Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune

by Joe Bandel

  Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune

  Joe Bandel

  Published by Joe Bandel at Smashwords

  Copyright 2010 Joe Bandel

  Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune story copyright Wilfried Kugel

  Galeotto poem copyright Wilfried Kugel

  Translations copyright Joe Bandel

  In cooperation with the Hanns Heinz Ewers estate

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Note: Some illustrations have been removed to comply with Smashwords file size and compliance requirements.

  Written by Hanns Heinz Ewers and translated

  By

  Joe E. Bandel

  Illustrations by Mahlon Blaine

  Other Titles In Print

  Alraune

  Anarchist Knight:Apprentice

  Magister Templi

  Modern Survivalism

  Hanns Heinz Ewers Volume I

  Coming Soon!

  Vampire

  Fundvogel

  Hanns Heinz Ewers Volume II

  This book is dedicated to my children and step-children., Lyssa, Crystal, Whitney, Dylan, Sarah and Jason. Dreams can come true. Even if it is four pages at a time. Don’t ever give up! Thanks to Dr. Kugel for permissions.

  Visit

  Anarchist World

  on the web at

  http://anarchistworld.com

  Translating Alraune

  “Deine Tage sind wie die schweren Trauben blauer Glyzenen, tropfen hinab zum weichen Teppich: so schreitet mein leichter Fuss weich dahin durch die sonnenglitzernden Laubengänge deiner sanften Tage.”

  Your days are like the heavy (grapes/bunches/clusters) blue Glyzenen, dropping down to soft carpet: so stride my light feet softly in them through the sun glistening arbor your gentle days.

  What the hell does “Glyzenen” mean? Look it up in the dictionary; it’s not there. Google it on the internet; it’s not there. Try some online German-English dictionaries; it’s not there…

  What did Endore’s write? “glycinias” Well, what does that mean? Look it up in the dictionary; it’s not there. Google it on the internet; ah, there it is–Archaic German word for wisteria–not used anymore–Maybe back when he translated it some old Germans were still alive that knew the meaning of the word.

  [Editor’s note. S. Guy Endore translated a 1929 version of Alraune for John Day Publishing Company]

  What is “Wisteria”? Google it on the internet–Oh, what beautiful thick flowers. We don’t have those here in northern Minnesota. Now let’s get back to the translation. “Dropping down to soft carpet?” That can’t be right. Wisteria grows outside and doesn’t fall onto the carpet! When those thick blossoms fall they will form a carpet on the ground though! Let’s try it like this:

  Your days are like the heavy blue clusters of wisteria dropping down to form a soft carpet. My feet stride lightly and softly through them as I enter the glittering sunlight in the arbor of your gentle days.

  Just for grins lets see what Endore came up with.

  “Your days drop out of your life even as the heavy clusters of blue glycinias shed their blossoms one by one upon the soft carpet. And I tread lightly through the long, sunny arbors of your mild existence.”

  What the hell! That’s not even close! Where did he come up with that “days dropping” and “blossoms one by one” bit? None of that is in the text at all. Obviously he was embellishing a bit. (Something that Endore did quite a bit of.)

  Such was my experience with the very first page of Alraune. But it was not my last. The John Day version of Alraune turned out to be very mangled and censored to boot. There are different types of censorship and I ran into most of them. Let’s take chapter five to give some brief examples.

  Now in the story Alraune’s father agrees to cooperate with the experiment in exchange for a couple bottles of whiskey the night before he is executed. Thus he is so drunk the next morning that they have to help him walk up to where the sentence of death is read to him. Suddenly he realizes what is about to happen, sobers up immediately, says “something” and begins to fight back. But first he utters a word–What is that word? It may give a clue to the entire incident. Let’s see how it really goes:

  She laughed, “No, certainly not. Well then –but reach me another slice of lemon. Thank you. Put it right there in the cup! Well then –he said, no –I can’t say it.”

  “Highness,” said the Professor with mild reproof.

  She said, “You must close your eyes first.”

  The Privy Councilor thought, “Old monkey!” but he closed his eyes. “Now?” he asked.

  She still hesitated, “I –I will say it in French –”

  “That’s fine, in French then!” He cried impatiently.

  Then she pressed her lips together, bent forward and whispered in his ear, “Merde!”

  Of course “Merde!” means “Shit!” in French. He said “Shit!”, sobered up and started fighting for his life! Let’s see what the John Day version did with it.

  She laughed. “Of course not. How silly. Well –just let me have a piece of lemon. Thanks –put it right into the cup! –Well, then, as I was saying –but no, really, I can’t tell you.”

  “Your Highness!” the Professor said in a tone of genial reproach.

  Then she said: “You’ll have to shut your eyes.”

  The Councilor thought to himself, “What an old ass.” But he closed his eyes. “Well,” he asked.

  But she resisted coyly. “I’ll –I’ll tell it to you in French.”

  “Very well then, Let it be –French!” he cried impatiently.

  She pursed her lips, bent her head to his and whispered the offending word into his ear.

  As you see, we don’t even get to know what the word was in the John Day edition and a subtle nuance has been lost. Still, you might think I am making mountains out of molehills. What difference does that little bit have to do with the story? Well let’s take a more substantial piece of censorship. Later in the same chapter almost one entire page of text has been censored. I won’t share it here because it will spoil the story but this entire section was omitted from the John Day version. Curiously enough Mahlon Blaine illustrated a portion of it which shows that he was familiar with it. It was translated but didn’t make it into the book.

  Something that is also missing in the John Day edition is much of the emotional content and beauty of the writing itself. Consider this paragraph at the end of chapter five:

  There is one other curious thing that remains in the story of these two people that without ever seeing each other became Alraune’s father and mother, how they were brought together in a strange manner even after their death. The Anatomy building janitor, Knoblauch, threw out the remaining bones and tatters of flesh into a common shallow grave in the gardens of the Anatomy building. It was behind the wall where the white roses climb and grow so abundantly –

  How heart wrenching and touching in its own way! Let’s see how the Endore’s version handles it:

  Again the bodies of these two, who, though they had never seen each other, yet became Alraune ten Brinken’s father and mother, were most curiously joined in still another manner after their death. Knoblauch, the old servant who cleaned out the dissecting rooms, threw the remaining bones and bits of flesh into a hastily prepared shallow ditch in the rear of th
e anatomy garden, back there against the wall, where the white hedge-roses grow so rankly.

  When you consider that nearly every single chapter of the John Day version has been gutted of its emotional content in one way or another, it is not surprising that it never became as popular with the reading public as it did it Germany. There it could be read in its entirety as the author intended. For the first time Alraune is now available to the English speaking world in an uncensored version that brings the life and emotion back into the story. I am proud to have been able to be a part in the restoration of this classic work of horror.

  A final note for those that have read the John Day version:

  What I read then is different, entirely different, has different meaning and I present her again like I find her, wild, hot –like someone that is full of all passions!

  Galeotto

  Arsis

  Chapter 1

  Describes the house on the Rhine before the thought of Alraune came into the world.

  Chapter Two

  Expains how the idea for Alraune came about.

  Chapter Three

  Informs how Frank Braun persuaded the Privy Councilor to create Alraune

  Chapter Four

  Gives the particulars of how they found Alraune’s mother

  Chapter Five

  Informs about her father and how Death stood as Godfather when Alraune came to life.

  Intermezzo

  Chapter Six

  Deals with how the child Alraune grew up.

  Chapter Seven

  Shares the things that occurred when Alraune was a young girl.

  Chapter Eight

  Details how Alraune became Mistress of the House of Brinken.

  Chapter Nine

  Speaks of Alraune’s lovers and what happened to them.

  Chapter Ten

  Describes how Wolf Gontram was put into the ground because of Alraune.

  Chapter Eleven

  Renders to the reader the end of the Privy Councilor through Alraune.

  Intermezzo

  Chapter Twelve

  Gives an account of how Frank Braun stepped into Alraune’s world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mentions how Princess Wolkonski told Alraune the truth.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Describes how Frank Braun played with fire and how Alraune awoke.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tells how Alraune lived in the park.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Proclaims how Alraune came to an end.

  Finale

  Hanns Heinz Ewers

  Hanns Heinz Ewers was born in Dusseldorf Germany on 3 November 1871. Both of his parents were artists. His father was a painter and a singer. His mother was a painter and a gifted storyteller. He, himself, was a writer, poet, playwright, filmmaker and comedian.

  His film, The Student of Prague, was the first film ever to make use of a double. His most famous novel, Alraune, has been translated into twenty languages and made into a film five times. He is mostly known as a horror writer in the tradition of Edgar Allan Poe.

  Why then have most people not heard of him?

  The easy answer is that he was a strong supporter of German nationalism during the Second World War even though he was also a strong supporter of the Jewish cause as well. In the end Ewers books were banned in Nazi Germany and he died in 1943 persona non grata in poverty.

  After the war his Nazi affiliation caused his literary works to be shunned and he has been largely forgotten.

  This is the easy answer. The harder and more accurate answer is very complex because he was a very complex person. As I translate more of his material I will try to find more answers to the life of this very interesting person as well.

  Galeotto

  We read of Lancelot one

  day for pleasure, how love

  constrained him. We were alone

  and without any suspicion

  A Galeotto indeed, that book,

  and he who wrote it. That day

  we read no more.

  Dante, The Inferno V 127

  We read once–Oh, what was it, Isolde?

  On a summer afternoon in the foliage of the summer house

  The little book was red and the edges were gold–

  A tame dove sat on your shoulder–We were entirely alone

  And the carrier of the plague was the world around us.

  No little breeze stirred the leaves–there we read – Was it the love

  Tragedy of the couple from Rimini, run through by a spear?

  Was it the dream song of Lancelot? What was it then?

  –Was it the sultry heartfelt song of longing, which Echegaray wrote?

  Was it Tristan’s love drunken journey on the ocean?

  I don’t know what it was. Yet what clings fast in my brain

  Is how you softly laid your right hand on mine, my sweet love.

  And my fingers loosened your braids–That is when you looked into my eyes

  And in their depths lay the magic word that was true, the right word

  At the right moment. Our hearts pounded, the sun burned and our souls

  Demanded their destiny–Thick was the foliage that encircled our love.

  We were entirely alone in a green tent–exiled into some fairyland of legend.

  You were the Queen: I was the hero. The cupola, the Galeotto,

  That made our love Possible–was the entire world!

  -Hanns Heinz Ewers

  Arsis

  Will you deny, dear girl, that creatures can exist that are– not human – not animal – strange creatures created out of absurd thoughts and villainous desires?

  You know good, my gentle girl, good is the Law; good are all our rules and regulations; good is the great God that created these regulations, these rules, these laws.

  Good also is the man that values them completely and goes on his path in humility and patience in true obedience to our good God.

  But there is another King that hates good. He breaks the laws and the regulations. He creates – note this well – against nature. He is bad, is evil, and evil is the man that would be like him. He is a child of Satan.

  It is evil, very evil to go in and tamper with the eternal laws and with insolent hands rip them brazenly out of place.

  He is happy and able to do evil – because Satan, who is a tremendous King, helps him. He wants to create out of his prideful wish and will, wants to do things that shatter all the rules, that reverse natural law and stand it on its head.

  But he needs to be very careful: It is only a lie and what he creates is always lunacy and illusion. It towers up and fills the heavens – but collapses at the last moment and falls back to bury the arrogant fool that thought it up –

  His Excellency Jacob Ten Brinken, Dr. med., Ord. Professor and Counselor created a strange maiden, created her – against nature. He created her entirely alone, though the thought belonged to another.

  This creature, that was baptized and named Alraune, grew up and lived as a human child. Whatever she touched turned to gold, where ever she went became filled with wild laughter.

  But whoever felt her poisonous breath, screamed at the sins that stirred inside them and on the ground where her feet lightly tread grew the pale white flower of death. It struck dead anyone that was hers except Frank Braun, who first thought of her and gave her life.

  It’s not for you, golden sister, that I write this book. Your eyes are blue and kind. They know nothing of sins. Your days are like the heavy blue clusters of wisteria dropping down to form a soft carpet. My feet stride lightly and softly through them as I enter the glittering sunlight in the arbor of your gentle days. I don’t write this book for you my golden child, gracious sister of my dream filled days –

  But I write it for you, you wild sinful sister of my hot nights. When the shadows fall, when the cruel ocean devours the beautiful golden sun there flashes over the waves a swift poisonous green ray. That is Sins first quick laug
h over the alarmed dying day.

  That’s when you extend yourself over the still water, raise yourself high and proclaim your arrival in blighted yellows, reds and deep violet colors. Your sins whisper through the deep night and vomit your pestilent breath wide throughout all the land.

  And you become aware of your hot touch. You widen your eyes, lift your perky young breasts as your nostrils quiver and you spread wide your fever moistened hands.

  Then the gentle civilized day splits away and falls to give birth to the serpent of the dark night. You extend yourself, sister, your wild soul, all shame, full of poison, and of torment and blood, and of kisses and desire, exultant outward in joyous abandon.

  I write about you, through all the heavens and hells – sister of my sins – I write this book for you!

  Chapter 1

  Describes the house on the Rhine before the thought of Alraune came into the world.

  THE white house in which Alraune was thought into existence existed long before she was born–long before she was even conceived. This house lay on the Rhine a little out of the city on the large Villa Street leading out to the old Archbishop’s Palace where the university is today. That is where it lies and Legal Councilor Sebastian Gontram and his family once lived there.

  You walk in from the street, through the long ugly garden that has never seen a gardener. You come to the house, from which stucco is falling, search for a bell and find none. You call and scream and no one comes. Finally you push the door open and go inside, climb up the dirty, never washed stair and suddenly a huge cat springs through the darkness…