29.6.2010
I think I was wrong when I wrote that Aschenbach, in Thomas Mann's
novella Der Tod in Venedig, is led into his eventual death by
'following an instance of beauty wherever it leads, and whatever the
consequences may be' (in one of my earlier
posts on the subject of prefiguration in that text). It's true of course
that Aschenbach's all-overriding infatuation with the boy Tadzio is
the dominant factor in his losing touch with reality (as I've argued in the
post quoted above). But this influence only sets in after he arrives
in Venice, and thus cannot be what sets off the development in the first
place. Furthermore, what does get Aschenbach astray is, even though
triggered externally, something in his own psychological condition: his
desire to escape the tough work regime he has imposed on himself
("Fluchtdrang war sie, daß er es sich eingestand, diese Sehnsucht ins
Ferne und Neue, diese Begierde nach Befreiung, Entbürdung und Vergessen,
— der Drang hinweg vom Werke, von der Alltagsstätte eines starren,
kalten und leidenschaftlichen Dienstes", 190); his longing for the exotic
and magical (which lets him end up in Venice, of all places; most expressly
at 200); and perhaps a certain morbid relaxation in the face of death
allusions (think of his contemplation of death mysticism at the Munich
cemetery, 187, and his willingness to give in to the coffinesque comfort of
the Venetian gondola, 206 and 208).
So the question isn't just, as I wrote, why Aschenbach's realization that
his attempted synthesis between discipline, hard work, and dedication on the
one hand and the service of beauty on the other fails — it's also why
the drives that set off the development which exposes that failure start
earlier (and why, indeed, they start at all). They're not triggered by
the lure of beauty and the force of eros. Once the development has started,
however, these aesthetic elements provide the most powerful of all imaginable
amplifiers. Is therefore the trap into which Aschenbach falls a multi-staged
one? Is it only after fertile ground has been prepared by fatigue and escape
fantasies that corrosive aestheticism can complete its destructive work?
But if that's so, then why is there an external trigger (in all those
prefiguration characters) every time to bring these psychological states
to the front and enable them to control Aschenbach's decisions? Mann's whole
carefully crafted framework of symbols and allusions, parallels and
consequences, seems to have the singular purpose of producing a strongly
coherent, compulsively unwinding plot which at closer examination leaves
not the minutest detail to chance — everything's in the scheme, so
to speak. (And that's what primarily constitutes the high literary quality
and artistic value of the novella, after all.) The function of the
prefiguration characters is to drive Aschenbach towards the fateful setup
in Venice. And thus, psychological state alone can't account for what sets
the events of the story in motion.
