THE USE O~ DIALOGUE IN THE

DRAMAS OF MAX FRISCH



'l'HE USE OF Dr ALOGUE IN THE

DRAMAS OF MAX FRISCH

by

DEIRDRE WINIFRED JOY B}~L, B.A o

A Thesis

Submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Studies

in Partial :Fulfilment of the Requirements

for the degree

Master of Arts

McMaster University

May 1968.



i'iASTER OF ARTS

(German)

TITLE:

AUTHOR:

SUPERVISOR:

NUMBER OF PAGJ<~

SCOPE AND CONJ'ENTS:

~1cMASTER UNIVERSITY

Hamilton, Ontario.

The Use of Dinlo~e in the Dramos of
Max Frisch.

Deirdre Winifred Joy Bell, B.A. (Dublin)

Mr. H. H. Schulte

iv, 74

The gradual change in attitude to modern
theatrical dialogue is outlined and an
investigation of frisch's dialogue is
carried out. It is established that the
lack of communication manifest in the
dialogue between characters on stage
has as its counterpart a high level of
communication between stage and audience.
The means whereby this is achieved lies
in the manipulation of dalogue in- and
cross-stage.

ii

.
!'"



INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

BIBLIOGRAPHY

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE NON-COMMUNICATIVE DIALOGUE

THE "BILDNIS"

THE INFORl'1ATIVE DIALOGUE

THE ROLE OF TH}~ AUDn~NCE

THE AUDIENCE, THE DIALOGUE AND THE
THEATRICAL

CONCLUSION

Par;e

1

12

31

37

48

63

69

72



INTRODUCTION

"Wir haben ein Drama vor uns, wenn auf einem besoncteren

Raum von Rollentra,rsern ein Geschehen ae;iert wird."l

While ostensibly a satisfactory basic definition of the

drama, it seems surprising that Kayser should omit mention of the

one constant which is an essential factor of all drama - the spoken

word. On closer examination of the above, it would appear that if

such a definition is to be considered valid, then it follows that

the author holds either that it is impossible for characters to con-

veya completed action withbut words, or that 'charade' and 'drama'

can be equated - an equation whose validity is surely questionable.

In the charade the characters ("Hollentrar,er") present some action

or happening ("Geschehen") in some place of focal interest (IIbe_

sonderer Raum l
') in an attempt to convey to the audience by mime a

preselected word or phrase, the characters and their roles being

of significance only in so far as they help to convey the words.

By contrast, ~n the drama an attempt is made to present through

words the characters and their roles, and it is precisely this use

of the spoken word which lends to the drama that simultaneity of

visual and auditory, physical and mental, which no other literary

form can project. One should add, therefore, to the basic condi-

tions for the drama as set forth by Kayser - "besonderer Raum",

1W. Kayser, Das sprachliche Kunstwerk (5. Auflage; Bern,
1959) p. 366.



2

"nollentra~er", "Geschehen", "agieren" - a fifth: "das Gcsprochene

Vlort II •

In acceptinv, this addition and the five-fold comhination

thus established, one passes from the broad concept of speech itself

to that of dialo~ue, the basic vehicle of dramatic expression.

(Given characters acting and speaking within a specifically delineated

area, it is lo~ical that their speech will be addressed to one another).

In the traditional theatre no awkward ~uestions were posed

hy the dialogue, which was used almost as a fourth, unwritten unity

to bear the other three. Thus what was seen with the eye was also

heard with the ear, and though the latter could transcend the limita­

tions of the visual by delving into factual past or probable future,

it only did so in order to explain or verify the happenin~ which was

unfolding on stage. Each individual character was subservient to

that complete action which the sum of the characters composed.

That the theatre largely reflects the era of the playwright

and audience may be a commonplace, yet if this is accepted, then

why the wonderment at the so-called 'theatrical crisis' we have

experienced in the twentieth century? With the ~radual breakdown

of all absolute values and of all beliefs whose roots lie anywhere

other than in the factual, rational and wholly explicable, it follows

inevitably that everythinG should be called into question, including

the meaning and identity of the questioner, and also the terms them­

selves in which the questions are posed. In this way langua~e itself

hecomes suspect. The individual is isolated and within his isolation



3

the words he uses, deriving their particular meaning from his

particular psyche, lie beyond the reach of others. To group these

individuals together in drama is no longer synonymous with forming

an obviously cohesive whole, which means that the theatrical message

comes to depend more largely on the observer's power of synthesis

and is not now presented with this synthesis already complete. As

it is the intention of this thesis to examine in detail the dialogue

of Max Frisch, a twentieth-century dramatist, it seems wise to look

briefly at changes of thought and practice which have taken place

in the development of the modern dramatic dialogue.

"Thus far the science of man has been little cultivated by

authors who with scanty knowledge in psychology have tried to sketch

the soul-life which is practically hidden. One knows only one life,

2his own." As we can see from these words, Strindberr; was already

beginning to display an interest in greater psychological depth in

the drama in 1886. He was to playa great part in influencing the

dramatic trends of the twentieth century. As Szondi expresses it:

"Mit Strindberg hebt an, was spater den Namen 'Ich-Dramatik' tragt

und das Bild der dramatischen Literatur Jahrzehnte hindurch bestimmt.,,3

~'he character in Strindberg's plays become the real key to the action,

their revelation of themselves being of prime importance. Thus in

his plays the dialogue is used to bring to light inner movement

2As quoted by C.E. Dahlstrom, Strindber~'s Dramatic Ex­
pressionism (New York, 1965) p. 99.

3Szondi, P. Theorie des modernen Dramas (Frankfurt/Main,
1956) p. 40.

,
"



whose outer reflection may not find a physical form on sta~e. But

for the character to reveal himself most fully he must at times,he

granted the opportunity to display somethinv, more than purely sub-

jective clarity. He is given free access to the disordered realm

of mental association whose limits no rules could hope to establish.

The accepted formal structure breaks down as the 'improbable' be-

comes less easily defined, and no one scene any longer nceds auto-

matically to beget the next, as the presence of recurring characters

affords in itself a ready unity of association for the observer.

(IISta tionenctrama ll
). 'l'he dialogue is beine; given a new freedom

through this new attitude to the characters.

From the increased interest in psycholof,y there develops an

increased interest in speech, the audible manifestation of the mind.

In the dramas of Pirandello there is a sense of indignation at being

confronted with the impossibility of capturing and transmitting

ideas by means of words, by the impossibility of reconciling life

and form. In this context he speaks of lithe deceit of mutual

understanding irremediably founded on the empty abstraction of the

words, the multiple personality of everyone corresponding to the

possibilities of being to be found in each of us, and finally

the inherent tragic conflict between life (which is always

moving and changing) and form (which fixes it, immutable).11
4

4L• Pirandello, Preface to IISix Characters in Search of an
Author". In Naked Masks, ed. Eric Bentley (New York, 1958) p. 3670

..



5

In Henry IV (1922), as in Six Characters in Senreh of an Author

(1921), words mean little, and as a means of communicntion they arc

largely ineffective. This seems to be a 10Rical development of

Strindberr.;l s "One knows only one life, his own.,,5 For example:

'J'he ~~anClp;~E: I don It understand this .'It al).
The Father: Naturally enouGh. I would Cl~k you, sir,

to excrci~e your authority a little here, and let me
speak before you believe all she is tryinp; to blame
me with. Let me explain.

The Step-danghter: Ah yes, explain it in your own
way.

The Father: But don't you see that the whole
trouble lies here. In words, words. Each one of
us has within him a whole world of thinGs, each man
of us his own special world. And how can we ever
come to an understandinG if I put in the words I
utter the sense and value of thinp;s as I see them;
while you who listen to me must inevitably trans­
late them according to the conception of things
each one of you has within himself. We think 68
understand each other, but we never really do.

The dramatic character has here subjected his own means of

expression to an objective, critical examination as a result of

increased psychological probing, therefore it is scarcely surprising

to find that in later drama he is divided on stage between what he

thinks as an individual and what he says as the member of a certain

group of individuals. From the breach between life and form ex-

pressed by Pirandello we have passed to the breach between one indi-

vidual and another, between the demands made on him by his personality

and instincts and those made on him by the group in which his life

unfolds. Both implicit and explicit expression of this breach is

5See note 2.

6L• Pirandello, trans. Edward Storer. In Drama in the Nodern
World, ed. S. A. Weiss (Boston, 1964) p. 220.



p.;i ven in the dialoF;Ue of 0 'Neill, pArticularly in his play Strc:mp;e

Interlude (1927), where each character speaks half his lines as

asides, revealing his true feelings as an individual to the audience,

but not to his own 'group'. Only Nina, the central figure, actually

puts into words that helplessness and frustrntion common to them

All, whether consciously or unconsciously: (To Marsden, the novelist -

D. B.)

life
sigh

out)
You see:

sniffling

drawing it
L-i-i-f-e:
lie with a

Do I seem queer? It's because I've suddenly Geen
the lies in the sounds called words. You know ­
grief, sorrow, love, father - those sounds our
lips make and our hands write. You oup.;ht to know
what I mean. You work with them. Have you written
another novel lately? But, stop to think, you're
just the one who couldn't know what I mean. ~ith

you lies have become the only truthful things.
And I suppose that's the logical conclusion to the
whole evasive mess, isn't it? Do you understand
me, Charlie? Say lie -

(She says it,
L-i-i-e: Now say life.
is just a long drawn out
at the end: 7

In O'Neill's drama the individual in his privacy repeatedly

departs from the image he presents as a social being. Having realized

the mutual lack of understanding and its inevitability, the characters

are thrown back entirely on their own mental resources, and thus the

dialogue becomes more complex. Two people become as four, with each

revealing a self, only two of which come into verbal contact. This

seems to be an extension of Pirandello' s "Vie think we understand

each other, but we never really do". Whereas in Six Characters in

7E• O'Neill, 'l'he Plays of EUGene O'Neill (New York, 1934),
I, p. 63.



7

Se~rch of an Author an attempt is made hy each ch~racter to cx-

plain himself to the others and to the outside theatrical troupe,

in Strange Interblde each character plays a part within a part, as

if acknowledging that one cannot he understood and must instead

play that role which fits the misunderstanding of one's fellow-

bein~s. Through this awareness of duality the dialogue has gained

a ,new dimension: where before it was the vehicle for commentary

and explanation of one particular aspect of action or character,

it has gradually hecome, hy means of its use as a tool for psycho1-

ogical probing, the bearer of many asp~cts. In the case of O'Neill,

one aspect only is developed for the world outside, the others are

developed for the individual within himself. Thus the audience is

presented \rith a much more complex dialoeue than before.

From here we pass through Brecht and his efforts to strip

the audience of its penchant for self-identification with the on-

stage happenings/utterances to the new expression of the dual

dialogue to be found in Thornton Wilder.
8

In Our Town (1938)

commentary is provided on the characters by the stage-manager,

which leaves them free to enact chosen excerpts without asides -

excerpts chosen by the stage-manager, who assumes the role of

story-teller and supreme unifier of the play. An almost conspir-

80ur brief survey demands that Brecht be treated only in
passing, as for him the dialogue itself never hecomes problematic.
His problems are not of a psychological, but of a practical,
sociological and humanitarian nature, finding their expression
in a very pro~ressive, closely-knit dialogue which seems to say:
"Look at us in this jam, look at our tremendous difficulties.
This is how we behave. What would you do in this situation?"



either. 9

atorial relationship is established between this character and

the a\ldience, similar to that between the omniGcient narrator

and the reader in a character-novel. The Skin of our Tenth (1942)

also establishes such a relationchip, but between the audience and

various characters from the internal action of the play itself. For

example, Sabina, the maid:

Mr. Antrobus: Sabina, I want you to ~o into the
kitchen and make a lot of coffee. Make a whole pail
full.

Sabina: Pail full::
Antrobus: (with gesture)

And sandwiches ••• piles of them •••
like this.

Sabina: Mr. An
(Suddenly she drops the play, and says

in her own person as MISS SOMEHS~r, with surprise)
Oh, I see what this part of the play

means now: This means refu~ees.

(She starts to cross to the proscenium)
Oh, I don't like it. I don't like it.

(She leans against the proscenium
and bursts into tears)

Antrobus: Miss Somerset:
(Voice of the STAGE MANAGER)
Miss Somerset:

Sabina: (Energetically to the audience)
Ladies and gentlemen: Don't take this play

serious. The world's not coming to an end. You know
it's not. People exaegerate: Most people really have
enoueh to eat and a roof over their heads. Nobody
actually starves - you can always eat grass or something.
That ice-business - why, it was a long, long time ago.
Besides they were only savages. Savages don't love
their families - not like we do.

Antrobus and StaGe Mana~er: Miss Somerset::
(There is renewed knocking at the door)

Sabina: All right. I'll say the lines, but I won't
think about the play.

(Enter Mr. Antrobus)
Sabina: (Parting thrust at audience)

And I advise you not to think about the play

9T• Wilder, Three Plays (New York, 1957) p. 117.

,
g



9

Despite the implicRtions of this exhortation not to think,

nevertheless it is obvious th3t the audience is actuAlly heinv, called

into leA[,ue with a ch3racter in the play. PArticipation has been

re-established on an objective basis, where it was wilfully destroyed

in Brecht, and while this is now a mute participation, the extension

of the function of speech on sta[,e is obvious. Exchanges hetween

the characters may not mean a real coming together~ but this is of

less significance than in O'Neill, as the private individual now has

conscious recourse to a listening public and there puts forward his

point of view. Complete honesty is assumed in the relationship

between on-~ta[,e characters and the audience.

Whereas in Wilder a sense of non-communication other than

on the superficial level is often explicit, if we turn to Ionesco

we find that it is wholly implicit, the characters no lon[,er bothering

about identity or communication, but simply rhyming off absurd

phrases. There is no evident breach between the actor and his role,

between what is said and what is understood - in fact, everything

is reduced to absurdity, an absurdity often both visual and verbal.

Of the many examples of this absurdity to be found in Ionesco I

cite only one:

Mrs. Martin: I can buy a pocket-knife for my
brother, but you could not buy Ireland for your
grandfather.

Mr. Smith: One walks on one's feet, but one
keeps warm with the aid of coal and electricity.

Mr. Martin: Sell a pig today, eat an e[,g to­
morrow.



10

Mrs. Smi.th: In life you've got to look out
of the winrlowo

Mrs. Mnrtin: You may sit down on the chair
when the chair hasn't any.

Mr. Smith: One can always be in two places at
once. 10

11Ionesco in his writinr,s on the theatre sums up~

apparently in the only terms now possible, what the drama now is:-

"Une piece de theatre ne peut etre ni plus ni moins, exactement,

que ce que ne sont pelS toutes les choses qui ne sont pas des pieces

de theatre."(160) V!ithin this drama which is everything all non-

dramas are not, the characters have no identity, no set ideology

can be laid forth (203) and dialoF,ue is reduced to the level of

cliches. As Ionesco himself says: "I.e plus souvent mes personnar,es

disent des choses tres plates parce q~e la banalite est Ie symptome

de la non-communication. Derriere les cliches l'homme se cache."(204)

Thus the dialogue has undergone a great change in approach.

The characters have passed from a mutual confidence in understanding

through an awareness of the frustrating impossibility of verbal

communication, from there to a stage where the effort to understand

and be understood is considered futile, and thence to an unconscious

state of apathy. from being the direct expression of a character's

idea and the means by which this idea is communicated, the dialoiPle

has become the cloak behind which all true identity and meaning is

hidden or forgotten. Thus the original concept of dialogue -

lOE. Ionesco, "The Bald Prima Donna", in Plays, trans. Donald
Watson (London, 1958), I. p. 115.

lIE. Ionesco, Notes et Contre-Notes (Paris, 1962)

•..



11

dia-logos - has been rendered meaningless.

lI~enn ich Diktator ware, wUrde ich nur IoneGco spiclen

12lassen. 11 This is Max Frisch in an interview with Horst Bienek,

boldly asserting his great admiration for this playwright of the

Absurd. He goes on to explain that Ionesco's plays, in high-

li~hting Man's modern dilemma, amuse and reassure the audience,

which does not feel itself attacked, and thus the latter can carry

on their complacent little lives. Frisch, for his part, aims to

disquiet this audience by means of burning but unresolved questions,13

which aim cannot be adequately served by the Absurd. Frisch's

dramatic characters are too intensely self-oriented to resemble those

of Ionesco in their interchangeability,14 his dialogue too much the

implement of his characters to be a mere collection of words and sounds.

Despite his admiration for Ionesco, Frisch himself stops short of

parody as he feels that there is still something to be said, that

the old words need not inevitably form meaningless clich~s - an

outdated traditionalist, therefore? Not necessarily. While Ionesco

uses the spoken cliche to indicate a cliche-ridden thinking in general

he never shows exactly what form these mental cliches take. Frisch's

dialogue is more concerned with illustrating the mental than the

spoken cliche, as an examination of his dialogue will show.

12H• Bienek, Werkstattgespr~chemit Schriftstellern (MUnchen, 1962)
p. 30.

13M• Frisch, Tagehuch 1946-19'f9 (ZUrich, 1965) p. 108.

14B• Ionesco, ~otes et Contre-Notes, p. 160.

"~



CHAPTER I

THE NON-CO~MUNICATIVE DIALOGUE

The majority of Frisch's plays are set within a fairly

intimnte circle, ~t whose centre arc two people who have lived

in close proximity to one ~nother for some time, and who have

come to 'know' each other to some extent. The intimacy of

these settings appears to play a part in highli~htinB the treachery

of laziness in thouBht and speech seen by Frisch in the tendency

towards categorization, for it is in the apparently most intimate

relationships that the problem is at its most acute. Such a re-

lationship is that of husband and wife, parent and child, or lover

and beloved, therefore I propose, in the first instance, to con-

sider the dialogue in these relationships.

1. Husband and Wife.

Turning at random to one of the dramas in which the

main characters are husband and wife, we find the following in

Die grosse Wut des Philipp Hotz:

Dorli: Philipp - ?
(Hotz tritt in die Szene)

Hotz: lch geh jetzt.
(Er nimmt das Kofferchen zur Hand)

Lebwohl.
(Sie blickt ihn an)

Dorli: lch bin dir nicht bas.
Hotz: Dorli-
Dorli: Warum ziehst du ei~entlich deinen Mantel nicht

aus, Philipp, seit heute Vormittag?

12



13

(Dorli iBt)
Hotz: Du - ieh r;eh jetzU

(~r bliekt Auf seine Armbanduhr)
HM,t du genaue Zeit?

Dorli: 16.48.
(Hotz zieht seine Armbanduhr auf)

Hotz: Das ist keine Art, Dorli, eine ~he zu fUhren
du mAehst mit mir, was du willst, bloB weil du die
Sehw:'chere bist.

Dorli: Was mach ieh denn?
Hotz: Ieh habe einen Zur; naeh Genf: 17.23. AnschluB

nach Marseille: 22.07. ~enn es dieh heute noeh reuen
sollte, Dorli, daB du jetzt schweigst:- Poste de la Gare,
Marseille, poste restante.

Dorli: 1eh schweige ja r;ar nicht.
E?tz: Aher ich muB jetzt gehen •••
Dorli: Wohin?
Kotz: Lebwohl. l

At this point the play is almost at an end, yet these lines

contain the first direct exchanges between Hotz and his wife, Dorli.

He has spent time, money and energy in proving to her that he really

is about to leave for the Foreign Legion, as their marriage is

obviously impossible, yet she simply says '''Narum ziehst du eigent-

lich deinen Mantel nicht aus, Philipp, seit heute Vormittag?" The

same situation has apparently been recurring constantly throughout

the seven years of their married life, with each partner having long

since established a certain pattern of behaviour - Hotz threatening

to leave, but not doing so, Dorli ignoring the threat. In the pas-

sage quoted here each one is obviously adopting a pose, Hotz with

his repeated "Ich geh jetzt" and his very transparent efforts at

time-wasting, Dorli with her semi-indulgent "Ich bin dir nicht bos"

1M• Frisch, StUcke (Frankfurt/Main, 1962), Band 2, p. 187.



14

and her assumed nAivety - "Vias mach ich denn?H ••• HIch schwp.ip;e

ja gar nicht" ••• H\'Johin?" lowhere in the play do they come to-

gether in any kind of discussion or even argument. The nearest

to the latter is presented in the form of speech and cormentary,

with Dorli in the scene and Hotz in front, addressing the audience.

(StUcke, 2, 176-181) AGain each only puts his own particular side

of the situation, and although amusing, it is clear that husband

and wife are both so caught up in their respective theorip.s of the

rules for the married state that no headway between them is possible.

Given the situation of Die GroBe Wut des Philipp Hotz it

might appear that under these special circumstances the dialogue

between husband and wife would necessarily show a lack of progression,

but if we look at the dialogue of the other married couples in Frischfs

dramas where the situation is not so exceptional, this same lack is

obvious. In Graf Oderland, for example, the Staatsanwalt (later

Oderland) and his wife, Elsa, are first seen talking together in the

middle of the night. He has got up and dressed; she comes to look

for him:

Elsa: Ich suche dich im ganzen Haus, wieso
gibst du keine Antwort? Ich dachte schon, du
bist ausgegangen -

Staatsanwalt: Wohin?
Elsa: Was ist los?
StAatsanwalt: Ich hAhe mich nur angezogen.
~lGa: Mitten in der N~cht?

Staatsanwal t: Es scheint so•.
Elsa: Wieso schl~fst du nicht?
Stai'ltsanwalt: Wieso schlafst du nicht?

.................................................



15

StnatsRnwnlt: 1eh kann nieht sehlafen •._--
ElsCl: Du rcmehst zuviel.
Stoatsanwalt: M~glieh •••
Elca: Du arbeitest zuviel.
§.ta<l tsnnw<ll 1.:.: Sieher ••• das tun wir ja aIle

hierzulande. Bis es einmal reiBt. Und donn wun­
dern sie sieh, unsere braven Gesehworenen, wenn
einer zur Axt greift.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Elsa: Du sollst nieht immer an deine Akten denken,

Martin, du maehst dieh krank. Jede Naeht arbeiten,
das vertr~~t kein Mensch.

StaAtsan~01t: Nimmt einfaeh die Axt
Elsa: Horst du nieht, was ieh sage?

(Der-Staatsanwalt raueht und sehweigt)
1eh sage, es ist zwei Uhr vorbei.

Staatsanwalt: Es gibt Stunden, wo ieh ihn be­
greife •••

Elsa: Wenn ~l nieht sehlafen kRnnst, warum
nimmst du kein Pulver? Nun gehst ctu wieder die
ganze Naeht hin und her. Was hat das fUr einen
Sinn: Wie ein Gefangener. Was kommt dabei
heraus? Am andern 10rgen bist du wieder wie
geradert, du bist nieht mehr jung, Martin -

StaRtsanwalt: 1eh bin es nie gewesen.
(Er nimrnt ein Foto vom Sehreibtiseh)2

So sieh t er elUS:
Elsa: 1eh verstehe dieh nieht, Martin.
st;;tsanwalt: 1ch weiB. (StUe.ke, 1, 303-305)

Obviously there is some basic laek of understanding here,

in fact, Elsa even admits within this passage that she does not

know what her husband means. However, even without this admission

it would be apparent from the dialogue that the two people are not

communicating mentally. Elsa asks a question, listens for the reply

she welDts - "1eh kann nicht sehlafen" - anct then proceeds to unload

21t is a photograph of himself o

..



16

one after 8nother her p< tent cures - "Du rauchst zuviel", IIDu

8rbeitest zuviel", "V/arum nimmst dll kcin Pulver?" llerhushand in

turn, is just as obviously unconcerned with her undcr5tDndin~ or

1Clck of it. 1\s he SRys, he know:> th;it she undenitands noth:ing,

kno\'/s

ness,

that she will suggest hackneyed remedies for his sloeplcss-

which in reality springs from a deep psycholof,ical conflict

within himself. Thrown back completely on himself, he must sort

out alone his own mental turmoil. Hence the interest in hi;, own

trLlin of thoup;ht, as seen i.n "Nimmt ei.nfach die Axt", "!!:,; giht

Stunden, wo ich ihn be~reife". Here it is not a question of

adopting a conscious pose, as in Die GroBe ~ut des Philipn Hotz,

which causes husband and wife to by-pass all possibility of mental

contact, but simply the two-sided adherence to oneself. This, of

course, underlies the problem in the other play, as the fixed ideas

of Hotz and Dorli are merely the expression of the self as it

thinks it would like to be. Whereas in the case of Hotz the lack

of communication had as its source a pretence, here it is the very

absence of pretence which clearly shows how incapable this couple

is of mental communication. Elsa has her ideas about sleeplessness,

the prosecutor has his - deadlock.

In Als der Krieg zu Ende war husband and wife ap;ain occupy

a central position, although tho lack of progression in thought

between them does not become immediately apparent in the play. The

opening dialogue between Agnes and Horst seems quite straightforward.

I
~



17

Here, for example, they are talkinp; ahout the enemy, the Rusr;ians:

Horst:
Ubrip; hast

i\r;nl: ~:
Horst:

reh weiB wirklich nieht, was elu noch immcr
fUr dicses Yolk;
1eh?
Jo •

.:.I\r:nf's: 1eh kcnne sie j<1 nicht. Nul' (Jus rleinen
Er7,~ihl\lnr:cn. Ihm:lls im UrL111b. Aus deincn Briefen.
WeihnClchten bei rUn:-;ischcn 13::lUcrn; D:lmals hast riu
immer so rUhrende Geschiehten erlebt -

Horst: DLlm"ls.---
Ar;nes: \lJunderbare Menschen; Geschw1:irmt hast du .ia -
Horst: Kann seine 1m err;ten Jahr.
Ar;nes: SolanE;e es vor\'lQrts [';in[';.
Horst: ~ns wilist du elnmit AiJp;en?

(Agnes wenclet sieh ihrcr J\rbcit 7..u)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

J\p:n~.E.: Husscnschl'lcine, weif~t du, dDS crinncrt
mich so an Judenschl'leine unel all das andere, was
unsere eigenen Schweine gesap;t haben - und f,etan.

Horst: Was willst du damit sagen?
Ap;nes: Wir haben uns lanp;e nicht gesehen, Horst,

mehr als zwei Jahre - (Agnes tritt zu ihm:)
Du?

(Horst rUhrt sich nicht)
Zwei Jahre sind eine lange Zeit ••• Abel'

wir haben uns nicht verandert, Horst, wir werden uns
wieder verstehenZ Gelt? (StUcke, 1, 254-255)

An everyday argument between two people, one of whom shows

~prejudice, the other who points this out. Perhaps, but this

excerpt also contains a hint of the real difficulty in "Zwei Jahre

sind eine lange Zeit ••• abel' wir haben uns nicht verandert, Horst,

wir 'verden uns wieder verstehen: Gelt?" Agnes already knows that

there is no possibility of their finding a way to each other again,

but is refusing to accept the truth of her own awareness. As the

play progresses, the subsequent dialoe;ue between husband and wife

shows that theirs is a thorough-going misunderstanding. They too

cannot communicate mentally, as Agnes' later dishonesty clearly shows.



18

Both of them are in fact, cauGht up in falBehood:

Horst: Bs ist njcht leieht ~ewcs0n, dir zu clauben,
Elber jetzt - Vlarum zitterf>t du denn? ••• "Ienn bis jetzt
niehts Kesehehen ist, A~neG, jetzt muBt du wirklich
kei.ne f\nr;st mehr lwben; von einer Fr~lU, die mnn licbt ­
kein ~1ann wird crzwinl':cn, 1'1:1::; [;i~) vcn;:ll';t - d:l:; weir~t UU
cen[lu.

Ar:n0s: }~r.sehier.,c ilIieh~

(Ar;nes ni~nt die W~ffe HUS dem Pelz)
Tu es~ Jetzt~ ~u es~

(Horst nimmt ihr dip. Waffe aUG der Tbnd)
Glaube an mieh, oder erschieBe mieh%

(AJ;ncs brieht emf die J<nie)
Horst: IV'ls solI das, A~ncs ••• Komm ... Stch auf,

k0111111 ••• L'JB un:.; vern\\nftir~ sein ••• Vlcnn du jctz t
nieht Cehst - DaB ieh dir glnubc, ARnCG, dHs ist doeh
Id::lr - sonst sind wir verlorf'n, beide ••• ]{c5rst du?

(Agnes auf den Knien, die Hande for den
AUKen)

Af5nes: '\'Ienn du jetzt nieht e;ehst. DaB ich dir
glaube, Agnes, das ist doch klar. Sonst sind wir
verloren, beide.' (StUcke, 1,286)

Here it is conscious dishonesty which has come between

the couple, as Agnes has fallen in love with the Rusf>ian commandant,

and persists in keeping up a front for the sake of her husband.

Agnes is committed to living a lie, Horst to believing it. She

never actually voices this lie, but by questions such as '~laubst

du eigentlich, ich bin eine Hure?" (StUcke 1, 286) actually helps

Horst into thinking what he wants to think, which is the opposite

of what she says. They are both fighting the same truth - the truth

of Agnes' infidelity.

In all these intimate relationships it is clear that mental

intimacy and understandine; are totally lackine;. The dialogue

between husband and wife is curiously static, almost as if each

...



19

person were involved in a dialogue with his inner self instead of

wi. th the other person. Neither really li"tenG or tries fJcriou.rsly

to make him;,elf llnricrstoon, but pUr!;ll0f; ob:,tini1tely the tr~1i_n of

thoUf:;ht which he feels sums up the current !-;ituiltion, not sto11ping

to consider the possibility of this being totally inapplicable for

anyone other than himself.

2. Parent and Child.

A relationship between members of two different generations

might be expected to show friction and variance of ideas, yet it

is not the inevitable clash between youth and age which causes the

mental barrier in these relationships as seen in Frisch's drama.

In Nun sincen sie wieder it is the son's absolute idealism and

sense of moral responsibility which makes him attack the past com-

promises of his father, which were based on self-preservation.

Rather similar is the situation between Andri and his father in

Andorra. Notice how both fathers are cast in the role of teacher

and how both have been living a lie: the first (Nun singen sie

wieder) teaches freedom of thought and yet later obeys all the

orders which directly curb such freedom, the second (Andorra)

bravely defies authority and then privately builds a lie around

his son in order to protect his own image. From the dialogue

between each pair we can see how an unbridgeable gap has opened

I

~



20

between father and son. For example, in A18 dcr KrieB zu Ende

war:

Karl: Hast du schon einmal auf Frauen und
Kinder geschossen?

OheI1ehrer: Ich saGe dir: du hElst es auf Be­
fehl r,etan;

Karl: Und wer hat es befohlen?
Oberlehrer: Es ist nicht deinc Schuld, Kilrl,

was aJles Cluch befohlen wird, es ist nicht unnere
Schuld -

Kclrl: Das ist es ja~

Oberl0.h~~~: Du Inchst? ••
~nrl: Jedes Wort, dns du SDf,st, Of; klnp;t uns an.­

Es gibt das nicht, es p;ibt keine Allsflucht in den
Gehorsnm••••••••••••• tJli'ln l<dnn di~ Last
der person lichen Freiheit nicht abtreten - und eben
das haben wir versucht, und eben das ist llnsere
Schuld. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Oberlehrer: Melde dich zuruck ••• Jeden Augen­
blick kommen die Leute in den Keller ••• auch ~aria

soIl dich nicht sehen, Maria, die dich nicht
lassen wird, bis wir verloren sind. (StUcke, 1, 113)

Karl first asks a question, to which his father replies

only with an excuse for his question, then comes another question,

another excuse. That no headway is made is obvious - the father's

"Melde dich zurUck" shows the complete refusal to absorb what Karl

has been trying to tell him. Just as the prosecutor and Elsa in

Graf Oderland were talking at cross purpose about the reasons for

sleeplessness, so are Karl and his father talkinp; about respon-

sibility and guilt; just as Elsa saw the solution in holidays and

sleepinG-draughts, so does the Oberlehrer see responsibility in

terms of self-preservation. Both of them have in common a re-

I..



fusal to think, a refusal to see, and a refusal to listen.

Turnin~ to Andorra and the dialo~ue between Andri and

his father we find that even before the latter refuses p0rmission

for Andri to marry Barblin, Andri does not show a natural freedom

of e~~ression or behaviour towards his f3ther:

Lehrer: leh kann's nieht leiden, wenn du du­
stehst wie etn MeBknabe, der ~estohlen hat oder
W<lo'3 weiP.> ich, so artig, wei1 du mlch fUrchtest.
(StUcke 2, 234)

However, this is .soon reversed when Andri thinks he dis-

covers that his fo.ster-fathor is anti-Semitic like the rest of

Andorra. Then his deference chan~es to contempt, his verbal re-

straint to hostile volubility. Having been forced into acceptance

of the lie his father built around his origin of birth, Andri has

now become mentally incapable of considering any other possibility.

The truth now becomes for him a falsehood, and this is the mental

standpoint he sustains throu~hout the play:

(Auftritt der Lehrer)
Lehrer: Mein Sohn:
Andri: lch bin nicht dein Sohn.
Lehrer: lch bin gekommen, Andri, um dir die

Wahrheit zu sagen, bevor es wieder Morgen ist •••
Andri: Du hast getrunken.
Lehrer: Deinetwegen, Andri, deinetwegen.

(Andri lacht)
I ein Sohn -

Andri: LaP.> das:
Lehrer: Horst du mich an?
Andri: Halt dich an einem Laternenpfahl, aber

nicht an mir, ich rieche dich. (StUcke 2, 243)
...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Lehrer: Komm nach Haus:
An~~~: ~s hat keinen 2weck, Vater, daP.> du es

nochmals erzahlst. Dein Sehicksal ist nicht mein
Schicksal, Vater, und mein Schicksal nicht dein
Schicksal.



Lehrer:---
Anrlri:
l.ehrer:----
Anrlri:
Lehrer:

Mein einzi~er Zeu~e ist toto
Sprich nicht von ihr:

Du tra~st ihren Ringo
Was rlu ~etan hast, tut kein Vater.

Woher weiBt du das? (StUcke 2 9 280)

22

Andri, now the victim of an 'id~e fixe', cannot

acknowledge the possibility of his being wrone. Having once

accepted the so-c~lJ.ed truth about himself, however unwillingly,

he is then wholly consistent, thus an insuperable barrier is

erected between father and son.

The difference between the husband/wife and the parenti

child situations lies in the father's realization that the

accusations levelled at him are well-founded. Such a realization

does not find expression in the dialogue, however, where only

mental stalemate is apparent. Both acknowledge their guilt by

giving up their lives, having tried in vain to justify their past

falsehoods to themselves and to their children. Where husband and

wife are concerned, it is as if their main desire is to keep to

the mental pattern they each have established 9 to follow their own

train of thought with no interference from those around them, and

this they do both in speech and action. In every case no communi-

cation is made in the dialogue because each character is wholly self-

absorbed.

3. Lovers.

Having seen how husband and wife, father and son do not



23

communicEl te mentally, one could expect either of two 't'Jos::;ibili ties

from the dialogue between people in a less well-defined relation-

ship - either that the comparative freedom of these relationships

would help towards mental contact, or that the communication-

problem would be even more severe. Neither is true in Frisch's

drama. Let us look at the dialogue between lovers, for example,

as seen in Die 5ro~e Wut des Philipp Hotz, Graf Oderland, and

Als der Krieg zu Ende war.

In the first two of these three plays it is strange how

the respective wives of Hotz and Oderland seem to use their lovers,

Wilfrid and Doktor Hahn, merely as a launchinv,-pdd for the expression

of their own ideas. Once again the dialogue furnishes us with

evidence of a mental standstill because of preoccupation:-

Dorli: Morgen ist es genau ein Jahr, seit ich's
ihm gesagt habe. Wegen uns. Und heute endlich
zeigt er seine Wut. So introvertiert ist er:
Heute endlich -

(Der junge Dienstmann schUttelt einen Korb
voll Scherben aus)

Schau ihn dir an:
Wilfrid: Scherben-
Dorli: Rlo~ weil ich meine Scheidungsklage

zurUckziehe. Schau ihn dir an: Blo~ weil ich
gesagt habe: Das wirst du nicht tun, Philipp,
ich kenne dich:

~Der alte Dienstmann schUttelt einen Korb voll
Scherben aus)

Wilfrid: Was solI das?
Dorli: BloB damit ich ihn ernstnehme, wenn er ein

n~chstes Mal wUtend ist und wieder behauptet, da~

unsere Ehe nicht gehe -
(Dorli schUttelt den Kopf)

Und die Vorh~nge! die t--iobel! die Eilded
Hat man schon so etwas gesehenJ- blo~ wei I der Friedens­
richter ihm sagte, er sei ein gebilcteter Mensch.



24

(Dorli nimmt sich eine Zir;arettc) -L

Hotz: Sie beginnt sich zu wundern.~

O{;tz stei~t in die Szcne, Ur.l ihr .;:;ein
Feuerzeu~ zu bieten)

~Vilfrict: Du- Rogal" die schonen Gl~ser~ die
ich euch geschenkt habe, sind dabei! (StUcke, 2, 178)

Wilfrid is obviously concernect only with what is going

on around him, that is, the systemCltic destruction of the

furniture and fittings, while Dorli is so cau~ht up in ex-

planations and self-juRtification that she utterly ignores

Wilfrid's growin~ bewilderment and an~er at the chaos becoming

evident around him. Here the preoccupation of each individual is

used as a device by means of which the comedy is heightened, pro-

viding a near-parody of the lack of mental communication between

two people. Elsa and her lover, Doktor Hahn, in Graf ~derland,

clearly show the same concern for self, but their dialogue has

none of the comic elements seen in the exchanges between Dorli

and Wilfrid. For example:

Doktor Hahn: Und was hat er denn zu dir ge­
sagt in diesel" Nacht? Ihr haht noch gesprochen,
sagst duo

Elsa: Nichts Besonderes.
Doktor HHhn: Aber was denn?
EL:;a: Ieh habe nieht zup;ehort. Er soll zum Arzt

gehen, h~be ich gesngt, er soll Ferien machen, or soIl
ein Pulver nehmen. J)a~ er sich ankleiclet mitten in
del" Nacht, das bin ich gewohnt. Das tut er oft, wenn
er viel Arbeit hnt. Plotzlich erwacht er und meint,
er habe etwas vergessen. Das meint er, seit wir uns
kennen.

Doktor
Elsa:

Doktor eine Geliebte?

3At this point Hotz is not in the scene, but in front of it,
commentating on what is happening.



25

(Els!) er-hebt sich wieder)
G1;1Ubt;l; tiu, er h,'1t etwtls gemerkt?

El~a: We~en uns?
Doktor H,lhn: E.s w~re mir peinlich.

(Es klopft)
}~lRa: Du r;laubst, er hClt ~s r;emcrkt?
Dokto Eil hn: 1ch f,lcmbe, os ha t geklopf t.
(StUcke, 1, 332)

This pn~)sage ber;ins with a straie;htfoT'Viilrd question to

which Elsa eventually replies with quite the wrone; answer. She

was asked not what she had said, but what hod been sAid hy her

husband. However, "Ich habe nicht zUf,ehort" quickly covers all

that and she goes on to 011tline her own conversation, her own

ideas. Hahn seems to follow her up to the point of "er habe etwas

versaumt", but then pursues hi.s line of thouf,ht - "Geliebte" .....
"Glaubst du, er hat etwas gemerkt?" . . . "Es w~}re mir peinlich"

••• "Ich glaube, es hat geklopft". Now if Els3 hAd paid any

attention at all to her hushand earlier (StUcke, 1, 306) she would

have been in no doubt as to his familiarity with the situation

between herself and Hahn, but, preferring to disregard or forget

this completely, she looks for reassurance from Hahn. The latter,

however, is too concerned with his own thouGhts to listen to Els30

This passaf,e not only shows up the lack of co-operative thinking

between the lovers, but also the real mental gulf between Elsa and

her husband.

In Als der Krier; 7,U Enda war the entire relationship

between the lovers is significantly altered, as there is no

possibility of a linguistic link between them. 'l'he two relevant

...



26

chClractcrs cannot sp8ak to one another throu[;h the rncniurn of "lOrd.s

as they do not share a common lan~u~f,e. Despite this lack of

verbal contact, however, an obviously hie;h level of communication

exists between the two, A~n0s Inders ann Stepnn Iwnnow. In contrast

to the charncters we hove alrendy consinpred, these two rcol1y do

listen to erich other, really do uncterstcmd each other I s feelings.

Words are obviously not the means by which one person must nec­

essarily reveal himself to another. As Agnes says to Stepnn:

"Du ~ vielleich t ist es nie anders, weim fvlann und Frau zusammen

sprechen, und alles, was man noch mit Worten sae;en kann, ist ~leich-

e;Ultig ••• " (StUcke, 1, 292)

Agnes and StepAn are free to love each other since neither

can feel trapped or mentally stifled in this relationship where

verbal understanding is impossible. Because they are not trapped

they can develop a mental understanding from which love can e;row,

allowing them to communicate with each other, instead of merely

communicating words to each other. It is not simply that their

strene;th of feeline; overcomes the lack of words, but that in

addition the latter actually helps to stimulate the former. In re­

lation to this particular play Frisch expresses his main idea thus ­

lISprache als Ger-elf:, del' Vorurteils~ [sic) Sie, die uns verbinden

konnte, ist zum Gegenteil geworden, zur todlichen Trennung durch Vor­

urteil. Sprache und LUge: Das ungeheuere Paradoxon, dar.. man sich



, S h G" k t 1/1onne prac e na,ler ornm •

2'1

From the dialop;uc we h8ve com~idcred ::;0

fAr it would seem thnt this philosophicnl ideo hns ~eneral validity

throughout Frisch's dramas - surely a strange ideA for one who:-;e

means of dramatic expression must be the dial08~e?

While <'In invcf>tigPlti.on of the dialo['}lC between charEtctcrs

bound by some social or emotional tie may show no mutUAl under-

standing or mental progression, one cannot say that all communi-

cation through dialogue is thus proved impossible in Frisch's

dramas. PerhAps strangers who are in no way bound to one another

can achieve understanding? Achieve. This is surely the key to

the obvious mental stalemate. No one tries to Achieve anything

which will take him outside himself, indeed, it is the desire to

establish or preserve the 'self' which makes the characters resist

with passion the ideas and the categorization of others. Friends,

acquaintances and strAngers all seem to meet with or to erect

equally insurmountable barriers to any real mental contact or

understanding. One brief example from each category should illustrate

why this is so:-

i) Friends.

Don Juan: Ich ertrage keine Freunde, die meiner
sicher sind. Woher denn weiBt du, daB ich nicht von
deiner Inez komme?

Don ~oderiGo: L.B diesen Scherz:
Don JU:'ln: rloher weiBt du, daB es ein Scherz ist?
Don Rodcrir.;.C?: Ich kenne meine Inez.
Don Juan: Ich Auch.
Don Roderigo: Woher?

4
Tagebuch, p. 165,



ii) Less than friends but not strangers to one another are Dorli

and Clarissa of Die I~ror.,e \'/11 t OCt, Philipp liot?:-

C1Clriss::l: l\urz umi (';ut~ du gl,mbst mir nicht.
(Dorli nimmt sjeh einen neuen Apfel)

Simone~

(ClnrissCl zicht ihre Il,mctsehuhe Cln)
Nichts i" t p;escheherd leh schwore es dir~

Rein gar niehts~

(Dorli beiBt in ihren Apfel) 6
Dorli: Ieh will keine Details. (StUcke, 2, 191-192)

iii) Strani"ers.

Napoleon: Ieh frage, was geschehen ist. Was
machen die FrDnzosen? Und die Briten, die Russen?
Darf ieh horen, daB sie ~eschlagen sind?

Der Heuti~: Exzellenz-
'£:9..no1eS?n: RuBlcmd muB gesehlagen werden:
Der Heutir:e: Exzellenz­
Napoleon: Europa ist die Welt-
Dar Heutir.:e: Nicht mehr, Exzellenz, nicht mehd
NDpoleon: -vier ist Herr von Europa'?
Del' Heuti~e: Exzellenz! •• 0

Nanoleon: Vlarum sprecht Ihr nieht, BUrp.;er?
Del' HeutiGe: Exzellenz - das Atom ist teilbar.
Napoleon: Was heiBt das? (StUcke, 1, 160)7

In each case one of the speakers is quite obstinately

refusing to listen to what the other is saying, being caught up

in his own particular train of thought. Don Roderigo, Dorli

and Napoleon are all firmly conviced that they are unmistakeab1y

5See also StUcke, 1, p. 87-90; 92-3; 100-108.

6
also StUcke, 1, 311-7; ?-, 29.See p. p.

7 also 9-10; 93; 168-9; 2, 120-124.See p. p. p.



29

right, Now these characters are not hound up either outwardly

or inwardly in any set relationship, yet they too are apparently

incapable of advancement and understanding. They neither advance

in their own thoughts nor do 1:h0y llnderstnnd their din logue-partner.

'1'his seems to show thAt Frisch is not pessimistically pointine:; out

the impossibility of mental intimacy in a relAtionship which

society considers intimate, such as marriaee or the family, but

that he is indicatinG through the dialogue the total impossibility

of his characters coming together on a mental level. It is the

alacrity of one character in thinking he recognizes and 'knows'

the other, without considering the possibility of his own capacity

for error which cuts him off within his own closed mind. Even when

disguises are actually used, this claim to know obstructs all de-

veJoopment, as in Don Juan. (StUcke, 2, 15) Here Miranda distorts

within her own mind the reality of the past, which in turn colours

her view of the present. With or without disguises, all Frisch's

characters are guilty of distorting the truth by seeking to cram

the present into the framework of the past, by refusing to

acknowledge the need for constant open-mindedness, and by accepting

verbal formulae invented in the past as valid criteria for the

moving, changing present. Armed with obsolete conclusions or im-

press ions one can attack and subjugate the "Now", but to do this

is to live in cowardly and unjustifinbloe dishonesty. "Sprache als
,..



Gefa~ des Vorurteils,,8 says ~risch, yet while l;:mgmlF,e may in

itself be a barrier, the linguistic barrier is not the true

source to the l<lck of rnentnl contact and cornrnllnic[ltion seen

throughout the dialogue.

8
See note 17, page 29.

I•



CHAPTJ~R II

THE IIBILDNIS"

Tho fundcllnental source of non-pro{T,ression clDd non-communi-

cation is to be found in the self-absorption of the dialoVle-

partners in the form of their adherence to the "Bildnis",

that image which Frisch conctemns. IIDu sollst dir kein Bildnis

1machen" he quotes, reasoning that the acceptance of this imnge

means imposing limitations on ourselves and others which do not

necessarily exist. In conjunction with the findin~s made so far

from an examination of Frisch's dramatic dialogue it is interesting

to note the following short excerpts from his TaF,ebuch:-

~arlm reisen wir?
Auch dies, damit wir Menschen begegnen, die

nicht meinen, daB sie uns kennen ein fUr allemal;
damit wir noch einmal erfahren, was uns in diesem
Leben moglich sei -

Es ist ohnehin schon wenig genug. (26)

'Du bist nicht', sap;t der Enttauschte oder die
Entti3uschte: 'V/ofUr ich dich r.;ehalten habe.'

Und wofUr hat man sich denn gehalten?
Yur ein Geheimnis, das der Mensch ja immerhin

ist, ein erregendes R'cltsel, das auszuhalten wir
mUde geworden sind. Man macht sich ein Bildnis.
Das ist das Lieblose, der Verrat. (27)

Both of these passages have in common a dislike of the

static, a dislike of tucking away or of being tucked away into

ITagebuch, p. 26.

31

I..



32

a specific mental framework. Frisch critiz~s the closed mind

which claims to hnve reco~nized and re~i~tered all the possihi-

Ii ties of anyone chi1racter, silyinp; thclt stlch a claim is in-

dicative only of having r,iven up the effort to solve the un-

solvable puzzle.

Now it is not merely a question of laziness or of hore-

dom which causes the individual to fit those around him into

a certain category. This love of pigeon-holing is also part of

an adherence to the image one sets up of oneself. By pushing

the actions and ideas of the other into neatly-labelled mental

compartments one can all the more easily preserve one's self-

image, thus causing the least possible conflict with oneself.

However, in avoiding this conflict, not only does one falsely

categorize others by depriving them of the right to change, but

one also fortifies oneself in the adherence to the original

"Bildnis" which again has 'proved' to be true. The falsity of

every fixed idea lies in its immovability, in its refusal to allow

room for any kind of development or change. Frisch himself,

speaking on this very subject in an interview with Horst Bienek

in 1962, has the following to 6ay:-

"Das ist unheimlich. Vier es weiB, hat ~1Uhe zu
leben. Wer es nicht weiB, und ~lm GlUck wissen es
die wenigsten, hat keine Wahl, da er seine Erfindung
von sich selbst als solche durchschaut, und seine
ganze Kraft dient dazu, Vorkommnisse herbeizufUhren,
die seine Erfindun5 bestatigen - beispielsweise seine



))

Erfindung, ein Pechvo~el zu sein, ein schlichter
und von kej nem GlUck ber;Unstigtcr ~1ann. Stellen
Sie sich vor, ein Rolch.r Pc~hvogel ~cwinnt

pl~tzlich das gro~c Lose WaG Undert dns: l~r

zweifelt nicht an seiner Erfindung, cin Pechvogcl
zu sein, sondern er zl'!eifelt an der Lotterie, an
der Welt, am Schicksol. 2

Returning to the dramas and to what we have discovered

about the lack of movement and progression within the dialogue,

we find that in many of the plays it is precisely a refusal to

accept the suffocation by that fixed idea, thot false understanding,

which provokes the psychological crisis from which the action,

and with it the dialogue, springs. The "Rittmeisterll in Santa

Cruz who continually dreams of Hawaii is pushed into rebellion

against the stifling, paralysing life in the castle by the arrival

of the ~itar-playing gipsy, Karl in Nun .sinr:en sic wieder is

forced up against the realization of what personal responsibility

really means by the hostages who sing in the face of their own

execution, and Agnes in Als der Krieg zu Ende war finds freedom

to love only there where any "Bildnis ll is impossible. The prosecutor

in Graf Oderland comes to realize by means of an unmotivated murder

the suffocation of society's given rules, ond Don Juan in the play

of the same name, is forced into open revolt ogainst that society

which wants to tie him down to its pre-conceived idea of what he is.

2H• Bienek, Werkstattgesprache mit Schriftstellern
(MUnchen, 1962) p. 26.



In e0ch case an experience or vision of freedom offers a contrast

to the limited and narrow life the character leods- a controst

which m~kes him aware of his discontentment with present imprison-

mente 'rhat the discontentmr.nt i.:, founded in the re:lli ty of the

characters' lives is clearly reflected in the dialogue, where one

"Bildnis" constc:mtly fights another in a battle of words, each

denying the other the riGht to exist, and desperately attempting

to assert its own monopoly to this right.

A similar battle goes on in the remainder of the plays,

where it is the desire, not to escape from an 'imace' made by

others, but to live up to a self-estFlblished "Bildnis" which pre-

cipitates the crisis. In Biedermann and in Andorra the chief

character is actively helped or forced by those around him into

living a self-established or a self-imposed llBildnis".3

Throughout the plays each individual allots to others

mentally, hence verbally, that role which allows him to remain

or to become what he thinks he really is. All the characters

are wholly self-absorbed and the "Bildnis" is inescapable. Thus

the characters are mentally trapped and immovable, incapable of

3Although Andri's "Bildnis" is imposed initially by others,
he concludes that his father is just as strongly anti-Semitic as
the rest of Andorra when he sees his reaction to the proposed
marriage with Barblin. From this point on, Andri actually i~poses

on himself the so-called 'fact' of his being a Jew. That the
society then helps him further into error adds only to their total
guilt. Andri, in imposing their "Bildnis" on himself then in turn
actually imposes it again on this society.



responrlinf, to any current se~uence of thouGht uround them. At

the root of the non-communica tion seen in the ciialo[~ue lies this

fixity which is tile ultimate falsehood and thus the fundamental

obstacle between minds.

Lookinf, back at the examples of dialof,ue examined in the

previous chapter we find that in each case the vernally adopted

and mentally adapted commandment of Frisch - "Du sollst dir kein

Bildnis machen" - has been broken. The characters have all

formed and confirmed their opinions of themselves and others,

.opinions which are now unshakeable. Apparently a common foun-

dation for life has been lost and each individual has to find

his own private solution to the problem of existence. Either he

accepts the stifling 'status quo' and clin~s to a kind of death

in life, or he becomes a mental, if not physical iconoclast who

"takes arms against a sea of troubles". That the two breeds

should not communicate is scarcely surprisinf,: Each represents

death for the other, and as such they evoke mutual apprehension,

even panic - hence the very positive need for categorization as

a kind of self-defence.

If Frisch meant only to illustrate the inadequacy of

languae;e and the largely unconscious dishonci;ty of each of his

characters, however, might his dramas not differ less from those

of Ionesco, for example, whom he admires so much? Does his



dialogue not nomchow tell un more th~n that mental communication

is impossible? Lenving aside aJI hope of discovering the latter,

perl1i1ps we cnn find whElt Frisch's rlial.of;ue do(~s have to offer apart

from the very negative implications on mental contact and pro-

gression.

.
"



CHl\P1'I~n III

THE INFOHivli'..'l'IVE DIALOGUE

Despite the total absorption with themselves and their

own respective concepts, Frisch's charact~rs can and do communi-

cate Clt a sup0.rficia1 level - they communici'lte informi1tion to

one another, and thus, of course, to the audience. Frisch un-

doubtedly has a story to tell, therefore informntion to convey

within both dramatic and theatrical bounds - 'dramatic' in this

context meaning within the limits of the in-stage relationships,

'theatrical' meaning within the limits of the cross-stage re-

lationship, play to audience. Now the vehicle for conveying

information being the dialogue, and the dialogue having shown

itself to be simultaneously creator and expression of a mental

barrier between the speakers, it becomes obvious that informative

exchanges can display only a one-way flow of ideas: the informer

releases his information, the listener registers the information

and interprets it in accordance with his own particular ideas,

his own particular interests. This is true hoth of the 'dramatic'

and the 'theatrical' dialo~le. Quite obviously the two overlap,

as even the 'dramatic' serves the 'theatrical' purpose, yet in

order to facilitate an examination of this story-telling dialogue

it seems convenient to consider each in turn.

37

..



In Frisch's 'dramatic' divlo~ue, excnanges whose aim

it is to pass information between the dramatic ch~rQcters seem

l11;)inly to result from R que.:,tion or serj.es of C\uc[-,tiol1s.

Normally such exchanges could present two possibilities: either

they serve LlS an introduction to a p;enuine mental progre':3sion

between the speClkers or they rem.:-d.n a purely one-sided communi-

cation - communication at a purely informative level. The dramas

of Frisch, however, realize only the latter possibility. Questions

are asked, facts conveyed in reply. In the followinc excerpt, for

example, Graf Oderland (Staatsanwalt) is concerned with the con-

tinuing success of his flagging rebel campaign and inquires of a

follower what the current position is:-

Str~flin&: Es gibt zwei Punkte, 1'10 es moglich
ist.

Staa tsanwal t: N'Jmlich?
Str~fliE£: Zwischen Schmetterling und 10wen-

zahn.
StaatsanwCllt: Unter dem Dam?-_.._---
Str~[~inG: Unter dem Kloster.
StaatsanwaJ.t: Und sonst?
Str~1fling: Zwischen Forelle und Vergissmeinnicht.
Staatsanwalt: Wo ist den das?
Straflinv,: Beim Friedhof draussen. (StUcke, 1, 365)

In the above passage where there is no subjective slant or

psychological probing, where in fact the characters are not con-

cerned with themselves but with Gomething external, the dialogue is

terse and straightforward. In exchanges such as these, information

regarding the outer action is passed directly from one character to

another, and thu~ to the audience. Apparently there are two charact-



)tJ

er-patterns used repeatedly by Frisch for this Gupperficial iJnd

factual communication - characters somehow linked together for or

against a common external j.nterest or thrN1t. and charactern in a

form of master-servant relntionship. J3asicaJ ly, hO~'/ever, the

latter merely a variation of the former. Within this pattern it is

clear that only a superficial communication is possible, as the

spoken exchanges take the form of static question and answer, command

and compliance, with only minor variations in the formula. The

external interest bincting the speakers may be a revolution, (StUcke,

1, 363-367) a desire to please, (StUcke 2, 126) arson, (StUcke, 2,

139) or the marriage of one's child (StUcke, 2. 10-11) - almost

anything which will demand action rather than genuine reflection -

and the resulting conversation will be superficially communicative.

This is perhaps best illustrated by the early dialop,ue between the

respective fathers of the young couple about to be married in

Don Juan_octe£ die Liebe zur Geometrie:

Don GgDzalo: lch rief ihn in mein ZeIt. Wozn,
fragte ich unter vier Augen, wozu flihren wir diesen
Kreuzzug? Und wie er bloss lachelte, forschte ich
weiter: Warum hassen wir die Heiden?

Tenorio: Was antwortete er?----
Don Cionzalo: Sr hasse die Heiden nicht.-------
Tenorio: Junge, Junge!
Don Go~zalo: 1m Gegenteil, sagte er, wir konnten

viel von den Heiden lernen, und wie ieh ihn das
nachste Mal traf, lag er unter einer Korkeiche und
las ein Ruch. Ein arabisches.

Tenorio: Geometrie, ich weiss, der Teufel hole die
Geometrie.

Don Gonzalo: lch fra~te, wozu er das lese.
Tenorio:- Was, urn Gotteswillen, antwortete er?



40

Don GonzAlo: Er li-Ichelte bloss.-._----
~'e.!!_orio: Junp;e, Junf~e! (StUcke, 2, 10-11)

The informntion impnrted here hns to do with the centnll

fi~ure, Don Junn, and hec~use of this preview of chnracter he con

be observed the more clearly when he first appears on sta~e. In

fnct, all information conveyed in this way fulfils the same function:

it sets the stRge for the development of a new or changed situation.

'1'hus the 'informative dialogue' makes the dialogue of non-

communication theatrically possible.

As this is true of the dialogue between accomplices of one

kind or another, so it is true of the dinlop,ue between characters

in a master-servant relationship. Here the dominance of one

character over another which is apparent between accomplices is

even more evident. Ideas and suggestions can be seen to flow in

I
only one direction - the servant informs and obeys.

Similar to this one-way flow of ideas within the play is the

one-way flow across the bounds of the stage to the audience by

means of the 'theatrical' dialogue. 2 In the latter the aim appears

to be the imparting of informatj.on, hoth objective and subjective,

to the audience, without regard for the other characters on stage.

That is, one character conveys the informntion while those to whom

lStUcke, 1, p. 28-29. Blvira/Diencr; p. 470 Rittmeister/
Diener. StUcke, 2, p. 167. Hotz/Der Alte, po 94. Biedermann/
Schmitz/ Anna; p. 136-138. Biedermann/ Anna.

2See pRge 39 above.



41

he ostensibly addresses himself participate neither mentally

nor verhally. This chief speaker in a sequence of this 'theatrical'

dialogue lar~ely i~nores or overlooks any slight rejoinHer made to

him by the others - not so very different from the dialogue which

showed a lack of inter-character communication? Perhaps not, hut

the means and the end of this theatrical dialogue Clre different.

The end is, of course, to pass to the audience various kinds of in­

formQtion and insight which the non-communicative and the straight­

forward 'dramatic' dialogue does not supply, but it is the means

whereby this end is achieved which is of the greater interest.

Characters from within the play slip periodically from their role

to comment on what is happening, subjectively, objectively, in

particular or in ~eneral. It is surprising to note the numerous

occasions upon which Frisch introduces such characters, and to

observe the effect which their introduction has on the dialogue.

In using them he achieves two things - firstly, of course, the

audience is given helpful information, and secondly, the perspective

is abruptly altered. From being mere spectators the audience

periodically becomes involved with the happenings on stage from the

point of the character who addresses them.

Dependin~ on how subjective a slant is given to the in­

formation transmitted, the audience will absorb it either as fact

or as a greater or lesser flash of psychological insight into a



chnracter and thence into the unfoldin~ situAtion. In order to

explain this it is hest to return to the texts, wh~re the followinc

examples I'/ill illustrate i) the eonveynnee of faetui11 informi3tion,

and ii) the offerin, of a psyeholo~iei31 insi~ht:-

i) Pedro: Vor siebzehn Jahren, sage ieh, unO. auf
diesem Sehiffe hAt er sie entfUhrt, Elvira hAt sie
p;t~hci0sen, ein Fr:1ulein, r;;Ir.;e ieh oueh, ci.n F'rilu­
lein, und dort in die Kilj\lt8 hnt or si.e gctri1gon,
ob ihr e~ gli'luben wollt odeI' nieht, dart ist es
gesehehcn -

Z,';eiter: Was?
Pedro: Vor siebzehn JDhren ••••--_.-
Drit-ter: Alles crlogen, erfunden unO. erlogcn~

Pc<iro: Heute ist sic die Frau eines Ih ttmeisters,
sie wohnt in einem Schloss, ferne" von hier, auf der
anderen Seite der ~elt, dort 1'10 es jetzt Winter ist.
Wir k~nnen nieht schlafen vor Hitze, unO. dort, so
mUsst ihr eueh denken, dort sitzen sic vor dem Ka­
min, der Rittmeister und die Rittmeisterin. Sie
wissen nicht, wovon sic reden sollen, so lange sehon
sind sic verheiratet. Ein Dien0.r tritt herein. Was
ist gesehehen? fragt der Rittmeister. Ein Vagant
ist im Hause. (StUcke, 1, 36-37)

In this passage Pedro, the poet continually rejected and

scorned by his fellow-sailors who fear all truth, explains the

entire back~round to the on-sta~e action which has ~one before.

The audience absorbs this explanation as the key to an external

interpretation of the situation. Where the character does not

have the role of a constant 'outsider', and is thus less ob-

jeetive, as for example, Hotz in Die gross ~ut des Philipp Hotz,

then subjective ideas are presented to and assimilated by the

audience as aids to an internal interpretation of the unfolding

situation:



1+3

ii) H?.t..?:: Ich hin, rn(~-tne 1)<l~en, kc-tn };~~k.irno,

der die Frau Glls sei n Eir,cntum hetrClchtet. Ef;

giht (rUr mich) keinen Besitz in ner Liebe. 1ch
k~nn nicht eifersUchtic scin, meinc Damen, ~rund­

f)~itzlich nicht-
(Die Hand,,;·tge i.n f;ejner I-bnd zittert mehr und mchr)

••• Aher: I'}(-":nn eine Fri1u, k(lum si tzt milD 'lor Ge­
richt, einf~ch die vereinbarte ScheidunKsklage
zurUckzieht- meine Damen! was heisst da noch
Vereinbarun;':? Trelle in jcder Lebensl;Jf';c? Vcr­
trauen? K.:1Jncr; ctsclwft zwischen t-'iLmn und 1~/eib?

Ich fr:lr;e Sic: Vlns zwn 'rcufel ltcisst d:l noch ­
Ehe'? (~JUcke, 2, 163)3

In hoth cases the 'informing' chHracter escapes the

limitations of thc dialogue proper, Pedro by telling his story

despite all incantations of disbelief and by disrceardine; the re-

actions of those around him, Hotz by steppine; ri~ht out of the

play to the space between it and the audience, where the rules

for dialogue are different. Where the' character directly addresses

the audience the latter is assi~ned the role of a tacit sympathizer,

which allows this character to carryon the dialo~le by himself,

imae;inine; the response which will allow him most room for the

development of his own standpoint. The audience's help and

contribution will be more closely examined in the chapter which

follows. Already it is clear that the apparent di310gue of

characters in the role of subjective or objective commentator is

neither true dialogue nor true monologue, but rather a clever

combination of the two. Examples of this abound throu~hout Frisch's

3See also: p.159-160; 168; 176-181; 182-183; 186; 188;
190-191; 192; 193; 194; 195; 196.

...



4
plays.

The essential difference hetween these pRssa~es of

apparent dialogue and those of the stntic di3lo~ue seen in

previous chapters lies in the chnracter-groups between whom

they are spoken. In the dialogue where mental proe;ression was

blocked in both characters, the Intter were lar~ely on an equAl

footinp; (husband/wife, father/son) 9 bu't here one character pre-

dominates to such an extent that the result is a kind of mono-

lo~le within the dialogue, as this 'controlling' figure expounds

at length on his own attitude or on the situation as he sees it.

Chief of these figures are the captain (Nun,sinGen sie wieder),5,

Agnes (Als der Krieg zu Ende war),6 Don Juan,7 and Der Heutige

(Die chinesische Mauer).8 In each case each of these characters

embarks on long explanatory speeches which invariably contain

the directional impulses of the play. One of the best examples

of this quasi-monologue is to be found in Die chinesische Mauer

where "Der Heutige" comes forward, ostensibly to address the

other characters around him, but in reality to force home his

point to the non-acting audience. This is a long passage be-

ginning:-

4S - 6 6 6tUcke, 1, pp. 151-152; 15 ; 1 1-1 2.
102-120; 134; 155-156; 216; 221; 228; 247; 254.

StUcke 2, ppo 89-90;

5StUcke 1, pp. 104; 129-130.

6Ibid ., pp. 249-250i 258; 269-271; 272-274; 278; 285.

7StUcke, 2, pp. 45-47; 48; 49; 63-65; 80; 81-

8
1, 160-161; 179-180; 230; 231-233; 234.StUcke, pp.



Dar:; Yolk, meine 1errGchaftcn, j.st unherechcnhar.
WeT ist das Yolk? Wir RIle: wir stehcn hinter dem
Vorhanr~. wcnn der N,lchbnr verh3ftet wird und a br;e­
fUhrt. Und man wird vorsichtig im Ump;anb mit Nach-
barno • •

and continuing for some time with only very minor interruptions,

as far as - IIWobei ich Sie aufmerksam machcn d,lrf, meine Herr-

schaften: 1<:;s gibt keine Arche gef,en RadioaktiviUlt." (StUcke,

1, 230-233)

Many only slightly differentiated methods are used to

present these various commentating characters which are to be

found in everyone of Frisch's plays. In one case the character

tells a story within the framework of the play (Pedro, the captain),

in another he steps in and out of the action to address the audience

(Hotz, Der Heutige, various characters in Andorra),9 in another

he is constantly external to the action (the chorus in Biedermann),

and fulfilling a similar function. though apparently strictly with-

in the confines of play and dialogue are the characters who present

their quasi-monologues.

The very fact that these commentating characters appear

so often seems both to admit to a certain suffocation of ideas

or personalities within the stage-bound dialo~Je and also to change

this dialogue, for at that point where the characters 'inform' the

9StUcke, 2, pp. 216; 221; 228; 247; 254.



dialogue ceases, in fact, to be tdi<\logue'. If we t;Jb~ anyone

of the examples shown under notes 5-8 Vie l'Iill see how the chiJrCJcters

present but not actually rl.elivering the qUi1si-monolor;ue do not

really SDJ anythin~. For example:

mach ieh fUr einen Eindruek auf unscre

Sie nieht?
(Der Bischof nimmt die Karaffe und
fUll t sieh ein Glas)
Verstehen Sie mich richtig, Bischof von

Cordoba, nieht bloss der Damen bin ieh mUcie, ich meine
es geistiG, ich bin des Frevels mUdc. Zwolf Jahre
eines unwiederholbaren Lebens: vertan in dieser
kindischen Herausforderung der blaucn Luft, die man
Himmel nennt: Tch bin vor niehts zurUckp;eschrcckt,
aber Sic Gehen ja selbst, E:ninenz, meine Frevel hi1ben
mich bloss be~lhmt gemacht. (Del" Bischof trinkt) 1eh
bin verzVleifelt. (Dcr Bischof trinkt) Dreiunddreissig
Jahre teile ich das Geschick so vieler berUhmter Manner:
aIle Welt kennt unsere 'l'aten, fast niemcmd ihren Sinn.
Mieh sehaudert's wenn ieh die Leute reden hare liber
mieh. Als ware es mir je urn die Damen Geganc;en:

Bischof: lrnmerhin-
Don J~: 1m Anfanr;, ich bekenne es, mflcht es Spass.

Meine HEinde, hare ich, sind wie WUnschelrutenj sic
finden, was der Gatte zehn Jahre lAng nie gefunden hat
an Quellen der Lust •

.Bischof: Sic denken ('In den braven Lopez?
Don JU;ln: Ich mochte hier keine Namen nennen, Eminenz.
Bischof: Don Balthazor Lopez.
Don Juan: Auf alles war ieh r;efasst, Eminenz, aber

nicht auf Langeweile. Ihre verzUckten MUnder, i.hre AUGen
dazu, ihre w3sserigen AUGen ••••••• (StUcke, 2, G3-64)

Don .Tuan: V;'as---_._..
Jugend? Die JU/jend nirr.mt rnich zum Vorbild, ich sehe es
kommen, ein ganzes Zeitalter sehe ich kommcn~ dAS in die
Leere rcnnt wie ich, aber kUhn nur, weil sie geschen
haben, es givt kein.Gerieht, ein eanzes Gesehlccht von
Sp~ttern, die sieh fUr meinesgleiehen halten, eitel in
einem Hahn, del' billig wirrl., modiseh, ordin~r, dumm
zum Verzweifeln- ieh sehe das kommen:

Bischof: Hm.----._--
Don Juan:

As we can see from the above, Don Juan's speeches, despite
I

""

his constantly addressing the bishop by name, really take no account



of any interruption, nor does the bishop renlly Give any

evidence of his close attention. At this point Don Juan is

in the role of objective-subjective commentator, supposedly

intent on expl<lining to the bishop his much misunderstood

viewpoint, but in reality he fulfils the function of pene-

tratin~ the consciousness of the audience rather than of the

other on-stage character. His function, and that of all the

commentating characters being primarily to reach acrOSf; mentally

to the audience, their speeches tend to be informative and self­

contained,lO which means that the basic concept of dialogue -

dia-logos - at these points breaks down. Frisch cleverly manages

to give a semblance of conversation when 9 in fact 9 no conversation

·is taking place. How and why this succeeds must now he considered.

10cf. Thornton //ilder, Our '!'..~. The part of the staGe­
manager. Also Eugene 0 'Neill, Stranf~e Interlude. The asides of
the various characters.



THE HOLE OF 'l'HE AUDIENCE

Up to this point the examination of Frisch's dialo~ue

seems to hnve proouced only nhcative 1'inoin[';s - that there is

no communication or mental progression, that only by the use

of informative characters do the dramas escape secmin~ alto-

gether static, and that dialogue is not true dialogue in the

sense of 'dia-logos'. From these finrl.inf,s one might logically

conclude that Frisch's dramas are wholly non-dramatic, for if

the characters progress neither mentally nor verbally, then the

result must be stagnation in plays where gesture and outer

action have no lar~e part. However, such a conclusion would be

unjust, as these ner;ative aspects have emerGed from an examination

of the dramas in themselves and not as presentations to an audience,

which i~ for Frisch as dramatist the vital factor of live theatre. l

If we consider the dinlogue now with a view to establishing the

effect which it produces on the audience, rather than with a view

to finding inherent and self-sufficient qualities which would in

themselves prodnce drama, then we see thnt the results are positive

and not negative.

IH. Bienek, Werkstatt5esprache mit Schriftstellern, p. 31,

48

...



In Frisch's plnys the emphasis on th~ Goluti.on of e<lch

p:n'tic.ul<=lr problem lies not within thc plny itself, but at that

point where [lllCiience CIne! plny meet, wllich means thnt Frisch ';;

audience is cncouruced to be more than a symp3thetic obscrver

in fact, it is callee! upon as a mental particip~nt. Participation

is demanded by the very nature of the on-stage dialogue, which in

itself is quite obviously static. Perhaps it is best at this point

to reconsider some of the examples which have already been eX<Jmined.

In the relationship-framework outlined in chapter one,

the dialogue was examined for evidence of mental contact between

two characters in various sta~es of mutual 'knowledge' and intimacy.

Such contact was non-existent. One of the two characters stood out

in each case as the more forceful, the more articulate, but what of

the imp8ct on the audience of the lesser character whose replies

indicated an incomprehension, a preoccupation? Also, what effect

does the groupinG of these two characters tOGether produce for and

in the audience? In each case this 'lesser' character (- for

example, Elvira, Elsa, Babette, Oberlehrer, Lehrer, Don Boderigo,

Clarissa, Napoleon -) represents the average, everyday point of

view and is consciously made to look ridiculous, pitifully limited ­

at all events inferior. Looking back to an example from each of the

six categories - (i) husband and wife, (ii) parent and child, (iii)

lovers, (iv) friends, (v) acquaintances and (vi) strangers - we



:50

see thAt thi~ is so:

Els.'1: Icn s\lche dich im r;anzen H"u~, wi0so p;ibGt
du kejne Antwort? Ieh dachte schon, dll bist ausr:;e­
ganr;en.

StAAtsanw~lt: Wohin?
}a~;l : \'ICl s is t los?
Sta.:ltsammlt: Ich lwbe mich nul' Clnr;ezof,cn.
Els~: ~;i ttcn in der Nncht?
StClatf:<lm'ltllt: ~~~ scheint so.
Elsa: Wieso schlUfst du nicht?
Staatsanwalt: Wieso schl~fst du nicht? (StUcke, 1, 303)

Elsa's questions, while quite probable and natural,

immediately show her in rather a poor light by seeming silly. ner

husband's comments are designed to thwart all attempt at discussion

simply by his wilfully adoptin~ a very literal attitude to everything

she says. He, of course, is at a natural advantage as far as the

audience is concerned, in that his presence and actions on stage -

he hears her calling and then proceeds to put out the light, for

example, in order to hinder her - are uneA--plained when his wife comes

in. The interest he thus arouses i~ further stimulated by his mental

superiority throughout the exchanges \'lith his wife, \'/hich leads the

audience to reject Elsa in favour of her husband. In doing so

they reject her attitude of mind, which in everyday life might be

considered 'normal', that attitude which they themselves might

have adopted.

Karl: Hast du schon einmal auf Frauen und Kinder
geschossen?

Oberlehrer: Ich sage dir: du hast es auf Befehl
getan~

MILLS MEMORIAC DBRARYJ
McMASTF.R UNIVERSITY



1\;1 rl: Unc! Vier h:=1 t es befohlcn'!
0l:-erleh:r;_~~: };~) i;;t nicht deine Schuld, Karl,

WAS aLLes ewch b .fohlen wird, es iRt nicht unsere
Schulct-

l\:lr~: Dns ist es ja~

hcrl.ehrer: Du lC1chst?
KArl: jerles Wort, aas du sac;st, es l<l<::Gt uns an.­

Es ~ibt dos nicht, es c;ibt keine Ausflucht in den Gc­
horsan. (StUcke, 1, 113)

Here it is quite clear that the father iR side-

stepping the basic issue of responsibility. He persistently

attempts to take refuGe in the comfortable thouGht -- "1,':<1S alles

auch befohlen wird, es ist nicht unsere Schuld" -- but Karl with

equal persistence challenges his rie;ht to such a refuGe. Again,

each of the characters by this point in the play is likely to

make a certain impact on the audience. Karl, because of his

demonstrated consistency in conscientiously doubting the absolute

supremacy of an order, is likely to impress favourable, while his
I .

father, because of the disparity between his ideals and practice

already shown, is at a disadvantage f~om the aurlience's point of

view. In a confrontation of the two characters the rlialo[';ue is

such that the audience is likely to support KArl, thereby condemninG

the father, whose attitude is once again whAt might be considered

'normal' - an attitude sufficiently well thought out to Rupport

a feeling of self-justification, but which is not entirely honest,

since the meditation stops at that point where the whole question

of collective responsibility enters in. By making the father reflect

poorly against Karl, Frisch is in fact encouraging, if not forcing



the i"l1ldiencc to reject tho ideel:::> of the former.

Similnrly, if wo take one ex;~mplc of the dialogue

between Chtlr<lcters in e:lch of the more loosely-constructor' 1'0-

lationships, we see thRt the same achievement is made. For

example, in the exchanges between Elsi'l <\rid Hahn, (StUcke, 1, 332)

Don Roderigo and Don Juon, (Stllcke, 2, h7) Dorli [Inc! Cl':lrh;.c'i1,

(StUckp:, 2, 191-192) NApoleon and Der Heutige, (~~tUck<;, 1, 160)

one of the two chRr~cters puts forwtlrd a viewpoint which mi~ht

normally find gre::lt sympL1thy in the Cluclicnce, but which, because

of the form the dinlogne takos is autom<ltiCCIlly prepi1red for re-

jection by this audienceo The individual's insistence on his

own particular 'idee fixe' is exagF,erated and highlighted by

the response of his fellow-speaker, and thereby undergoes a

mild form of parody, which leads the observer's sympathies away

from the object of this parody and directs them towards the

other character. It may be easiest to follow this process by

taking a brief example:-

~nolcon: lch fr<1p;e, was geschehen ist. Vias machen
die Franzosen? lind die Briten, die Russen? DRrf ich
horen, dass sie e;eschlClgen sind'?

~er HeutiRe: Exzellenz-
Napoleon: Russland muss geschlagen vierdenl
Del' Hcutif,e: Exzellenz-
}\'a_noleon: Europa ist die Welt-
Del' HeutiGe: Nicht mehr, Exze~lenz~ nicht mehrl
Na~leon: -wer ist Herr von Europa?
Del' Heutir;e: Exzellenzl... (StUcke, 1, 160)



53

Def;pite the explanntory introrlucti_on hy DeI' ][r:utifSe

which r;i yes credibility to the presence of N,"1poleon, thifj

very explanLition places DeI' ][euti{~e Lit ,"In advantLir;e. By

sClying that Napoleon belonr;s to those fi[';\lrer: of the Prist

\'Iho inhahit ollr thoughts he himself ohviously hccorr.cs the

more relev' nt figure for the audience. This beine; so, the

latter narticipRtes more in DcI' Heutie;e 's attempts to inter-

rupt thelD in the ou tda ted thinkinr; of Napoleon, who displays

stagnation and a closed mind. By alignine; itself with the

opponent of fixity the audience is prepared for intellectual

(and social) iconoclasm.

Minor characters are used throughout the dramas to

verify by implication the main character's need for escape

from a world of IIBildnissell • HoVi they think, reflected in

what they say, helps the audience to support the opposite

point of view, which this very audience mir;ht have opposed

strongly if it had been presented in a straightforward dia-

loe;ue. To cite only some of these examples - Don Juan is sur-

rounded by various characters whose mentalities and lives can

only substantiate his arguments against love and marriage, yet

2they verbally refute all that he stands for; Andri's honesty,

2In particular Don Gonzalo, Donna Elvira, Pater Diee;o,
Don Roderigo.



Consistency nnd strenp;th <Ire highlighted by the oppo,·;i te qualitir:s

. th d h' 3 T3' , , t t· hI f] . t . ] I1n .ose aroun .1m; leuermann s con amp J. e [1._S1 y 1:5 C .ear y

ridiculed by the steady realism of Anna, the maid o

In using a dialogue to imply, if not directly to express

Gti:1lem:l te, Clnd in scJ <.'ctin:",: minor chnr:lcter;, sufficiently ':lVer.:lr~e'

ancl fCllniliar to invite the [mdience's con"idcri1tion, yet sufficiently

limited and transparent to call forth their disapproval, Frisch

actually rids his audience of attitudes which they might con-

ceivably call their own. He in fact cleverly destroys in his

audience one "Bildnis" after another - Always by so constructing

his dial08ue that this audience is constantly manipulated into

acceptinp; or rejecting certain ideas, attitudes, patterns of

behaviour and reactions.

In the 'informative' dialogue considered in the previous

chapter the audience is again asked to accept or reject in this

way, but the methods used to achieve this end are varied slightly.

In Die grosse Wut des Philipp Hotz, for example, Hotz in the

"Conference" is a likeable, rational m'::ln with apparently sound

ideas on marriage. He speaks to the audience, invites their con-

fidence and understanding, returns to the scene where suddenly

he is overshadowed by Dorli, who is the more sympathetic figure

3The pastor, the landlord, the carpenter, the doctor,
the apprentice.



55

in the practical sphere. Thus the one char~ctcr invitc~ hoth

opprov~l ~nd disapprovaJ, undcrstanrlinc and mild contempt, a

sense of idnntity Clnd of ohjective cl:iJ'i.ty, from the oudi0.nce.

This, of course, adds to the comedy, hut it is not in Frisch's

comedy alone that the audience is directed from one way of

thinking and feeling to another. In each of his plays a

stimulus goes through the dicJlogue from staGe to audience, is

withdrawn subsequently in favour of a different or even contra­

dictory stimulus, and so the process continues. It is the

function of those characters who were considered in the pre­

vious chapter - those who narrate or comment by means of a

quasi-monolo~ue or an overt appeal to the audience - to direct

this process of mental ch<:Jnge.

That a great deal of flexibility and mental aGility is

required of Frisch's audience can be seen from a brief out­

line of anyone of his plays. In Andorra, for example, through

various snatches of conversation the audience hears Andri

presented as 'different', 'difficult', learns that Barblin and

Andri are to be married, that Andri is the adopted son of

Barblin's father, that he is a Jew, and that he wishes to be

accepted by the Andorrans as one of them. However, it soon be­

comes clear that he is not accepted, that he is not a Jew, that

he has by now completely accepted beinG a Jew, that his adoptive

father is his real father, that the so-called 'kindness' of the



past was nothinB more than cruel cowardice and th~t Andri is the

victim of blind prejudice around him: The pressure and denond

for understanding and mental co-operation which would normally

be found within the dialogue between characters on staGG is now

found in that dialogue which takes place between play and

audience. The conclusions to which the audience comes are

initially encouraged by the author, who then proceeds in the

course of his drama to refute them. As a result of this refu

ation the audience questions its previous conclusions or forms

new ones, which in turn are incorporated by the drama and again

questioned. This is true of all of Frisch's plays, and can be

illustrated by an examination of anyone of them. In Andorra,

for example, a scene by scene analysis shows the following:

(Bracketed comments outline the spontaneous thoughts and re­

actions of the audience)-

1. Barblin is engaged. She feels contempt and dislike for the

soldier.

A cheerful, unidentified kitchen-boy appears at work o

(Can this young man be Barblin's fiance?)

The priest takes care to look after his flock. He tries

to reassure everyone that there is no cause for alarm.

(Why should there be?)

Barblin's father has begun to drink a good deal recently.



57

(~hy?) Andri is still safe. (Who is Andri? Why should

he not be safe?)

Fel1r of "die Schwarzen da drUben". (Viho are they?)

Barblin refuses to admit to the priest that she is

engaged despite her having told this repeatedly to the

soldier.

(~hy? Is hse not really eneaged?)

"Andorra ist ein schC5nes Land, aber ein armes Land.

Ein friedliches Land, ein schwaches Land - ein frommes

Land".

The kitchen-boy appears again. (Vho is he?)

Barblin's fear of lIdie Schwarzen 'l • The ID tter apparently

kill Jews and shave their women's heads. (Why the fear?

Is she a Jewess o~ is her fiance Jewish?)

Sense of foreboding.

Carpenter and another man discuss the apprenticeship of

the latter's son. The carpenter does not wish to have him.

(Why?) The other man seems strange and upset by a stake he

sees. (Odd. Is this the man of whom the priest spoke? ­

Barblin's father?)

Carpenter's exorbitant demands.

Other man identifies himself. He is a teacher (- there­

fore Barblin's father?) He speaks of astounding and horrifying



everyone by telling the truth. (rhat truth?)

"Die Andorraner sind gemlitliche Leut, aher wenn es

ums Geld e;eht, • • d:,nn sind sic \'lie del' Jud."

Innkeeper has employed the teacher's son, Andri, as

his kitchen-boy. (Kitchen-boy now identified - teacher

son, then not Barblin's fianc~, as she is teacher's

daughter? The innkeeper is sympathetic, understanding and

tolerant)

Teacher full of mise;ivings about the stake. (Odd:)

Innkeeper unconcerned and offhand. He offers to buy

land from the teacher, who needs the money fro Andri's

apprenticeship. (An obvious opportunist. Revision of

opinion about the innkeeper. Avaricious and hypocritical).

Barblin identified as the teacher's daughter.

Andri and Barblin. (Brother and sister?) Andri joyfully

tells her that he is to be apprenticed to the carpenter.

They are to be married. (??:)

Drunk soldier looking for Barblin. Unsympathetic figure.

Asks Andri where his sister Barblin is. Andri replies that

he has no sister. (He has: Or can this be true?)

Soldier taunts Andrie with being a Jew. (Is he? Is the

whole family Jewish?) The usual clich~s are flung at Andri

- the sycophantic behaviour of Jews, their greed for money.



59

(He did not seem particularly concerned with mOrley when

he was playing the juke-hox earlier, but if he's a Jew ••.. )

"Ein Andorraner ist nicht feig."

Soldier jeers at Andri for beinr, cowardly on the grounds

that all Jews are cowardly. (Anger at the soldier and a

certain sympathy for Andri).

Andri says that Barblin is his fianc~e. (How can this be?

Did one of the parents marry twice?)

Speech by the innkeeper:

BackKround is provided to the story by a figure for whom

the initial sympathy of the audience has been lost. He admits

that everyone was wrone. (?) Everyone believed that Andri was

the adopted son of the teacher, a Jewish child whom he had saved

from Ildie Schwarzen da drUbenll
• It now appears that he was the

real son of the teacher. (Was he iller,itimate?) The innkeeper

disowns all guilt for what happened. (Was the boy killed? Why?

He wasn't really a Jew? Did he fall into the hnnds of "die Schwarzen"?)

2. Andri and Barblin together. (Are they not brother and sister?

No ~/Y es?)

Andri: "Vielleicht haben sie recht. Vielleicht bin ich feig."

(But he's not a Jew, or is he?) He speaks of Barblin's father

having rescued him as a child. (Surely the innkeeper said that

Andri really was the teacher's son? Does he not know??)



60

He feels he is different from the others. Hns a sense of

Fate. (Dramatic Irony, surely, as he is to die?)

Frisch goes on to develop the fRte of the 'different'

Andri within a murderously self-righteous society by caJ.lin~

members of this society to the witness-box at times when they

are likely to make the greatest impact. This is not carried 0

out in Brechtian fashion, however, where interest is focussed

on the case itself. Here Frisch's aim is a 'reductio ad

absurdum' of those comfortable opinions held by the audience,

and he achieves it by presenting a wh~le scal~ of everyday

attitudes behind a thin and unbelievable cloak of alleged in­

nocence. These attitudes are:

a) "'1'00 bad we were wrong, but .l did ~ bit." (Innkeeper)

b) "I knew he'd mean trouble. Nobody could've known he wasn't

a Jew." (Carpenter)

c) "Maybe it shoulrln't've happened, but it was really his ovm

fault." (Apprentice)

d) "I couldn't stand him. Everyone said he was a Jew and I

still think he was. I only did my duty." (Soldier)

e) "I hardly knew him. Pity about what happened, but it's over

now and we shouldn't dwell on the past." (Jemand)



61

f) "I merely carried out my t<:lsk as doctor. \'/h:-1t happened to

the fellow is to be regretted, but he did have somethin~ of the

Jew about him, even if he was an Andorran. I took no part in

what happened, but I speak for everyone when I say it is re­

e;rettClble. ll (Doctor)

In the middle of these comes the priest who alone blnmes

himself along with the others for Andri1s deAth:

"Auch ich habe mir ein Bildnis r;emacht von ihm, Cluch ich

habe ihn gefesselt, auch ich hAbe ihn an den PfClhl gebracht. ll

This confession is introduced at a time when the audience is in­

clined to expect a declaration of innocence because of the wit­

nesses who have gone before. The pri~stls confession of havinr;

erected a "Bildnis ll thus actually destroys a "Bildnis" (or syn­

thesis) which the audience is in danger of making. From the

beginning the audience sets up syntheses which are ironically

questioned by the developments on stage. By virtue of knowing

that Andri is not a Jew, the audience is very early forced into

the role of moral adjudicator as the play unfolds. However,

the question under adjudication soon becomes quite different from

the one to which the various representRtives of Andorran society

plead 'Not Guiltyl. The audience moves from a concern nbollt

whether or not Andri was a Jew to the realization that what

happens to Andri is inhuman and totally unjustifiable, regardless



6?

of his beinK or not being a Jew. Andri does in fact become

"Jewish" without beinr; a Jew, Cloci insists on n~m()injnr; like

this - he does become "different", but in thi~.; ch"racter there

was always n difference which only the nndience can appreciutc

or even perceive in the course of the play. This difference is

Andri's sincerity and integrity:

There is obviously a marked dialectic progression

forced methodically from the audience by means of a quiz­

zical dramaturgical irony, by the stifling frustration and

blindness of the in-stage dialogue, and by the provocatively

eccentric 'leading' characters. Frisch constantly contra­

dicts his audience. He dramatically refutes and revises its

comfortable syntheses, or, more precisely, he breaks its

mental h8bit of making cheap and shallow judgments by means

of his in- and cross-stage dialogue.



CHAP'fER V

rl'1l1'~ AlI])Tl~NCE, Tillo; DlALO(;lJlt: AND 'J'lIIt~ 'l'lIl~f\'l'IUCJij,

"Der StUckeschreiber, um sich entzUnden zu !connen,

muss wis.sen, wer im PClrkett sitzt•• :. Th0Dter ist Aus-

einandersetzung mit einer Gesellschaft." (H. Bienek, 31)

According to Frisch a knowledge of his alldience is of prime

importance, as his aim is to unsettle and arouse them,

to provoke in them the search for a personal answer to all

the questions and problems raised by hiR dramas. l~lch play

exists as a kind of 'agent provocateur':

Als StUckeschrciber hielte ich meine Auf~abe fiir
durchaus erfUllt, wenn es einem StUck jemals ge­
lange, eine Frage dermassen zu stellen, dass die
Zuschauer von dieser Stunde an ohne eine Antwort
nicht mehr leben konnen. (Tagebuch~ 108)

It is in order to fulfil this aim that his dialogue mRkes

great demands of his audience, that his dramas set up a kind

of dialectic process in which the audience is involved.

While this involvement exists between the audience

and all the characters on stage, it is at its most intense

between the audience and the central characters. These latter

are, in fact, the dialogue-leaders - the Rittmeister and Elvira

in Santa Cruz, Karl in Nun singen sie wieder, Agnes in AJs der

63

.
g



64

Krieg zu Ende war, the prosecutor in Gr~f bderland, Don Juan

in Don Juan oder die Liebe zur Geometrie, Hotz in Die grosse

Wut des Philipn Hotz and Andri in AndorrR. They are all

rnther like the voluble and persuasive Opposition party

around whom the Government seems shallow, unreflected and

contemptible:

To dismiss these characters, however, by simply

acknowled~ing their importance in the play/audience dia­

logue would be to do them a ~rave injustice. They are, in

fact, the process of Change - chan~e from cosy inertia,

throu~h a period of lon~ing to a positive attempt to make

this longing a concrete reality. The end result of the entire

process is much less si~nificant than the actual process it­

self. From the moment of awakening to the moment of final re­

cognition these characters are truly alive and fightin~ to stay

alive, aware of the possibility of death in life and with an

overwhelming desire to escape this death, seen in those around

them - death which is routine, unthinking acceptance of habit,

the cowardice of avoiding uncomfortable truth and the treachery

of categorization. It is these central characters, the dialogue­

leaders, from whom the strongest theatrical stimuli come, they

who provide most material for the audience's imagination, which

Frisch considers one of the two important ingredients for the



existence of a 'theatrical' moment, DS he rlefines it. As he

himself says:

Spielplntz ist immer die menschliche Secle: Ihren
Geset7.en i"t alles unterworfcn. Eines dieser Ge­
setze: Kompens.'1tjon. Wenn ich cincn Kerker \'li1hr­
nehme, findet mich nas \':ort, das eine freie und
hei tere Land SCh;l ft sr.hilrl crt, besonncrr; empfiin[';lich;
•••••••• Der the,ltraliscrle BC7.11g - nElS
Wirlers~iel von Wahrnehmung - wird besondcrs zwingend
sein, besonders err;iehie, besonders zuverUis,sig, Vlenn
er den BedUrfnissen der menschlichen Seele folf,t,
wenn er beispiclweise aus einer Kompensation be­
steht. (Tagcbuch, 195)

If Vie look at the individuAl dramas we Vlill fj.nd that

it is these central characters who echo the longing for "das

\'fort, das eine freie und hei tere Landschaft schildert". Those

around them form the prison from which they sense a need to

escape, and in their efforts they encouraEe the audience to do

likewise. Anyone of the dramas would serve to show that this

is so - the Rittmeister is being stifled in his castle and longs

for freedom, the exotic, Karl is tormented by his own inegrity

which demands that he face up to the problem of responsibility

and guilt while his fellows gladly hide behind the apparent ab-

solution automatically dispensed with every order given. The

freedom Karl chooses lies in death. Agnes, aware of the effort

required to keep up the semblance of her marriage with Horst,

finds release from this constant effort in the much closer re-

lationship she has with Stepan. The prosecutor, faced with an



66

act he ought to condemn, reali~es that this act is an ex­

pression of revolt, and instead of condemnation he finds it

awakens in him a lon~ing to break down the whole order which

demands condemnation, not understanding, for the individual's

despairing revolt. Don Juan, refusing the known boredom and

suffocation of any relationship with a woman, longs for escape

to geometry in which he sees purity and true constancy. Hotz

denies any human the right to claim complete knowledge of any

other and in protest sets out to thw3rt the predictions of his

wife. Andri struggles for the freedom to exist on equal terms

with his fellow-Andorrans, but when this freedom is denied him,

he accepts their prison, thereby forcing them as jailors to pass

and carry out the death-sentence. His freedom lies in his accep­

tance, which in turn converts the freedom of those around him to

a prison. In each case the individual character is not only

fleeing from a fatal confinement, but is also struggling des­

parately to find a new base upon which to stand, a base which

he feels would allow his own inner 'self' to live and breathe.

Whether or not his concept of this inner self is valid he never

knows, but the most important self-appointed task for him is to

search for conditions under which it can emerge. In the dialogue

these characters provide the antithetical impulse to that suffo­

cation which they themselves intuitively feel and the audience



6'1

objectively observes - "das Wort, das cine freie und heitere Land­

schaft schildert", metAphorically speaking.

Forceful and convincinf, as these characters may be, they

arc not figures from whom the audience is to take an example.

It is their recognition of stagnation and their attempt to escape

this which is intended to excite the closed or lazy mind, not

their actual solution to the problem of suffocation. The audience,

while encouraged, even hullied into thinking and re-thinking its

attibldes, is never given the opportunity to identity with a whole

personl -- Is the solution to the strictures of ordered society a

sortie into the realm of anarchy (Oraf Oderland), the answer to the

human quest for perfection to be found in geometry ("Don Juan")? -­

Yet unexemplary as they may be for the audience, these characters

do possess in themselves, in their plight and its attempted re­

solution, what Frisch considers the elements of the Theatrical:

"Musterbeispiel einer theatralischen Situation; die Aussage lieet

g~nzlich im Widerspiel von Wahrnehmung und Imagination. Hier spielt

das Theater sich selbst." (Tagebuch, 194)

As with Frisch's dramatic aim, so too with his concept

of the theatrical: the audience is a major consideration as they

are put in the position of perceiving and imagining by virtue of

being an audience, observing and absorbing what is seen and what

is heard on stage. However, this concept holds eood also for the



68

characters within the play itself. They too perceive the limit-

ations of their present and long for releAse - which longing

finds its expression in their qUAsi-monolor;ues and their various

attempts at finding words for their thouChts. These central

characters both exemplify the IIV/iderspiel von Viahrnehmunp; und

Imagination" in themselves and lead the audience into a partici-

pation in the theatrical process, as determined by Frisch. Thus,

while their dialogue-partner (albeit a mute partner) may be the

audience, their whole theatrical exiRtence does not entirely

depend on the latter.

In Frisch's plays the audience is always confronted with

various possible manifestations of itself, he it in the most

praiseworthy or the most contemptible form, therefore to say

that the enctral characters (whose longing for space and life

represents possibly the highest manifestation of humanity)

illustrate in themselves the elements which Frisch contends

constitute the Theatrical, means only that they display what

lies within each of us. The audience perceives mental stagnation,

longs for communication and progression, which it then seeks to

establish with these central characters who represent its longing,

and thus it becomes a ready, willing partner in the dialogue -

a dialogue in which this audience is forsaken before·any actual

conclusion is reached.

l..



--

CI!fl.P'l'ER VI

CONCLUSION

Looking back at the examination of Frisch's dialogue

carried out in previous chap