Books: My Life and My Efforts

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1898: On August the 30th, Heinrich Keiter dies.
"Im Reiche des silbernen Loewen" is published as volumes 26 and 27
of the "traveller's tales" with an additional chapter, not
published before.

1899: "Am Jenseits" is published as Karl
May's 25th volume for Fehsenfeld.
On March the 26th, Karl May embarks on his big trip to the Orient.
In Egypt, the news of the planned illegal printing by Adalbert
Fischer of his earlier novels reaches him. He protests and
threatens to sue. Furthermore, he has to find out that a smear
campaign has been started in several German newspapers against him
and his work, while he has been travelling abroad.

1900: May is joined on his journey by his wife Emma, his friend
Richard Ploehn, and his wife Klara. He returns home on July the
31th.
Karl May publishes a book of poetry, entitled "Himmelsgedanken"
.

1901: On February the 14th, Karl May's friend Richard Ploehn
dies.
May writes his pacifist novel "Et in terra pax", but has to
interrupt it, since it violates the not so peaceful intentions of
the publisher Joseph Kuerschner.
The illegal publication of his earlier novels starts, causing
those lawsuits, which were to drag on until long after Karl May's
death.

1902: Karl May publishes a third volume of "Im Reiche des
silbernen Loewen" as the 28th volume of his "traveller's tales",
but this is no longer a plain adventure novel like the first two
volumes, but rather an allegorical novel with many hidden,
autobiographical references.
On September the 10th, Karl May files for divorce.

1903: On March the 4th, the divorce is final.
On March the 30th, he marries Klara, the widow of Richard Ploehn.
The fourth volume of "Im Reiche des silbernen Loewen" is published
as the 29th volume of the "traveller's tales".

1904: The lawsuits against Rudolf Lebius start.
The painter Sascha Schneider, a close personal friend of Karl May,
creates new cover illustrations for his novels, which reflect the
metaphorical interpretation which Karl May now gives to all of his
work.
Karl May completes "Et in terra pax" and publishes it as volume 30
of his "collected traveller's tales" under the German title "Und
Friede auf Erden" , upon a suggestion by his
publisher.

1905: Karl May meets Bertha von Suttner, who won the Nobel Peace
Prize that year.

1906: Karl May publishes his drama "Babel und Bibel". It is
generally rejected by the critics and has, to my knowledge, never
been performed on stage.

1907: On January the 9th, Karl May wins his lawsuit against
Adalbert Fischer and Pauline Muenchmeyer.
On April the 7th, Adalbert Fischer dies.
Karl May reconciles his differences with the "Hausschatz" magazine
and publishes in it his novel "Der Mir von Dschinnistan".

1908: On September the 5th, Karl and Klara May embark on their
journey to America. They visit New York, Albany, Buffalo, and the
Niagara Falls. In Lawrence, Massachusetts, Karl May meets his old
friend Pfefferkorn, who had emigrated to America. On October the
18th, he makes a speech on mankind's big questions: "Who are we?
Where do we come from? Where do we go to?" Probably in early
November, he returns home, to depart again for London by the end
of this month, spending about one week in England.
In early December, Karl May and his wife return home.

1909: The magazine's publication of "Der Mir von Dschinnistan"
ends. Under the new title "Ardistan und Dschinnistan", this novel
becomes volumes 31 and 32 of his "collected traveller's tales".
Karl May adds an fourth volume to his Winnetou trilogy, written in
his new, allegorical style. It is published in an supplement to a
newspaper called "Augsburger Volkszeitung".

1910: The fourth volume of Winnetou is included into his
"traveller's tales" as its 33rd and last volume.
Karl May publishes his autobiography.

1911: Karl May's health is getting worse. From May to July, he
spends time in several health resorts in Austria and Italy.
On December the 18th, Karl May wins his lawsuit against Rudolf
Lebius.
In the end of the year, May suffers from a severe case of
pneumonia.

1912: Against doctor's orders, Karl May accepts an invitation to
speak before the academy for literature and music in Vienna. On
March the 20th, he arrives in Vienna, and in an interview with a
newspaper reporter, he says: "What I have created up to now, I
regard as preliminary studies, as etudes. I have, in a manner of
speaking, tested my audience. Only now, I want to approach the
actual work of my life."
On March the 22th, he speaks before an enthusiastic audience of
about 2000 people.
On March the 30th, back at home in Radebeul, he dies.

About my translation:

This translation is based on the first edition of 1910.

That one footnote from the original text is marked with a [1].

Here and there, I have added some footnotes, to explain things
which do not translate so well into English or some readers might
not be familiar with. These additional footnotes are marked with
[a], [b] etc. I admit that there are still a few more expressions
which might require an explanation, but I could not fully resolve
myself.

Names of places and titles of books are often left untranslated,
but when they carry a translatable meaning I have added this in
angle brackets.

------------------------------------------------------------------

My Life and My Efforts

Autobiography by Karl May

Volume I

Original title:
Mein Leben und Streben, Selbstbiographie von Karl May, Band I

[Translated by Gunther Olesch in 2000]

The day this world will cast you from its sight,
Go calmly forth from here and don't lament.
By means like this, it freed you from your plight,
And as it did you wrong, it will repent.

(Karl May "Im Reiche des silbernen Loewen" [a])

[a] A slightly different version of this poem can be found in
"Im Reiche des silbernen Loewen IV" Silver Lion, Volume 4> a.k.a. "Das versteinerte Gebet" Petrified Prayer>. There, the last line would translate
literally as "and therefore it has to bear all of your
guilt", whereas here a more literal translation would be "and
it now has to bear its guilt (from its offence) against you
by itself".

Contents

I. The Fable of Sitara
II. My Childhood
III. No Boyhood
IV. My Time at the Seminary and as a Teacher
V. In the Abyss
VI. Working for the Colportage
VII. My Literary Work
VIII. My Lawsuits
IX. Conclusion

I. The Fable of Sitara

If someone should go in a straight line from the earth to the sun
within three months and proceed beyond the sun for another three
months into the same direction, he would reach a star named
Sitara. Sitara is a Persarabian word, meaning nothing more than
"star".

This star has much, very much, in common with our earth. Its
diameter is 1700 miles [a] and its equator 5400 miles long. It
revolves around itself and simultaneously also around the sun.
One movement around itself takes precisely one day, the movement
around the sun takes just as precisely one year, not a second more
or less. Its surface consists of one part land and two parts
water. But, while there are five continents to be found on earth,
the land of Sitara is arranged in a different, much simpler
manner. It is all connected. It does not form several
continents, but just a single one, which consists of the lowland,
full of morasses, and the highland, boldly towering up towards the
sun. Both are connected by a rather small, steeply ascending
strip of jungle. The lowland is a plain. It is unhealthy, rich
in poisonous plants and savage beasts, and at the mercy of all the
tempests, raging from sea to sea. It is called Ardistan. Ard
means earth, soil, a base substance, and figuratively it means the
pleasure of mindless existence in filth and dust, the
inconsiderate amassing of material possessions, the cruel,
destructive fight against everything that does not belong to one's
own self, or is not willing to serve it. Thus, Ardistan is the
home of the low, selfish ways of life, and in respect to its more
evolved inhabitants, the land where _persons_of_violence_and_
_egotism_ live. The highland, on the other hand, is lofty,
healthy, eternally young and beautiful, kissed by sunbeams, rich
in natural gifts as well as the products of human efforts, a
garden of Eden, a paradise. It is called Jinnistan. Jinni means
spirit, beneficent ghost, bliss-bringing, unearthly creature, and
figuratively it means the inborn yearning for higher goals, the
pleasure in mental and spiritual progress, the busy striving for
everything which is good and noble, and most of all the joy in
promoting one's neighbours' happiness, the well-being of all those
who require love and assistance. Thus, Jinnistan is the realm of
humanity and neighbourly love, stretching upwards like the
mountains, the once promised land of the _nobly_spirited_people_.

[a] This refers to the now outdated old German geographic mile,
which had a length of 4.6126 statute miles. Thus, Sitara has
precisely the same size as Earth.

Down below, Ardistan is ruled by a line of vile thinking, selfish
tyrants, whose most supreme law reads mercilessly short: "YOU
SHALL BE YOUR NEIGHBOUR'S DEVIL, SO THAT YOU SHALL BECOME YOUR OWN
ANGEL!" And high above, Jinnistan was ruled for countless ages by
a dynasty of generous, genuinely royal-minded regents, whose most
supreme law reads delightfully short: "YOU SHALL BE YOUR
NEIGHBOUR'S ANGEL, SO THAT YOU SHALL NOT BECOME YOUR OWN DEVIL!"

And for as long as this Jinnistan, this land of the nobly spirited
people, exists, every citizen had been required to be secretly,
without exposing him- or herself, the guardian angel of one other
person. So, there is happiness and sunshine for Jinnistan, but in
Ardistan, there is just a deep spiritual darkness and the
forbidden, and therefore secret, lamentation for liberation from
this hell! No wonder that down there, in the lowland, an ever
growing desire for the highland developed! No wonder, that the
more evolved ones of the souls there sought to free themselves
from the darkness and sought redemption! Millions and millions
enjoy life in the morasses of Ardistan. They have grown used to
the miasmas. They do not want to have it any other way. They
would not be able to exist in the clean air of Jinnistan. These
are by no means just the poorest and lowest, but even more so the
richest and most distinguished inhabitants of the land: the
pharisees, who need sinners in order to appear righteous, the
prosperous, who require poor people for contrast, the lazy ones,
who must have workers for their convenience, and most of all the
smart, cunning ones, for whom the stupid, trusting, honest ones
are indispensable, to be exploited by them. What would happen to
all those privileged ones, if the others were not to exist any
more? Therefore, everyone is most strictly forbidden, to leave
Ardistan and to escape the pressure of its laws. But the harshest
punishment is inflicted upon him who dares to flee to the land of
neighbourly love and humanity, to Jinnistan. The border is
guarded. He will not get through. He will be apprehended and
brought to the "spirits' furnace", to be tortured and tormented,
until the pain forces him to beg for forgiveness and to return to
the hated oppression.

This is because, between Ardistan and Jinnistan, there is
Maerdistan, that steeply ascending strip of jungle where the
infinitely dangerous and strenuous way up passes through its
labyrinths of trees and rocks. Maerd is a Persian word; it means
"man". Maerdistan is the frontier land, where only "men" may dare
to venture; anybody else would necessarily perish. The most
dangerous part of this almost entirely unknown area is the "forest
of Kulub". Kulub is an Arabian word. It means the plural of
"heart". Thus, the enemies who have to be conquered one by one,
if one would want to escape from Ardistan to Jinnistan, lurk in
the depths of the heart. And in the midst of this forest of
Kulub, that place of torture is to be found, about which I have
written in "Babel and Bible", page 78:

"In Maerdistan, the forest of Kulub,
Lies lonely, hidden well, the spirits' furnace."
"Do spirits forge there?"

"No, but they are forged!
Storms bring them, drag them, here at midnight's time,
When lightnings light the sky, tears pour like floods,
Where hatred comes on them in grim delight,
And envy digs its claws into the flesh.
Remorse will sweat and wail where bellows blow.
The pain is by the block with staring eyes,
A blackened face, the hammer in his hand.
There, now, o sheik, the pliers grab you fast.
They toss you to the blaze; the bellows creak.
The flame flares upwards, far beyond the roof,
And all that you possess and what you are,
The flesh, the mind, the soul, and all the bones,
The sinews, fibres, tendons, flesh and blood,
The thoughts and feelings, everything and all,
Is burnt from you, is tortured and tormented
Up to the whitest blaze - - -"

"Allah, Allah!"
"Don't scream, o sheik! I'm telling you, don't scream!
For screamers are unworthy of this pain,
Are thrown away to be the dross and refuse
And must, at last, be molten down again.
But you would want to be the steel, a blade
That glistens in the paraklet's [a] own fist.
Be quiet, thus!

"He rips you from the fire - -
He casts you on the anvil - - holds you tight.
It clangs and cracks on you in every pore.
The pain will start its work, the smith, the expert.
He spits into his fists, and then he grasps,
Lifts with both hands, the giant hammer up - - -
The blows do strike. Each blow is like a murder,
A murder killing you. You think you're crushed.
Hot scraps spew widely, everywhere around.
Your self gets thinner, smaller, even smaller,
And yet, you must go back into the fire - -
Again - - and yet again, until the smith
Will see the spirit in hell's agony,
Through all the gloom of soot and hammers' blows,
Who smiles at him in calm and grateful joy.
This one is fixed into the vice and ground.
The file does screech, and eats away from you
Whatever still - - -"

"Desist! It is enough!"
"It does go on, for now the drill is used,
It spirals deeply - - -"
"Silence! Oh, for God's sake!"
etc. etc.

[a] parakletos (Greek): a person called to one's aid, especially
to intercede before God, used in John 14-16 for the Holy
Spirit (the King James version translates it as "comforter"
here) and in 1John 2:1 for Jesus Christ (the King James
version translates it as "advocate" here).

So this is how Maerdistan is like, and this is what is going on
inside the "spirits' furnace of Kulub"! Every inhabitant of
Sitara knows the tale which says that the souls of all important
people, who are to be born, are sent down from heaven. Angels and
devils are waiting for them. A soul who is so fortunate to come
across an angel will be born in Jinnistan, and all of its paths
are smoothened. But the poor soul who falls into the hands of a
devil will be dragged to Ardistan by him, and hurled into an even
deeper misery, the higher the task was which the soul had been
given from above. The devil wants it to perish and rests neither
day nor night to turn him, who was destined to be gifted or
ingenious, into a rotten and doomed individual. All resistance
and rebellion is futile; the poor soul is doomed. And even if he
succeeded in escaping from Ardistan, he would still be apprehended
in Maerdistan and dragged to the spirits' furnace, to be tortured
and tormented, until he loses his last bit of courage to resist.

Only rarely, the heavenly strength, given to such a soul hurled to
Ardistan, is thus great and thus inexhaustible that it could bear
even the strongest pain of the spirits' furnace and face the smith
and his fellows "through all the gloom of soot and hammers' blows,
and smile at him in calm and grateful joy." Even the greatest
pain is powerless against such a heavenly child, it is immune; it
is saved. It will not be destroyed by the fire, but rather
purified and fortified. And once all the dross has fallen off,
the smith has to keep his distance, because there is nothing left
that would belong to Ardistan. Therefore, neither man nor devil
can prevent it now, and may all of the lowland burst out in an
roar of rage, from rising up to Jinnistan, where everyone is his
neighbour's angel. - - -

II. My Childhood

I was born in the lowest and deepest part of Ardistan, a favourite
of distress, worry, and sorrow. My father was a poor weaver.
Both of my grandfathers had met with fatal mishaps. My mother's
father died at home, my father's father in the forest. On
Christmas day, he had gone to a neighbouring village, to fetch
some bread. Nightfall came suddenly. In a raging snowstorm he
lost his way and plunged into the ravine of "Kraehenholz" Wood>, which used to be rather steep, and could not struggle his
way out again. His tracks were blown away. He was searched for a
long time in vain. Not until the snow had disappeared, his
corpse, and also the bread, was found. Generally, Christmas has
very often been, for myself as well as my family, not so much a
joyous time, but rather a time of tragic misfortune.

I was born on February the 25th, 1842, in the tiny town of
Ernstthal in the Erzgebirge [a],
which was a very poor and small town then, mostly populated by
weavers. Now, it has been incorporated into the slightly larger
Hohenstein . There were nine of us: my father, my
mother, both grandmothers, four sisters, and me, the only boy.
My mother's mother scrubbed floors for other people and span
cotton. On some occasions, she earned more than 25 pfennig per
day. Then, she became generous and gave us five children two
tiny rolls of bread, which only cost four pfennig, because they
were extremely hard and stale, often even moldy. She was a kind,
hard working, silent woman, who never complained. She died, as
one would say, of old age. The real reason for her death was
probably what is nowadays discretely termed as "being underfed".
About my other grandmother, my father's mother, there is more to
tell, but not here, at this point. My mother was a martyr, a
saint, always quiet, infinitely hard working, constantly willing
to make a sacrifice for other, even poorer people in spite of our
own poverty. Never ever, I have heard her speak a bad word. She
was a blessing for everyone she met, and a special blessing for
us, her children. No matter how hard she suffered, she would
never let anyone know about it. But at night, when she sat,
busily knitting, by the light of the small, smoking oil-lamp and
thought no one was watching, it happened that a tear came to her
eye to run down her cheek, vanishing even faster than it had
appeared. With one movement of the fingertips this trace of her
sufferings was instantly wiped away.

[a] Erzgebirge: the mountain range which forms the border of
Saxony with Bohemia.
The name of the town is spelled "Ernsttal" throughout most of
the original book. In 1901, there had been a reform of the
German spelling system, changing "th" into "t" in all words
where it does not transliterate the Greek letter theta. Thus
"Thal" became "Tal". But this change should not be
applied to names of places and persons.

My father was a man of two souls: One soul of infinite tenderness
and one of tyrannic proportions, knowing no limits in his rage,
incapable to control himself. He possessed outstanding talents,
all of which remained undeveloped on account of our immense
poverty. He had never attended any school, but had learnt through
his own efforts to read fluently and to write very well. He was
naturally handy in all crafts necessary for daily life. Whatever
his eyes saw, his hands could reproduce. Though being just a
weaver, he was nevertheless capable to tailor his own coats and
trousers, and to sole his own boots. He enjoyed whittling and
sculpting, and what he achieved in these field had some appeal and
was not too bad. When I wanted a violin, and he did not have the
money to buy the bow as well, he swiftly made one himself. Its
shape was not so beautifully curved, and it lacked in elegance,
but it was entirely fit for its job. Father liked to busy himself
with his work, but all of his work was always done in a hurry.
What took another weaver fourteen hours, took him only ten. He
then used the other four to do things he enjoyed more. During
those ten hours of immense strain, he was very bad company,
everyone had to keep quiet, no one was allowed to stir. At these
times, we lived in constant fear of arousing his rage. Then, woe
on us! Attached to his loom, there was a threefold woven rope,
which left blue marks on the flesh, and behind the oven, he kept
the well known "birch-wood Hans", whom we children particularly
feared, because father loved to soak it in the large "oven-pot"
before every chastisement, to make it more elastic and therefore
more penetrating. But on the other hand, when the ten hours were
over, we had nothing to fear any more. We all sighed in relief,
and father's other soul smiled at us. He could be downright
endearing then, but even in most joyous and peaceful moments, we
felt like standing on an active volcano, which might errupt at any
given moment. Then we got the rope or the "Hans", until father's
strength wore out. Our oldest sister, a highly gifted, kind,
happy, conscientious girl, was still disciplined by slaps to the
face after she was engaged, because she had come home from a walk
with her fiance just slightly later than she had been permitted.

Here, I have to interrupt, to interject a serious, more important
remark. I am not writing this book for my opponents' sake, to
respond to them or to defend myself against them. I am rather of
the opinion that the manner in which I am being attacked renders
any kind of response or defence impossible. Nor am I writing this
book for my friends, because they know, understand, and comprehend
me, so that I have no need to inform them about myself. I rather
write it only FOR MY OWN SAKE, to become certain of myself and to
account to myself what I have done up to now and what I am still
planning to do. Thus I write in order to confess. But I am not
confessing to people; after all, they would also never think of
admitting their sins to me, but rather I am confessing to my God
and myself, and whatever these two will say after I have ended,
will bear upon me. Thus, these are not ordinary, but sacred,
hours in which I write these pages. I am not just talking here
for this life, but also for the other life I believe in and I am
yearning for. In making this confession, I put myself into this
entity and existence as which I will persist after death. Thus,
it can be truly, truly irrelevant to me, what my friends or foes
will say about this, my book. I place it in very different hands,
the right hands, the hands of destiny, of omniscient providence,
which knows neither favour nor disfavour, only justice and truth.
Here, nothing can be concealed or embellished. Here, everything
has to be said and admitted honestly as it is, no matter how
unrespectful it may seem or how much it might hurt. Someone had
invented the expression "Karl-May-problem". Well then, I accept
it and let it stand. This problem will not be solved by any of
these people, who have not even read my books or did not
understand them and nevertheless pass judgement upon them. The
Karl-May-problem is mankind's most fundamental problem, transposed
from the huge, all encompassing plural into the singular, into the
single individual. And the same way this problem of mankind is to
be solved, the Karl-May-problem is also to be solved, there is no
other way! Whoever turns out to be incapable of solving the
Karl-May-puzzle in a satisfactory, humane manner, shall for God's
sake keep his feeble hand and inadequate ideas from grasping
beyond his own self and to deal with more difficult questions that
concern all of mankind! The key for all of these puzzles exists
for a long time. The Christian church calls it "original
sin" [a]. To know the forefathers and foremothers is to
understand the children and grandchildren; and only with a humane
attitude, a truly noble spirit, one will be enabled to be truthful
and honest concerning one's ancestors, in order to be able to be
just as truthful and honest concerning the descendants. To bring
the influence of the deceased on later generations to light, is,
on the one hand, a bliss and, on the other hand, a redemption for
both parts. And therefore, I too have to describe my family just
as they have been in reality, whether this might be regarded as
being contrary to child's duty or not. I do not only have to be
truthful concerning them and me, but also concerning all of my
fellow-men. Perhaps someone else could learn from our example to
do the right thing in his own affairs. - -

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