Books: My Life and My Efforts

K >> Karl May >> My Life and My Efforts

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As far as the acts of plagiarism are concerned, Peter Rosegger had
mentioned, the situation is like this: The Benedictine monk
Father Poellmann has written a series of articles against me and
my works, starting with the threat that out of my works he would
construct a figurative noose around my neck, to "whip me out of
the temple of German art". Here, he has employed the right
metaphor, for every one of his allegations, he afterwards cast
upon me, was nothing but a snap of a whip, harsh, sharp, tough,
loveless, and sadistic, therefore outraging the readers, and the
echoes of its snap faded away without effect. It was also such an
empty crack of a boy's whip, when he accused me of plagiarism and
unsuccessfully made every effort in proving the truthfulness of
his allegation. There, he talked like an ignorant man and could
therefore achieve nothing but the well known effects of ignorance.
The newspaper called "Grazer Tagespost" wrote about this:

"Father Poellmann, a well known gentleman, who has just lately,
with genuinely Christian humility, awarded himself the decorative
cognomen of a `respected critic', has very quickly forgotten the
moral defeat which he had suffered in his battle of name-calling
against the travelling author Karl May, because recently he again
put his foot in his mouth etc. etc."

The thing was that in some of my very first and oldest traveller's
tales, which I wrote when I did not possess the necessary
experience yet, I let the events I described take place before a
geographical background which I took from well known, readily
accessible books. This is not just allowed, it even happens quite
frequently. To adapt descriptions of places for one's own needs,
can never be a theft. A literary theft, plagiarism this is, is
only committed when essential components of another author's
mental creation are copied and then used in a manner which makes
them an essential component of the plagiarist's work and thereby
the impression is created that they were his own thoughts. But I
have never done something like this and I also never will. Works
of geography, especially when the information contained has become
common knowledge, can be used without thinking of it twice, as
long as no entire printed sheets or sequences of pages are copied
identically and the second author's work, in spite of the copied
parts, forms an independent mental achievement. In the
introduction to Voigtlaender's book on "Authorship and Publishing
Law" it reads:

"No person creates the world of his thoughts solely by himself.
He constructs it on top of what others have invented, said, and
written before him or together with him. Only then at best, his
very own creation begins. Even the most creative of all
activities, the one of a poet, ranks highest, achieves the
greatest success, when it consecrates with an artistic form those
ideas, which along with the poet, are also thought and felt by his
entire people. And not even the form is entirely the poet's
property, because the form is supplied by the refined language,
"which creates literature and thinks for you", and which has given
to many a man who thinks himself to be a poet more than the form,
but also thoughts or the appearance of thoughts. To put it brief,
writers and artists are with their knowledge and abilities in the
midst and on the top of the cultural achievements of many
millennia. If Goethe had grown up on a lonely island, he would
not have become Goethe. But once someone has been granted such a
gifted spirit, that he has been able to advance the cultural
achievements of mankind by one step, because he has been allowed
to continue the ancestors' work, then it is just right _that_his_
_work_in_turn_shall_in_due_time_be_made_available_for_others,_to_
_use_it_freely,_not_just_its_contents,_but_also_its_form."_

This is what the publisher of the law says, and there is no cause
to dispute what he says. I, not even having committed what he
explicitly permits, am thereby perfectly vindicated. Someone else
wrote: "Everything is more or less plagiarism committed against
achievement of culture, the mind, or the imagination. The
intellectual upper class, those who possess education and culture
to a higher degree, will always, more or less, feed on _one_
reservoir which has been filled by the achievements of other,
earlier, greater minds."

In issue no. 268 of the "Feder" , the magazine for authors
and journalists, coming out two times per month, it says: "Since
it is impossible for author of popularised scientific articles to
make something up, everyone has to be also a plagiarist to a
certain degree. If the main part of the related thoughts are new,
one might very well be justified in using suitable ornaments from
already existing works. According to Emerson, _the_greatest_
_genius_is_at_the_same_time_also_the_greatest_borrower._ Here, all
depends on how it is done. _You_may_take_what_is_good_wherever_
_you_find_it,_ if you want to achieve great purpose with it; but
you must not let it show; something truly new has to be produced
from the borrowed material."

It is a well known fact that Maeterlinck [a] had simply copied in
one of his plays three scenes from Paul Heyse. Heyse protested;
but Maeterlinck laughed at him and just had the play published
under his name. It is just as well known that the popular song
from "Der Freischuetz" entitled "Wir winden dir den Jungfernkranz"
was not written by Weber, but
an almost entirely unknown chief conductor from Gotha. Weber
heard it and used it in his "Freischuetz", without caring about
the danger of being described as a plagiarist and a thief. It is
generally accepted that Shakespeare was the greatest literary
thief we know. If the principles of Father Poellmann would be
applied, even various authors of biblical books would have to be
called literary thieves. I could continue listing an even greater
number of examples, but want to limit myself to citing Goethe, our
very greatest classic, and Alexander Dumas, the most successful
novelist of the modern age. Dumas borrowed extraordinary much.
He could not exist without outside help and exceeded in this very
far beyond what is permissible in literature. For instance, it is
known that he has exploited the tale of the "Gold Bug" by Edgar
Poe, to create some of the most exciting passages of his "Count of
Monte Christo". And as far as Goethe is concerned, I will quote
from a short article, which was recently published in several
newspapers under the title "Goethe on plagiarism":

[a] In 1908, Maurice Maeterlinck (1862-1949, Nobel Prize 1911)
had turned to Paul Heyse (1830-1914, Nobel Prize 1910) via
his German translator Friedrich von Oppeln-Bronikowski
(1873-1936) to ask for his permission to use two ideas from
Heyse's play "Mary of Magdala" in his own play on the same
topic in exchange for a share in the royalties. Heyse was
outraged and harshly rejected this offer. Maeterlinck
nevertheless used Heyse's ideas, but in a manner which did not
constitute plagiarism and openly pointed this out in an
appendix to the German edition of his play. Heyse complained
in an article and von Oppeln-Bronikowski answered by
publishing the letters which had been exchanged between them
and referred to an expertise, attesting that this was not a
case of plagiarism. In 1911, a letter by von
Oppeln-Bronikowski was published in a magazine, denouncing
Karl May's version as an audacious lie.

"Nowadays, it is very easy to be regarded as a plagiarist. An
author only has to fail to quote the source from which he has
taken one or another passage, may it be intentionally or
unintentionally. Everyone has such a dear friend, who will, after
having been so fortunate to discover the plagiarist, publicly
denounce him. Richard von Kralik has recently been accused of
plagiarism, because he was - with out any guilt on his part -
quoted incorrectly. We want to remind those who enjoy sniffing
out plagiarism of Goethe's view on plagiarism. The subject of his
conversation with Eckermann on January the 18th, 1825, were Lord
Byron's supposed plagiarisms. See `Eckermanns Gespraeche mit
Goethe' , 3rd edition,
volume I, page 133. There, Goethe said: `Byron also does not
know how to defend himself against such simple-minded attacks,
directed against himself by his own nation; he should have spoken
out more forcefully against them. _Whatever_is_there,_this_is_
_mine,_ he should have said. _Whether_I_have_taken_it_from_real_
_life_or_from_a_book,_this_is_all_the_same;__the_only_thing_which_
_mattered_was_that_I_used_it_properly!_ Walter Scott needed a
scene from my `Egmont', and he had a right to take it, _and_
_because_it_was_done_in_an_intelligent_manner,_he_is_to_be_
_praised._ Thus, he has also recreated my character of `Mignon' in
one of his novels, but whether he has done it with just as much
wisdom, is a different question. Lord Byron's `transformed devil'
is an extended Mephistopheles, and this is right so. If he had
wanted to avoid the similarity on an original whim, he would have
had to achieve a worse result. Thus, my Mephistopheles sings a
song written by Shakespeare, and why should he not do so? Why
should I take the trouble of inventing a song of my own, while
Shakespeare's was just right and said just what it was supposed
to? Therefore, when the beginning of my `Faust' has some
similarity with the one found in the book of `Job', this is again
just right so, and I am rather to be praised than to be scolded
for that.'"

This shall be the end of this short selection of famous names as
references. What have out most famous authors done without having
suffered such verbal abuse? And what have I done to be treated
like the lowest of all cheaters and thieves? I have, without
thinking much of it, decorated some of my small, Asian tales with
entirely irrelevant geographical and ethnographical arabesques,
which I found in books, which, for a long time, belong to the
public. This is permissable. This is even my right. But what
does Father Poellmann say to this? He resorts to public
name-calling, saying I was a _"pirate_in_the_field_of_literature,_
_for_all_eternity_the_prime_example_of_a_literary_thief!"_
Emerson, one of the most famous and most noble men of America,
says: "The greatest genius is at the same time also the greatest
borrower." And Goethe says: "Whatever is there, this is mine.
Whether I have taken it from real life or from a book, this is all
the same!" How would Father Poellmann have to pass an analogous
judgement on these two champions? To him, they would have to be
"for all eternity, the worst among all literary fiends", exuding
the stench of greedy rapacity and moral corruption! A criticism
which is thus ignorant, thus inexperienced, thus self-promoting,
and thus exceeding all limits, as this one, constitutes a danger
not just to literature, but also to the entire people.

I have written my "traveller's tales" just the way I had
originally planed to write them for the human soul, for the soul,
and only for the soul. And only the soul alone, for which they
have been written, shall read them, for it alone can understand
and comprehend me. I do not pick up my pen for soulless readers.
An exemplary author, writing exemplary stories for exemplary
readers is not what I am or I ever would want to be or become.
Once we will have reached this point that there are only exemplary
authors, exemplary readers, and exemplary books, this will be the
end! I am so bold to assert that we must not use the existing
exemplary books, but rather the existing trash as examples, to
model our own books after, if we wish to achieve what the true
friends of the people seek to achieve. Let us not write like the
boring ones, which are not read, let us rather write like the
trashy authors, who know how to win a hundred thousands and
millions of subscribers! But our topics shall be noble, as noble
as our purposes and goals. Write for the great soul! Do not
write for the tiny spirits, on whom your efforts will be waisted
and dispersed, without them ever being grateful to you. Because
however much effort you put into seeking their applause, they will
still maintain that they were able to do it better, though they
are not capable of anything at all! And do not write anything
small, at least nothing earthly small. But rather raise your eyes
up to how everything fits together on the big scale. Small things
might also be found there, but behind and in these small things,
the truly great thing live. And even if you should commit
mistakes in the process, mistakes as many and as big as the ones
Karl May has made, this will do no harm. It is better to
occasionally stumble on the path which leads upwards and to
finally reach the top regardless, than not to stumble on the path
which leads downwards and to succumb to the depth. Or even to run
round and round one's own equator, holding one's head up high and
taking proud steps, always returning to oneself again and again,
without having climbed over any higher ground. For mountains are
what we must have, ideals, highly situated intermediate stops and
final goals.

Perhaps, I have just too many ideals and goals and am therefore
running the risk not to achieve a single one of them; but I do
not fear that this might be so. I have already said what I want
and what goals I am seeking; I do not need to repeat it. And I
have already had to overcome so many steep heights, that I cannot
possibly regard myself as one of those poor devils who never leave
the plane of their own equator. There are some people who
recommend my style as an example for others; there are different
people who say that I had no style; and thirdly, there are people
who maintain that did have a style, but that it was an
extraordinarily bad one. The truth is that I do not pay any
attention to my style at all. I write whatever comes from my
soul, and I write it the way I hear it inside of me. I never
change anything, and never improve anything. Thus, my style is my
soul, and not my "style", but my soul shall talk to the readers.
I also do not employ any so-called artistic form. My literary
garments have not been cut to size, sewn, or even ironed by any
tailor. It is natural cloth. I wrap myself in it, drape it as I
need it or according to the mood I am in when I write. Therefore,
what I write has such a direct effect and not an effect which
would be achieved by pretty outward appearances, which possess no
internal value. I do not want to capture the reader, not grasp
him externally, but rather I want to enter in his inner self, I
want to access his soul, his heart, his emotions. There I will
stay, for there I can and may stay, because I neither come with
distracting forms nor distracting garments and am just the way the
soul wants me to be. That this is the right thing, decades of
beautiful experiences have confirmed to me. I must, can, and may
take the liberty of displaying this honest and natural quality,
because solely by these means, I am able to effectuate what I want
to achieve, because I do not ask my readers to conform to a
different or even higher artistic standard than I ask from myself,
and because the time has not come, yet, when I will have to give
my work also an external form, which is on an aesthetically higher
level. Now, I still make my sketches, and sketches are commonly
accepted as they are.

In my entire work, not including the humorous short stories and
village-tales from the Ore Mountains, there is not a single
character which was fully developed and perfected by me, not even
Winnetou and Hadji Halef Omar, those two about whom I have written
more than about any other characters. After all, I am not
finished with my own development yet, I am still changing. Inside
of me, everything is still moving ahead, and of the characters
within me, all of my topics are moving along with me. I know my
goal; but until I will have reached it, I am still travelling,
and all of my thoughts are still travelling. Naturally, none of
our poets and artists, and mainly none of our great classics, have
postponed their work, until they have grown mentally mature
enough, but I am to be regarded as an outsider in this respect as
well, am even described by many as an outlaw or outcast, and
therefore, I may not even by a long shot take those liberties
which others take for granted. What is regarded as the most
natural thing in the world with others, is in me either regarded
as bad or ridiculous, and things which are accepted as an excuse,
a reason for forgiveness, for others are being ignored in my case.
One single time, I have intended to write something of artistic
value, my "Babel and Bible". What was the consequence? It has
been described as a "miserable fabrication", and so much mockery
and sneering has been heaped up on it, as if it had been written
by a harlequin or an ape. Such an experience makes a person stand
back and await his time. And this time will come for sure.
Literary buffoons can very well be swept off the scene, but
spiritual movements cannot be suppressed, for they are invincible.
I would not think of making accusations, since nothing would come
out of it, anyhow. Nevertheless, I must not fail to give one
example to illustrate the fact I touched upon here, one single
example which says it all thus clearly that I can easily forgo all
other evidence. This example concerns an organisation, which has
been founded for the purpose of establishing libraries for the
people and making books more readily available, and which has
distributed, until now, several thousands of my volumes each year.
Suddenly, they stopped this, and being asked about it, the central
office of this organisation issued the following statement, which
had been published by several newspapers: "On our part, we do
refrain from the further distribution of May's writings and no
longer offer these books through our catalogues, but we do not
intent to express by this that the contents of May's traveller's
tales would be objectionable, and we also to not ask the boards of
our organisations to go through the trouble of removing these
books from the libraries for that matter. Our current
disapproving position is not directed against the _writings,_ but
against the _personage_ of the author. _Thus,_you_can_continue_to_
_allow_these_volumes_to_be_checked_out_without_any_need_for_
_concern."_ This is surely enough! My books are beyond reproach;
but I as a person am publicly condemned! Why? Due to this
"scheme" I already talk about earlier. Therefore, do not think
that the "Karl-May-persecution" or, to put it a bit more decently,
the "Karl-May-problem" was a matter of literature. Here are, by
no means, literary or even ethical reasons at play, but it is, to
call it by its proper name, a solely personal butchering for the
morally lowest reasons pertaining to my lawsuits. What they say
in this context about moral and journalistic necessities is
nothing but a bombastic show, to conceal the truth. If someone
would want to write a novel about this, this could become the most
sensational one of all colportage novels, and the main characters
would be the following: The former chief editor Dr. Hermann
Cardauns in Bonn, the former colporteuse Pauline Muenchmeyer in
Dresden, the Franciscan monk Dr. Expeditus Schmidt in Munich, the
former social democrat Rudolf Lebius in Charlottenburg, who has
seceded from the Christian church, the Benedictine Father Ansgar
Poellmann in Beuron, and the lawyer of the colporteuse
Muenchmeyer, Dr. Gerlach in Niederloessnitz near Dresden. This
novel would be most important for the purpose of shedding some
light on the present legislation and would also cast surprising
side-lights on other conditions, conditions of society, business,
and the psyche. There, we would get to see much filth, very much
filth, which is anything but tasteful, and thus, I want, since I
have to mention and demonstrate this filth here as well, to try my
best to get this over with as quickly as possible.

VIII. My Lawsuits

Jorgensen [a], whom my readers will probably know, says in his
parable "The Shadow" to the poet: "You do not know what you are
doing, when you are sitting and writing here and your soul is
filled by the power of the wine and the night. You do not know
how many people's fate is reshaped, created, changed by a single
line of yours on the white paper. You do not know how many a
human joy you are killing, how many a death sentence you are
signing, here, in your quiet solitude, by the peaceful lamp,
between the flowery glasses and the bottle of burgundy. Consider,
_that_we_others_act_out_what_you_poets_write._ We are as you have
shaped us. The youth of this realm repeats your creation like
shadows. We are as chaste as you are; we are as immoral as you
want us to be. The young men believe according to your belief in
or denial of any faith. The young girls are as decent or
frivolous as the women are your glorify."

[a] Jens Johannes Jorgensen (1866-1956)

In this, Jorgensen is perfectly right. His opinion coincides
exactly with my own. Yes, I will even go far beyond his. Poets
and novelists have a much greater, creative or destructive,
purifying or soiling influence than most people suspect. If it is
true what the newer psychology says, that "a person is not a
single being, but an entire drama", then an author's work might
possibly be even regarded as more akin to a divine creation than
to a creation of human labour. Because I am very much aware of
this, I am also aware of the immense responsibility which every
one of us writers has, as soon as we take up the pen. Whenever I
do so, I do it with the honest intention, to create only something
good, but never something evil. Thus, you can imagine how
astonished I was, when I found out that I had been said to have
written "abysmally indecent" books for the publishing company of
H.G. Muenchmeyer. The expression "abysmally indecent" was
invented by Cardauns, who is known for having the peculiarity to
indulge in the most exaggerated harshness whenever he opposes
someone. Then, in his articles, all things are not just proven,
but "evidently proven", not made up, but "cunningly made up", not
distorted, but "distorted beyond recognition". Therefore, in
describing these Muenchmeyer novels, because the were said to be
written by me, the simple word "indecent" was not enough, but it
was the most natural thing in the world that they had to be even
"abysmally indecent".

The first trace of these "indecencies" of mine was discovered over
in the United States. Councillor of Commerce Pustet, who owns
branch offices there, wrote to me about this rumour and wished me
to respond to this. I did so. I answered him that I did not know
anything about any indecencies and that I would investigate the
matter, if necessary even in court. I would then inform him of
the results. This settled the matter for him. He was an
honourable gentleman, a man with a keen mind and a good heart, who
would never have even considered to go about anything in a
clandestine manner. We liked each other. He is with absolute
certainty not even in the slightest degree to blame for the
indescribably filthy and disgustingly passionate agitation
persecuting me. Because the rumour came from America, I had to
investigate there first. This required a long time, and I was
unable to obtain any specific information. I only knew that the
rumour was about those novels I had written for Muenchmeyer, but I
found no one who would have been able to name the chapters and the
passages to me where this indecency would be contained. And to
laboriously search through all five novels, this are about eight
hundred printed sheets, on account of a mere, vague rumour,
without even knowing what to look for, was something for which I
did not have any time to waste, and this also would have been
asking too much of me, anyhow. Whoever had the guts to accuse me
would be required to know these indecent passages precisely and
had the duty to name them to me. I waited for this to happen.
But no one came forward, who would have done this. Pustet did not
do it either. Probably, he knew just as little about those
supposed indecencies as I. Unfortunately, I had been forced, some
time later, to stop working for his magazine for a second time.
The first time I had done something like this was when Heinrich
Keiter was still alive. He had rather significantly shorted one
of my works, without asking me for my permission. I have never
put up with any corrections or abridgments. The readers are to
get to know me as I am, with all faults and shortcoming, but not
as an editor cuts me down to size. Therefore, I informed Pustet
that he could not expect any further manuscripts from me. He
tried to change my mind by means of letters, but in vain. Then
he, the old gentleman, came personally to Radebeul. This was
moving, but equally unsuccessful. Then, he sent his nephews,
quite naturally with the same negative result, because after all,
neither of them had been the one who had violated my rights.
Then, the right man came, Heinrich Keiter in person. He promised
me that it should never happen again, and on account of this, I
retracted my refusal. Certain people are still holding this
against me. They expressed it like this: "Heinrich Keiter had to
make a kotow [a] before Karl May." I possess letters on this
topic, written to me by no ordinary person. But he had only
himself to blame, not me. I have respected Heinrich Keiter, as
everyone respected him. I recognise all of his merits and still
feel sorry for having been compelled, at this time, to show that I
had a backbone. There was no other way. I had to have the hard
cover edition of my "traveller's tales" printed on the basis of
the texts of the "Hausschatz" magazine, and therefore, I could not
permit that my manuscripts were changed in any way.

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