SOURCE: “The Hero as an Old Man: The Role of Bancabanus in Grillparzer's Ein Treuer Diener Seines Herrn,” in Modern Language Quarterly, Vol. 43, No. 1, 1982, pp. 29-42.

[In the following essay, Nicholls analyses Ein Treuer Diener Seines Herrn as representative of Grillparzer's propensity to portray man in all his limitations, to expose the ambiguity inherent in human life, and to show how human achievement can grow out of conflict.]

Fundamental to the interpretation of Grillparzer's drama is recognition of the contrast between the expectation aroused by the formal language and structure of his plays and the reality of the inner action. Grillparzer's insistent emphasis on verse as the medium of his drama, his recurrent use of mythological and historical themes, and his vision of himself as the last poet in an age of prose lead us to anticipations that are not realized in practice. There was a time when Grillparzer was regarded as a third classic of German literature beside Goethe and Schiller. Later, more negatively, he was treated as an “Epigone der Klassik.”¹ Both associations suggest the atmosphere of haute tragédie or at least an attempt to follow Goethe and Schiller in their ambition to re-create in Germany a drama that moves on the heroic scale. In fact, Grillparzer's genius lies in the presentation of man in his limitations; it is his gift to show us the doubts and ambiguities under the surface of our lives, and the conflicts within us out of which human achievements must be built.

Ein treuer Diener seines Herrn needs to be understood in this context. After the intellectualized theater of Sappho and Das goldene Vliess, Grillparzer had sought in König Ottokars Glück und Ende a theme of national celebration to which a diverse audience could respond at different emotional levels. The theater was to become again a focal point of society in which members of the public might unite in a communal experience. In Ein treuer Diener, likewise, Grillparzer looked for a subject of broad appeal in national history. The original impetus for the play came from plans to celebrate the crowning of the Empress Karoline Auguste as Queen of Hungary. But the plans could not be worked out in time, and Grillparzer's reading of Hungarian histories and chronicles led him away from national pageantry to the choice of an unexpected theme: the story of Bancbanus, an old man with many human weaknesses, who as “loyal servant” to a thirteenth-century Hungarian king is charged with the task of preserving the peace of the realm.

Grillparzer thus openly chooses a protagonist freed from the heroic inheritance of great tragedy. There is evidence enough of human frailty, it is true, in his Sappho and Medea, and much of what we appreciate in these complex and neurotic figures is the author's insight into the conflicts within human consciousness that they reveal. Yet behind the peculiarly modern feeling these heroines evoke we are aware of the significance and grandeur of the traditional themes from which their stories evolve. Again in Ottokar, although we may see evidence of an unexpected lack of authority and self-assurance in the rapid fall of the protagonist, he remains an imposing figure, a king who in his ambitions visibly incorporates elements of Napoleon. Bancbanus, in contrast, arouses little sense of awe. Under the colorful historical garb of his role as paladin to a medieval king, we see a fussy and pedantic man who at times even borders on the ridiculous and who is described by Grillparzer himself in his Selbstbiographie as “ein ziemlich bornierter alter Mann.”² In terms of Northrop Frye's convenient categorizations, we have not only moved to the stage of “low mimetic” realism, where the hero is superior neither to other men nor to his environment and we respond only in the sense that he is one of us, but we are touching on the “ironic mode,” where the protagonist is in some way inferior to us and we look down “on a scene of bondage, frustration, or absurdity.”³

The character of Bancbanus is one of the main factors to account for the often negative tone in the secondary literature on this play. He is considered too servile and submissive, and the ideal of loyalty which he embodies too much a reflection of the limitations of the Biedermeier. Even critics who appreciate the subtleties and half shades of Grillparzer's work find Bancbanus too stiffly unaffected by feeling and passion to occupy the central role. Heinz Politzer, for instance, calls him a grey figure: “Die Gestalt Bancbanus ist grau wie ihr Haar; … Standhaftigkeit macht ihn zum steinernen Gast in einer Welt, die mit ihren Leidenschaften um ihn brandet. …”⁴ Another sympathetic scholar, Urs Helmensdorfer, says of Bancbanus's central moment of choice: “Seine Loyalität grenzt ans Monströse.”⁵ Such judgments are understandable, yet behind them we may observe a partial unwillingness to acknowledge the significance of the choice of hero. It is no longer possible in nineteenth-century literature to seek the profound experiences associated with great tragedy. Grillparzer writes in a world deprived of heroes. We cannot anticipate the sense of horror at man's capacity for suffering that tragedy evokes or the curious consolation given us by the significance and dignity inherent in his fate. Yet if our desire for the heroic and the cathartic is not to be fully satisfied, it is still not adequate to say that all tragic force has been replaced by psychological understanding. The inadequacies Bancbanus carries with him are specifically and graphically presented, but at the same time they are also symbolic of all human weaknesses. Despite them he manages to rise to the task imposed on him; he makes of his own limitations virtues by which he can preserve the values he holds most dear. Grillparzer calls his drama a “Trauerspiel,” but it is in a deeper sense a morality play. In Act I, King Andreas sets out to defend his rights in a distant land and leaves responsibility at home to his loyal councilor; in Act V, he returns to pronounce judgment on his servant's stewardship of the kingdom. Though Bancbanus is confronted with the deaths of his wife and his queen and the prospect of civil war, he saves the life of the heir to the throne and creates a situation in which peace can be restored. His virtues are not attractive ones, yet they gain from us a grudging recognition of man's determination to respond to the demands of life and to create some order in the face of chaos.

From the beginning Bancbanus's situation is a delicate one. He shares the regency with Queen Gertrude, but she, hoping to the final moment of the king's departure that he will appoint her brother Otto von Meran as co-regent with her, does not bother to conceal her contempt for the old councilor. The king angrily rebukes her and insists on her cooperation, but the seeds of disorder are clearly present. Otto's pursuit of Erny, Bancbanus's young wife, precipitates the crisis. It is a peculiarity of the drama, often criticized, that the emotional tension of Act III is centered on secondary figures: the complex and unappealing Duke Otto in his attempt to seduce Erny, the nature of Erny's resistance, and the ambivalent reactions of the queen herself. Yet this private and personal conflict leads to the national crisis of Act IV. Erny, trapped by Otto in the queen's quarters and threatened with abduction, commits suicide rather than yield. Her brother, Count Peter, and Bancbanus's brother, Count Simon, seeking revenge and fearing that the queen will succeed in helping Otto escape the country, demand that he be handed over to their authority. Bancbanus is faced with the temptation to join them and revenge himself on the unscrupulous Otto, but does not hesitate in his duty. While they assemble their forces to threaten an attack on the queen in her castle, he attempts to lead her and her son, the crown prince, as well as Otto himself, to safety. As they are escaping, the queen, mistaken for Otto with whom she has exchanged cloaks, is killed. Bancbanus brings the others away and by a dramatic turn of events gives the child into the protection of Otto, while he himself confronts Peter and Simon.

What kind of man is it who is thus able to overcome his misery at his beloved wife's death and rescue her virtual murderer in order to preserve the peace? From the beginning our feelings toward him are uncertain. The opening scene in the drama takes place in the early morning, before dawn. Bancbanus is being dressed to go to court, while outside we hear the shouts and insulting songs of the rowdies, led by Duke Otto, mocking this old man with his young and blooming wife. The servants are nervous and tense, and, though Bancbanus tries to appear calm, his own tension is revealed both by his irritation with their clumsiness and the sententious philosophy with which he tries to sustain himself. It is not necessary to accept totally the description omitted from the final version that he is a “kleine, hagere, etwas gekrümmte Figur” (I, 1318), but he is clearly an unprepossessing man, presented in unfortunate circumstances where he is by no means master of himself or the situation.

The idea of an old man with a young wife pursued by the gallants of the court suggests a comic role. And there are many occasions when Bancbanus comes close to being a comic dupe. At the beginning of Act II, at a meeting of the council after the king's departure, the queen exposes him openly to ridicule. Bored with the legal details with which Bancbanus wrestles, she suddenly brings the meeting to a close. The councilors disappear, leaving Bancbanus, unconscious of their departure, tiresomely searching through his confused papers for the documents he needs. Again, when Otto and Gertrude prepare for festivities, Bancbanus obstinately insists on his duty, setting up his desk outside the queen's rooms to hear the complaints and petitions of the people. He is ridiculed by the courtiers, and his position seems the more ludicrous when we realize that the celebrations are only a pretext for Otto to continue his advances to Erny. But the atmosphere changes. Once the gallery gates have been opened and the people are seen to be thronging outside as they wait for their cases to be heard, matters appear in a different light. Bancbanus is no longer the heavy-footed obstacle to the youthful gaiety of the court. The festivities seem blatantly irresponsible; the courtiers, shallow and absurd. Yet the mood is strangely uncertain, and our feelings find no clear focus. Though Bancbanus's judgments on the cases he hears are vigorous and to the point, they lack the full conviction of authority. His principles of conduct are worthy but are presented so as to seem moralizing and pedantic. Above all, we feel that he is closing his eyes to the realities around him. When Erny pleads to be allowed to leave the dance, he resolutely insists on her doing her duty by remaining in attendance.

It is tempting to treat the scenes here in terms of tragicomedy. A possible parallel might be drawn with The Wild Duck.⁶ Like Hjalmar Ekdal, Bancbanus seems in part an absurd figure, irritating in his mannerisms, self-engrossed, lacking feeling for reality. Yet both figures are treated with sympathy. In Ibsen at least comic and tragic effects are integrated. Hjalmar is never openly satirized; we cannot mock him or regard him derisively from the outside. We laugh and yet sympathize, recognizing—however unwillingly, for criticism has been slow to accept the implications—that the “life-lie” on which he builds is an essential prop if he is to maintain his existence. Bancbanus's pedantry gives him a similar hold on life. He clings to the letter of the law because it provides a stable source of conduct in the confusions of the world. Recognizing this, we may laugh at him and yet appreciate his dedication to the tasks before him, while still fearing the dangers that are building up. In the end, however, he reveals himself as a far stronger figure than Hjalmar and stronger than the figures around him. Certainly the movement of the act as a whole reverses the usual sequence of comedy. Instead of the victory of youth, traditional to comic action, and the exposure of the pretensions of age, the situation is reversed. The act which begins with the mockery of Bancbanus ends with Erny's contemptuous rejection of Otto and the latter's abysmal collapse. A tender and affectionate scene between Bancbanus and Erny seems to strengthen their relationship. Yet here too Bancbanus's weaknesses impose themselves. As a couple they seem to be more father and daughter than husband and wife. He repeatedly calls her “child,” bidding her rest her head on his bosom with closed eyes, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, as he himself says (line 868). He seems to offer her security and reassurance, but we feel uneasy at their attitudes, sensing on his part an urge to play the father, and on hers a denial of reality, a longing to remain a daughter rather than a woman, a fear perhaps of the desires that Otto may have secretly aroused in her.

The situation at the end of Act II is thus highly ambiguous. We are not sure how to respond or where the action is leading. In Act III, Bancbanus barely appears. His absence is significant for he is able to offer no protection from Otto's attempted abduction of his wife. He arrives only at the end, too late, after Erny has stabbed herself with the dagger which she had seized for protection.

In Act IV, however, we see a different side of Bancbanus. Here is his decisive moment of choice. However uncertain he may have been before in dealing with Otto's mockery, and however much he underestimated the dangers of the situation, he now acts with boldness and decision. Unexpected though the decision is, there is no suggestion of hesitation or doubt. His grief is patent enough. We see a man whose dearest tie to life has been destroyed. Yet he masters his feelings, not by yielding to anger and a natural urge for revenge, but by recognizing the duties still before him. In repudiating the attempts of Simon and Peter to embroil him in actions against the queen, he assumes control of events. It is he who takes decisive action, while Otto is in a helpless state of shock. So great is this growth of stature that Bancbanus readily carries the emotional weight of the final act. Where our attention had earlier moved to Otto, by the last scenes of the drama we are fully prepared to accept that it is Bancbanus's fate in which the moral significance of the drama is invested, and his character and actions which must be weighed in the balance.

The decision to oppose Simon and Peter is of central importance to the interpretation of the drama. It is not sufficient to imply, as do George A. Wells and Herbert W. Reichert,⁷ that Grillparzer was faced with the problem of how to motivate Bancbanus's failure to avenge Erny. His refusal to take revenge arises out of his character and becomes the drama's essential theme. In the opening scene Bancbanus shows his control over his feelings. Upset though he is at the abusive behavior of Otto and his companions, he is even more indignant at his servant's wish to open the doors and attack them:

                                                                                Bist du so kriegrisch?
Ich will dir einen Platz im Heere suchen!
Hier wohnt der Frieden; ich bin nur sein Mietsmann,
Sein Lehensmann, sein Gast.
Verhüte Gott, dass er mich lärmend finde
Und Miet und Wohnung mir auf Umzeit künde!

(18-23)

Bancbanus's eloquence in the preservation of peace sustains him for a while in this scene, both in our eyes and in his own, but in Act II, under the continued provocation of Otto and Gertrude, he must keep his feelings to himself. Here he seems stolid and unimposing; we are ashamed for him in his humiliations. But his refusal to respond is a conscious and deliberate policy; he seeks at all costs to prevent a clash and avoid driving Otto to excess. Perhaps he asks too much of Erny in sending her back to the dance, but he asks it because he is himself under strain and he anticipates in his wife the same determination and control.

Bancbanus's decision after Erny's death is thus well prepared. It seems out of place to talk, as critics have done, of monstrous loyalty or degrading self-abasement in pursuit of the king's demands. Admittedly, Bancbanus's loyalty to the royal family takes some extreme forms. He is unwilling to listen to accusations which challenge or censure their behavior. But while one may understand the liberal sympathies of writers who, from the days when the play was first produced, have objected to the submissive attitude of the hero, their criticisms seem misplaced. Bancbanus's loyalty to the royal family and to his duty is the basis on which he preserves the values of his life. His bitter rejection of Simon's appeal for help in revenge expresses his deepest beliefs.

Aufrührer! ich mit euch?—Ich bin der Mann des
          Friedens,
Der Hüter ich der Ruh—Mich hat mein König
Geordnet, seinen Frieden hier zu wahren;
Ich in den Bürgerkrieg mit euch?
Fluch, Bürgerkrieg! Fluch dir vor allen Flüchen!

(1418-22)

The contrast with Simon and Peter is most revealing. Their motives are clear and legitimate enough. They are not villains eager to find an excuse for bloodshed, but men of honor who have seen their family degraded and have reasonable cause to believe that Otto will still escape justice. Simon considers his brother old and feeble, absurdly concerned for the rights of others while unable to protect his own, and thus a source of contempt to all who love honor and courage. But he and Peter take no account of the disastrous consequences of their actions. Sustained by the righteousness of their cause, they shift the blame all too readily onto their enemies for the dangers which result. When Gertrude makes it clear to Peter that she will not hand over Otto and that any attack on him will endanger her own life and that of the heir to the throne, Peter immediately asserts that the responsibility will then be hers (1527-32). Again, after the tragic outcome of the attack, when Peter flings his dagger at what he thinks is the fleeing Otto and kills the queen, Simon refuses to accept the blame. Cursing Otto now as a “double murderer” (1660-61), he forces a fight on Otto's followers and kills one of them in his anger at learning of Otto's escape. Their attitude forces them into open rebellion when the king returns. Obliged to defend themselves, they are prepared to surrender only if the king will offer pardon in advance. Their proud insistence on their own rights and their conviction that they must uphold both their reputation for valor and family honor thus lead to violence and destruction and threaten the breakdown of the state. Only Bancbanus, in the conviction of his mission and confidence gained through the rescue of the crown prince, brings them to submit to the king's mercy.

The incalculable value of peace is a dominant motif in Grillparzer's writings. We may remember Ottokar's moving final speech in which he repents the desperate deeds of his early career. This turn in mood, so different from the Napoleonic egoism of his early life, brings him to recall how many men had been killed in the pursuit of his ambitions:

Und keiner war von den Gebliebnen allen,
Den seine Mutter nicht, als sie mit Schmerz geboren,
Mit Lust gedrückt an ihre Nährerbrust,
Der Vater nicht als seinen Stolz gesegnet
Und aufgezogen, jahrelang gehütet.
Wenn er am Finger sich verletzt die Haut,
Da liefen sie herbei und bandens ein
Und sahen zu, bis endlich es geheilt.
Und's war ein Finger nur, die Haut am Finger!
Ich aber hab sie schockweis hingeschleudert
Und starrem Eisen einen Weg gebahnt
In ihren warmen Leib.

(2849-60)

Bancbanus is prepared if necessary to sacrifice revenge or justice for the sake of peace. If the death of Otto would restore Erny to him, then perhaps he would act with Peter and Simon. But the danger that Otto will escape his deserts does not move him. Whereas Simon and Peter are motivated by considerations of pride that belong to their rank and caste, Bancbanus's reaction reveals humbleness of heart, an acceptance of the limitations of his claims on the world.

In the way he ignores conventional assumptions of what is required of him and how he should react, Bancbanus reminds us of another Grillparzer peacemaker, Kaiser Rudolf in Ein Bruderzwist in Habsburg, whose inner doubts and desperate self-control stand in contrast to the easy self-assurance of the less than adequate men around him. Yet Bancbanus is in some ways a more ambiguous figure than Rudolf. For in acknowledging Bancbanus's achievements, we must also acknowledge his responsibility for the catastrophe. His failures are a product of his character as much as are his successes. If the accomplishment of peace arises from the modesty of his own pretensions, his acceptance of his limitations encouraged the conditions that led to disaster. When the king announces Bancbanus as his choice for regent, the old man responds with fragmentary protests: “Ach, Herr, bedenkt! … Ich bin ein schwacher Mann! … Bin alt!” (383-86). After the queen has revealed her dislike of the king's choice, Bancbanus says: “Ich sagt euchs, Herr, ich tauge nicht dafür!” (411). He seems unable to formulate the basis of his intuitive reluctance to accept the position. The king easily overrides his protests, yet we feel Bancbanus is right. In accepting the regency, he must accept partial responsibility for the tragedy.

This responsibility may be felt specifically in his relationship to Erny. His failure to aid his wife at the ball helps to bring on the disaster. In part he acts out of delicacy of feeling. Precisely because of the difference in their ages, he hesitates to play the master and exercise authority over her.

Ich bin wohl alt genug, und du bist jung,
Ich lebensmüd und ernst, du heiter blühend,
Was gibt ein Recht mir, also dich zu quälen?
Weil dus versprachst? Ei, was verspricht der Mensch!
Weils so die Sitte will? Wer frägt nach Sitte?

(823-27)

He is convinced that he must rely on her feelings and her power of decision, but thereby fails to recognize how much she needs his support. Left to herself, Erny proves too inexperienced and immature to deal with Otto's vigorous advances. Perhaps because of an almost inevitable doubt about her own feelings toward the attractive duke, she overreacts, and by asserting her scorn and contempt, she incites in Otto a violence that might not otherwise have erupted.

It might also be suggested that Bancbanus fails Otto too. By studiously ignoring Otto's insults, he simply increases the duke's sense of humiliation and self-disgust. Otto needs the guidance of someone in authority he can respect. Bancbanus is clearly incapable of providing any help. Evidence of how little he understands the problem is his suggestion of a role for Otto in leading a group of cavalry against some wandering insurgents. He fails totally to realize that, in view of their ambitions, this will seem a gratuitous insult to Otto and Gertrude, a clumsy attempt to ingratiate himself.

But Bancbanus's failure does not lie in specific omissions or decisions; it is rooted in his character. In the early scenes we feel the desperate need for someone to stand up to events and attempt to take control. Bancbanus is an official who has grown old in honorable and faithful service. He deals with his work as it occurs, case by case, trying to do his best, but leaving out of consideration the flow of emotions in the court, the incalculable changes in atmosphere which render the individual cases less important.

At the same time it must be granted that the restrictions of Bancbanus's position make it difficult to see what decisive action he can take. The situation in these early scenes is comparable to that in Ein Bruderzwist in Habsburg, although the political and historical setting is far less elaborate. We long for action and yet are gradually oppressed by the recognition that there is no clear path of action available. Bancbanus is an unsatisfactory leader, yet it is impossible to know what satisfactory action can be taken. Grillparzer has put great stress on the ambiguity of the conditions under which he takes over the office. The king spells out the terms in some detail. Bancbanus is invested with legal responsibility but seems to have no corresponding authority and power. The queen is regent and he is her councilor. Although the king insists that nothing can be settled without Bancbanus's agreement and he is answerable for their decisions, this assertion is modified later when the king declares that she is the ruling mind who rules through him. Bancbanus is “Reichsgehilfe,” her eyes and ears, her hands and arms (381-82). How then is he to act against her? What can he do if she insists on supporting Otto's excesses?

The significance of this situation is heightened when we remember the particular structure of the drama. Acts I and V serve as a partial frame around the central action. The king's role in setting up the situation and serving as judge at the end inevitably suggests a symbolic representation of God's world. The favorite baroque theme of the ruler as God's representative standing outside the human action is not carried out here with total consistency any more than it is in other well-known German dramas. We think, for example, of the role of the Elector in Der Prinz von Homburg or of the Duke in Torquato Tasso. Nevertheless echoes of a higher authority are implicit in the king's role, particularly in the last act when he returns to his divided kingdom. The king's fear that Bancbanus may have been an “ungetreuer Knecht” (1969), together with the final assurance of his real loyalty contained in the title itself, seems a clear allusion to Christ's parable of the talents and the “good and faithful servant” of the Lord. Bancbanus thus comes to stand as a representative for man, his fate an exemplar of the human condition. His weaknesses and inevitable human failings, together with the restrictive conditions of his task, become symbolic of man's fate, “created weak but commanded to be strong.” The moral of this situation does not have to be, as F. W. Kaufmann suggests, the acceptance by Bancbanus of a world which “punishes with inner destruction” the transgression of limitations, even when imposed on us against our will.⁸ Instead, we may see in Bancbanus's fate an illustration of man burdened by the very nature of life with tasks that go beyond human limits. Although necessarily sharing in responsibility for the tragedy, Bancbanus nevertheless seeks to remain true to the principles of his life and finally manages to bring out of disaster a spirit of reconciliation.

The king's final judgments take fully into account the frailty of the human condition. Indeed, he acknowledges some responsibility for the situation himself, angrily accusing himself of neglect in failing to resist the mood of intransigence and immorality which was to destroy his home and happiness (1917 ff.) Such an attitude, which certainly indicates restrictions on his role as God's representative, is a characteristic turn of Grillparzer's. In Weh dem, der lügt! Bishop Gregor, we may recall, similarly sets the conditions of the hero's task and in the end acknowledges the limitations of his own vision. Since the king is himself largely accountable for the disasters that have occurred, he is all the more prepared to act with charity toward others who are involved. Responding to Bancbanus's pleas, he limits punishment of Peter and Simon, in effect the murderers of his wife, to banishment, while Otto too, once he has brought back the crown prince in safety, is permitted to leave the kingdom. For Otto, in fact, a checkered line of Christian grace and mercy may be traced. Bancbanus, seeking to bring the queen and her child across the moat out of the castle, is forced to take them one by one. The queen insists that Otto must be the first to leave, even before the child:

                                                                                Dies Kind beschützt
Schuldlosigkeit mit lilienblankem Schwert;
Doch diesen suchen sie, und er ist schuldig.

(1622-24)

Otto is allowed to escape, not in spite of but because of his guilt, and is thus granted the opportunity for atonement. Bancbanus, by giving the child into Otto's care, grants him, as he says, a last link with life and protection from despair and self-rejection (1985-86). By his rescue of the child Otto sets out on a path toward forgiveness which the king acknowledges in his final words to him: “Zieht hin mit Gott! kein Fluch sei über euch!” (2070).

A further Christian theme may be seen in Bancbanus's conflict with Peter and Simon. We have stressed to what extent his success is a victory of peace over war, of reason over passion, possibly of love over hate, certainly of humility over self-assertion and self-righteousness. The symbolic implications of this victory may be extended if we stress the associations aroused by the names of Bancbanus's opponents. We cannot help seeing here a suggestion of Christ's foremost disciple and the founder of the Church contrasted with Christ himself. In the actions of Simon and Peter after Erny's death we may see a reflection of the church militant ready to fight for its beliefs, opposed to Christ's message of peace. Such an interpretation may find support in the overtones of meaning given to the rescue of the crown prince and in the dream, envisioned in Bancbanus's final speech, of a harmonious new world to be enjoyed during his future reign.

In this context Bancbanus's humility suggests an echo of one of the most mysterious of the Christian beatitudes: “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” We may be reminded of the hero of Der arme Spielmann. The poor fiddler tells his story of failure and incompetence, even helplessness. He is simple almost to the point of being a fool; but gradually there emerges the realization that there may be another simplicity which is the expression of purity of heart. His stupidity and clumsiness may be nothing compared with his innocence and goodness. We saw Bancbanus first as an almost comic figure, ridiculed by the livelier people around him. Later his character has elements of the Christian fool. And yet the reversal of judgment which takes place in Der arme Spielmann never fully occurs here. Bancbanus remains in our mind as a pedantic and limited man, burdened by old age. His victory, won without passion, leaves us little feeling of Christian joy. We are left to wonder whether his achievement is a triumph of Christian humility or whether his humility is not merely an all too easy expression of his own weakness.

It may be that the conclusion of Der arme Spielmann is too easy, too sentimental, for us today.⁹Ein treuer Diener is more cautious, more subtle, more enigmatic. Yet it is a problem for drama, which traditionally paints in bold and confident colors, to leave us so uncertain in our judgment. If we assert Bancbanus's spiritual victory, insisting on the values of peace and law which he upheld,¹⁰ then we overlook the weakness and tiresome limitations of the old man. Yet if we stress the absence of passion and the cold adherence to rules, then we ignore the elements of moral triumph.

Earlier it was suggested that the play might be considered within the bounds of tragicomedy, but this is not easy to maintain. Elements of the comic have largely disappeared by the end of the action. Moreover, the normal protagonist in tragicomedy is a man we laugh at and yet regard with a certain sympathy and even benevolence. We see in Hjalmar Ekdal's story, as we do, say, in Malvoli's or Alceste's (two often-quoted instances of tragicomic appeal), evidence of an all too human weakness which we can readily acknowledge in ourselves. Bancbanus's faults irritate us. It is difficult to break down the barriers which his weaknesses and even his virtues create. Perhaps the true clue to our sympathy lies in the poignancy of his suffering. In the heat of the action Bancbanus seems to forget his grief at the death of his wife. But when the issues are resolved and the king suggests the possibility of rewards for what he has achieved in the service of his master, we see the terrible emptiness that her loss has caused. Bancbanus's despair finds no relief in outbursts of distress, but lingers within. His life is enveloped in the sorrow and isolation that her death has brought. In the scenes immediately preceding, the drama offers conciliation. The king's son has been saved, Counts Simon and Peter pardoned, even Duke Otto allowed to go in peace. But it is a conciliation based on a shared sense of grief and suffering. Bancbanus's fate confirms this mood. His final decision to reject the king's offers and withdraw from the world of events is influenced by Otto's absolute affirmation that Erny was innocent and had never encouraged his advances. Emphasis is placed once more on the nature of a world in which innocence offers no protection. Bancbanus had sought to avoid the dangers of life through the fulfillment of daily duties, only to be engrossed in larger guilt and responsibility. But his withdrawal does not mean rejection or inner despair. The moral of the play is not like that of Der Traum ein Leben, in which a vision of the cruel world outside drives the hero to retreat to his own private corner. Bancbanus has already done what is required of him. Using all his powers in the fulfillment of his given task, he has managed to save the realm from civil war. He has known what it is to live in a threatening world and feels secure of the judgment of posterity. Thus in the midst of sadness there is consolation. In the awareness of grief we recognize the capacity of man to sustain the values by which life may still hold meaning.

Notes

1. A judgment rejected by Emil Staiger, for instance, in his influential discussion, “Grillparzer: König Ottokars Glück und Ende,” in Meisterwerke deutscher Sprache aus dem neunzehnten Jahrhundert, 2nd ed. (Zürich: Atlantis, 1948), p. 165 f.

2. Franz Grillparzer, Sämtliche Werke, ed. Peter Frank and Karl Pörnbacher, 4 vols. (München: Carl Hanser, 1960-65), IV, 153. Ein treuer Diener appears in volume 1.

3. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), p. 34.

4. Grillparzer oder das abgründige Biedermeier (Wien: Fritz Molden, 1972), p. 185.

5. Grillparzers Bühnenkunst (Bern: Francke, 1960), p. 60.

6. See the discussion of The Wild Duck in Karl S. Guthke, Modern Tragicomedy (New York: Random House, 1966), pp. 144-65.

7. See Wells, The Plays of Grillparzer (London: Pergamon, 1969), p. 23; and Reichert, “The Characterization of Bancbanus in Grillparzer's Ein treuer Diener seines Herrn,” SP, [Studies in Philology] 46 (1949), 70-78, esp. p. 74.

8. German Dramatists of the Nineteenth Century (Los Angeles: Lymanhouse, 1940), p. 63.

9. This view has been vigorously represented by the hero of John Irving's bestseller The World According to Garp (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1976), p. 88 and passim.

10. Cf. Benno von Wiese, Die deutsche Tragödie von Lessing bis Hebbel (Hamburg: Hoffmann and Campe, 1948), II, 185: “… der Dienst an diesen Werten ist nicht eine Pedanterie, sondern Selbsterfüllung des Ichs, das hier sich verwurzelt weiss.”