Christoph Martin Wieland’s “The Philosopher’s Stone” is interesting because it seems to believe it belongs to a history of storytelling. Its self-reflexivity in storytelling is apparent, but I want to focus on its ostensible kinship with The Romance of Tristan and Iseult, a medieval narrative that popularly espouses the prototype for an “adultery myth” that has persisted through the ages in texts such as Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary. By Wieland indicating that the young King Mark of “The Philosopher’s Stone” belongs to the heritage of mythmaking that is The Romance of Tristan and Iseult, I wonder what the implications are. It is true that Wieland chooses young King Mark to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, King Mark of The Romance of Tristan and Iseult. However, as those familiar with the traditional tale know, King Mark is a veritably supporting character to whom the injustice of Tristan’s and Iseult’s love affair is done (NOTE: Notice the passive verb because it will be important later).
Perhaps the key lies in the line: “The young King Mark was very much like his grandfather. He was arrogant without ambition, sensuous without taste, and greedy without knowing how to be economical” (233). That is, perhaps Wieland is trying to say that history repeats itself. By calling on the medieval narrative of magic potions and star-crossed lovers, Wieland associates his modern tale with a classic tale of similar faults: arrogance, tasteless sensuality, and greed. This is a curious assertion, though, because the King Mark I remember from The Romance of Tristan and Iseult was a horribly passive character easily duped by his vicious court.
Ah, ha! That is just it! It must be the fact that King Mark is so easily duped, just like readers see young King Mark is in “The Philosopher’s Stone.” Therefore, credulousness is the problem that runs through both narratives. In the age of Enlightenment in which Wieland lives, excessive gullibility is impossible. Faith is impossible. Trust is impossible. … But knowledge is possible.
But even the protagonists of The Romance of Tristan and Iseult know they want each other, but they do not really know why. To Wieland, this would be another fault of the tale. The Romance of Tristan and Iseult emphasizes passion, emotion, instinct… all of which are characteristics insupportable in Wieland’s times. As I have stated, history repeats itself in “The Philosopher’s Stone,” which gets its protagonist into trouble because instinct is wrong.
In Walter Benjamin’s “Theses on the Philosophy of History,” he states that history is filled with the present. That is, in telling history from the present time, the concerns of the present often find a way into a historical tale through particular parallels. Using Benjamin’s logic, the concerns of Wieland’s time – that credulousness is unacceptable and truth, logic, and reason are essential – parallels and shapes the implication of The Romance of Tristan and Iseult, which is equally filled with credulousness and unconscious action. And, again, history repeats itself. More specifically, the tale repeats itself. In this way, “The Philosopher’s Stone” is inevitably a tale repeating tales.
Thoughts? Leave ‘em in the comments!
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Great point about the repetitive nature of this tale-repeating-tale aspect. Not only are there stories within stories, there are repetitive stories within repetitive stories. One thing I have to question, though, is the idea that Mark learns knowledge trumps emotion and his instinct is wrong. It certainly is on some level, especially with the people who come to court to scam him, but twice he falls in love with the same woman. And the second time, which is the time we see, he knows nothing about her other than he loves her body. But his instinct doesn't fail him here. Maybe it is not that instinct is a bad thing so much as instinct from an unwise man will lead him astray. Those who have trained their minds and channel their virtues and emotions toward proper desires will instinctively choose the right thing to admire.
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