Great literature does not pass away, nor does it lose its relevance, because, like the wise virgins of Scripture, it remains loyal to the Bridegroom and the unchanging truth that He teaches and the unchanging truth that He is. Like the saints, the Great Books are alive. Gertrud von le Fort’s “The Wedding of Magdeburg“ is alive because it has this greatness.
Opening the pages of a great book can be a great adventure. It’s like opening the door of a wardrobe that takes us into a new world of discovery. Or, switching metaphors, it’s like sailing a ship to new worlds because, as Emily Dickinson reminds us, “there is no frigate like a book to take us lands away”.
As a reader, I have just had such an adventure. In opening the pages of The Wedding of Magdeburg by Gertrud von le Fort, I was transported back to the Siege of Magdeburg in 1631, possibly the most tragic event in the great human tragedy of the Thirty Years’ War.
The novel itself was new to me, virgin territory, as it will be new to all English monoglots. Having been published in German in 1938, it has only now been published in English for the first time. This is truly surprising because The Wedding of Magdeburg is clearly one of the really great novels of the past century. I say this, without hesitation, having just finished reading it.
What is it that makes it so great? Why is it special? What makes it shine forth like a literary gem in the midst of numerous other twentieth century novels?
First and foremost is its poetic quality. The prose, even in translation, is never prosaic but always prosodic. It resonates with symbolic power, from start to finish, especially in the weaving of the theme of matrimony as a metaphor and a frequently recurring refrain.
In the opening pages, we are invited to meditate on the stone figures above the main door to the great cathedral of Magdeburg, which is known as the Bride’s Portal. The figures carved in stone show the wise and foolish virgins on either side of the Virgin Mary, each of whom is awaiting the coming of the Bridegroom. In framing the marriage metaphor in biblical form, the author acknowledges Christ as the archetypal Bridegroom and, by extension, the Church as the archetypal Bride. The wise and foolish virgins represent fallen humanity, all of us, in our relationship with the Bridegroom. Will we be wise and wait for him or will we be foolish and follow false desires, false messiahs or counterfeit bridegrooms? The framing of the historical facts with such supernaturally and theologically charged symbolism enables us to see the so-called “wars of religion” following the rupture of the Reformation in the light of eternal truth.
The biblical symbolism in the opening pages continues with the Lutheran minister, Dr. Reinhart Bake, contemplating the Gospel about the destruction of Jerusalem, “as if to indicate that the city of Magdeburg had nothing to look forward to now but the Last Things”. Was the German city which had embraced the new doctrines of Martin Luther to be punished as Jerusalem had been punished? Was such a portent of doom meant to bring the people of Magdeburg to their knees in contemplation of the Four Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell? Not so, the minister concludes: “For the city of Jerusalem had fallen because she had turned a deaf ear to the voice of her Lord, but the city of Magdeburg had embraced God’s Word in all truth! … What happened to obdurate Jerusalem can never befall us…. We’re the protesting, the rebelling, the triumphing city of Magdeburg!” Ironically, as the story unfolds, Dr. Bake comes to see himself as a Pharisee and a hypocrite, especially when he compares himself with the simple faith, hope and charity of his saintly wife.
Dr. Bake’s marriage is paralleled with the relationship of the betrothed couple, Willigis and Erdmuth, who are ripped asunder on the eve of their wedding by circumstances beyond their control. Erdmuth is not, however, a wise and faithful virgin, like Longfellow’s Evangeline or Manzoni’s Lucia, both of whom are as resolute in loyalty to their beloved as is Penelope to her wandering Odysseus. Erdmuth “looked like the fairest and proudest of the wise virgins” but shows herself to be foolish in her pride as she loses her senses and her virtue in the futile pursuit of a counterfeit bridegroom.
As with many of the greatest works of literature, The Wedding of Magdeburg is infused with the cathartic presence of conversion. Many of the characters experience conversion of some sort, which may be defined as that sudden joyous turn towards deeper knowledge of the good in a moment of epiphanous blessing which Tolkien called the eucatastrophe. Perhaps the most profound of these epiphanous blessings is the moment of conversion of Count Tilly, the general in charge of the imperial forces besieging Magdeburg. A staunch Catholic, trained by the Jesuits, he believed that fighting for the cause of the Holy Roman Empire was ipso facto fighting for the Holy Roman Church, a view that is encouraged by the Jesuit priest who serves as his personal chaplain. Such blind faith in the purported good of the cause was undermined by the pride that ruled in the hearts of many of Count Tilly’s own men and the wickedness that such pride was willing to perpetrate. It was also undermined by the goodness, albeit misplaced, of those Lutherans who were sincere in their faith and who fought for what they perceived was right. In a moment of revelation Count Tilly began to understand that “the Blessed Virgin was no longer the Madonna of Victory but the Madonna with the Sword-Pierced Heart”. He began to understand that the Blessed Virgin’s victory was the victory of the Cross. “Did Mary not want a war of religion? Would she rather endure the pain of religious division instead?” Such questions are answered and the answers are life-changing: “and he suddenly felt as though he’d misunderstood the Blessed Virgin his entire life. For Mary did not triumph with sword in hand, Mary triumphed with the sword in her heart; she achieved victory through the suffering love of her Divine Son!”
The victory of the Cross is the key to the triumph of the Blessed Virgin, as it is the key to the triumph of her Son. It is the only victory that really matters. All other victories in times of war or peace are pyrrhic and therefore pathetic. They are victories that bring defeat to the victors. The siege and sacking of Magdeburg did not bring peace but only more war. It did not bring unity but only more division.
Such are the lessons of history that we glimpse and glean from the pages of this wise and wonderful novel and such is the lesson learned by the young and idealistic Jesuit priest towards the novel’s end. He had always put his faith in Our Lady of Victory but had learned that Our Lady’s victory was not what he thought it was. “Mary’s banner cannot triumph in any other way than Mary’s Son,” he says, confessing a truth that his faith had been too blind to see. “And Mary has triumphed in her Son; in the midst of defeat, there is the victory – that is what it looks like.”
Much more could be said about this sublimely brilliant novel, which was written in Nazi Germany as the world teetered on the brink of a new war and new horrors exceeding those unleashed on Magdeburg. The reader of it when it was first published might have wondered whether the world was going to hell or whether it was already there. He might have abandoned all hope for the future. Yet hope abounds in The Wedding of Magdeburg and where hope is present, even in the midst of horror, hell is absent. Thus, as he turns the pages, the reader returns to his senses.
The Wedding of Magdeburg is, in a very real sense, more real than the Thirty Years’ War and the Siege of Magdeburg in which it is set and more real than the Third Reich of the Nazis in which it was written. These historical moments, however important and significant, have passed away. Great literature does not pass away, nor does it lose its relevance, because, like the wise virgins of Scripture, it remains loyal to the Bridegroom and the unchanging truth that He teaches and the unchanging truth that He is. Like the saints, the Great Books are alive. The Wedding of Magdeburg is alive because it has this greatness. It is a literary classic and a priceless poetic gem of a novel which belongs in any discerning reader’s library.
Joseph Pearce discusses The Wedding of Magdeburg with Father Fessio and Vivian Dudro at Ignatius Press – Off the Shelf.
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