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The Children of the World
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606 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 24, 2011
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About the author
Paul Heyse
1,243 books29 followersPaul Johann Ludwig von Heyse (15 March 1830 – 2 April 1914) was a distinguished German writer and translator. A member of two important literary societies, the Tunnel über der Spree in Berlin and Die Krokodile in Munich, he wrote novels, poetry, 177 short stories, and about sixty dramas. The sum of Heyse's many and varied productions made him a dominant figure among German men of letters.
Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1910 "as a tribute to the consummate artistry, permeated with idealism, which he has demonstrated during his long productive career as a lyric poet, dramatist, novelist and writer of world-renowned short stories."
Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1910 "as a tribute to the consummate artistry, permeated with idealism, which he has demonstrated during his long productive career as a lyric poet, dramatist, novelist and writer of world-renowned short stories."
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
June 25, 2019
A semi-interesting novel from 1889, written by the 1910 Nobel Prize winner for literature. It is essentially a love story, although there are elements of religion, politics, literature and, very minimally, social class issues that are allowed to intrude on what is manifestly a 'who is going to end up with whom?' exercise.
The central character is a Doctor (of philosophy, I gather), Edwin. He lives in a 'tun' (their word for the relatively small apartment, 'tun' meaning wine cask) with his ailing brother Balder, upon whom he positively dotes. He falls head over heels for Toinette, a beautiful young lady he happens to share a stall with at a ballet. His apartment building holds the shoe works of the Feyertag family, whose daughter Reginchen brings meals for the brothers. They have three friends who visit on a regular basis: Marquand, a medical doctor; Mohr, a man whose dreams far outdistance his achievements; and Franzelius a 'tribune of the people', known for his rather serious nature as well as his radical political views. On a floor below them, Christiane is a piano teacher who has an exceptional skill in performance. Her melodies provide a near constant backdrop to the scenes in the tun in which this unlikely group of associates bounce their ideas off one another. Toinette is pursued by a Count while Marquand is besotted with an opera singer.
Other than caring for his brother and pursuing his 'tilting at windmills' fascination with Toinette, Edwin does little practical work. Indeed, at one point he comments that 'an occupation would seriously take up too much of my time'. Through Marquand, he comes to know the father and daughter of the Konig family, who are minor artists, and becomes a tutor for their daughter Leah. At least this gets him out of the house, something his near-crippled and never-strong brother Balder only rarely manages. He works in the tun at a lathe, producing small items to try to bring in some income.
Not far into the novel, it seems that no one's heart is ever going to achieve what it truly desires. The manner in which A loves B, but B loves C while C loves D - all of which feelings are somehow unknown to any of the respective individuals, is truly labyrinthine in its complexity. This elaborate matrix does give rise to several dramatic scenes. In one, a lover overhears the object of his affections swear her love to someone else. In another, the Count confronts one brother, threatening him over the avowed intentions to the object of affection of his sibling.
Still, all of these entanglements seem to work their way to relatively satisfying conclusions with still almost two hundred pages left in this five hundred page novel. What then ensues very strongly brought to mind Maugham's Of Human Bondage and its story of tragic but fateful fascination with a love interest whom one simply knows is not good for one's soul. The manner in which this dilemma is worked out could have been better done, but was still much more engaging than the relatively simplistic heart throb stories it followed upon. The main problem here is the character of Toinette - certainly the most interesting and the most original in overall conception. As beautiful as she is cold, it would seem that her personal background (an adopted child by a bourgeois family who had a checkered aristocratic birth) steadfastly precludes her ever finding happiness in any social, let along romantic relation she finds herself within. There was real potential here for an interesting development, but since almost all of her story comes through Edwin's perception of it, I was left with more questions than true understandings.
Also, the quite interesting sub theme of religion could have been more emphatically drawn out. The character of Lorinser, who is depicted as a religious zealot, is the only exclusively drawn villain in the work: a seducer of underage women, a smarmy con man who insinuates himself with deliberate falsehoods among rich aristocrats, and a sexual Lothario who uses salvation as a plot for his carnal desires. Leah's protector, a devout Christian, terminates her lessons with Edwin after Lorinser brings to her attention an article of he'd written discounting the tradition proofs for the existence of God. Yet Heyse's theme is more sophisticated: it is one in favor of religious tolerance: a unique concept in the Germany of his day, used as this nation was to the doctrine of Cuius regio, eius religio, that is everyone in the principality must follow the religion of its prince or ruler. Leah tells Edwin that it requires 'much more courage and humility ... to confess that we cannot recognize God, than to believe ourselves his pet children'. This agnosticism almost becomes atheism when Edwin proclaims that 'toleration for all religions has become commonplace, and honest toleration even of the irreligious ripened to the silent need of countless numbers'. Heady stuff for the late nineteenth century. And in Germany of all places.
Nonetheless, this thematic barb was a relatively blunt one, subsumed as it was under the pages and pages of heartfelt emotive outpourings of desperate, yearning, passionate and largely, eventually satisfied lovers. The closing epithet from Catallus to 'live and love' summed up the overall triteness that this far-too-long volume left me feeling.
Okay, but only up to a point.
The central character is a Doctor (of philosophy, I gather), Edwin. He lives in a 'tun' (their word for the relatively small apartment, 'tun' meaning wine cask) with his ailing brother Balder, upon whom he positively dotes. He falls head over heels for Toinette, a beautiful young lady he happens to share a stall with at a ballet. His apartment building holds the shoe works of the Feyertag family, whose daughter Reginchen brings meals for the brothers. They have three friends who visit on a regular basis: Marquand, a medical doctor; Mohr, a man whose dreams far outdistance his achievements; and Franzelius a 'tribune of the people', known for his rather serious nature as well as his radical political views. On a floor below them, Christiane is a piano teacher who has an exceptional skill in performance. Her melodies provide a near constant backdrop to the scenes in the tun in which this unlikely group of associates bounce their ideas off one another. Toinette is pursued by a Count while Marquand is besotted with an opera singer.
Other than caring for his brother and pursuing his 'tilting at windmills' fascination with Toinette, Edwin does little practical work. Indeed, at one point he comments that 'an occupation would seriously take up too much of my time'. Through Marquand, he comes to know the father and daughter of the Konig family, who are minor artists, and becomes a tutor for their daughter Leah. At least this gets him out of the house, something his near-crippled and never-strong brother Balder only rarely manages. He works in the tun at a lathe, producing small items to try to bring in some income.
Not far into the novel, it seems that no one's heart is ever going to achieve what it truly desires. The manner in which A loves B, but B loves C while C loves D - all of which feelings are somehow unknown to any of the respective individuals, is truly labyrinthine in its complexity. This elaborate matrix does give rise to several dramatic scenes. In one, a lover overhears the object of his affections swear her love to someone else. In another, the Count confronts one brother, threatening him over the avowed intentions to the object of affection of his sibling.
Still, all of these entanglements seem to work their way to relatively satisfying conclusions with still almost two hundred pages left in this five hundred page novel. What then ensues very strongly brought to mind Maugham's Of Human Bondage and its story of tragic but fateful fascination with a love interest whom one simply knows is not good for one's soul. The manner in which this dilemma is worked out could have been better done, but was still much more engaging than the relatively simplistic heart throb stories it followed upon. The main problem here is the character of Toinette - certainly the most interesting and the most original in overall conception. As beautiful as she is cold, it would seem that her personal background (an adopted child by a bourgeois family who had a checkered aristocratic birth) steadfastly precludes her ever finding happiness in any social, let along romantic relation she finds herself within. There was real potential here for an interesting development, but since almost all of her story comes through Edwin's perception of it, I was left with more questions than true understandings.
Also, the quite interesting sub theme of religion could have been more emphatically drawn out. The character of Lorinser, who is depicted as a religious zealot, is the only exclusively drawn villain in the work: a seducer of underage women, a smarmy con man who insinuates himself with deliberate falsehoods among rich aristocrats, and a sexual Lothario who uses salvation as a plot for his carnal desires. Leah's protector, a devout Christian, terminates her lessons with Edwin after Lorinser brings to her attention an article of he'd written discounting the tradition proofs for the existence of God. Yet Heyse's theme is more sophisticated: it is one in favor of religious tolerance: a unique concept in the Germany of his day, used as this nation was to the doctrine of Cuius regio, eius religio, that is everyone in the principality must follow the religion of its prince or ruler. Leah tells Edwin that it requires 'much more courage and humility ... to confess that we cannot recognize God, than to believe ourselves his pet children'. This agnosticism almost becomes atheism when Edwin proclaims that 'toleration for all religions has become commonplace, and honest toleration even of the irreligious ripened to the silent need of countless numbers'. Heady stuff for the late nineteenth century. And in Germany of all places.
Nonetheless, this thematic barb was a relatively blunt one, subsumed as it was under the pages and pages of heartfelt emotive outpourings of desperate, yearning, passionate and largely, eventually satisfied lovers. The closing epithet from Catallus to 'live and love' summed up the overall triteness that this far-too-long volume left me feeling.
Okay, but only up to a point.
April 30, 2022
Published in 1890, this was one of the many books that went toward making the author a Nobel prize winner in 1910. Written when he was in his sixties, it is a melodrama of life and love with an amazing amount of psychological insight for its time. He was known for his sympathetic characterizations of the women, which makes it interesting from an historical standpoint. However, it also reflects the style of writing of the era. You need to be prepared for a lot of long, beautifully worded descriptions of places and feelings and philosophies. But I slowed down, took the time, and feel I was richly rewarded.
January 19, 2019
3.5 stars
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews