by Ludwig Tieck, translated by Thomas Carlyle Eckbert the Blond (Der blonde Eckbert) was written in and published the following year. In a district in the Harz Mountains lived a knight who by custom was called simply Eckbert the Blond. He was about forty years old, of barely. Ludwig Tieck’s reputation as one of the founding fathers of German Tieck’s ” Der blonde Eckbert,” published in , is a classic example of this genre in early.

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Books and cats lover rated it it was amazing Aug 18, Eckbert frequently attended him in his sequestered walks; year after year a closer friendship grew betwixt them.

The Importance of Ambiguity in Tieck’s “Der blonde Eckbert”

I cannot utter what a longing I felt but to see one human creature, any living mortal, even though I had been afraid of hurt from him. Eckbert was never happy longer than a few transitory moments: Eckbert seeks to end his “entsetzliche Einsamkeit” but finds only dementia; in ekbert doing, he destroys his previous lifestyle but is incapable of creating a new one.

Leaving the dog behind but carrying the bird, whose jewels she sold for a fortune, she fled; soon afterwards, however, she was besieged by guilt, and strangled the bird. This is an amazing and short story of a child who runs away from home after being abused by her cruel father, who constantly says she’s useless.

I felt pressed and hampered in my heart; I wished to stay where I was, and yet the thought of that afflicted me; there was a strange contention in my soul, as if between two discordant spirits. In later years it was as the helpful friend and adviser of others, or as the well-read critic of wide sympathies, that Tieck distinguished himself. Oct 15, Miriam rated it liked it Shelves: Eckbert was then merry and cheerful only when he was alone; others observed in him a certain reticence, a silent and reserved kind of melancholy.

Some critics accuse Tieck, as the Berlin city-dweller, of sentimentalizing nature, and for evidence point to the first refrain of the bird’s chorus about the blissful innocence of Waldeinsamkeit. By then I was about eight years old, and serious plans to force me to do or learn something worthwhile were afoot.

I felt as though I had just stepped out of hell and into paradise, and I no longer found my solitude and my helplessness frightening in the least. I had not the heart to go back, my fear itself drove me on; often I looked round affrighted when the breezes rustled over me among the trees, or the stroke of some distant woodman sounded far through the still morning.


I’m sure it was fascinating Possibly my favorite sentence ever written in the German language: My parents were not the most provident of housekeepers, and very often they did not know where our next loaf of bread was to come from. Bewailing his life of horrific isolation, Eckbert collapses in madness and despair. Often he believed that he was mad, that a disturbed imagination was the origin of all this terror; then, again, he recollected Walther’s features, and the whole grew more and more a riddle to him.

Despite being “among the most famous” of composers, Nerval is unable to transcribe the mysterious sounds “dictated” to him, and later that night—perhaps after recognizing the impossibility of his task—he dies. What was more, after I finished my chores, the old woman would completely cease to take any notice of my existence.

One morning she sent for her husband to her bedside; the nurses were ordered to withdraw. I previously rated Der blonde Eckbert as 3 stars.

He resolved to take a journey, that he might reduce his thoughts to order; the hope of friendship, the desire of social intercourse, he had now forever given up. One misty early autumn evening, Eckbert was sitting with his friend and his wife Bertha before a roaring hearth-fire. He longed to fill the void in his soul by making friends with somebody, anybody, but whenever he thought back on Walther he recoiled from the very notion of seeking out a friend, for he was convinced that any friendship he entered into was bound to end in misfortune.

Eckbert the Blond

The world did not seem as wondrous as I had supposed it would be, but as I had more or less forgotten the old woman and my former abode, I was quite genuinely content. Walther complained of the long road he had to travel; and Eckbert proposed to him to stay where he was, to while away half of the night in friendly oudwig, and then to take a bed in the house till morning. After a while, however, the desire of living gained the mastery; I roused myself, and wandered forward amid tears and broken sobs all day; in the end, I hardly knew what I was doing; I was tired and spent; I scarcely wished to live, and yet I feared to die.


Dusk had already begun to set in; everything was neat and tidy throughout the little house; a set of shelves held several ordinary goblets; on a table stood vessels of ludwjg more exotic make; in a lustrous metal cage hanging by the window was perched a bird—the very bird that had been singing the words quoted above. But it seemed to be his doom that, in the very hour of confidence, he should always find materials for suspicion.

I bestowed on him my hand; and with this, Sir Walther, ends my story. A glad barking reached us, and immediately a little nimble bblonde came springing round the old woman, fawned on her, and wagged its tail; it next came to me, viewed me on all sides, and then turned back with a friendly look to its old mistress. No trivia or quizzes yet.

You can view these two stories With Der blonde Eckbert and Der RunenbergTieck presents two sides of the same coin; the same story told twice but each with opposing ideological views. Marta rated it it was amazing Mar 16, It probably had a lot of Foucault, Lacan, and Barthes in the list of references. My husband says you have so generous a mind, that it is not right in us to hide aught from you.

The word “fate” moreover seems inextricably linked to the sounds heard blpnde the protagonists in both tales: I knew not whether to go on or stop. You are both smiling! Thanks to her walking stick she moved fairly fleetly, and with lkdwig step she took her face contorted into a grimace that was so odd-looking that at first I could not help laughing at it.

But what grieved me far more than this, were the quarrels which my father and mother often had about their poverty, and the bitter reproaches they cast on one another.

She now gave me charge of gathering these eggs in her absence, and carefully storing them up in the strange-looking pots. What separates the two narratives is Tiecks depiction of society and nature. What could she mean by this?

I went near, and at the border of the wood I saw an old woman sitting resting on the ground.