After a ten-year hiatus, we can finally enjoy the continuation of Johann Fischart’s Sämtliche Werke with the release of Das sechste Buch vom Amadis (1572), the third volume of Fischart’s complete works.
Johann Fischart (1546–90) is considered one of the most important German authors in the second half of the sixteenth century. He was widely read into the seventeenth century, but then was gradually forgotten. His popularity resurged briefly during the nineteenth century, after his works were rediscovered and promoted by Karl Hartwig Gregor von Meusebach (1781–1847). Like the Grimm brothers, who were his close friends, von Meusebach was inspired by the rise of Romantic nationalism to search the past for the literary heritage of the German people, and subsequently became interested in Fischart’s writings. Though Fischart’s oeuvre fell again into obscurity in subsequent years, a growing interest in his works has been underway during the past two decades. The expectation is that a new historical-critical edition of Fischart’s works will invite a wider audience to discover and assess the contributions of this important author, which are currently only familiar to specialists. His major work, the Geschichtklitterung (1590), a free adaptation of Rabelais’s Gargantua (1534), is a literary monument of dazzling complexity that has been compared to the works of the most experimental writers of the twentieth century, from James Joyce to Arno Schmidt.
Eulenspiegel reimenweis (1572), the second volume of Sämtliche Werke, is one of Fischart’s most accessible works. It is basically Fischart’s version of the Till Eulenspiegel tale. Adolf Hauffen, the leading Fischart scholar at the close of the nineteenth century, published an historical-critical edition with an introduction and line notes on word meanings and references to relevant scholarship in 1893. This edition was scanned and served as the primary basis for Eulenspiegel reimenweis. This new version eliminates, however, a substantial amount of errors found in the Hauffen edition. It also restores the text to some of its historical published context in, for example, its use of upper and lower case and punctuation, and above all the use of the virgule, or slash, in lieu of commas.
In Fischart’s day, Till Eulenspiegel was not only the legendary trickster, but it was also the title of one of the most popular early modern German books that was probably first printed in Strassburg around 1510/12. Like the Historia von D. Johann Fausten (1587), or the Lalebuch (1597), it is one of those vernacular texts of the sixteenth century that have become part of a vital literary tradition over time, and have, in fact, remained popular and widely read. While scholarly literature on the prose versions of the story is extensive, little is known about Fischart’s rhymed adaptation of the legend outside a very specialized scholarship. The editors propose that Fischart very likely used a 1569 prose version for his Eulenspiegel reimenweis.
The original Eulenspiegel is a collection of crude and comical tales that feature the jests and pranks of the title hero. There is no continuous narrative or quest, like those found in courtly epics, that would link the individual episodes together. Rather, unity is achieved through a kind of narrative frame provided by the hero’s life events (birth, death, and escapades). An early predecessor of the picaresque hero, Till readily adopts many masks in many places in order to take on the pillars of society, exposing their norms and values to ridicule.
What prompted Fischart to take up a widely popular prose work and transform it into a verse epic? A partial answer can be found in title cartouche showing Silenus, the foster father of Bacchus, riding not the muses’ horse Pegasus, but rather, the winged ass, “Sileni Pferdt” (17), which fittingly represents the low genre of satire. Fischart’s adaptation seems to follow in the footsteps of traditional verse satire, but his Eulenspiegel is quite different from the rather simplistic rhymed propaganda literature of the earlier part of the century. Fischart appropriates and transforms a traditional popular form by infusing it with all his learnedness in order to give his tale “Poetisch flügel” (11). He aims to address the aesthetic expectations and entertainment needs of an intellectually sophisticated readership in the prosperous cities of the Upper Rhine Valley. An important novelty is his addition of three preliminary sections that serve as introductions into his book.
The third volume of Sämtliche Werke contains Fischart’s translation of the sixth book of Amadis, which signifies a milestone in the development of the European novel in its emphasis on the entertainment value over the utility of the work. Garci-Rodriguez de Montalvo published the earliest known version in 1508. Spain is the country of origin of the first three books, which narrates the love story of Amadis and Oriana. A heroic knight who dedicates himself to Oriana, Amadis is unknowingly killed by his son Esplandian in battle, which prompts Oriana to commit suicide. This tragic ending was changed by Montalvo, who edited the first books and added a fourth. Here Esplandian does not kill his father but becomes the protagonist for future heroic deeds in the fifth book. These tales of extreme idealization of post-Arthurian knight-errantry became so popular that they inspired dozens of sequels in numerous languages. A wider European readership, however, became acquainted with Amadis chiefly through the French translation by Nicolas Herberay des Essarts. The book’s popularity was so great that even scholars such as famed Tübingen professor Martin Crusius owned a French copy from 1555, which is full of his hand-written comments, showing his intense preoccupation with this work.
Fischart translated Herberay’s French adaptation, and a quick comparison of both the French and German texts reveals that while Fischart stayed very close to his sources, he also ingeniously recreates the story in German. In the last third of the sixteenth century, the scandalous nature of the book (sexual license, clandestine marriages) was so notorious that it prompted Fischart to write an extensive introductory poem, which justifies such recreational reading from the point of view of a virtuous reader who can resist vices because he or she is like King Mithrad, who became immune to any poison after eating small amounts of a poisonous herb.
The task of editing Fischart’s works is certainly monumental, but the editors should be commended for their persistence, as an historical-critical edition of Fischart’s publications is long overdue. The original vision for this enterprise was to edit all texts in chronological order of their first print, and add commentary volumes afterwards. This division into texts and commentary volumes was supposed to speed up publication efforts and make it possible to have all of Fischart’s texts available for commentary. According to the editors, circumstances would not allow a speedy continuation of this edition, and they decided to change plans and make volume 4 a commentary on volumes 1–3. This decision is welcome news, as a thorough commentary will facilitate the reading of Fischart’s early works. A critical apparatus in both volumes focuses on aspects of text constitution and documents the corrections made by the editors. The use of woodcuts by Tobias Stimmer (1539–84) in Eulenspiegel and by Jost Amman (1539–91) in Amadis enhances the appeal of both books.
This impressive edition will provide exciting research opportunities for all those interested in German literature, translation history, and the cultural and linguistic history of the sixteenth century. In conclusion, both books are very accessible and will reward the reader with the pleasure of discovering little known texts infused with the linguistic and literary ingenuity of one of the most outstanding authors of early modern literature.
