The Deadly Charm of Beauty

With its long and distinguished history, Germany has proven itself a citadel of literature. German letters have long stood at the forefront of European—if not world—literature. The country has earned a reputation for cultivating one of the most prestigious literary traditions in the world, producing top-caliber writers such as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832), Erich Maria Remarque (1898–1970), Patrick Süskind (1949–), and Alfred Döblin (1878–1957). Between them, they have created some of the most revered works across genres, including Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front and Süskind’s Perfume. These works have transcended time and place, remaining central to contemporary literary discourse. To glimpse the extensive influence of German literature on modern storytelling, one need only look at today’s modern fairy tales, many of which draw inspiration from the stories collected by the brothers Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm.

In producing writers whose influence spans centuries, German literature has also helped shape the foundations of Western thought. Its impact is indelibly imprinted on the development of literary aesthetics. In fact, the very concept of world literature originates from German letters—Goethe himself coined the term Weltliteratur to describe the cross-cultural exchange of literary ideas. These and other factors elevated German literature to the upper echelons of global literary excellence. Further cementing its status is the continued recognition of German writers by the Swedish Academy. Notably, historian Christian Matthias Theodor Mommsen was the second-ever Nobel laureate in Literature, winning in 1902. He was followed by literary titans such as Hermann Hesse (1946), Nelly Sachs (1966), Heinrich Böll (1972), Günter Grass (1999), and Herta Müller (2009).

Another prominent German writer recognized by the Swedish Academy was Paul Thomas Mann. Mann’s literary inclinations were evident early in life, as he was born into a family with a strong literary heritage. His older brother Heinrich was a radical writer, and three of Mann’s children—Erika, Klaus, and Golo—also went on to become significant literary figures. Yet, like most successful writers, Mann’s path to literary stardom was not straightforward. Initially expected to take over the family’s grain firm in Lübeck, he first worked a perfunctory job at an insurance company. He then turned to journalism, writing for the satirical magazine Simplicissimus. In the 1890s, he wrote short stories, and in 1898 he published his first collection, Little Mr. Friedemann (Der kleine Herr Friedemann).

The observations and encounters of a solitary, taciturn man are vaguer and at the same times more intense than those of a sociable man; his thoughts are deeper, odder and never without a touch of sadness. Images and perceptions that could be dismissed with a glance, a laugh, an exchange of opinions, occupy him unduly, become more intense in the silence, become significant, become an experience, an adventure, an emotion. Solitude produces originality, bold and astonishing beauty, poetry. But solitude also produces perverseness, the disproportionate, the absurd and the forbidden.

~ Thomas Mann, Death in Venice

Although Mann is widely celebrated for his debut novel, Buddenbrooks (1901), he also wrote many other compelling works. Among them, the novella Death in Venice remains one of his most famous and significant contributions to German and Western literature. Originally published in 1912 as Der Tod in Venedig in two issues of the Berlin magazine Die Neue Rundschau (The New Review), the story follows Gustav von Aschenbach, a renowned, well-respected Silesian author and literary critic in his early fifties. Recently honored for his artistic achievements (symbolized by the aristocratic “von” added to his name), Aschenbach has devoted himself entirely to his craft since the early death of his wife, leading him to adopt an ascetic existence in Munich. Over time, however, this solitary, highly regimented life begins to take its toll, culminating in a creative block.

After an unsatisfactory yet exhausting morning of writing, he went on an afternoon stroll. While waiting for a tram, he noticed a strange-looking man with red hair and an “unusual appearance” standing on the portico of a church. They inevitably made eye contact, leaving Aschenbach embarassed as he walked away. Still, this fleeting yet unsettling experience roused in the writer an overwhelming and irresistible urge to travel, a badly needed escape from the monotony of his daily routine. He dreams of travelling to an exotic place, hoping to find inspiration from a change of scene. To satisfy his yearning for a break from monotony, he traveled to Pola, a European resort town on the Austro-Hungarian coast (in present-day Croatia). However, it was overrun with Austrian tourists. Further, he didn’t find it exotic enough, prompting him to take the next boat to nearby Venice.

Aschenbach checks into a suite at the Grand Hôtel des Bains on the island of Lido. While waiting for dinner one evening, he notices a Polish family and, among them, a fourteen-year-old boy who immediately captivates him. Aschenbach regards the boy as “perfectly beautiful,” admiring him with the gaze of an artist studying a masterpiece. He later learns that the boy’s name is Tadzio. Disturbed by the intensity of the feelings the boy arouses in him, Aschenbach decides to leave Venice, worried too that the climate is harming his health. However, when his luggage is mistakenly sent to Como, he realizes that his true desire is to remain near Tadzio. Resolved to stay indefinitely, Aschenbach spends his days idly watching Tadzio play on the beach and even follows his family around the streets of Venice.

Tadzio’s beauty inspires Aschenbach. He even contemplates approaching the boy, believing that doing so might shatter his illusions. In the end, he refrains, not wanting to destroy his infatuation. Meanwhile, he notices that the number of tourists in Venice is unusually low for the peak season. The reason soon becomes apparent: unbeknownst to him at first, a cholera epidemic has swept the city. The authorities conceal the danger to avoid disrupting tourism. About a month into his stay, Aschenbach hears rumors of the outbreak. Yet the threat does not faze him. Rather than leaving or warning others, he chooses to stay, hoping that the breakdown in order might offer more opportunities to be near Tadzio. Whether he succeeds becomes the story’s lingering question.

His love of the sea had profound roots: the hardworking artist’s desire to rest, his longing to get away from the demanding diversity of phenomena and take shelter in the bosom of simplicity and immensity; a forbidden penchant that was entirely antithetical to his mission and, for that very reason, seductive-a proclivity for the unorganized, the immeasurable, the eternal: for nothingness.

~ Thomas Mann, Death in Venice

The success of Death in Venice following its publication was a welcome development for Mann. Following the sensational success of Buddenbrooks, Mann endured a period of creative stagnation and several setbacks. His works post-Buddenbrooks achieved a modicum of success and were often measured against his debut novel. Within Mann’s career, Death in Venice represents a pivotal moment—a return to form and a step out from the long shadow of Buddenbrooks. The novella’s overarching theme is desire, which bordered on obsession. The writer was drawn toward Tadzio despite not making or having any direct contact with the young boy. His yearning for Tadzio was so overwhelming that even the threat of a cholera outbreak did not dampen his spirit. Over the course of the story, Aschenbach became progressively more daring.

Once a bastion of reason, Aschenbach gradually succumbs to passion. His thoughts become corrupted, driven solely by his desire to be near the boy. Tadzio becomes the catalyst for the writer’s abandonment of self-restraint. For the first time in years, Aschenbach experiences indulgence after a life defined by discipline and denial of sensual and emotional pleasures. His sexuality—Death in Venice has become a pivotal work in gay literature despite never explicitly addressing Aschenbach’s orientation—has long been repressed. But as the novella illustrates, repressed desires do not simply disappear. They linger in the unconscious, ready to surface when one’s structured existence falters. Overwhelmed by long-suppressed impulses, Aschenbach becomes powerless to resist. The rational, reserved writer devolves into an uncharacteristically obsessed, hedonistic figure.

Death in Venice also explores the nature of storytelling and the relationship of the artist with his craft. For instance, Aschenbach’s fictional characters are often reflections of his own rigid self-restraint. When he becomes fixated on Tadzio, he even writes a long essay dedicated to the boy’s beauty. Still, Aschenbach’s readers are unaware of the sources of his true inspiration. The novella also underscores a long-standing tradition in Western canon: the artist’s unending pursuit for beauty. Interestingly, for Aschenbach to craft beauty through his narratives, he had to suppress his emotional life and even sensory pleasures. He is also the embodiment of the struggles faced by artists. They often struggle to balance passion with the rigors required by their profession. The underlying tensions between the aesthetic and the moral are a fundamental theme in the novel.

TThe novella abounds in ironies and contrasts. The most striking is between Aschenbach’s rigid morality and the alluring innocence of Tadzio’s beauty. Tadzio is the quintessence of youthful energy and on the cusp of life’s best years. Aschenbach, on the other hand, is aging and has already lived many of his best moments. The story also contrasts two ideals of beauty. Beauty, after all, is a seminal themes in the story, its importance often captured through Aschenbach’s voyeuristic gaze. One ideal of beauty is rooted in reason, discipline, and harmony; this is observed in Aschenbach and his works at the start of the story. With Tadzio and the red-haired young man as catalysts, the second ideal of beauty exhibits revelry and ecstasy and instigates obsession. These ideals stand in stark opposition, and over time, Aschenbach’s own ideals radically shift.

 And certain it is that the youth’s constancy of purpose, no matter how painfully conscientious, was shallow beside the mature resolution of the master of his craft, who made a right-about-face, turned his back on the realm of knowledge, and passed it by with averted face, lest it lame his will or power of action, paralyse his feelings or his passions, deprive any of these of their conviction or utility.

~ Thomas Mann, Death in Venice

The setting plays a crucial symbolic role. Venice becomes a potent metaphor for Aschenbach’s inner turmoil. With its gondolas and romantic canals, the city embodies physical beauty, yet it is simultaneously sinking and decaying. This mirrors the writer’s descent into obsession and foreshadows his ruin. As its title suggests, death is a prevalent theme. In the novella, death is both literal and figurative: the pursuit of erotic beauty at the expense of reason leads to moral collapse and eventual downfall. Set against the backdrop of a cholera epidemic, the story underscores the inevitability of mortality—something Aschenbach ignores in his single-minded pursuit of beauty. Ultimately, the novella serves as a meditation on how unchecked desire can lead to destruction.

Through the story of Gustav von Aschenbach, Mann explores a multitude of themes. On the surface, the novella deals with love, desire, and youth. Beneath these lies a profound exploration of the tensions between reason and passion, the nature of beauty, and the complex relationship between the artist and his craft. With lush and poetic language, Mann examines the dangers of emotional repression. Aschenbach’s experiences become a cautionary tale about the destructive potential of extreme restraint. Death is another recurring theme. Death in Venice is partly autobiographical, inspired by Mann’s fascination with a boy named Władzio during a summer 1911 vacation in Venice. It is a brief yet powerful read that offers deep insights into Mann both as a writer and as an individual.

For an important intellectual product to be immediately weighty, a deep relationship or concordance has to exist between the life of its creator and the general lives of the people. These people are generally unaware why exactly they praise a certain work of art. Far from being truly knowledgeable, they perceive it to have a hundred different benefits to justify their adulation; but the real underlying reason for their behavior cannot be measured, is sympathy.

~ Thomas Mann, Death in Venice
Book Specs

Author: Thomas Mann
Translator (from German): Stanley Appelbaum
Publisher:  Dover Publications, Inc.
Publishing Date: 1995 (1912)
Number of Pages: 62
Genre: Literary

Synopsis

One of the most famous literary works of the twentieth century, the novella “Death in Venice” embodies themes that preoccupied Thomas Mann (1875-1955) in much of his work: the duality of art and life, the presence of death and disintegration in the midst of existence, the connection between love and suffering and the conflict between the artist and his inner self. Mann’s handling of these concerns in this story of a middle-aged German writer, torn by his passion for a Polish youth met on a holiday in Venice, resulted in a work of great psychological intensity and tragic power.

About the Author

To learn more about the recipient of the 1929 Nobel Prize in Literature, Thomas Mann, click here.

On a personal level, too, art is life intensified: it delights more deeply, consumes more rapidly; it engraves the traces of imaginary and intellectual adventure on the countenance of its servant and in the long run, for all the monastic calm of his external existence, leads to self-indulgence, overrefinement, lethargy, and a restless curiosity that a lifetime of wild passions and pleasures could scarcely engender.

~ Thomas Mann, Death in Venice