings accompany this progress of the formation of the -delusion like an echo of the fear which had filled the dream. This new -grief about Gradiva will seem to us not exactly comprehensible; Gradiva -would now have been dead for many centuries even if she had been saved -in the year 79 from destruction. Or ought one to be permitted to -squabble thus with either Norbert Hanold or his creator? Here, too, no -way seems to lead to explanation. We wish, nevertheless, to remark that -a very painful, emotional stress clings to the augmentation which the -delusion derives from this dream. - -Otherwise, however, our perplexity is not dispelled. This dream does not -explain itself; we must decide to borrow from _Traumdeutung_ by the -present writer, and to use some of the rules given there for the -solution of dreams. - -One of these rules is that a dream is regularly connected with the day -before the dream. Our author seems to wish to intimate that he has -followed this rule by connecting the dream directly with Hanold's -"pedestrian investigations." Now the latter means nothing but a search -for Gradiva whom he expects to recognize by her characteristic manner of -walking. The dream ought, therefore, to contain a reference to where -Gradiva is to be found. It really does contain it by showing her in -Pompeii, but that is no news for us. - -Another rule says: If, after the dream, the reality of the -dream-pictures continues unusually long so that one cannot free himself -from the dream, this is not a kind of mistake in judgment called forth -by the vividness of the dream-pictures, but is a psychic act in itself, -an assurance which refers to the dream-content, that something in it is -as real as it has been dreamed to be, and one is right to believe this -assurance. If we stop at these two rules, we must decide that the dream -gives real information about the whereabouts of Gradiva, who is being -sought. We now know Hanold's dream; does the application of these two -rules lead to any sensible meaning? - -Strange to say, yes. This meaning is disguised only in a special way so -that one does not recognize it immediately. Hanold learns in the dream -that the girl sought lives in the city and in his own day. That is, of -course, true of Zoe Bertgang, only that in his dream the city is not the -German university-city, but Pompeii, the time not the present, but the -year 79, according to our reckoning. It is a kind of disfigurement by -displacement; not Gradiva is transported to the present, but the dreamer -to the past; but we are also given the essential and new fact _that he -shares locality and time with the girl sought_. Whence, then, this -dissimulation and disguise which must deceive us as well as the dreamer -about the peculiar meaning and content of the dream? Well, we have -already means at hand to give us a satisfactory answer to this question. - -Let us recall all that we have heard about the nature and origin of -fancies, these preliminaries of delusion. They are substitution for and -remnants of different repressed memories, which a resistance does not -allow to push into consciousness, which, however, become conscious by -heeding the censor of resistance, by means of transformations and -disfigurements. After this compromise is completed, the former memories -have become fancies, which may easily be misunderstood by the conscious -person, that is, may be understood to be the ruling psychic force. Now -let us suppose that the dream-pictures are the so-called physiological -delusion-products of a man, the compromise-results of that struggle -between what is repressed and what is dominant, which exist probably -even in people absolutely normal in the daytime. Then we understand that -we have to consider the dream something disfigured behind which there is -to be sought something else, not disfigured, but, in a sense, something -offensive, like Hanold's repressed memories behind his fancies. One -expresses the admitted opposition by distinguishing what the dreamer -remembers on waking, as _manifest dream-content_, from what formed the -basis of the dream before the censor's disfigurement, _the latent -dream-thoughts_. To interpret a dream, then, means to translate the -manifest dream-content into the latent dream-thoughts, which make -retrogressive the disfigurement that had to be approved by the -resistance censor. When we turn these deliberations to the dream which -is occupying us, we find that the latent dream-thoughts must have been -as follows: "The girl who has that beautiful walk, whom you are seeking, -lives really in this city with you;" but in this form the thought could -not become conscious; in its way there stood the fact that a fancy had -established, as a result of a former compromise, the idea that Gradiva -was a Pompeiian girl, and therefore nothing remained, if the actual fact -of her living in the same locality and at the same time was to be -perceived, but to assume the disfigurement: you are living in Pompeii at -the time of Gradiva; and this then is the idea which the manifest -dream-content realizes and represents as a present time which he is -living in. - -A dream is rarely the representation, one might say the staging, of a -single thought, but generally of a number of them, a web of thoughts. In -Hanold's dream there is conspicuous another component of the content, -whose disfigurement is easily put aside so that one may learn the latent -idea represented by it. This is the end of the dream to which the -assurance of reality can also be extended. In the dream the beautiful -walker, Gradiva, is transformed into a bas-relief. That is, of course, -nothing but an ingenious and poetic representation of the actual -procedure. Hanold had, indeed, transferred his interest from the living -girl to the bas-relief; the beloved had been transformed into a stone -relief. The latent dream-thoughts, which remain unconscious, wish to -transform the relief back into the living girl; in connection with the -foregoing they speak to him somewhat as follows: "You are, of course, -interested in the bas-relief of Gradiva only because it reminds you of -the present, here-living Zoe." But this insight would mean the end of -the delusion, if it could become conscious. - -Is it our duty to substitute unconscious thoughts thus for every single -bit of the manifest dream-content? Strictly speaking, yes; in the -interpretation of a dream which had actually been dreamed, we should not -be allowed to avoid this duty. The dreamer would then have to give us an -exhaustive account. It is easily understood that we cannot enforce such -a demand in connection with the creature of our author; we will not, -however, overlook the fact that we have not yet submitted the chief -content of this dream to the work of interpretation and translation. - -Hanold's dream is, of course, an anxiety-dream. Its content is fearful; -anxiety is felt by the dreamer in sleep, and painful feelings remain -after it. That is not of any great help for our attempt at explanation; -we are again forced to borrow largely from the teachings of -dream-interpretation. This admonishes us not to fall into the error of -deriving the fear that is felt in a dream from the content of a dream, -not to use the dream-content like the content of ideas of waking life. -It calls to our attention how often we dream the most horrible things -without feeling any trace of fear. Rather the true fact is a quite -different one, which cannot be easily guessed, but can certainly be -proved. The fear of the anxiety-dream corresponds to a sex-feeling, a -libidinous emotion, like every neurotic fear, and has, through the -process of repression, proceeded from the libido.[9] In the -interpretation of dreams, therefore, one must substitute for fear sexual -excitement. The fear which has thus come into existence, exercises -now--not regularly, but often--a selective influence on the -dream-content and brings into the dream ideational elements which seem -suitable to this fear for the conscious and erroneous conception of the -dream. This is, as has been said, by no means regularly the case, for -there are anxiety dreams in which the content is not at all frightful, -in which, therefore, one cannot explain consciously the anxiety -experienced. - -I know that this explanation of fear in dreams sounds odd, and is not -easily believed; but I can only advise making friends with it. It would, -moreover, be remarkable if Norbert Hanold's dream allowed itself to be -connected with this conception of fear and to be explained by it. We -should then say that in the dreamer, at night, the erotic desire stirs, -makes a powerful advance to bring his memory of the beloved into -consciousness and thus snatch him from the delusion, experiences -rejection and transformation into fear, which now, on its part, brings -the fearful pictures from the academic memory of the dreamer into the -dream-content. In this way the peculiar unconscious content of the -dream, the amorous longing for the once known Zoe, is transformed into -the manifest-content of the destruction of Pompeii and the loss of -Gradiva. - -I think that sounds quite plausible so far. One might justly demand that -if erotic wishes form the undisfigured content of this dream, then one -must be able to point out, in the transformed dream, at least a -recognizable remnant of them hidden somewhere. Well, perhaps even this -will come about with the help of a suggestion which appears later in the -story. At the first meeting with the supposed Gradiva, Hanold remembers -this dream and requests the apparition to lie down again as he has seen -her.[10] Thereupon the young lady rises, indignant, and leaves her -strange companion, in whose delusion-ridden speech she has heard the -suggestion of an improper erotic wish. I think we may adopt Gradiva's -interpretation; even from a real dream one cannot always demand more -definiteness for the representation of an erotic wish. - -Thus the application of some rules of dream-interpretation have been -successful on Hanold's first dream, in making this dream comprehensible -to us in its chief features, and in fitting it into the sequence of the -story. Then it must probably have been produced by its author with due -consideration for these rules. One could raise only one more question: -why the author should introduce a dream for further development of the -delusion. Well, I think that is very cleverly arranged and again keeps -faith with reality. We have already heard that in actual illness the -formation of a delusion is very often connected with a dream, but after -our explanation of the nature of dreams, we need find no new riddle in -this fact. Dreams and delusion spring from the same source, the -repressed; the dream is, so to speak, the physiological delusion of the -normal human being. Before the repressed has become strong enough to -push itself up into waking life as delusion, it may easily have won its -first success under the more favourable circumstances of sleep, in the -form of a dream having after-effects. During sleep, with the diminution -of psychic activity, there enters a slackening in the strength of the -resistance, which the dominant psychic forces oppose to the repressed. -This slackening is what makes the dream-formation possible and therefore -the dream becomes, for us, the best means of approach to knowledge of -the unconscious psyche. Only the dream usually passes rapidly with the -re-establishment of the psychic revival of waking life, and the ground -won by the unconscious is again vacated. - - - III - -In the further course of the story there is another dream, which can -tempt us, even more perhaps than the first, to try to interpret it and -fit it into the psychic life of the hero; but we save little if we leave -the representation of the author of _Gradiva_ here, to hasten directly -to this second dream, for whoever wishes to interpret the dream of -another, cannot help concerning himself, as extensively as possible, -with every subjective and objective experience of the dreamer. Therefore -it would be best to hold to the thread of the story and provide this -with our commentaries as we progress. - -The new delusion of the death of Gradiva at the destruction of Pompeii -in the year 79 is not the only after-effect of the first dream analysed -by us. Directly afterwards Hanold decides upon a trip to Italy, which -finally takes him to Pompeii. Before this, however, something else has -happened to him; leaning from his window, he thinks he sees on the -street a figure with the bearing and walk of his Gradiva, hastens after -her, in spite of his scanty attire, does not overtake her, but is driven -back by the jeers of the people on the street. After he has returned to -his room, the song of a canary whose cage hangs in the window of the -opposite house calls forth in him a mood such as if he wished to get -from prison into freedom, and the spring trip is immediately decided -upon and accomplished. - -Our author has put this trip of Hanold's in an especially strong light, -and has given to the latter partial clearness about his subjective -processes. Hanold has, of course, given himself a scientific purpose for -his journey, but this is not substantial. Yet he knows that the "impulse -to travel has originated in a nameless feeling." A peculiar restlessness -makes him dissatisfied with everything he encounters and drives him from -Rome to Naples, from there to Pompeii, without his mood's being set -right, even at the last halting-place. He is annoyed by the foolishness -of honeymoon travellers, and is enraged over the boldness of -house-flies, which populate the hotels of Pompeii; but finally he does -not deceive himself over the fact that "his dissatisfaction was -certainly not caused by his surroundings alone, but, to a degree, found -its origin in him." He considers himself over-excited, feels "that he -was out of sorts because he lacked something without being able to -explain what, and this ill-humour he took everywhere with him." In such -a mood he is enraged even at his mistress, science; as he wanders for -the first time in the glow of the midday sun through Pompeii, all his -science had left him without the least desire to rediscover it; "he -remembered it as from a great distance, and he felt that it had been an -old, dried-up, boresome aunt, dullest and most superfluous creature in -the world." (_G._ p. 48.) - -In this uncomfortable and confused state of mind, one of the riddles -which are connected with this journey is solved for him at the moment -when he first sees Gradiva walking through Pompeii; "he became -conscious, for the first time, that he had, without himself knowing the -motive in his heart, come to Italy on that account and had, without -stop, continued from Rome and Naples to Pompeii to see if he could here -find trace of her--and that in a literal sense--for, with her unusual -gait, she must have left behind in the ashes a foot-print different from -all the others." (_G._ p. 50.) - -As our author has put so much care into the delineation of this trip, it -must be worth our while to explain its relation to Hanold's delusion and -its place in the sequence of events. The journey is undertaken for -motives which the character does not at first recognize and does not -admit until later, motives which our author designates directly as -"unconscious." This is certainly true to life; one does not need to have -a delusion to act thus; rather it is an everyday occurrence, even for -normal people, that they are deceived about the motives of their actions -and do not become conscious of them until subsequently, when a conflict -of several emotional currents re-establishes for them the condition for -such confusion. Hanold's trip, therefore, was intended, from the -beginning, to serve the delusion, and was to take him to Pompeii to -continue there the search for Gradiva. Let us remember that before, and -directly after the dream, this search filled his mind and that the dream -itself was only a stifled answer of his consciousness to the question of -the whereabouts of Gradiva. Some force which we do not recognize, -however, next prevents the plan of the delusion from becoming conscious, -so that only insufficient pretexts, which can be but partially revived, -remain as a conscious motivation for the trip. The author gives us -another riddle by having the dream, the discovery of the supposed -Gradiva on the street, and the decision to make the journey because of -the influence of the singing canary follow one another like chance -occurrences without inner coherence. - -With the help of the explanations which we gather from the later -speeches of Zoe Bertgang, this obscure part of the tale is illuminated -for our understanding. It was really the original of Gradiva, Miss Zoe, -herself, whom Hanold saw from his window walking on the street (_G._ p. -23), and whom he would soon have overtaken. The statement of the -dreamer--"she is really living now in the present, in the same city with -you,"--would, therefore, by a lucky chance, have experienced an -irrefutable corroboration, before which his inner resistance would have -collapsed. The canary, however, whose song impelled Hanold to go away, -belonged to Zoe, and his cage was in her window, in the house diagonally -opposite from Hanold's (_G._ p. 98). Hanold, who, according to the -girl's arraignment, was endowed with negative hallucination, understood -the art of not seeing nor recognizing people, and must from the -beginning have had unconscious knowledge of what we do not discover -until later. The signs of Zoe's proximity, her appearance on the street, -and her bird's song so near his window intensify the effect of the -dream, and in this condition, so dangerous for his resistance to the -eroticism, he takes flight. The journey arises from the recovery of the -resistance after that advance of erotic desire in the dream, an attempt -at flight from the living and present beloved. It means practically a -victory for repression, which, this time, in the delusion keeps the -upper hand, as, in his former action, the "pedestrian investigations" of -women and girls, the eroticism had been victorious. Everywhere, however, -the indecision of the struggle, the compromise nature of the results was -evident; the trip to Pompeii, which is to take him away from the living -Zoe leads, at any rate, to her substitute, Gradiva. The journey, which -is undertaken in defiance of the most recent dream-thoughts, follows, -however, the order of the manifest dream-content to Pompeii. Thus -delusion triumphs anew every time that eroticism and resistance struggle -anew. - -This conception of Hanold's trip, as a flight from the erotic desire for -the beloved, who is so near, which is awakening in him, harmonizes, -however, with the frame of mind portrayed in him during his stay in -Italy. The rejection of the eroticism, which dominates him, expresses -itself there in his abhorrence of honeymoon travellers. A little dream -in the "albergo" in Rome, caused by the proximity of a couple of German -lovers, "Augustus" and "Gretchen," whose evening conversation he is -forced to overhear through the thin partition, casts a further light on -the erotic tendencies of his first great dream. The new dream transports -him again to Pompeii where Vesuvius is just having another eruption, and -thus refers to the dream which continues active during his trip; but -among the imperilled people he sees this time--not as before himself and -Gradiva--but Apollo Belvedere and the Capitoline Venus,--doubtless -ironic exaltation of the couple in the adjoining room. Apollo lifts -Venus, carries her away, and lays her on an object in the dark, which -seems to be a carriage or a cart, for a "rattling sound" comes from it. -Otherwise the dream needs no special skill for its interpretation. (_G._ -p. 32.) - -Our author, whom we have long relied on not to make a single stroke in -his picture idly and without purpose, has given us another bit of -testimony for the non-sexual force dominating Hanold on the trip. During -hours of wandering in Pompeii, it happens that "remarkably, it did not -once appear in his memory that he had dreamed some time ago that he had -been present at the destruction of Pompeii by the volcanic eruption of -79." (_G._ p. 42.) At sight of Gradiva he first suddenly remembers this -dream, and at the same time the motive of the delusion for his puzzling -journey becomes conscious. Then what other meaning could there be for -forgetting the dream, this repression-boundary between the dream and the -psychic condition of the journey, than that the journey is not the -result of the direct instigation of the dream, but of the rejection of -this latter, as the emanation from a psychic force which desires no -knowledge of the secret meaning of the dream? - -On the other hand, however, Hanold is not happy at this victory over his -eroticism. The suppressed psychic impulse remains strong enough to -revenge itself, by discontent and interception, on the suppressing -agency. His longing has changed to restlessness and dissatisfaction, -which make the trip seem senseless to him. His insight into the -motivation of his trip is obstructed in service of the delusion; his -relation to science, which ought, in such a place, to stir all his -interest, is upset. So our author shows his hero, after flight from -love, in a sort of crisis, in an utterly confused and unsettled -condition, in a derangement such as usually appears at the climax of -illness if neither of the two struggling forces is so much stronger than -the other, that the difference could establish a strict, psychic regime. -Here then our author takes hold to help and to settle, for, at this -place, he introduces Gradiva, who undertakes the cure of the delusion. -With his power to direct to a happy solution the fortunes of all the -characters created by him, in spite of all the requirements which he has -them conform to, he transports the girl, from whom Hanold has fled to -Pompeii, to that very place and thus corrects the folly which the -delusion caused the young man to commit in leaving the home-city of his -beloved for the dead abode of the one substituted for her by his fancy. - -With the appearance of Zoe Bertgang as Gradiva, which marks the climax -of the suspense of the story, our interest is soon diverted. If we have -hitherto been living through the developments of a delusion, we shall -now become witnesses of its cure, and may ask ourselves if our author -has merely invented the procedure of this cure or has carried it out -according to actually existing possibilities. From Zoe's own words in -the conversation with her friend, we have decidedly the right to ascribe -to her the intention to cure the hero (_G._ p. 97). But how does she go -about it? After she has cast aside the indignation which the -unreasonable request, to lie down to sleep again, as "then," had evoked -in her, she appears again next day, at the same place, and elicits from -Hanold all the secret knowledge that was lacking to her for an -understanding of his conduct of the previous day. She learns of his -dream, of the bas-relief of Gradiva, and of the peculiarity of walk -which she shares with the relief. She accepts the role of a spirit -awakened to life for a short hour, which, she observes, his delusion -assigns to her, and in ambiguous words, she gently puts him in the way -of a new role by accepting from him the grave-flower which he had -brought along without conscious purpose, and expresses regret that he -has not given her roses (_G._ p. 70). - -Our interest in the conduct of the eminently clever girl, who has -decided to win the lover of her youth as husband, after she has -recognized his love behind his delusion as its impelling force, is, -however, restrained at this place probably because of the strange -feelings that the delusion can arouse even in us. Its latest -development, that Gradiva, who was buried in the year 79, can now -exchange conversation with him as a noon-spirit, for an hour, after the -passing of which she sinks out of sight or seeks her grave again, this -chimaera, which is not confused by the perception of her modern -foot-covering, nor by her ignorance of the ancient tongues, nor by her -command of German, which did not exist in former times, seems indeed to -justify the author's designation, "A Pompeiian Fancy," but to exclude -every standard of clinical reality; and yet on closer consideration the -improbability in this delusion seems to me, for the most part, to -vanish. To be sure, our author has taken upon himself a part of the -blame, and in the first part of the story has offered the fact that Zoe -was the image of the bas-relief in every trait. One must, therefore, -guard against transferring the improbability of this preliminary to its -logical conclusion that Hanold considers the girl to be Gradiva come to -life. The explanation of the delusion is here enhanced by the fact that -our author has offered us no rational disposal of it. In the glowing sun -of the Campagna and in the bewildering magic powers of the vine which -grows on Vesuvius, our author has introduced helpful and mitigating -circumstances of the transgression of the hero. The most important of -all explanatory and exonerating considerations remains, however, the -facility with which our intellect decides to accept an absurd content if -impulses with a strong emotional stress find thereby their satisfaction. -It is astonishing, and generally meets with too little acceptance, how -easily and often intelligent people, under such psychological -constellations, give the reactions of partial mental weakness, and any -one who is not too conceited may observe this in himself as often as he -wishes, and especially when a part of the thought-processes under -consideration is connected with unconscious or repressed motives. I -cite, in this connection, the words of a philosopher who writes to me, -"I have also begun to make note of cases of striking mistakes, from my -own experience, and of thoughtless actions which one subsequently -explains to himself (in a very unreasonable way). It is amazing but -typical how much stupidity thereby comes to light." Now let us consider -the fact that belief in spirits, apparitions and returning souls (which -finds so much support in the religions to which, at least as children, -we have all clung) is by no means destroyed among all educated people, -and that many otherwise reasonable people find their interest in -spiritism compatible with their reason. Yes, even one become -dispassionate and incredulous may perceive with shame how easily he -turns back for a moment to a belief in spirits, when emotions and -perplexity concur in him. I know of a physician who had once lost a -patient by Basedow's disease and could not rid himself of the slight -suspicion that he had perhaps contributed by unwise medication to the -unfortunate outcome. One day several years later there stepped into his -office a girl, in whom, in spite of all reluctance, he was obliged to -recognize the dead woman. His only thought was that it was true that the -dead could return, and his fear did not give way to shame until the -visitor introduced herself as the sister of the woman who had died of -that disease. Basedow's disease lends to those afflicted with it a great -similarity of features, which has often been noticed, and in this case -the typical resemblance was far more exaggerated than the family -resemblance. The physician, moreover, to whom this happened was I, and -therefore I am not inclined to quarrel with Norbert Hanold over the -clinical possibility of his short delusion about Gradiva, who had -returned to life. That in serious cases of chronic delusion (paranoia) -the most extreme absurdities, ingeniously devised and well supported, -are active is, finally, well known to every psychiatrist. - -After his first meeting with Gradiva, Norbert Hanold had drunk his wine -in first one and then another of the hotels of Pompeii known to him, -while the other guests were having their regular meals. "Of course, in -no way had the absurd supposition entered his mind" that he was doing -this to find out what hotel Gradiva lived and ate in, but it is hard to -say what other significance his action could have. On the day after his -second meeting in Meleager's house, he has all sorts of remarkable and -apparently disconnected experiences; he finds a narrow cleft in the wall -of the portico where Gradiva had disappeared, meets a foolish -lizard-catcher, who addresses him as an acquaintance, discovers a -secluded hotel, the "Albergo del Sole," whose owner talks him into -buying a metal brooch encrusted with green patina, which had been found -with the remains of a Pompeiian girl, and finally notices in his own -hotel a newly-arrived young couple, whom he diagnoses to be brother and -sister, and congenial. All these impressions are then woven into a -"remarkably nonsensical" dream as follows: - -"Somewhere in the sun Gradiva sat making a trap out of a blade of grass -in order to catch a lizard, and she said, 'Please stay quite still--my -colleague is right; the method is really good and she has used it with -the greatest success.'" - -To this dream he offers resistance even while sleeping, with the -critique that it is indeed the most utter madness, and he casts about to -free himself from it. He succeeds in doing this, too, with the aid of an -invisible bird who utters a short, merry call, and carries the lizard -away in his beak. - -Shall we risk an attempt to interpret this dream also, that is, to -substitute for it the latent thoughts from whose disfigurement it must -have proceeded? It is as nonsensical as one could expect a dream to be -and this absurdity of dreams is the mainstay of the view which denies to -the dream the character of a valid psychic act, and has it proceed from -a desultory stimulus of the psychic elements. - -We can apply to this dream the technique which can be designated as the -regular procedure of dream-interpretation. It consists in disregarding -the apparent sequence in the manifest dream but in examining separately -every part of the content, and in seeking its derivation in the -impressions, memories and free ideas of the dreamer. As we cannot -examine Hanold, however, we must be satisfied with reference to his -impressions, and may with due caution substitute our own ideas for his. - -"Somewhere in the sun Gradiva sat catching lizards, and said ..." What -impression of the day is this part of the dream reminiscent of? -Unquestionably of the meeting with the older man, the lizard-catcher, -for whom Gradiva is substituted in the dream. He was sitting or lying on -a "hot, sunny" slope and spoke to Hanold, too. Even the utterances of -Gradiva in the dream are copied from those of the man. Let us compare: -"'The method suggested by my colleague, Eimer, is really good; I have -already used it often with the best of success. Please remain quite -still.'"--Quite similarly Gradiva speaks in the dream, only that for the -_colleague, Eimer_, is substituted an unnamed woman-colleague; the -_often_ from the zoologist's speech is missing in the dream, and the -connection between the statements has been somewhat changed. It seems, -therefore, that this experience of the day has been transformed into a -dream by some changes and disfigurements. Why thus, and what is the -meaning of the disfigurements, the substitution of Gradiva for the old -gentleman, and the introduction of the puzzling "woman-colleague"? - -There is a rule of dream-interpretation as follows: A speech heard in a -dream always originates from a speech either heard or uttered in waking -life. Well, this rule seems followed here; the speech of Gradiva is only -a modification of a speech heard in the daytime from the zoologist. -Another rule of dream-interpretation would tell us that the substitution -of one person for another, or the mixture of two people by showing one -in a position which characterizes the other means equivalence of the two -people, a correspondence between them. Let us venture to apply this rule -also to our dream; then the interpretation would follow: "Gradiva -catches lizards, as that old gentleman does, and like him, is skilled in -lizard-catching." This result is not comprehensible yet, but we have -another riddle before us. To which impression of the day shall we refer -the "woman colleague," who is substituted in the dream for the famous -zoologist, Eimer? We have here fortunately not much choice; only one -other girl can be meant by "woman-colleague," the congenial young lady -in whom Hanold has conjectured a sister travelling with her brother. "In -her gown she wore a red Sorrento rose, the sight of which, as he looked -across from his corner, stirred something in his memory without his -being able to think what it was." This observation on the part of the -author surely gives us the right to assert that she is the -"woman-colleague" of the dream. What Hanold cannot remember is certainly -nothing but the remark of the supposed Gradiva, as she asked him for the -grave-flower, that to more fortunate girls one brought roses in spring. -In this speech, however, lay a hidden wooing. What kind of -lizard-catching is it that this more fortunate woman-colleague has been -so successful with? - -On the next day Hanold surprises the supposed brother and sister in -tender embrace and can thus correct his mistake of the previous day. -They are really a couple of lovers, on their honeymoon, as we later -learn, when the two disturb, so unexpectedly, Hanold's third meeting -with Zoe. If we will now accept the idea that Hanold, who consciously -considers them brother and sister, has, in his unconscious, recognized -at once their real relation, which on the next day betrays itself so -unequivocally, there results a good meaning for Gradiva's remark in the -dream. The red rose then becomes a symbol for being in love; Hanold -understands that the two are as Gradiva and he are soon to be; the -lizard-catching acquires the meaning of husband-catching, and Gradiva's -speech means something like this: "Let me arrange things; I know how to -win a husband as well as this other girl does." - -Why must this penetration of Zoe's intentions appear throughout in the -form of the speech of the old zoologist? Why is Zoe's skill in -husband-catching represented by that of the old man in lizard-catching? -Well, it is easy for us to answer that question; we have long ago -guessed that the lizard-catcher is none other than the professor of -zoology, Bertgang, Zoe's father, who must, of course, also know Hanold, -so that it is a matter of course that he addresses Hanold as an -acquaintance. Again, let us accept the idea that Hanold, in his -unconscious, immediately recognizes the professor--"It seemed to him -dimly that he had already seen the face of the lizard-hunter probably in -one of the two hotels." Thus is explained the strange cloaking of the -purpose attributed to Zoe. She is the daughter of the lizard-catcher; -she has inherited this skill from him. The substitution of Gradiva for -the lizard-catcher in the dream-content, is, therefore, the -representation of the relation between the two people, which was -recognized by the unconscious; the introduction of "woman-colleague" in -place of _colleague, Eimer_, allows the dream to express comprehension -of her courtship of the man. The dream has welded two of the day's -experiences in one situation, "condensed" as we say, in order to -procure, to be sure, very indiscernible expression for two ideas which -are not allowed to become conscious; but we can go on diminishing the -strangeness of the dream still more and pointing out the influence of -other experiences of the day on the formation of the manifest dream. - -Dissatisfied by the former information, we might explain why the scene -of the lizard-catching was made the nucleus of the dream, and suppose -that the other elements in the dream-thoughts influence the term -"lizard" in the manifest dream. It might really be very easy. Let us -recall that Hanold has discovered a cleft in the wall, in the place -where Gradiva seems to him to disappear; this is "wide enough to afford -passage to an unusually slender figure." By this perception he is forced -in the day-time to an alteration in his delusion; Gradiva did not sink -into the ground when she disappeared from his sight, but was going back, -by this route, to her grave. In his unconscious thought he might say to -himself that he had now found the natural explanation for the surprising -disappearance of the girl; but must not forcing one's self through -narrow clefts, and disappearing in such clefts recall the conduct of -lizards? Does not Gradiva herself, then, in this connection, behave like -an agile little lizard? We think, therefore, that the discovery of this -cleft in the wall had worked as a determinant on the choice of the -"lizard" element for the manifest dream-content; the lizard-situation of -the dream, therefore, represented this impression of the day, and the -meeting with the zoologist, Zoe's father. - -What if, become bold, we now wished to attempt to find in the -dream-content a representation also for the one experience of the day -which has not yet been turned to account, the discovery of the third -hotel, "del Sole"? Our author has treated this episode so exhaustively -and linked so much with it, we should be surprised if it, alone, had -yielded no contribution to the dream-formation. Hanold enters this -hotel, which, because of its secluded situation and its distance from -the station, has remained unknown to him, to get a bottle of lime-water -for congestion of blood. The hotel-keeper uses this opportunity to extol -his antiques and shows him a brooch which, it was alleged, had belonged -to that Pompeiian girl who was found near the Forum in fond embrace with -her lover. Hanold, who had never before believed this frequently -repeated story, is now compelled, by a force strange to him, to believe -in the truth of this touching story and in the genuineness of the -article found, buys the brooch and leaves the hotel with his purchase. -In passing, he sees nodding down at him from one of the windows a -cluster of white, asphodel blossoms which had been placed in a -water-glass, and he feels that this sight is an attestation of the -genuineness of his new possession. The sincere conviction is now -impressed upon him that the green brooch belonged to Gradiva, and that -she was the girl who died in her lover's embrace. The tormenting -jealousy, which thereupon seizes him, he appeases with the resolution to -assure himself about this suspicion, the next day, from Gradiva, -herself, by showing the brooch. This is a strange bit of new delusion; -and shouldn't any trace point to it in the dream of the following night? - -It will be well worth our while to get an understanding of the origin of -this augmentation of the delusion, to look up the new unconscious idea -for which the new bit of delusion is substituted. The delusion -originates under the influence of the proprietor of the "Sun Hotel," -toward whom Hanold conducts himself in so remarkably credulous a manner, -as if he has received a suggestion from him. The proprietor shows him a -small metal brooch as genuine, and as the possession of that girl who -was found in the arms of her lover, buried in the ashes, and Hanold, who -could be critical enough to doubt the truth of the story as well as the -genuineness of the brooch, is caught, credulous, and buys the more than -doubtful antique. It is quite incomprehensible why he should act so, and -no hint is given that the personality of the proprietor himself might -solve this riddle for us. There is, however, another riddle in this -incident, and two riddles sometimes solve each other. On leaving the -"albergo," he catches sight of an asphodel cluster in a glass at a -window, and finds in it an attestation of the genuineness of the metal -brooch. How can that be? This last stroke is fortunately easy of -solution. The white flower is, of course, the one which he presented to -Gradiva at noon, and it is quite right that through the sight of it at -one of the windows of this hotel, something is corroborated, not the -genuineness of the brooch, but something else which has become clear to -him at the discovery of this formerly overlooked "albergo." In the -forenoon he has already acted as if he were seeking, in the two hotels -of Pompeii, where the person lived who appeared to him as Gradiva. Now, -as he stumbles so unexpectedly upon a third, he must say in the -unconscious: "So she lives here"; and then, on leaving: "Right there is -the asphodel flower I gave her; that is, therefore, her window." This, -then, is the new idea for which the delusion is substituted, and which -cannot become conscious because its assumption that Gradiva is living, a -person known by him, cannot become conscious. - -How then is the substitution of the delusion for the new idea supposed -to have occurred? I think thus: that the feeling of conviction which -clung to the idea was able to assert itself and persisted, while another -ideational content related to it by thought-connection acted as -substitute for the idea itself which was incapable of consciousness. -Thus the feeling of conviction was connected with a really strange -content, and this latter attained, as delusion, a recognition which did -not belong to it. Hanold transfers his conviction that Gradiva lives in -this house to other impressions which he receives in this house, -becomes, in a way, credulous about what the proprietor says, the -genuineness of the metal brooch, and the truth of the anecdote about the -lovers found in an embrace, but only by this route, that he connects -what he has heard in this house with Gradiva. The jealousy which has -been lying ready in him gets possession of this material, and even in -contradiction to his first dream there appears the delusion that Gradiva -was the girl who died in the arms of her lover, and that the brooch -which he bought belonged to her. - -We notice that the conversation with Gradiva, and her gentle wooing -"through the flower," have already evoked important changes in Hanold. -Traits of male desire, components of the libido are awakened in him, -which, to be sure, cannot yet dispense with the concealment through -conscious pretexts; but the problem of the corporeal nature of Gradiva, -which has pursued him this whole day, cannot disavow its derivation from -the erotic desire of the young man for possession of the woman, even if -it is dragged into the scientific world by conscious stress on Gradiva's -peculiar hovering between life and death. Jealousy is an added mark of -Hanold's awakening activity in love; he expresses this at the opening of -the conversation on the next day, and with the aid of a new pretext -achieves his object of touching the girl's body, and of striking her, as -in times long past. - -Now, however, it is time to ask if the course of delusion-formation -which we have inferred from our author's representation is one otherwise -admitted or possible. From my experience as physician, I can answer only -that it is surely the right way, perhaps the only one, in which the -delusion receives the unswerving recognition due to its clinical -character. If the patient believes in his delusion so firmly, it does -not happen because of inversion of his powers of judgment, and does not -proceed from what is erroneous in the delusion; but in every delusion -there lies also a little grain of truth; there is something in it which -really deserves belief, and this is the source of the conviction of the -patient, who is, to this extent, justified. This true element, however, -has been repressed for a long time; if it finally succeeds in pushing -into consciousness (this time in disfigured form), the feeling of a -conviction clinging to it, as if in compensation, is over-strong and now -clings to and protects the disfigurement-substitute of the repressed, -true element against every critical impugnment. The conviction at once -shifts itself from the unconscious, true element to the conscious, -erroneous one connected with it, and remains fixed there as a result of -this very displacement. The case of delusion-formation which resulted -from Hanold's first dream is nothing but a similar, if not identical, -case of such displacement. Yes, the depicted manner of development of -conviction in the delusion is not fundamentally different from the way -in which conviction is formed in normal cases, where repression does not -enter into play. All our convictions lie in thought-contents in which -the true and the false are combined and _they stretch over the former -and the latter_. They differentiate at once between the true and -whatever false is associated with it and protect this, even if not so -immutably as in the delusion, against merited critique. Associations, -protection, likewise, have their own value even for normal psychology. - -I will now return to the dream and lay stress on a small, but not -uninteresting feature which establishes a connection between two -occasions of the dream. Gradiva had placed the white asphodel flower in -definite contrast to the red rose; the finding of the asphodel flower -again in the window of the "Albergo del Sole" becomes a weighty proof -for Hanold's unconscious idea which expresses itself in a new delusion; -and to this is added the fact that the red rose in the dress of the -congenial young girl helps Hanold again, in the unconscious, to a right -estimation of her relation to her companion so that he can have her -enter the dream as "woman colleague." - -But where in the manifest dream-content is found the trace and -representation of that discovery of Hanold's for which we find that the -new delusion is substituted, the discovery that Gradiva lives with her -father in the third hotel of Pompeii, the "Albergo del Sole," which he -has not been acquainted with? Well, it stands in its entirety and not -even much disfigured in the dream; but I dread to point it out, for I -know that even with the readers whose patience with me has lasted so -long, a strong opposition to my attempts at interpretation will be -stirred up. Hanold's discovery is given in full in the dream-content, I -repeat, but so cleverly concealed that one must needs overlook it. It is -hidden there behind a play on words, an ambiguity. "Somewhere in the sun -Gradiva sat"; this we have rightly connected with the locality where -Hanold met the zoologist, her father; but can it not also mean in the -"Sun," that is, in the "Albergo del Sole," in the "Sun Hotel" Gradiva -lives? And doesn't the "somewhere" which has no reference to the meeting -with her father sound so hypocritically indefinite for the very reason -that it introduces the definite information about the whereabouts of -Gradiva? According to previous experience in the interpretation of real -dreams, I am quite sure of such a meaning in the ambiguity, but I should -really not venture to offer this bit of interpretation to my readers, if -our author did not lend me here his powerful assistance. On the next day -he puts into the mouth of the girl, when she sees the metal brooch, the -same pun which we accept for the interpretation of the dream-content. -"Did you find it in the sun, perhaps? It brings to light many such works -of art"; and as Hanold does not understand the speech, she explains that -she means the "Sun Hotel," which is called "Sole" here, whence the -supposed antique is also familiar to her. - -And now may we make the attempt to substitute for Hanold's "remarkably -nonsensical" dream unconscious thoughts hidden behind it and as unlike -it as possible? It runs somewhat as follows: "She lives in the 'Sun' -with her father; why is she playing such a game with me? Does she wish -to make fun of me? Or could it be possible that she loves me and wishes -me for a husband?" To this latter possibility there now follows in sleep -the rejection, "That is the most utter madness," which is apparently -directed against the whole manifest dream. - -Critical readers have now the right to inquire about the origin of that -interpolation, not formerly established, which refers to being made fun -of by Gradiva. To this _Traumdeutung_ gives the answer; if in -dream-thoughts, taunts and sneers, or bitter contradictions occur, they -are expressed by the nonsensical course of the manifest dream, through -the absurdity in the dream. The latter means, therefore, no paralysis of -psychic activity, but is one of the means of representation which the -dream-work makes use of. As always in especially difficult passages, our -author here comes to our assistance. The nonsensical dream has another -postlude in which a bird utters a merry call and takes away the lizard -in his beak. Such a laughing call Hanold had heard after Gradiva's -disappearance. It really came from Zoe who was shaking off the -melancholy seriousness of her lower world role; with this laugh Gradiva -had really derided him. The dream-picture, however, of the bird carrying -away the lizard may recall that other one in a former dream in which -Apollo Belvedere carried away the Capitoline Venus. - -Perhaps the impression now exists with many readers that the -interpretation of the lizard-catching situation by the idea of wooing is -not sufficiently justified. Additional support is found here, perhaps in -the hint that Zoe, in conversation with her colleague, admits about -herself that very thing which Hanold's thoughts suppose about her, when -she tells that she had been sure of "digging up" something interesting -for herself here in Pompeii. She thereby delves into the archaeological -series of associations as he did into the zoological with his allegory -of lizard-catching, as if they were opposing each other and each wished -to assume properties of the other. - -Thus we have finished the interpretation of the second dream. Both have -become accessible to our understanding under the presupposition that the -dreamer, in his unconscious thought, knows all that he has forgotten in -his conscious, has in the former rightly judged everything which, in the -latter, he delusively misconstrues. In this connection we have, of -course, been obliged to make many assertions which sounded odd to the -reader because they were strange to him and probably often awakened the -suspicion that we were giving out as our author's meaning what is only -our own meaning. We are ready to do everything to dissipate this -suspicion and will therefore gladly consider more exhaustively one of -the most knotty points--I mean the use of ambiguous words and speeches -as in the example, "Somewhere in the Sun Gradiva sat." - -It must be striking to every reader of _Gradiva_ how often our author -puts into the mouths of both the leading characters speeches which have -double meaning. For Hanold these speeches are intended to have only one -meaning, and only his companion, Gradiva, is affected by their other -meaning. Thus, after her first answer, he exclaims: "I knew that your -voice sounded so," and the yet unenlightened Zoe has to ask how that is -possible, as he has never before heard her speak. In the second -conversation, the girl is for a moment puzzled by his delusion, as he -assures her that he recognized her at once. She must understand these -words in the meaning that is correct for his unconscious, as his -recognition of their acquaintance which reaches back into childhood, -while he, of course, knows nothing of this meaning of his speech and -explains it only by reference to the delusion which dominates him. The -speeches of the girl, on the other hand, in whose person the most -brilliant mental clarity is opposed to the delusion, are made -intentionally ambiguous. One meaning of them falls in with the ideas of -Hanold's delusion, in order to enable her to penetrate into his -conscious comprehension, the other raises itself above the delusion, -and, as a rule, gives us the interpretation of it in the unconscious -truth which has been represented by it. It is a triumph of wit to be -able to represent the delusion and the truth in the same expression. - -Interspersed with such ambiguities is Zoe's speech in which she explains -the situation to her girl friend and at the same time rids herself of -her disturbing society; it is really spoken out of the book, calculated -more for us readers than for her happy colleague. In the conversations -with Hanold, the double meaning is chiefly established by the fact that -Zoe makes use of the symbolism which we find followed in Hanold's first -dream, in the equivalence of repression and destruction, Pompeii and -childhood. Thus on the one hand she can, in her speeches, continue in -the role which Hanold's delusion assigns to her, on the other, she can -touch upon the real relations, and awaken in Hanold's unconscious a -knowledge of them. - -"I have long accustomed myself to being dead." (_G._ p. 70.) "For me, -the flower of oblivion is the right one from your hand" (_G._ p. 70). In -these speeches is given lightly the reproof which then breaks out -clearly enough in her last sermon when she compares him to an -archaeopteryx. "That a person must die to become alive again; but for -archaeologists that is, of course, necessary" (_G._ p. 102), she -continues after the solution of the delusion as if to give us the key to -her ambiguous speeches. The most beautiful symbolism appears, however, -in the question (_G._ p. 88): "It seems to me as if we had already eaten -our bread thus together once two thousand years ago. Can't you remember -it?" In this speech the substitution of historic antiquity for -childhood, and the effort to awaken his memory of the latter are quite -unmistakable. - -Whence, therefore, comes this striking preference for ambiguous speeches -in _Gradiva_? It seems to us not chance, but the necessary sequence from -the preliminaries of the tale. It is nothing but the counterpart of the -twofold determination of symptoms in so far as the speeches are -themselves symptoms and proceed from compromises between the conscious -and the unconscious; but one notices this double origin in the speeches -more easily than in the acts; and when, as the pliability of the -material of conversation often makes possible, each of the two -intentions of a speech succeeds by the same arrangement of words in -expressing itself well, then there is present what we call an -"ambiguity." - -During the psychotherapeutic treatment of a delusion, or an analogous -disturbance, one often evolves such ambiguous speeches in patients as -new symptoms of the most fleeting duration, and can even succeed in -making use of them, whereby, with the meaning intended for the -consciousness of the patient, one can, not infrequently, stimulate the -understanding for the one valid in the unconscious. I know from -experience that among the uninitiate this role of ambiguity usually -gives the greatest offence, and causes the grossest misunderstanding, -but our author was right, at any rate, in representing in his production -this characteristic feature of the processes of the formation of dream -and delusion. - - - IV - -With Zoe's entrance as physician there is awakened in us, we said, a new -interest. We are eager to learn if such a cure as she accomplishes on -Hanold is comprehensible or possible, whether our author has observed -the conditions of the passing of a delusion as correctly as those of its -development. - -Without doubt a view will be advanced denying to the case portrayed by -our author such a principal interest, and recognizing no problem -requiring an explanation. For Hanold nothing more remains, it might be -asserted, but to solve his delusion again, after its object, the -supposed Gradiva, conveys to him the incorrectness of all his assertions -and gives him the most natural explanations for everything puzzling; for -example, how she knows his name. Thereby the affair would be settled -logically; as, however, the girl in this case has confessed her love, -for the satisfaction of his feminine readers, our author would surely -allow the otherwise not uninteresting story to end in the usually happy -way, marriage. More consistent, and just as possible, would have been -the different conclusion that the young scholar, after the explanation -of his mistake, should, with polite thanks, take his leave of the young -lady and in that way motivate the rejection of her love so that he might -offer an intense interest to ancient women of bronze or stone, or the -originals of these, if they were attainable, but might have no idea of -how to deal with a girl of flesh and blood of his own time. The -archaeological fancy was most arbitrarily cemented into a love-story by -our author, himself. - -In discountenancing this conception as impossible, our attention is -first called to the fact that we have to attribute the change beginning -in Norbert Hanold not to the relinquishment of the delusion alone. At -the same time, indeed before the solution of the latter, there is in him -an undeniable awakening of the desire for love, which, of course, -results in his asking for the hand of the girl who has freed him from -delusion. We have already shown under what pretexts and cloakings, -curiosity about her corporeal nature, jealousy, and the brutal male -impulse for possession are expressed in him in the midst of the -delusion, since repressed desire put the first dream into his mind. Let -us add the further testimony that in the evening after the second talk -with Gradiva a living woman for the first time seems congenial to him, -although he still makes the concession to his abhorrence of honeymoon -travellers, by not recognizing the congenial girl as newly married. The -next forenoon, however, chance makes him witness of an exchange of -caresses between the girl and her supposed brother, and he draws back -shyly as if he had disturbed a holy ceremony. Disdain for "Augustus" and -"Gretchen" is forgotten and respect for love is restored to him. - -Thus our author has connected the treatment of the delusion and the -breaking forth of the desire for love most closely with one another, and -prepared the outcome in a love-affair as necessary. He knows the nature -of the delusion even better than his critics; he knows that a component -of amorous desire has combined with a component of resistance in the -formation of the delusion, and he has the girl who undertakes the cure -discover in Hanold's delusion the component referring to her. Only this -insight can make her decide to devote herself to treating him, only the -certainty of knowing herself loved by him can move her to confess to him -her love. The treatment consists in restoring to him, from without, the -repressed memories which he cannot release from within; it would be -ineffective if the therapeutist did not consider the emotions; and the -interpretation of the delusion would not finally be: "See; all that -means only that you love me." - -The procedure which our author has his Zoe follow for the cure of the -delusion of the friend of her youth, shows a considerable resemblance, -no, complete agreement, essentially, with a therapeutic method which Dr. -J. Breuer and the present writer introduced into medicine in 1895, and -to the perfection of which the latter has since devoted himself. This -method of treatment, first called the "cathartic" by Breuer, which the -present writer has preferred to designate as "analytic," consists in -rather forcibly bringing into the consciousness of the patients who -suffer from disturbances analogous to Hanold's delusion, the -unconscious, through the repression of which they have become ill, just -as Gradiva does with the repressed memories of their childhood -relations. To be sure, accomplishment of this task is easier for Gradiva -than for the physician; she is, in this connection, in a position which -might be called ideal from many view-points. The physician who does not -fathom his patient in advance, and does not possess within himself, as -conscious memory, what is working in the patient as unconscious, must -call to his aid a complicated technique in order to overcome this -disadvantage. He must learn to gather with absolute certainty, from the -patient's conscious ideas and statements, the repressed material in him, -to guess the unconscious, when it betrays itself behind the patient's -conscious expressions and acts. The latter then does something similar -to what Norbert Hanold did at the end of the story, when he -re-translates the name, Gradiva, into _Bertgang_. The disturbance -disappears then by being traced back to its origin; analysis brings cure -at the same time. - -The similarity between the procedure of Gradiva and the analytic method -of psychotherapy is, however, not limited to these two points, making -the repressed conscious, and the concurrence of explanation and cure. It -extends itself to what proves the essential of the whole change, the -awakening of the emotions. Every disturbance analogous to Hanold's -delusion, which in science we usually designate as a psychoneurosis, -has, as a preliminary, the repression of part of the emotional life, to -speak boldly, of the sex-impulse, and at every attempt to introduce the -unconscious and repressed cause of illness into consciousness, the -emotional component necessarily awakens to renewed struggle with the -forces repressing it, to adjust itself for final result, often under -violent manifestations of reaction. In reawakening, in consciousness, of -repressed love, the process of recuperation is accomplished when we sum -up all the various components of sex-impulse as "love," and this -reawakening is irremissible, for the symptoms on account of which the -treatment was undertaken are nothing but the precipitations of former -struggles of repression and recurrence and can be solved and washed away -only by a new high-tide of these very passions. Every psychoanalytic -treatment is an attempt to free repressed love, which has formed a -miserable compromise-outlet in a symptom. Yes, the conformity with the -therapeutic process pictured by the author in _Gradiva_ reaches its -height when we add that even in analytical psychotherapy the reawakened -passion, whether love or hate, chooses the person of the physician as -its object every time. - -Then, of course, appear the differences which make the case of Gradiva -an ideal one such as the technique of physicians cannot attain. Gradiva -can respond to the love which is pushing through from the unconscious -into the conscious; the physician cannot; Gradiva was herself the object -of the former repressed love; her person offers at once a desirable -object to the freed erotic activity. The physician has been a stranger, -and after the cure must try to become a stranger again; often he does -not know how to advise the cured patient to apply in life her regained -capacity for love. To suggest what resources and makeshifts the -physician then employs to approach with more or less success the model -of a love-cure which our author has drawn for us, would carry us too far -away from our present task. - -Now, however, the last question which we have already evaded answering -several times. Our views about repression, the formation of delusion and -related disturbances, the formation and interpretation of dreams, the -role of erotic life, and the manner of cure for such disturbances are, -of course, not by any means the common property of science, to say -nothing of being the possession of educated people. If the insight which -makes our author able to create his "Fancy" in such a way that we can -analyse it like a real history of disease has for its foundation the -above-mentioned knowledge, we should like to find out the source of it. -One of the circle who, as was explained at the beginning, was interested -in the dreams of _Gradiva_ and their possible interpretation, put the -direct question to Wilhelm Jensen, whether any such similar theories of -science had been known to him. Our author answered, as was to be -expected, in the negative, and rather testily. His imagination had put -into his mind the _Gradiva_ in whom he had his joy; any one whom she did -not please might leave her alone. He did not suspect how much she had -pleased the readers. - -It is easily possible that our author's rejection does not stop at that. -Perhaps he denies knowledge of the rules which we have shown that he -follows, and disavows all the intentions which we recognized in his -production; I do not consider this improbable; then, however, only two -possibilities remain. Either we have presented a true caricature of -interpretation, by transferring to a harmless work of art tendencies of -which its creator had no idea, and have thereby shown again how easy it -is to find what one seeks and what one is engrossed with, a possibility -of which most strange examples are recorded in the history of -literature. Every reader may now decide for himself whether he cares to -accept such an explanation; we, of course, hold fast to the other, still -remaining view. We think that our author needed to know nothing of such -rules and intentions, so that he may disavow them in good faith, and -that we have surely found nothing in his romance which was not contained -in it. We are probably drawing from the same source, working over the -same material, each of us with a different method, and agreement in -results seems to vouch for the fact that both have worked correctly. Our -procedure consists of the conscious observation of abnormal psychic -processes in others, in order to be able to discover and express their -laws. Our author proceeds in another way; he directs his attention to -the unconscious in his own psyche, listens to its possibilities of -development and grants them artistic expression, instead of suppressing -them with conscious critique. Thus he learns from himself what we learn -from others, what laws the activity of this unconscious must follow, but -he does not need to express these laws, need not even recognize them -clearly; they are, as a result of his intelligent patience, contained -incarnate in his creatures. We unfold these laws by analysis of his -fiction as we discover them from cases of real illness, but the -conclusion seems irrefutable, that either both (our author, as well as -the physician) have misunderstood the unconscious in the same way or we -have both understood it correctly. This conclusion is very valuable for -us; for its sake, it was worth while for us to investigate the -representation of the formation and cure of delusion, as well as the -dreams, in Jensen's _Gradiva_ by the methods of therapeutic -psychoanalysis. - -We have reached the end. An observant reader might remind us that, at -the beginning, we had remarked that dreams are wishes represented as -fulfilled and that we still owe the proof of it. Well, we reply, our -arguments might well show how unjustifiable it would be to wish to cover -the explanations which we have to give of the dream with the formula -that the dream is a wish-fulfilment; but the assertion stands, and is -also easy to demonstrate for the dreams in _Gradiva_. The latent -dream-thoughts--we know now what is meant by that--may be of numerous -kinds; in _Gradiva_ they are day-remnants, thoughts which are left over -unheard, and not disposed of by the psychic activity of waking life. In -order that a dream may originate from them the co-operation of -a--generally unconscious--wish is required; this establishes the motive -power for the dream-formation; the day-remnants give the material for -it. In Norbert Hanold's first dream two wishes concur in producing the -dream, one capable of consciousness, the other, of course, belonging to -the unconscious, and active because of repression. This was the wish, -comprehensible to every archaeologist, to have been an eye-witness of -that catastrophe of 79. What sacrifice would be too great, for an -antiquarian, to realize this wish otherwise than through dreams! The -other wish and dream-maker is of an erotic nature: to be present when -the beloved lies down to sleep, to express it crudely. It is the -rejection of this which makes the dream an anxiety-dream. Less striking -are, perhaps, the impelling wishes of the second dream, but if we recall -its interpretation, we shall not hesitate to pronounce it also erotic. -The wish to be captured by the beloved, to yield and surrender to her, -as it may be construed behind the lizard-catching, has really a passive -masochistic character. On the next day the dreamer strikes the beloved, -as if under the sway of the antagonistic, erotic force; but we must stop -or we may forget that Hanold and Gradiva are only creatures of our -author. - - - THE END - - - _Printed in Great Britain by_ - UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOXING AND LONDON - - - - - [Footnotes] - - -Footnote 1: - -Freud, _Traumdeutung_, 1900 (Leipzig and Wien, 1911), translated by A. -A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B. _Interpretation of Dreams_, George Allen and -Unwin, Ltd., 1913. - -Footnote 2: - -The case N.H. would have to be designated as hysterical, not paranoiac -delusion. The marks of paranoia are lacking here. - -Footnote 3: - -See the important work by E. Bleuler, Affektivitaet, Suggestibilitaet, -Paranoia, translated by Dr. Charles Ricksher in N. Y. State Hospitals -Bulletin, Feb., 1912, and _Die diagnostischen Assoziationsstudien_ by C. -Jung, both Zuerich, 1906. - -Footnote 4: - -Cf. Freud: _Sammlung der kleiner Schriften zur Neurosenlehre_, 1906. -Translated in part by A. A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B. Nervous and Mental -Diseases Monograph Series No. 4. Selected Papers on Hysteria and other -Psychoneuroses. N. Y., 1912. - -Footnote 5: - -Cf. _Bruchstueck einer Hysterie-Analyse_, 1905. - -Footnote 6: - -Cf. Breuer u. Freud, _Studien, ueber Hysterie_, 1905. Leipzig and Wien, -translated by A. A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B. Nervous and Mental Diseases -Monograph Series No. 4. Selected Papers on Hysteria and other -Psychoneuroses. - -Footnote 7: - -_Sante de Sanctis_, I. Sogni. (Original in Italian.) Translated into -German, _Die Traeume_, by Mr. Otto Schmidt, 1901, Halle, a. S. - -Footnote 8: - -Compare the text of _Gradiva_, p. 21. - -Footnote 9: - -Cf. _Sammlung kl. Schriften zur Neurosenlehre_, V., and _Traumdeutung_, -p. 344. _Traumdeutung_ translated by A. A. Brill, M.D., Ph.B., -_Interpretation of Dreams_, George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1913 (p. 441). - -Footnote 10: - -_G._ p. 57: "No--not talked--but I called to you when you lay down to -sleep and stood near you then--your face was as calmly beautiful as if -it were of marble. May I beg you--rest it again on the step in that -way." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Delusion and Dream, by -Wilhelm Jensen and Sigmund Freud - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DELUSION AND DREAM *** - -***** This file should be named 44917.txt or 44917.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/9/1/44917/ - -Produced by Sean (scribe_for_hire@yahoo.com), based on -page images generously made available by the Internet -Archive -(https://archive.org/details/delusiondreamint00freuuoft). - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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