It's difficult to draw any kind of unified voice on magic from this story for two particular reason: for one, Wieland purposefully differentiates between all types of magic and preternatural abilities, and secondly, the story spends its first half refuting the very idea of magic and then absolutely depends on it in the second half. Nevertheless, there exists at least one easy--if not necessarily accurate--way of interpreting all of Wieland's "schools" of magic that ties the story nicely into the a different moral allegory than the one we first expect. The Philosopher's Stone may seem to speak of the virtues of honest work and true love over lazy greed--and certainly it does do those things--but it also may illustrate the triumph of good old-fashioned social aptitude over various systems of thought.
The first category of magic are the inexplicable, folksy kind of powers we often find in fairy tales: smelling treasure, hypnotizing ghosts, using divining rods. This magic may be "secret" in that the possessor does not always reveal his ability, but the actual mechanics are presumably straightforward--and they'd have to be, for we can't expect a fairy tale gnome or witch to have a bachelor's degree. Folk wisdom, superstition, old wives' tales--whatever you want to call it, this potential source of practical knowledge is quickly discarded, especially by those in the competing school of alchemy. Alchemy, with its strict measurements and matter-of-fact protocols for how this element mixes with that tincture, draws easy comparisons to science in general, which had seen no small boost in ego during the Enlightenment. In again dismissing this "magical" system as fraudulent, Wieland may be ribbing the science of his day for its impracticality. We discovered a great deal in the 18th century, to be sure, but not much of it served an immediate purpose for mankind--Hutton's "Theory of the Earth" wasn't exactly a farmer's almanac. The last school, then, the "disciples of the great Hermes" among whom Misfragmutosiris is clearly the most "adept," may stand in for any number of European mysticisms (Rosicrucianism? Freemasonry?) or may just represent religion in general. The fact that this system of thought gets the most attention and causes the most havoc in the story would of course be quite appropriate given the power of the Church in 18th century society.
What of the "real" magic, then? Its purveyors seem very much like the fairies that have already been repudiated, or even the angels whose reputation Misfragmutosiris drags down in his ploy. I believe it's most important to note that the only lasting effect "real" magic has is to give the King and Queen younger and, uhh, fuller bodies--a change which doesn't seem to be a prerequisite for true love anyway. If all this magic actually does is teach lessons, I wonder if we can't take it as a symbol of general common sense regarding your social and vocational endeavors. We may not be born into King Mark's wealth, and we may not have the benefit of a transmogrificative benevolent being, but Wieland's fairy tale encourages us that his happy ending is not beyond the reach of those who labor to behave honestly and intelligently.
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i really like the depth that you go into about the possible meanings behind the types of magic in the story. i agree that Wieland could certainly have been making political and religious statements about the 18th century in which this was taking place.
ReplyDeleteI'm still trying to decide whether Wieland is trying to argue that the life of a peasant is more favorable than that of a king, or just that the politics which peasantry imply are in a more virtuous vein than that of nobility. It would be difficult to argue that the 19th century peasant conditions, as we've come to speak of them, were easy to aggrandize. Wouldn't one want to avoid a life of poverty and near-starvation at any costs? I saw the end as a cop out. It was divergent from the standard fairy tale, where it seems all heroes are granted material rewards, but it also disallowed an opportunity for better political commentary. If Wieland does find the peasant sensibility favorable, wouldn't it have been interesting to see how he felt i might translate to that of a king. The easy answer is to keep them as peasants, in a sense not challenging the world to change. But if he were to return the King and Queen to "noble" form, perhaps even against their will, he could reveal his own reformation ideas for leadership through their changed behavior. Magic becomes a convenient plot tool for transforming his characters into new circumstances, but in the failure to transform them back we see the ultimate convenience.
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