Gli elisir del diavolo

Die Elixiere des Teufels was Hoffmann's first go at writing a novel. He was inspired to write it by a visit to a Capuchin monastery in Bamberg (although it obviously also owes a lot to Matthew Lewis's famous gothic novel The Monk). It has just about everything you would look for in a gothic novel - monks pious, depraved, inspired and just plain mad; beautiful women scheming, virtuous, or vulnerable; more Doppelgänger than a season of Shakespeare comedies; a family curse; incest; murder; dreams and visions; guilt and repentance; several Mysterious Strangers; a comic dwarf; castles, prisons, monasteries, hunting-lodges, forests (complete with ravines and magic bullets). And of course the famous magic potion, said to have been confiscated show more from the Devil himself by St Anthony.

Hoffmann obviously wrote it in a continuously highly-excited state, which can become a little tiring at times for the reader. There is also that feeling you get in some of Sir Walter Scott's novels, that it was all written far too fast, leading to a lot of tangling-up of the narrators' (because, yes, there have to be multiple nested narratives, don't there?) arms and legs as the plot desperately attempts to brake to a safe speed before crashing through the last page into oblivion. We all think we've got to the end, and then the author suddenly remembers a dangling plot thread from 200 pages back and has to do a handbrake-turn to dash back and pick it up...

The setting is also a little odd: at the start there are clear signs that we are meant to be in a generic, unspoilt and pious pre-reformation Germany of the Narziss und Goldmund type, but then Hoffmann seems to forget himself and bring in all kinds of modern stuff like pianos, post-chaises, confessionals, gothick architecture, and Enlightenment rationalism, so that by the end of the book we're firmly in the late 18th century, and it's all getting a bit closer to Le rouge et le noir.

As a novel I felt it takes its own gothic nonsense a bit too seriously to be really enjoyable for the modern reader - the subversively eccentric Kater Murr is much more fun - but an interesting read anyway. show less

This is one bizarre book. Krazy. Yeah, with a K. That’s how crazy it is. Maybe even Krazee. Said in your best Jerry Lewis voice.

See there’s this monk, Medardus, and he takes orders really early because he doesn’t understand girls. Then he gets all uppity with his famous preaching and the Prior send him on a mission because his head is taking up far too much room. Unbeknownst to them the reason for his colossal ego is some enchanted wine that is kept with the other relics of the convent. He and a Count on tour each drink from the bottle of the Devil’s elixir and become bound to each other on some unfathomable plain. Ostensibly out to fulfil his monkly duties, Medardus goes off the reservation and his pilgrimage quickly becomes a show more crime spree.

And that’s only the half of it. It’s hyperbolic, over-the-top, emotionally overwrought and a lot of fun. If you can overlook a few things that is. There’s lots of pointless rambling and wicked long speeches, but we get nothing of the murders in the Baron’s castle. Only later do we sort of understand why, but it’s really not an encouraging way to write a story. Come to think of it, the whole editor device, leaving out parts of the story, etc, is strange. At the end of the book, there’s a construct for it of sorts, but by then we’ve forgotten all about it.

Of course there are histrionic women perpetually having some kind of fit. Well actually some of the men got the vapors, too, including Medardus. He makes some really daft decisions at times like at one point when he can escape arrest he waits around until it’s too late. Then of course there has to be a super dramatic scene to resolve that. And trust me, stuff does get resolved. It doesn’t always make sense and really strains the bounds of believability, but it’s a gothic novel and if you aren’t willing to go with that kind of thing, just pack it in and read something else.

Also there’s the odd spelling of words - not sure if it’s the translation from German or if it was common spelling in 1815. Here are some -
tost
pannels
Court Marshal
develope
blest
phantasy
dipt
divers (as in divers objects)
wert show less

This classic Gothic novel about a mad monk is completely deranged, and I mean that in a good way. Don't ask too many questions, just hang on for the ride. When you finally get to the lengthy explanation of who was really who, realize that you will need a PhD in genealogy to understand it. Sample dialogue: "You mad fools, will you tempt the providence that passes judgment on guilty sinners?"

This is a Gothic horror novel in which Hoffmann turns his personal obsession with a Doppengaenger into a novel. The protagonist, a monk named Brother Medardus, is charged with the task of guarding one of the monastery’s relics: an ancient flask of wine. The legend concerning the flask is that Saint Antonius, in order to dedicate his soul entirely to God, separated himself and went into the desert. There, the Devil pursued him, tempting him to partake of one of the flasks of elixir in his possession, and boasting that he had an elixir to tempt everyone. Anyone who drinks one of them, condemns himself eternally. When Saint Antonius found that the Devil had left some of his flasks behind, he became anxious for those who might stumble show more upon them and become tempted. He decided to steal the Devil’s elixirs and hide them away. Now, the last one comes into the care of Brother Medardus, who cannot withstand the temptation to drink it. The consequences of his folly are not immediately apparent; indeed, he becomes an eloquent speaker in the service of God, but then, a mysterious Doppelgaenger begins to catch up with him. show less

E.T. Hoffman has been one of the most important representatives of the European imaginary, but also by the most remarkable writers of German romance in the early 19th century. In the strange universe of his work circulating mysterious beings and diabolical creatures - nothing is predictable or expected, surprises are usually unpleasant and painful.
In the Elixir of the Devil, Hoffman remarkably renews the subject of the twofold. The monk Mentar drinks the wine he finds in a cloister of the monastery, resulting in a change in his personality and lead to madness and crime. "In this work," Freud notes, "the second self is outlined in a unique way - the division of the human soul into consciousness and unconsciousness".

NON CI SVEGLIATE!... NON SVEGLIATE QUESTO ASSURDO MONDO MAGICO ADDORMENTATO FRA LE ANTICHE PIETRE!
(798-9)
(ma, cari scrittori, continuate imperituri a raccontarcelo! G.)

Hoffmann approda dunque, secondo l’osservazione di Lothar Koehn, alla solitudine del romanziere, all’espatriazione trascendentale di cui parla Lukacs nella Teoria del romanzo: all’epopea di un “mondo abbandonato da Dio” in cui un’oggettivita’ sempre piu’ elusiva s’allontana progressivamente dal soggetto. (XLI, L’esilio del borghese, Claudio Magris)

KREISLERIANA
Non tanto in sogno, quanto nello stato di dormiveglia sognante che precede il sonno (specialmente quando ho sentito molta musica), trovo una concordanza fra colori, suoni, profumi; e’ come se le show more tre cose venissero prodotte insieme, nello stesso misterioso modo, da un raggio di luce, per poi fondersi in un meraviglioso concerto. (44)

LE NUOVE AVVENTURE DEL CANE BERGANZA
Ne sono convintissimo. Tutte le donne affettate, eccessivamente colte - e sostanzialmente fredde - a partire dal venticinquesimo anno di eta’ sono mature per l’”Ospitale degli Incurabili”. (109)

IL MAGNETIZZATORE
E buon per voi se la natura tollera che le tiriate i veli con le vostre mani sgarbate e non punisce tanta curiosita’ mandandovi in perdizione. (135)

IL VASO D’ORO
Al centro della camera, sopra una piastra di porfido retta da tre leoni egizi in bronzo fuso, poggiava un semplice vaso d’oro. Come vi ebbe posato lo sguardo, Anselmo non riusci’ piu’ a distoglierlo: su quella superficie d’oro tersissimo parevano muoversi, in un gioco di mille iridescenti riflessi, figure d’ogni specie… Anselmo vi scorse perfino se stesso … (200)

Anselmo, - gli disse il principe degli spiriti. - Tu non hai colpa della tua incredulita’. La colpa e’ stata di un principio malefico che cercava di penetrare in te - e di inimicarti con te stesso - per la tua perdizione. Ma tu ti sei mantenuto fedele. Sii dunque libero e felice. (227)

E che altro e’ la felicita’ di Anselmo se non la vita nella poesia, cui si rivela il piu’ profondo segreto della natura: la sacra armonia regnante fra tutti gli esseri? … (237)

KREISLERIANA
… per il musicista la visione e’ una “audizione interiore” - o piuttosto, una profonda presa di coscienza della musica la quale, vibrando all’unisono con lo spirito del musicista stesso, risuona da tutto cio’ che il suo occhio riesce ad abbracciare. Cosi’, le improvvise ispirazioni, il nascere delle melodie nella mente del musicista, si spiegherebbe con la facolta’ inconscia - (o meglio; non definibile con parole) - di cogliere la musica occulta della natura e di riconoscere in essa il principio della vita e di ogni manifestazione vitale. (303-4)

GLI ELISIR DEL DIAVOLO
Ero colui che sembravo, e non sembravo colui che ero. In quella duplice personalita’ non riuscivo piu’ a comprendere, a ritrovare me stesso! (447)

Esiste una sola creatura umana cui il meraviglioso mistero d’amore, custodito nei piu’ profondi recessi dell’animo, non si sia rivelato almeno una volta nella vita?... (527)

RACCONTI NOTTURNI. L’ORCO INSABBIA.
Oh, mamma chi e’ questo cattivo Orco Insabbia che ci fa sempre andare via dal babbo? Com’e’ fatto?
Ma non c’e’ nessun orco, piccolo mio, - rispose la mamma;
quando dico: viene l’Orco Insabbia, vuol dire solo che vi e’ venuto il sonno e non potete tenere piu’ gli occhi aperti, come se qualcuno vi avesse buttato la sabbia in viso. (654)

Forse, o mio lettore, allora crederai che nulla v’e’ di piu’ stravagante e pazzesco della vita reale e che il poeta la puo’ cogliere solamente come un oscuro riflesso dentro uno specchio senza luce. (666)

RACCONTI NOTTURNI. LA CASA DISABITATA.
Ma che cos’e’, poi, la vita abituale?... Ahime’, e’ un eterno rigirarsi entro una cerchia ristretta, un continuo batter di naso dappertutto, un andar di piccolo passo, misurato, monotono, anche se spesso tentiamo di interromperlo con qualche virtuosistica “courbette”... (768) show less

This novel is a wonderful gothic mystery, with little bits of humour added in. I was hooked from the first page and it is the fastest I have ever read a classic novel. It is full of bizarre characters, that the reader meet through out, however I found that all the characters had a purpose within the novel.

The plot is like a rollercoaster and constantly keeps the reader on the edge on their seat. I was constantly surprised by the direction the novel took as it never went the way I thought it was going to go.

Overall, for me this is a true German Classic that should be read and appreciated by everyone.

This review was first published on http://everybookhasasoul.wordpress.com