eJournals Colloquia Germanica 49/2-3

Colloquia Germanica
0010-1338
Francke Verlag Tübingen
Es handelt sich um einen Open-Access-Artikel der unter den Bedingungen der Lizenz CC by 4.0 veröffentlicht wurde.http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
2016
492-3

Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus (1887—1894)

2016
This essay interrogates the print revival and re-meditation of E. Marlitt, the signature fiction writer of Die Gartenlaube, upon her death in 1887, examining especially the co-authored serialized novel Das Eulenhaus (1888) and the publisher’s strategic marketing of this hybrid work as a coherent whole. Close attention to material formats, editorial choices, and advertising and the employ of computational tools used in the Digital Humanities for author attribution, on the one hand, reveal the distinct presence of both authors (Marlitt and W. Heimburg who was commissioned to complete the unfinished novel) and, on the other, highlight the elements and strategies of assembly and disassembly that facilitated the reception of the novel, despite the double authorship, as Marlitt’s own. While the magazine itself ultimately needed to replace Marlitt serializations with fresh material from other authors, the publisher capitalized on reanimated interest in her fiction to sell her entire oeuvre as a collectible boxed set, an appealing decorative and commemorative format that it eventually also employed for collections of still-living Gartenlaube authors. The materiality of the collected works lent the appearance of added value, stability, and permanence – and hence respectability – to fiction otherwise subject to the fugitiveness of periodical publication.
cg492-30283
Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus (1887—1894) 283 Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus (1887—1894) Lynne Tatlock Washington University in St. Louis Abstract: This essay interrogates the print revival and re-meditation of E. Marlitt, the signature fiction writer of Die Gartenlaube, upon her death in 1887, examining especially the co-authored serialized novel Das Eulenhaus (1888) and the publisher’s strategic marketing of this hybrid work as a coherent whole. Close attention to material formats, editorial choices, and advertising and the employ of computational tools used in the Digital Humanities for author attribution, on the one hand, reveal the distinct presence of both authors (Marlitt and W. Heimburg who was commissioned to complete the unfinished novel) and, on the other, highlight the elements and strategies of assembly and disassembly that facilitated the reception of the novel, despite the double authorship, as Marlitt’s own. While the magazine itself ultimately needed to replace Marlitt serializations with fresh material from other authors, the publisher capitalized on reanimated interest in her fiction to sell her entire oeuvre as a collectible boxed set, an appealing decorative and commemorative format that it eventually also employed for collections of still-living Gartenlaube authors. The materiality of the collected works lent the appearance of added value, stability, and permanence - and hence respectability - to fiction otherwise subject to the fugitiveness of periodical publication. Keywords: serialization, author attribution, marketing and packaging of literature, Die Gartenlaube , E. Marlitt, reception, authorship In 1887, as readers were anticipating the serialization of her latest novel, Das Eulenhaus , E. Marlitt, the signature author of Die Gartenlaube , died� 1 The relatively new magazine owner, the Gebrüder Kröner Verlag (hereafter referred to as Kröner), hastened to leverage the loss. Beginning in 1888 with the posthumous 284 Lynne Tatlock serialization of Das Eulenhaus as the “hinterlassene[n] Roman von E. Marlitt. Vollendet von W. Heimburg,” the magazine together with the larger publishing concern devised strategies to mourn, revive, celebrate, and repackage Marlitt even as she was displaced and replaced in the pages of the Gartenlaube � With a combination of textual analysis - employing both traditional and machinedriven computational approaches - and book historical methods that consider the formats of periodic serial publication and the material book, this essay interrogates the posthumous re-mediation and revival of Marlitt in a time of transformation. It examines in detail especially the co-authored Eulenhaus and the publisher’s strategic marketing of this hybrid work as a coherent whole. As the essay will demonstrate, the conditions of periodic serial publication encouraged and enabled readers both to relish this novel as Marlitt’s own final work and thereafter to turn to other authors. Kröner (beginning in 1890 united with several other publishing houses as the Union Deutsche Verlagsgesellschaft), moreover, subsequently capitalized on reanimated interest in Marlitt and her fiction to sell her entire oeuvre in a new form. As we shall see, in seeking to resell Marlitt, Kröner devised an appealing format for popular collections of prose fiction by Marlitt and other favorite and still-living Gartenlaube authors whose works many readers had likely theretofore encountered only in installments� While in previous decades the original owner, Ernst Keil, had routinely followed serializations of Marlitt’s novels and those of other popular Gartenlaube authors with book publication, at the end of the century Kröner strove with collected works to lend the appearance of added value, stability, and permanence, and hence respectability to fiction subject to the fugitiveness of periodical publication� Upon Marlitt’s death on 22 June 1887, the Gartenlaube duly paid its respects, calling upon a plant metaphor to suit the occasion. Marlitt was “unserem Blatte aufs Engste verwachsen,” the magazine declared, neatly integrating her into its organic title and therewith launching a multi-year effort to reinvest in her for new times (1887: 450)� 2 The Gartenlaube returned to its metaphorical garden title when in 1894 it proudly reported on the decoration of her grave with a grape arbor - as befitted the final resting place of the gifted author whose stories had appeared in the “Garden Bower”: “So ist es gekommen, daß E. Marlitt, die im Leben ihre unvergleichliche Begabung ganz in den Dienst der ‘Gartenlaube’ gestellt hatte, nun unter einer ‘Gartenlaube’ den ewigen Schlaf schläft” (1894: 408). How then had Marlitt and the Gartenlaube grown together and what did it mean for the magazine in 1894 to relish the idea that its iconic author rested, in death, under a “garden bower” even as her works no longer actually appeared in the magazine? Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 285 Marlitt began publishing with the Gartenlaube in 1865 with “Zwölf Apostel.” Goldelse (1866), “Blaubart” (1866), and Das Geheimnis der alten Mamsell (1867) followed soon after. These serialized fictions quickly found avid readers, and their popularity coincided with (and contributed to) the growing circulation numbers of the magazine. In December 1866, the Gartenlaube rejoiced over its “unerhörte[] Auflage von mehr als 200,000 Exemplaren” for the coming year (1866: 824). A year later, it advertised coming attractions, prominently featuring a new novel by Marlitt and again informing its readers of its increasing sales (1867: 863). At the same time, Marlitt’s success with the public led the magazine to change its format; it abandoned Keil’s original intention of publishing only shorter fiction to feature longer serialized novels instead (Günter 242). As its most popular fiction writer, Marlitt helped create the magazine’s national-liberal family-oriented brand in the decades that coincided with the buildup to German unification and the first seventeen years of the Second German Reich. In the first decade of her affiliation with the Gartenlaube , her fiction expanded from the four installments of “Zwölf Apostel” to the thirty-two of her longest novel, Reichsgräfin Gisela , in 1869. From 1866 to 1875 (with the exception of 1871), the final page of the final issue of each year excited reader anticipation with advertisements for new Marlitt works slated to appear the following calendar year. But Marlitt did not write quickly even in her prime and often kept the magazine and her readers waiting. In 1867, 1869, 1872, and 1874, the Gartenlaube advertised upcoming serializations of novels that did not in the end begin until two calendar years later� The magazine’s circulation peaked in 1875 at approximately 382,000 (Belgum 16). 3 A “Marlitt-Blatt,” after an oil painting by Gustav Bartsch, from that same year offers a telling look at the iconization of the author (see image 1; 1875: 69). As it drapes her portrait with a flowery garland, the woodcut offers a retrospective on her first five novels, effectively embalming her for posterity twelve years before her death. To do so it furnishes illustrations of a central scene from each novel arranged in a format reminiscent of an altarpiece. Sitting on a step of the pedestal, a winged female figure weaves a garland. A putto drapes its far end on the oval frame of Marlitt’s portrait. Before the pedestal on which the portrait stands lie four open issues of the Gartenlaube to either side of a plaque proclaiming “E. Marlitt.” The plaque in turn rests on a mound of flowers. The combination of portrait, plaque, pedestal, and mound may, for some viewers, evoke a flower-bedecked gravesite. One could mistake this “Marlitt-Blatt” for a memorializing tribute to a deceased author. Unbeknownst to the magazine and its readers, in 1875 Marlitt had her most successful novels behind her. The suspended moment of this retrospective in fact precedes a decline in Marlitt’s output and in the magazine’s circulation. Marlitt’s health was deterio- 286 Lynne Tatlock rating and her physical disabilities would increasingly impede her writing in the following decade. 4 From 1865 to 1876, the Gartenlaube ran eight Marlitt stories and novels. Over the next decade the public had to wait three years for Schillingshof (1879) and two years for the much shorter novella Amtmanns Magd (1881)� Thereafter, serial readers of Marlitt languished for four years until the twenty installments of Die Frau mit den Karfunkelsteinen finally appeared in 1885. Those readers were still awaiting the next novel in June 1887 when Marlitt died. Image 1. “Die Geisteskinder einer Dichterin. Nach dem Oelgemälde von Gustav Bartsch in Berlin.” Die Gartenlaube (1875: 69). Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 287 Despite these signs of a downturn in the felicitous collaboration, the magazine continued to insist in the 1880s that Marlitt’s fiction figured prominently in its popularity and sales. Anticipating the appearance of Karfunkelsteine , the Gartenlaube reported in 1884 that the “Auflage unseres Blattes” had risen from 224,000 to 260,00 in the previous year. It remained true to its aspiration to be the collecting point “für die besten, volksthümlichsten Erzähler, Dichter und Denker Deutschlands, ein frischer, reiner Quell nützlicher Belehrung und edler Unterhaltung für das deutsche Haus, ein treuer Spiegel des geistigen Lebens unseres Volkes, ein warmer, verständnißvoller Freund desselben in Freud und Leid,” and thereupon announced that the “beliebteste Erzählerin der Gartenlaube” had finally overcome her illness to complete her long-anticipated novel: “Die Frau mit den Karfunkelsteinen, eine der fesselndsten und ergreiffendsten Schöpfungen der Verfasserin” (1884: 865). In 1885, in private correspondence, the editor assured Marlitt herself, “‘Die Frau mit den Karfunkelsteinen’ macht Furore in dem kleinen Kreise, der sie jetzt kennt. Jedermann findet, daß dieses Ihr vollendetstes, reifstes Werk sei, welches die früheren noch an Wirkung übertreffe” ([ John] 440). Thereafter he reported, “Die Auflage der Gartenlaube wächst von Woche zu Woche - dank Ihrem ergreiffenden, fesselnden Roman” ([ John] 440). Yet even if the public did in fact welcome Karfunkelsteine when it finally appeared, the celebrated clamorous anticipation of Marlitt’s work must have meanwhile waned. Younger generations simply could not have experienced the hungry excitement accompanying the biennial appearance of her stories when she was at the height of her powers. In the 1880s in fact, the magazine, in contrast to earlier years, largely refrained from stirring reader anticipation for Karfunkelsteine and Eulenhaus until very close to the date of serialization. Of course death intervened to postpone the final serialization. Other changes accompanied Marlitt’s declining production. In 1878, the founding editor, Ernst Keil, died, and in 1883 Kröner purchased the Keil Verlag; these were but two events that altered the character of the magazine as the new century approached. As Peter McIsaac has determined, beginning around 1884, the number of pages devoted to fiction increased sharply from 20 to 30 percent of the total publication (1865-83) to 47 percent in 1885, whereas the number of pages devoted to informative nonfiction pieces decreased (198-99). Peter Gay’s study of the magazine in the year 1890 as an “experiment in denial,” moreover, highlights the increased political blandness and evasions of the once liberal Gartenlaube in a changed political context. In the absence of a reliably steady stream of fiction from Marlitt’s pen even before Keil’s death, the magazine filled its pages with serialized fiction in the domestic/ romance vein by other more reliably prolific authors, notably E. Werner 288 Lynne Tatlock and W. Heimburg. The advertisement on the final page of 1877 provides but one of many examples of the magazine’s promotion of these two authors, alongside Marlitt, likely in anticipation of long delays between Marlitt’s novels and in the hope that these younger writers might eventually achieve comparable popularity. Here the magazine asks its readers to remain loyal “in altbewährter Anhänglichkeit” and announces forthcoming fictions of “drei Lieblinge der deutschen Leserwelt.” The names Marlitt, Werner, and Heimburg follow arranged in a triangle; Marlitt occupies its peak with the other two authors at the two corners of the base. Below this base, a list of additional writers and titles to appear in 1878 supports the triangulated premier authors. In the years surrounding Marlitt’s death, Heimburg and Werner in effect displaced Marlitt. In 1886—87 alone the magazine published four works by Heimburg. In 1886, Werner’s Sankt Michael took center stage for over half a year (1886, nos. 24-52), and in 1888, the serialization of Werner’s Die Alpenfee commenced in the twenty-fifth issue, headlining the very issue that carried the unremarked final installment of Eulenhau s in its back pages. From 1889 to 1890, Werner and Heimburg, with three works, supplied the featured fiction for thirty-six of 104 issues of the magazine. Whereas Marlitt’s death in effect put an end to an era, an end that had been in sight for some years, Kröner seized the occasion to pursue a double strategy. After serializing one last novel by Marlitt, the publishing concern both played down and played up Marlitt’s loss. While Werner and Heimburg quietly displaced and ultimately replaced Marlitt in the pages of the Gartenlaube and so staved off loss while ensuring continuation, Kröner began releasing the volumes of Marlitt’s collected illustrated works as books separate from, but advertised in, the magazine, thus putting the author back into the public eye. Das Eulenhaus figures importantly in this sleight of hand. The Gartenlaube did not linger over lamentations of Marlitt’s loss and instead two weeks after announcing her death advertised the forthcoming serialization of Das Eulenhaus . As a result of a miraculous resurrection of sorts, Marlitt’s pen would soon grace the “Garden Bower” once more, denn wir können allen unseren Lesern und Leserinnen die erfreuliche Nachricht geben, daß die Dahingegangene ihren letzten Roman “Das Eulenhaus” zwar nicht vollendet, aber doch so weit gefördert hat, daß derselbe in ihrem Sinne von einer dazu berufenen Kraft vollendet werden kann. Wir sind bemüht, dieser uns von der Verstorbenen überkommenen Verpflichtung in pietätvoller Weise gerecht zu werden […]. (1887: 476) Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 289 This evocation of a “dazu berufene Kraft” employs quasi-religious language. The as-yet-unnamed Heimburg is “called” to complete the work of the deceased; by employing her, the Gartenlaube takes on a sacred mission to ensure that Marlitt’s final words are heard. This “Kraft,” the notice implies, possesses a marvelous ability to channel Marlitt. Although acknowledging the role of a second author in the novel’s completion, the magazine promotes this posthumous novel as essentially Marlitt’s creation. 5 How then did it enable Marlitt to speak in installments from beyond the grave and how did the publishing house in turn profit from this one last serialized novel? The first installment of Eulenhaus opens with a dramatic scenario of loss and sacrifice that contrasts with the idyllic nature description in the first paragraph. Readers, familiar with Marlitt’s other works, will immediately recognize her voice and her story world - from the nature description to the family in (economic) distress. Mismanagement has led to the forfeiture and auction of the family home. Claudine has taken her leave from the ducal court, where she has been a lady-in-waiting, to stand by her hapless brother, Joachim. The scholarly Joachim has not only hastened the family’s economic decline but remains incapable of addressing real-life circumstances. His sister must take charge of the straitened household in its new living quarters in the so-called “Eulenhaus.” By the end of the twenty-fifth installment Claudine has found her happy ending with her cousin Lothar in a marriage that restores a splintered and debilitated family to unity and health and in which she is likely always to have her way. The complications along the way - particularly the heroine’s inability to admit her love for Lothar and to recognize his love for her despite numerous signs that alert readers to his true feelings - are also familiar enough to put Marlitt readers at ease. These well-known scenarios may well have enabled historical magazine readers to ignore the potentially disturbing presence of Heimburg’s intervening hand, even when each installment announced itself as “Hinterlassener Roman von E. Marlitt. Vollendet von W. Heimburg.” Many elements of this novel however deviate somewhat from Marlitt’s familiar patterns and signal Heimburg’s presence. One such divergence concerns the portrayal of female friendship, ultimately a major theme of Eulenhaus � Later chapters of the novel - chapters most certainly written by Heimburg - allow readers access, with the use of free indirect discourse, not only to Claudine’s thoughts but also to the inner anguish of Claudine’s best friend, Duchess Elisabeth. Female friendships of course figure in Marlitt’s novels too; nearly all of her heroines rely on a spinster helper figure. Nevertheless, none of her works turns on the endangerment of a female friendship to the degree that Eulenhaus does and none of them devotes as much text to the heroine’s friend, her point of view, and inner turmoil. The most important female friendship featured in 290 Lynne Tatlock Eulenhaus , that of Claudine and the moribund Duchess Elisabeth, improbably involves Claudine’s temporary revitalization of the latter through a blood transfusion 6 and in turn Elisabeth’s intervention to secure Claudine’s happiness by facilitating her marriage to Lothar. While Marlitt’s plots feature independent and outspoken young women who sometimes misjudge people and situations, Heimburg tends in larmoyant plots to create long-suffering, underestimated, and overlooked virtuous heroines who stand by (but often misperceive) their (sometimes abusive) loved ones under all kinds of duress, as, for example, in Lumpenmüllers Lieschen (1878), Die Andere (1886), and Eine unbedeutende Frau (1891). The trajectory of Eulenhaus in the end maps better on to Heimburg’s standard plots than Marlitt’s. When therefore the preface speaks of Heimburg as a “Kraft” that “in ihrer Liebe und Verehrung für die Dahingeschiedene” gladly took up the “nicht zu unterschätzende Arbeit” (9: v) and completed the task “in ihrer pietätvollen Hingebung an die schwierige Arbeit” (9: vi), Heimburg herself begins to sound a lot like the virtuous, self-sacrificing, and misjudged Claudine (as the character developed under Heimburg’s own hand), especially insofar as the latter bravely offers her own blood to save the duchess: “ Das gesunde Lebensblut Claudinens schien [der Herzogin] neue, frische Kraft verliehen zu haben; es war wie ein Wunder anzusehen” (9: 285). Just as the virtuous Claudine miraculously invigorated the duchess with her blood, so Heimburg miraculously revivified Marlitt with her words. At the same time, this praise of Heimburg’s courageous labor of love to revive Marlitt as Marlitt in effect downplays the feebleness of Marlitt’s hand in Eulenhaus . How feeble is that hand then? In his recent study of Marlitt, Terrill John May summarily dismisses Eulenhaus : it is not “a legitimate representation of the author,” he insists, “for Marlitt composed only the exposition before her death in 1887” (359). Citing Tobias Klein, who deems the work “inhaltlich, kompositorisch und stilistisch weit hin-ter dem Niveau der Marlitt” (Klein 99), May reinforces Klein’s assessment by denigrating the “sentimentalized portraiture” of the heroine, which he attributes to Heimburg. While elements of Eulenhaus may merit these harsh judgments, such pronouncements miss the literary, media-historical significance of this hybrid production� 7 Whereas Klein and May hasten to minimize Marlitt’s hand in this novel, the Gartenlaube and its readers had reason to seek this hand, to believe in its presence, and to play it up. In other words, we should not discount Heimburg’s ability and need to imitate Marlitt once she took on this task, the wish for readers to believe that this novel was Marlitt’s work, and the combination of circumstantial, formal, media-historical, and commercial factors that conspired to make of a hybrid product a Marlitt novel. Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 291 In what state in fact was the manuscript when Marlitt died? According to the accounts that circulated after her death, Marlitt had nursed a plan for the novel for some time and had a clear idea as to how the plot would unfold. As Moritz Necker later reported of her writing process in general, she customarily worked out the entire plot of a given novel before she put pen to paper: “Sie hatte nicht früher zu schreiben begonnen, als bis die ganze Geschichte im Kopfe fix und fertig war. Ein starkes Gedächtnis unterstützte sie bei dieser Arbeit; sie pflegte keine Entwürfe vorher niederzuschreiben, weil sie ihrer nicht bedurfte, und war der Text fertig, so konnte sie eingreifende Veränderungen nicht mehr machen” (190). Marlitt, furthermore, did not ordinarily share her plans with others: “Während der Arbeit bewahrte die Dichterin die äußerste Diskretion über ihr Thun. Nichts war ihr peinlicher, als wenn ein fremder Blick ihr über die Schulter ins Manuskript gucken wollte” (Necker 190). She allegedly even hid the expanding manuscript in a locked box whose key she hung around her neck. Marlitt’s brother, Alfred John, who lived with her, tells of the accumulation of quarto manuscript pages, neatly copied daily by Marlitt from drafts made earlier in the day and stored in her “Manuskriptbehälter” (10: 426). Regarding Eulenhaus itself, John claims that when she fell ill on 11 October 1886, she had written steadily throughout the spring and summer of 1886 and had just authorized the announcement of the serialization of her new novel for the year 1887 (10: 442). He thus implies that she could see her way through to completion. Following her illness, John reports, she was able to write again in April through May 1887 but then became incapacitated (10: 443). Such accounts of Marlitt’s modus operandi in the end suggest that Heimburg’s access to Marlitt’s plans for the novel consisted simply of a sizeable stack of manuscript pages. Divining Marlitt’s intention involved therefore not so much sorting through notes, sketches, or outlines left behind by the author as intuiting the directions indicated by Marlitt’s “beginnings,” the opening chapters Marlitt had actually written down. John’s account of Marlitt’s progress, however, appears exaggerated when juxtaposed to the publisher’s preface, dated August 1888, which accompanies the illustrated book edition (IBE) of Eulenhaus . Here, we learn that the manuscript was in fact not so very far along when Marlitt died. The preface speaks pathetically of the “orphaned manuscript,” once again touting Heimburg’s prodigious abilities to divine the author’s intentions and implying a sacrifice on Heimburg’s part for the sake of the reading public: “Allein das dem Publikum von der Verlagshandlung gegebene Versprechen mußte gehalten werden, und es galt nun, eine Kraft zu gewinnen, die im Geiste der heimgegangenen Erzählerin das verwaiste, nicht ganz acht Druckbogen starke Manuskript zu Ende zu führen sich bereit erklärte” (9: v). 292 Lynne Tatlock Just what the publisher meant by “nicht ganz acht Druckbogen” remains uncertain. This characterization may refer to the particular book edition or to an abstract idea of a printed book that estimates print pages by word count and font size� What would this estimation mean if applied to the IBE where the preface occurs? The 349-page Eulenhaus is in octavo format. In this format, eight printer’s sheets, consisting of sixteen pages each, yield 128 pages. Page 113 of the IBE of Eulenhaus is marked with a number 8 as the first page of the eighth printer’s sheet or gathering. If the publisher’s preface is taken literally to refer to this edition, then Marlitt leaves off somewhere between page 113 and page 128, that is, at about one third of the novel. Other evidence indicates, however, that both Marlitt’s brother and the preface likely presented an exaggerated picture of the state of completion, one that served to play up Marlitt’s part in the book. First, in 1888 the Gartenlaube itself responded in print to an alleged inquiry from London as to where exactly Heimburg had taken over for Marlitt. According to this notice, Heimburg’s part begins in the serialized version on page 87 of the magazine with the sentence “Die großen glänzenden Augen der Herzogin blickten staunend zu dem Alten hinüber, wie die eines Kindes, dem man Märchen erzählt” (1888: 788; Bonter 94), that is, in the middle of the sixth installment (p. 84, in the sixth gathering of the IBE) at just under one fourth of the novel. Second, automated stylistic analysis, as described below, also pinpoints a shift to Heimburg’s voice in the sixth gathering, namely, at around page 90 in the IBE at just over one fourth of the novel. While Marlitt’s proportionately small part in Eulenhaus leads Klein to treat the novel dismissively as a fragment and May to set it aside as “not a legitimate representation of the author,” the more compelling question is how this fragment came to be a whole, one marketed and accepted as Marlitt’s work. As we shall see, it matters that Marlitt wrote the opening chapters. Furthermore, despite stylistic differences, Heimburg and Marlitt do have much language in common; at times Heimburg approximates Marlitt well enough to be mistaken for her. Here computational tools and methods prove useful for identifying and parsing the hybridity of the novel and the impression of wholeness the text nevertheless supports. In 2016, the Humanities Digital Workshop (HDW) at Washington University, at my request, performed a number of different authorship attribution experiments on sections of Eulenhaus � 8 Following the lead of researchers using computational methods for attribution, the HDW tested sections of Eulenhaus of different sizes (2,500, 5,000, and 10,000 words) using a variety of features (the relative frequency of the 25, 50, and 100 most common words, or, in one case, all the words in a given text) and a number of methods (principal component analysis, hierarchical Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 293 clustering, naive Bayes classification, a simple distance measure, and searches for common five-word collocations). 9 They tested sections of Eulenhaus against six texts by Heimburg and twelve by Marlitt, determining whether each of these sections was more like, and thus probably written by, Marlitt or Heimburg. To ensure that, by testing sections of Eulenhaus only against works known to be authored by Marlitt and Heimburg respectively, they were not falling into an “either-or” fallacy, they also tested sections of Eulenhaus as well as the remainder of the Marlitt corpus against a control corpus of 257 novels by 129 other authors. Taken as a whole, these tests identify a shift from Marlitt-like language to Heimburg-like language after about 25,000 words (p. 90 in the IBE). Once identified, this shift in turn invited comparison of word choice and word forms in the sections on either side of it. Here the web-based program Voyant (http: / / voyant-tools.org), which supports computational analysis of digital texts, proved useful for identifying some of the words and expressions that distinguish these two sections from one another. One difference involves the inflection of the titular “Eulenhaus” as “Eulenhause.” In the opening chapters, “Eulenhaus,” a sobriquet for an old nunnery, is never inflected in the dative case. On p. 92, it appears for the first time inflected in the dative as “Eulenhause” and thereafter consistently with this ending in the dative case. The “e,” which Marlitt and Heimburg otherwise both regularly add when employing the word “Haus” in the dative case, suggests that Heimburg, unlike Marlitt, thought of “Eulenhaus” not as a place name (and hence uninflected), but literally as a house and that it therefore possibly figured differently in her imagination. The higher relative frequency of the word “auch” in the earlier part of the text constitutes an additional stylistic distinction, one that corresponds to Marlitt’s general usage of the word. At a relative frequency of .00507, the occurrence of “auch” in Marlitt’s oeuvre in general places her at No. 31 among 131 authors, while Heimburg ranks No. 92 on this list. Likewise this earlier section evidences a higher relative frequency of occurrence of the term “freilich,” generally characteristic of Marlitt’s oeuvre, and no instances of its synonym “natürlich,” whereas the second section includes usage of both “freilich” and “natürlich” to yield a lower relative frequency of “freilich.” Many other inconsistencies before and after the split show up, but they do not necessarily differentiate Marlitt’s voice from Heimburg’s anywhere but in Eulenhaus � For example, in Eulenhaus , the verb “erwidern” occurs only after the identified split. Likewise, the relative frequency of the pronoun “sie” climbs sharply in the last two-thirds of the novel, probably as a result of Heimburg’s focus on multiple female characters� While these small peculiarities of word choice and usage distinguish the two authors’ styles, they can easily escape casual readers’ attention. Only a few 294 Lynne Tatlock words with obvious semantic weight occur often enough possibly to register with such readers as the vocabulary of two different authors. In this regard, the words “Glück” and “Tränen” stand out. Although they are not high frequency words per se, they do appear relatively more frequently in the six sample works by Heimburg tested than in Marlitt’s oeuvre. At a frequency of .00042 for “Tränen,” Heimburg ranks in usage of these words No. 26 of 131 authors, far surpassing Marlitt at No. 79 (.00018). Likewise, Heimburg, at No. 21 in relative frequency of “Glück” (.00051) outstrips Marlitt at No. 112 (.00017). In Eulenhaus both words appear relatively more frequently in the “Heimburg-section.” This rise in relative frequency of both supports this reader’s impression that Eulenhaus becomes lachrymose under Heimburg’s influence, with several female characters longing in vain for happiness over long stretches of the novel. Marlitt by contrast seldom indulges in such protracted passive yearning, even as her heroines struggle with their feelings for the male protagonist. Instead Marlitt challenges her heroines with mysteries, active struggles with adversaries, and verbal fencing with the male protagonists to whom they are attracted. Our experiments in authorship attribution support the idea that roughly the first 25,000 words of Eulenhaus stem from Marlitt and the remainder from Heimburg; an examination of individual word usage, furthermore, bears out this finding. The results are, however, not univocal. In some cases, our authorship attribution tests reported evidence of Marlitt's voice later in the novel. While Heimburg could have inserted original Marlitt passages further on, given the reports of Marlitt’s systematic sequential writing, this scenario seems unlikely. These results more likely emerge simply from the pressure of Marlitt’s opening pages, the dictates of genre, and Heimburg’s ability sometimes to imitate Marlitt successfully. As a contemporary writer of domestic romance/ fiction, Heimburg shared a vocabulary with Marlitt; further experiments tracking five-word collocations (5-grams) in fact reveal this common language. Not only do Heimburg’s six novels share 1,310 five-word collocations with Marlitt’s works (excluding Eulenhaus ), but also of these, 525 appear in none of the other 257 novels in our control set. In short, Heimburg could and did sometimes operate in Marlitt’s register - and not only in the writing of Eulenhaus - even as both authors also diverged stylistically and in the patterns of their instantiations of the genre/ s in which they both wrote. Let us now turn to these pressures and patterns as they importantly en/ force the impression of a coherent whole. Beginnings matter. As Eduard Said proposes, they establish narrative authority, order, temporality, geography, and character relationships; they are a means of “making or producing difference” via language (xiii). Beginnings, in other words, set the course for what follows. In writing almost the first seven chap- Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 295 ters, Marlitt perforce exerted a powerful influence over Heimburg when the latter set about completing the novel “in ihrem Sinne”; these first pages laid out preliminary structures and suggested a narrative pathway. Bonter too emphasizes the role of these opening pages in establishing “Personencharakteristik, Milieu und Problemaufriß” (94). As has often been noted, moreover, Marlitt’s work adheres overall to recognizable patterns of conflict and resolution. Even as Marlitt steers her characters toward the expected happy coupling, she sets up suspenseful roadblocks along the way. The conventions of Marlitt’s beginnings and endings (and the predictable obstacles in the middle) facilitate imitation and, to some degree, Heimburg succeeds in following Marlitt’s lead. She also misses some cues and struggles with providing the expected plot complications in Marlitt’s vein. Two questions generate narrative tension in Eulenhaus as it progresses toward its generically dictated happy ending: 1) will Claudine and Lothar, who seem unable to confess the love that each feels for the other, find their way to union despite many barriers and 2) will the untoward and unwelcome attentions of the duke to Claudine destroy the friendship of Claudine and Duchess Elisabeth and lead to the former’s unjust social death? While the first question takes a page from Marlitt’s book, the claustrophic and sentimental melodrama of the second question sounds less like her fiction, given its detachment from broader social issues. With Marlitt social questions involve not reputation but justice, and her texts roundly condemn those overly preoccupied with social status. All of Marlitt’s works turn on a secret, particularly as it inheres in the very walls of the home - a hidden attic dweller, a secret chapel with the corpse of an ancestor, hidden rooms, concealed compartments in desks, dark passageways linking disparate parts of a rambling house. The titles of these fictions often refer to the edifice in question, as for example, “Zwölf Apostel,” Im Schillingshof , Im Hause des Kommerzienrates , and of course Das Eulenhaus . These central mysteries pertain to family disputes, property, inheritance, crimes, and scandals and have a social component. In 1885, three years before the serialization of Eulenhaus , for example, Marlitt had put these elements into play yet again in Karfunkelsteine . Here a hidden passageway connects the main apartments of the Lamprechts’ home to the warehouse enabling a covert marriage between social unequals. Unraveling such mysteries is generally as important to the restoration of the family and the surrounding community as is the concluding marriage. In Karfunkelsteine , for example, it leads to the acknowledgment of a deceased merchant’s legitimate son. In 1888 readers were surely expecting more of the same when they picked up the first installment of Eulenhaus � Eulenhaus indeed promises another such mystery when at the outset economic insolvency forces a brother and sister to leave their family home and move 296 Lynne Tatlock into an old convent, the so-called “Eulenhaus.” Hardly have the siblings taken up residence when the gardener discovers a hidden treasure - disks of golden beeswax and not golden coins or jewelry as in Goldelse and Geheimnis der alten Mamsell . This precious beeswax could portend a tussle over property rights or promise the uncovering of other secrets in the convent. Instead the interested parties quickly come to an agreement about the beeswax in chapter four (in the Marlitt-authored section). Marlitt may have intended to return to it in connection with a deeper mystery; Heimburg, however, simply ignores it. In the end, the titular edifice itself plays next to no role in the novel. Moreover, whereas the opening pages sound questions of property and inheritance that have separated the two branches of the Gerold family, such conflicts hardly influence the plot as it unfolds under Heimburg’s hand. Two cousin marriages - Claudine and Lothar and Beate and Joachim - constitute the novel’s happy ending. Heimburg presumably correctly divined Marlitt’s intention to wed Claudine and Lothar - the opening chapters contain enough hints that this coupling is meant to be - but the pairing of Beate and Joachim deviates from Marlitt’s narrative patterns. Beate, Lothar’s sister, initially seems to be one of Marlitt’s familiar likable but unmarriageable female helper figures - unmarriageable in the logic of the narrative on account of temperament, appearance, social circumstances, or age. Such characters as Cordula in Geheimnis , Ulrike in Die zweite Frau, and Sophie in Karfunkelsteine typically befriend Marlitt’s heroines without themselves marrying. Likewise, Claudine’s widowed brother, the unworldly Joachim, as created by Marlitt in the opening chapters, seems removed from the marriage economy; his male counterparts, Magnus in Die zweite Frau and the widowed Herr von Sassen in Heideprinzeßchen , never even think of marriage or remarriage. Given Marlitt’s narrative conventions and the general inattention in the text to developing a second love relationship, historical readers of the serialized version of Eulenhaus may well have been surprised when, in the final installment, Beate and Joachim turned up married to one another. How then did the novel despite these deviations and inconsistencies nevertheless register as Marlitt’s work? The disassembly of the completed manuscript necessitated by the customary (and familiar) first publication in installments in fact facilitated the projection and reception of this hybrid product as a coherent whole, that is, as Marlitt’s creation despite Heimburg’s significant intervention. In the serialization, “beginnings” in Marlitt’s familiar voice in the customary serial form inevitably influenced readers’ perceptions and expectations (just as they influenced Heimburg when she set about completing the novel). These beginnings, moreover, served to guide readers as they mentally co-created the serialized text from Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 297 installment to installment. In co-creating or reconstructing a text in pieces, that is, readers, in search of continuity and coherence, were necessarily invested in overlooking dissonance and incoherence. Marlitt’s previous publication in installments in fact suggest ways in which serialization - publishing a novel in pieces - ordinarily required work from the editor as well as readers to maintain continuity and coherence. In other words, serialization trained magazine readers to seek (and thus construct) coherence� Starting with Goldelse , the installments of Marlitt’s novels usually did not correspond to the chapter divisions, which in turn were clearly marked within the installments� 10 Contrary to received opinion, moreover, these installments do not necessarily end on a high note. Instead their endings can be abrupt and arbitrary - even mid-conversation. Günter’s assertion of “Marlitt’s perfekte Schnitttechnik mit der ‘alternierenden Abfolge von Spannung und Entspannung bei gleichzeitiger Zuspitzung des Grundkonfliktes’” (242) correctly describes Marlitt’s conflict-driven manner of narration. The individual installments of Marlitt’s fiction, however, do not coincide with the patterns of tension and release to which Günter alludes here, the “sinusoidal wave” famously invoked by Umberto Eco in his discussion of Eugène Sue’s Mystères de Paris (132-33). 11 Instead, in the serializations of Marlitt’s texts, the medium itself - and not a systematic cliffhanger technique - creates anticipation for the next installment. It does so simply by interrupting the narrative flow with the terse statement: Fortsetzung folgt . Interruption, the promise of reliable continuation, and the week-long delay in the gratification of that continuation whet the appetite for the next installment and also place a burden on readers to remember what has gone before, often a rather insignificant occurrence or conversation. Breaks based largely on considerations of space present problems for continuity and necessitate editorial bridging. A comparison of the serialized and book versions of Marlitt’s oeuvre evidences such bridging and also underlines the blandness of many of the installment breaks. While the magazine never provides plot recapitulation, light interventions at the beginnings of installments reframe sentences that are bereft of their antecedents as a result of the interruption in narrative flow resulting from publication in installments. These interventions, for example, replace pronouns with nouns and flesh out indeterminate temporal and local adverbs or subordinating conjunctions, such as “da,” as in the following example from Karfunkelsteine : Da saß sie nun und sann; (continuation within book chapter 8; 6: 99) Grete saß in der dunklen Wohnstube und sann; (opening of seventh magazine installment; 1885: 107) 298 Lynne Tatlock In short, the serialization of Marlitt’s novels involved at least two agents - author and editor - as well as engagement by the reader. The chapter divisions, which are clearly marked in the serializations by chapter numbers and layout and retained in the subsequent book publication, presumably stem from Marlitt herself. The editor’s hand becomes visible, however, in the division into installments, a division governed by the capacity of the individual magazine issues. Given that this capacity remained stable from 1865 to 1885 (McIsaac 198) and that installments seldom coincide with chapter divisions, Marlitt must have consistently ignored that capacity as she constructed her plots and mapped out her chapter divisions. 12 The serialization of Eulenhaus , for its part, diminishes the author’s role in shaping narrative flow and defaults to that of the editor. Unlike Marlitt’s other serializations, this novel appeared without chapter numbers. Instead the page layout lightly indicates the narrative breaks that become chapter divisions in the book publication with an unobtrusive centered horizontal line between paragraphs. By foregoing labeled chapter divisions, the Gartenlaube version omits a familiar sign of the author’s shaping hand and sensibility, the sign determining the book publication to follow. Instead, it privileges the editor’s intervention, magazine page capacity, and page layout, thereby in effect masking seams, dissonances, and incongruence resulting from the double authorship, and simultaneously encourages readers’ active co-production of continuity and coherence. The aforementioned inquiry from the “Marlitt-Verehrerin in London” who wished to know after the fact exactly where Heimburg’s part began in the serialization, testifies precisely to these successful effects: even historical magazine readers who were troubled by the repeatedly announced double authorship and sought to locate the seam could not find it, buried as it allegedly was in plain sight in the sixth installment� In the end, while the Gartenlaube made no secret of Heimburg’s part in completing the novel, strategies and conditions of presentation and serialization minimized her actual (and significant) imprint on it. Kröner’s publishing and marketing of Marlitt’s collected works in turn also pursued strategies of erasure and untroubled incorporation to present a coherent whole. The Gartenlaube began advertising the ten volumes of the “gesammelte illustrierte Ausgabe,” “welche vollständig in ca. 70 Lieferungen zum Preise von je 40 Pf. (alle 14 Tage eine Lieferung) im durchschnittlichen Umfang von 3 Druckbogen erscheinen wird” in the issue featuring the nineteenth installment of Eulenhaus � Originally Eulenhaus was to be included as the last of ten volumes; in the end it became volume 9 (1888: 324). Volume 10 instead grouped her three shorter works and an anonymous biographical sketch to produce a book approximately the size of the others in the collection� Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 299 In publishing Marlitt’s collected works, Kröner followed a by then familiar and widespread strategy pursued by both popular and pretentious presses, a strategy of conservation and veneration (especially after 1871 often touted as in the express national interest) for the sake of profit. The popular publisher O. Janke had, for example, begun reissuing Willibald Alexis’s historical novels as a collection of “vaterländische Romane” immediately after his death, which coincided with the Reichsgründung in 1871. In that same year Janke published the still-active, prolific, and respected Fanny Lewald’s Gesammelte Werke , attempting to maximize its longtime investment in her popular fiction. In 1874 Kröner honored one of its very first successful authors, Hermann Kurz, with an edition of his Gesammelte Werke , edited by Paul Heyse. Volume 1 opens with Heyse’s fulsome commemoration of the author as “Eine der edelsten, tapfersten und liebenswürdigsten Dichtergestalten, deren Deutschland in diesem Jahrhundert sich zu rühmen hatte” (1: v). In the 1880s in turn Kröner leased the venerable Cotta’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung and then bought it in 1889. In that decade it began re-publishing Cotta’s classics in collected editions, for example, Goethe’s Sämmtliche Werke in 36 volumes in its Bibliothek der Weltliteratur. Image 2. Boxed set of Eugenie Marlitt’s gesammelte Romane und Novellen , 2 nd ed. Leipzig: Ernst Keil’s Nachfolger, n.d. Owned by author. While Kröner undoubtedly intended the Marlitt edition to share in the prestige of collected works in general - and in effect presented her works as a national treasure such as Heyse had believed Kurz’s works to be and as the classics were 300 Lynne Tatlock generally held to be - the edition stands out for its marked popular, indeed “feminine,” appeal. Packaged “in Kassette” with pretty bindings and copious illustrations, Kröner’s product appears to be at pains to capitalize on the idea of an aesthetically appealing collectable whole (see image 2). The illustrated edition could, after all, also be purchased in installments (so as to be affordable), and it was in the interest of the press for customers to buy all of the books. A comparison of the serialization and the nearly simultaneously appearing IBE of Eulenhaus reveals that an editor set about in each to shape the text for the respective media environment. While, as we noted above, the magazine publication of Eulenhaus employs semantically precise locutions to bridge installments, the book version, at these same points in the text, uses pronouns and other such words requiring an antecedent to be intelligible. After all, a book delivered the entire text in one piece with the antecedents proximate. Unlike the magazine publication, furthermore, the book version of Eulenhaus conforms to the format of the rest of Marlitt’s fiction by including clearly marked chapter divisions. Indeed, with their uniform covers and text formats the ten volumes of the collected works all look alike. What was disassembled for serialization is here re/ assembled to deliver a “hervorragend schönes und wertvolles Festgeschenk für Weihnachten und andere Gelegenheiten” (1890: 836). Especially when delivered in a “feine[n] englische[n] Leindwand-Truhe mit Goldpressung,” the collected works monumentalize and commemorate the author and her fiction. The linen chest, the packaging “in Kassette,” projects what Gaston Bachelard terms an “image of intimacy” (74), an “image of secrecy” (78), one that in this case came to the buyer pre-produced by the publisher to market a corpus. The lid, featuring Marlitt’s last name, writ large, opens to reveal on its underside a list of the ten collected works, labeled “Romane und Novellen,” against a wallpapered background. Inside, the numbered ornamental spines of the ten books shine through the translucent wrappers. Within this linen box lie the things that, in Bachelard’s formulation, “are unforgettable […] [the] memory of what is immemorial” (84). These precious things, conserved and marketed via this chest, compose the literary corpus “der unvergeßlichen Erzählerin” (1888: 564) in reconstituted and aestheticized form. Labeled “Marlitt/ Romane,” the volumes are not arranged chronologically by first publication or according to perceived popularity - the set presents Eulenhaus itself as volume 9 and not as an appendage of uncertain status. As volume 9, it resides next to Goldelse , volume 8, one of Marlitt’s earliest and most popular novels; its place among the lined-up spines effectively masks Heimburg’s potentially irritating presence. This presence, encrypted and all but forgotten in the closed book, only becomes visible if one opens volume 9 to the title page where Heimburg’s name appears. Otherwise, in its very orderliness, this boxed set of Death and Transfiguration in Installments: E. Marlitt and Das Eulenhaus 301 Marlitt’s works exudes completeness and perfection, the very “Vollendung” that Heimburg’s intervention had supposedly accomplished. As I have described elsewhere, this format appears to have worked well. After its first success with the lately lamented Marlitt’s collected works, Kröner proceeded to promote other favorite Gartenlaube authors in the same format� Near the end of 1890 it launched the first series of Heimburg’s collected illustrated fiction (Tatlock 123). Following the model of Marlitt’s collected works, it consisted of ten volumes, as did Werner’s collected illustrated works, first advertised in 1893� Buyers could purchase these sets too in a linen casket� Advertisements for Marlitt’s and Heimburg’s collected works often reinforced one another. The IBE of Eulenhaus includes a full-page advertisement for Heimburg’s illustrated collected works touting them as a “bleibende[n] Hausschatz” (9: back matter). While capitalizing on Heimburg’s co-authorship of Eulenhaus by virtue of its location in this particular volume, the advertisement avoids mention of the co-authorship and instead affiliates the Heimburg set with Marlitt through its attractive material format (“in derselben prachtvollen Ausstattung wie die Marlitt’schen Schriften”). The back matter of Karfunkelsteine , volume 6 of the IBE, likewise testifies to the availability of the ten-volume Heimburg set in its own “feiner englischer Leinwandtruhe” for 40 marks. Here too the publisher markets Heimburg’s collected works in imitation of the Marlitt set, affiliating the two authors not via Eulenhaus but via material formats and product delivery. In the mid-90s, Marlitt rested in her grave at long last neatly framed by an arbor with which the magazine could metaphorically reassert its claims to her. Das Eulenhaus , which was only partially her work and yet completed her life’s work, in turn lay tidily incorporated in the collected novels and stories in an aesthetically pleasing edition, reverently entombed in a linen “Truhe” yet readily available for 40 marks. Mobilizing the available media formats - the periodically appearing magazine, the book, and the book collection or series - Kröner had pursued strategies of disassembly and reassembly to generate one more novel, cement Marlitt’s legacy, and assert its claims to both. At the same time it minimized its once signature author’s loss by unceremoniously replacing her with other contemporary active authors in the magazine and refashioning her as a venerable book author who, as it were, now belonged to the ages. Notes 1 The final page of 1886 anticipates the appearance of Eulenhaus “im zweiten Quartal des nächsten Jahrgangs” (1886: 922). 302 Lynne Tatlock 2 In this and all subsequent citations, the Gartenlaube is cited with the year of the volume and the pertinent page number. 3 The readership of the magazine was likely at least five times the number of copies printed (Belgum 16). 4 In 1875, Marlitt described herself in a letter to Leopoldine von Nischer-Falkenhof as sometimes unable to work for three to four months at a time and compelled to make full use of her good days (Hobohm 251). 5 Perhaps emulating perceived success with Eulenhaus , the Gartenlaube , a year later, sponsored the completion of a work by Fanny Lewald, another popular recently deceased author. Again a “berufene Feder” stepped into the breach created by mortality (1889: 821). 6 The plot element of the transfusion may be borrowed from E. Juncker’s Lebensrätsel ( Deutsche Roman-Zeitung 15.2 [1878]: 667-71). Here the transfusion occurs not between women friends but instead estranged spouses. 7 Whereas May and Klein sniff at Heimburg, Urszula Bonter tends to underestimate Marlitt, in her account of Heimburg’s liberation from Marlitt after the latter’s death. In her brief treatment of Eulenhaus she in any case stresses that Heimburg fulfilled her task “zur vollkommenen Zufriedenheit ihrer Auftraggeber” (94). 8 I thank Stephen Pentecost for conducting these experiments, for many conversations about the results, and for generous assistance in writing this section. I would not have ventured into automated stylistic analysis without his expertise, curiosity, and willingness to experiment. 9 For a survey of these methods see Richard Forsyth, “Notes on Authorship Attribution and Text Classification,” December 2007 (http: / / www.cs.nott. ac.uk/ ~pszaxc/ DReSS/ LFAS08.pdf). The HDW also profited from Patrick Juola’s JGAAP ( Java Graphical Authorship Attribution Program) software (http: / / evllabs.com). 10 Claudia Stockinger’s An den Ursprüngen populärer Serialität: Das Familienblatt “Die Gartenlaube” (Wallstein 2018) appeared after my essay was in press and thus could not aid my consideration of Eulenhaus . In her study, Stockinger examines the serialization and book form of Marlitt's early novel Das Geheimnis der alten Mamsell (1867). Reluctant to relinquish the concept of the “cliffhanger,” she shows how the interruption and segmentation in the serialization of this novel create tension and anticipation. While “cliffhanger” strikes me as a misnomer, we do reach somewhat similar conclusions about the capacity of serialization in and of itself to generate anticipatory tension. 11 Hobohm, whom Günter cites here, asserts that readers rejected novels that did not follow this pattern (267). She does not, however, examine Marlitt’s “Schnitttechnik” closely. 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Eco, Umberto. “Rhetoric and Ideology in Sue’s Les Mystères de Paris .” The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts . Bloomington and London: Indiana UP, 1979. 125-43. Die Gartenlaube: Illustrirtes Familienblatt. Leipzig: Ernst Keil, 1865-1894. Gay, Peter. “An Experiment in Denial: A Reading of the Gartenlaube in the Year 1890.” Traditions of Experiment from the Enlightenment to the Present . Ed. Nancy Kaiser and David E. Wellbery. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1992. 147-64. Günter, Manuela. Im Vorhof der Kunst: Mediengeschichten der Literatur im 19. Jahrhundert . Bielefeld: Transcript, 2008. Heyse, Paul. “Hermann Kurz.” Gesammelte Werke von Hermann Kurz . Ed. Paul Heyse. Vol. 1. Stuttgart: A. Kröner, 1874. v-lv. Hobohm, Cornelia. “Geliebt. Gehaßt. Erfolgreich. Eugenie Marlitt (1825—1887).” Beruf: Schriftstellerin. Schreibende Frauen im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert . Ed. Karin Tebben. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: 1998. 244-75. Klein, Tobias. Von deutschen Herzen - Familie, Heimat und Nation in den Romanen und Erzählungen E. Marlitts . Schriften zur Literaturgeschichte 15. Hamburg: Dr. Kovač, 2012. May, Terrill John May. Popular Fiction in the Age of Bismarck: Marlitt and her Narrative Strategies . Women in German Literature 18. Oxford: Peter Lang, 2014. McIsaac, Peter M. “Rethinking Nonfiction: Distant Reading the Nineteenth-Century Science-Literature Divide.” Distant Readings: Topologies of German Culture in the Long Nineteenth Century . Ed. Matt Erlin and Lynne Tatlock. Rochester, NY: Camden House, 2014. 185-208. Marlitt, E. E. Marlitt’s gesammelte Romane und Novellen � 2 nd ed. 10 vols. Leipzig: Ernst Keil’s Nachfolger, n.d. Necker, Moritz. “Eugenie John-Marlitt. Mit bisher ungedrucketen Briefen und Mitteilungen.” Die Gartenlaube 5 (1899): 144-52, 186-92. Said, Edward. Beginnings: Intention and Method . Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1975. 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