Under the water, sinking and drowning

Gillray, A Great Stream from a Petty Fountain, 1806
Gillray, A Great Stream from a Petty Fountain, 1806

Was unterscheidet
Götter von Menschen?
Dass viele Wellen
Vor jenen wandeln,
Ein ewiger Strom:
Uns hebt die Welle,
Verschlingt die Welle,
Und wir versinken.

What distinguishes
Gods from humans?
The fact that many waves
Pass by them,
An eternal stream:
However, the wave lifts us up,
The wave engulfs us
And we sink.

Goethe, Grenzen der Menschheit		D 716

Goethe venerated the gods, but was no pagan. As a major figure of the Englightenment he realised that the gods represented eternal, fixed principles and forces, but that human beings were necessarily restricted in their capacities to understand and control the world. As a scientist and practical geologist (he was responsible for mining in the duchy of Weimar) he was interested in the dispute between devotees of Vulcan and Neptune about the relative roles of fire and water in the creation of the earth (and he inclined towards Abraham Gottlieb Werner’s Neptunism). As a dramatist he presented Faust (in Part Two of his play) as involved in land reclamation by building dykes and dams to hold back the sea, the forces of Neptune. The god Neptune is both creative and destructive. The wave lifts us up but also engulfs us, and we sink.

There is a long tradition in Western poetry and folk song of contemplating the inevitability of our watery doom when looking into lakes, rivers and the sea. Goethe drew on these ideas in Der Fischer (D 225), in which a fisherman is lured to the depths by a water nymph, and Schubert’s old school friend Franz von Schlechta wrote a similar poem about a fisherman who almost drowns when he sees his girlfriend’s reflection in the water.

Das Wasser rauscht', das Wasser schwoll,
Ein Fischer saß daran,
Sah nach dem Angel ruhevoll,
Kühl bis ans Herz hinan.
Und wie er sitzt, und wie er lauscht,
Theilt sich die Flut empor.
Aus dem bewegten Wasser rauscht
Ein feuchtes Weib hervor.

Sie sang zu ihm, sie sprach zu ihm:
Was lockst du meine Brut
Mit Menschenwitz und Menschenlist
Hinauf in Todesglut?
Ach, wüsstest du, wie's Fischlein ist
So wohlig auf dem Grund,
Du stiegst herunter, wie du bist,
Und würdest erst gesund.

Labt sich die liebe Sonne nicht,
Der Mond sich nicht im Meer?
Kehrt wellenatmend ihr Gesicht
Nicht doppelt schöner her?
Lockt dich der tiefe Himmel nicht?
Das feuchtverklärte Blau?
Lockt dich dein eigen Angesicht
Nicht her in ew'gen Tau?

Das Wasser rauscht', das Wasser schwoll,
Netzt' ihm den nackten Fuß;
Sein Herz wuchs ihm so sehnsuchtsvoll
Wie bei der Liebsten Gruß.
Sie sprach zu ihm, sie sang zu ihm;
Da war's um ihn geschehn:
Halb zog sie ihn, halb sank er hin,
Und ward nicht mehr gesehn.

The water roared, the water swelled up,
A fisherman was sitting by it,
Watching his fishing rod calmly,
Keeping cool even down to the heart.
And as he sits and as he listens,
The floods rise up and divide:
Out of the perturbed water there surges
Forth a damp woman.

She sang to him, she spoke to him:
"Why are you tricking my brood
With human teasing and human cunning,
Luring them up into the deadly glow?
Oh if only you knew what it was like to be a little fish
So happy on the sea bed,
You would climb down, just as you are,
And that would heal you once and for all.

Does not the dear sun refresh itself
In the sea, the moon too?
Do not their faces, breathing the waves,
Appear doubly beautiful when reflected?
Does not the deep heaven attract you,
With its blue transfigured by water?
Are you not attracted by your own face
Here into the eternal dew?"

The water roared, the water swelled up,
Wetting his naked foot;
His heart grew so full of yearning,
As if greeted by his beloved.
She spoke to him, she sang to him;
Then he had had it;
She half pulled him, he half sank down,
And he was never seen again.

Goethe, Der Fischer	D 225

* * *

Fischer harrt am Brückenbogen 
Ach zu lange Zeit, 
Blicket so sehnlich in die Wogen, 
Denn sie ist noch weit.  

Und sie schleichet um den Hügel, 
Und das holde Bild 
Leuchtet aus dem Wellenspiegel, 
Lächelnd und so mild;  

Und er sieht's. Und durch Blumenränder 
Schwimmt der süße Schein,
Und er hält sich am Geländer, 
Sonst zieht's ihn hinein.

The fisherman is waiting on the arch of the bridge,
Oh, for too long,
He looks into the waves with such longing
Since she is still so far away.

And she steals along over the hill,
And the beauteous image
Shines out of the mirroring waves,
Smiling and so gentle.

And he sees it - and between the flowery banks
Her sweet reflection swims along - 
And he holds onto the railings,
Otherwise he would be pulled in! -

Franz von Schlechta, Widerschein	D 639, D 949

Yet it was another close friend of Schubert’s who returned to the theme of death by water most frequently: Johann Mayrhofer. In Am See (D 124) the poet sits in the grass by a still lake and recalls the sacrifice of Duke Leopold of Braunschweig, who had died while attempting to pull people out of the flooded River Oder in 1785. The memory of his death causes the writer to feel the lure of the depths himself.

Und hehr geschmückt sprangst du hinab,
Für Menschen in das Wellengrab.
Vor dir erbleicht, o Fürstensohn,
Thermopylae und Marathon!

Das Schilfrohr neiget seufzend sich,
Die Uferblumen grüßen mich,
Der Vogel klagt, die Lüfte wehn,
Vor Schmerzeslust möcht' ich vergehn!

And majestically adorned you jumped in,
To save human beings you went into a watery grave.
Before you, oh son of a Prince, pale both
Thermopylae and Marathon.

The reeds bend over as they sigh,
The flowers on the bank greet me,
The bird laments, the breezes waft,
I feel like dying of blissful melancholy!

Mayrhofter, Am See 	D 124

Auf dem Donau (D 553) is set on rather than by the water. The poet is on a small boat on the Danube passing by the ruins of previous civilisations. Former castles have collapsed and old legends and beliefs have lost their power. Everything is threatened with decay. Universal downfall (Untergang) is inevitable.

Auf der Wellen Spiegel 
Schwimmt der Kahn. 
Alte Burgen ragen 
Himmelan; 
Tannenwälder rauschen 
Geistergleich - 
Und das Herz im Busen 
Wird uns weich.  

Denn der Menschen Werke 
Sinken all'; 
Wo ist Turm, wo Pforte, 
Wo der Wall, 
Wo sie selbst, die Starken,
Erzgeschirmt, 
Die in Krieg und Jagden 
Hingestürmt? 

Trauriges Gestrüppe 
Wuchert fort, 
Während frommer Sage 
Kraft verdorrt. 
Und im kleinen Kahne 
Wird uns bang - 
Wellen drohn, wie Zeiten, 
Untergang.

On the mirror of waves
Swims the boat.
Old castles reach up
Towards the sky;
Forests of fir trees rustle
Like ghosts - 
And the hearts in our breasts
Become soft.

For the things produced by humans
All sink;
Where is the tower, where the gate, 
Where the rampart,
Where are they themselves, those strong men?
Those who were protected by armour
And went to war and went hunting,
Going on the attack.

Sad undergrowth
Is growing rampant,
Whilst pious legends'
Power withers away.
And in this small boat
We become anxious - 
Both the waves and time threaten us with
Ruin.

Mayrhofer, Auf der Donau	D 553

This appears to be totally pessimistic or nihilistic yet Mayrhofer produced other texts on the same theme that portray sinking and drowning as a form of transformation. Freiwilliges Versinken (Voluntary annihilation) gives voice to the sun (‘Helios’) as it sinks into the ocean. As its flames are extinguished it transfers its energy to the rest of the universe. Death is the precondition for new life.

Wohin? o Helios! wohin? "In kühlen Fluten
Will ich den Flammenleib versenken,
Gewiss im Innern, neue Gluten
Der Erde feuerreich zu schenken.

Ich nehme nicht, ich pflege nur zu geben,
Und wie verschwenderisch mein Leben,
Umhüllt mein Scheiden goldne Pracht,
Ich scheide herrlich, naht die Nacht.

Wie blass der Mond, wie matt die Sterne,
So lang ich kräftig mich bewege;
Erst wenn ich auf die Berge meine Krone lege,
Gewinnen sie an Mut und Kraft in weiter Ferne."

Where to, oh Helios, where to? "Into the cool tides
I want to plunge this blazing body,
Inwardly certain that new flames
Can be supplied to the earth from my rich supply of fire.

I do not take, I am only concerned to give;
And just as my life has been extravagant,
Golden splendour will surround my departure,
I depart majestically as night approaches.

How pale the moon is, how faint the stars
As long as I move so powerfully!
It is only when I lay my crown on the mountains
That they gain courage and power in the far distance."

Mayrhofer, Freiwilliges Versinken	D 700

More pious writers were attracted to the same imagery of plunging in order to ascend. This is what some theologians called ‘anabasis’ (sinking) – a precondition for ‘katabasis’ (rising or resurrection). Novalis was particularly attracted to this way of seeing things and in one of his Spiritual Songs he meditates on the need to sink to the depths before attaining the heights:

Hinunter in das tiefe Meer 
Versank des Todes Graun, 
Und jeder kann nun leicht und hehr 
In seine Zukunft schaun.   

Der dunkle Weg, den er betrat, 
Geht in den Himmel aus, 
Und wer nur hört auf seinen Rat, 
Kommt auch in Vaters Haus.   

Down into the depths of the sea
Sank the terror of death,
And everyone can now be confident and exalted
As they look towards their future.

The dark path which he trod
Leads towards heaven,
And whoever simply listens to his advice
Will also come into the father's house.

Novalis, Geistliches Lied (Hymne IV)	D 662

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Descendant of: 

Water  


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