The new manuscript consists of 170 typed pages, a copy of handwritten notes made by Kaspar Hauser’s first teacher, Georg Friedrich Daumer, during the years (1828-30) that Kaspar Hauser lived in his house in Nuremberg.
That such notes had ever been taken was known from only a single source, a note that Daumer made in a late-published book about Kaspar Hauser.4 He said there that he had sent a handwritten copy of his original notes to the great judge, Paul Johann Anselm Ritter von Feuerbach, for use in writing his Kaspar Hauser book.5 Here is the passage:
I sent my observations on Hauser to Feuerbach6 in the form of a handwritten copy, made by somebody else. Because of eye-strain, I was not myself able to read through it and correct any errors in it. The copyist did in fact make errors, which were unfortunately not caught, precisely in the notes in question and that is how they got into Feuerbach s book. I had spoken of an “unruly” (tückisches) horse; this was turned into a Turkish (türkisches) horse. So naturally when the horse trainer read this he must have wondered about it. I had written: “Hauser never felt anything in his seat, only a little bit in his thighs.” Instead of “only” the copyist read “or” and so Feuerbach writes: “He rode for hours without getting sore, or maybe just a little pain in his thighs or seat.”7
In fact, we do find the first passage reproduced in our manuscript, which is a further indication that the text is genuine. However, the second passage is not found in the present manuscript, a puzzling omission. The only explanation I can think of is that the passages were all separately written out on cards, and this particular one was missing. I am surprised, though, that Pies did not notice this and comment on it somewhere in the manuscript.
This is the only reference that might have alerted scholars to the fact that these notes, and a handwritten copy, had at least at one time existed and had been used by Feuerbach in writing his book.
Material concerning Kaspar Hauser has been assiduously collected in Germany for the last 165 years. No document answering the description given by Daumer has ever been found, or indeed even referred to.
Among the many authors of books about Kaspar Hauser, one scholar stands head and shoulders above all the rest, the one truly great Kaspar Hauser researcher, Hermann Pies (1888-1983). Pies began writing the first serious historical works on Kaspar Hauser in the 1920s. He visited every open archive, and it was thanks to his early work in the State Library in Munich that we possess most of the documents that we do on Kaspar Hauser. The vast majority of the originals were destroyed during World War II. We only have Pies’s copies. These were, however, so carefully made that his books on the basis of these documents are models of their kind.
Pies worked on Kaspar Hauser for more than sixty years. When he died, in 1981, Johannes Mayer of Stuttgart inherited his library, correspondence, and archive. Dr. Mayer graciously allowed me to work for some time in this archive.
It was there that I found the notebook in question. What I found was a typed and bound work of 170 pages, with Pies’s handwritten annotations. At first it was not clear to me what, exactly, this manuscript was. Pies had written on the spine of the volume: Daumer and Feuerbach on Kaspar Hauler. Perhaps, I thought, Feuerbach had interleaved his own observations.8 But a detailed reading showed that all the notes were by Daumer alone. At first I assumed that these were copies of original notes for Daumer’s many subsequent volumes on Kaspar Hauser. But a closer reading showed me that there were passages that were not anywhere in the published record.
Only, it would seem, Daumer, Feuerbach, and Pies had seen this manuscript. But was it authentic? The age of the paper seemed to be about sixty years old. Could it possibly be a forgery? What would be the point? Who would or could have done such a thing, and to what end? The material is certainly important, but it does not alter our basic view of Kaspar Hauser, it merely adds to it. I could not imagine how an unauthentic manuscript would have made its way into Pies s library. On the other hand, we could not explain the fact that Pies had let such a discovery go unrecorded: Nowhere in Pies’s voluminous writings is this manuscript even hinted at.
The only way to authenticate the manuscript would be to find a reference to it in one of the vast number of letters to and from Pies.
I was lucky.
One envelope of correspondence contains letters to and from the German jurist and historian of law, Professor Gustav Radbruch.9 In the 1930s Radbruch was writing his much-admired biography of Anselm von Feuerbach. Only one small part of that book dealt with Feuerbach’s relation to Kaspar Hauser, but it was only natural that Radbruch would turn to the leading scholar on the topic, Hermann Pies, before he published. Naturally Radbruch was in touch with Feuerbach’s descendants, who lived in South Germany, in Lindau on the Lac de Constance (Bodensee). While there he saw a handwritten copy of Daumer’s original notes, and told Pies about it in a letter reproduced below. He told him also that Feuerbach was willing to send it to him. He said he would send Pies that section of the manuscript of his book that dealt with Kaspar Hauser. Pies did not reply for several months, but when he did, it was to be one of those great letters that one is privileged to see only very rarely, in which the stature of the man and a feel for the time is revealed. It also, greatly to our fortune, describes the manuscript in question, and details its unique importance. The letter itself is long, and somewhat complicated for a reader completely unfamiliar with Kaspar Hauser research. But if ever it could be said that a letter was worth quoting in full, this is that case. I have attempted to elucidate all the references in notes to the letter. Much of the subject matter is dealt with in my introduction to this volume, and wherever this is the case I give the page number.
First the letter from Professor Radbruch to Dr. Pies, dated December 7, 1933:
Many thanks for your kind letter. I am greatly looking forward to receiving your manuscript. In the meantime I was in Lindau (Bodensee) at the Feuerbachs. There I saw a sizable Kaspar Hauser manuscript, namely Daumer’s notes on his observations on Kaspar Hauser, in a copy that Feuerbach used as the foundation of his book on Kaspar Hauser. Mr. Feuerbach is prepared to send it to you. With best wishes, I remain, Radbruch.
Pies replied on April 24, 1934:
Dear Professor:
First I must ask your forgiveness for not having sent long ago the article I promised you on Feuerbach and Kaspar Hauser. But, especially before Easter, and still to this day, my days were so taken up with official work that I had to put everything else on hold. I want to thank you further for kindly sending me your Feuerbach manuscript, at least that portion of it which concerns Feuerbach’s relation to Hauser. I am sure I do not need to tell you how much your writing interested me. The introduction about the “myth” of Kaspar Hauser I consider to be the best thing I have read until now on this aspect of this many faceted topic. (I wrote on the same topic in the Fränk[ishe]. Zeit., in their special tribute on the one hundredth anniversary of the death of Kaspar Hauser.) Similarly, I think that Henriette Feuerbach’s “honor-saving” of Feuerbach, this great proof of her deep love, pious reverence, and powerful commitment to the truth, was the most appropriate way to end your Feuerbach/Hauser chapter. But the portion falling between this introduction and the ending I liked less. The style is brilliant. In particular, the way you used quotes betrayed the sharp eye and sure taste of an expert. But—allow me to be honest—I have the feeling that you wished to “protect” Feuerbach, as if you could not quite rid yourself of a slight suspicion that Feuerbach in the case of Kaspar Hauser had been “taken in.” Instead of going into details, I would like, partly as a replacement for my essay, which is not yet finished, briefly to lay out for you my thoughts on the relation between Feuerbach and Kaspar Hauser. First as to the external facts: Feuerbach hears about the Nuremberg Moritat [a kind of puppet theater about Kaspar Hauser]. He acquaints himself in person with the situation [by paying a visit to Kaspar Hauser in Nuremberg].10 In his letters to von der Recke,11 he gives his impression of what he saw there. Meanwhile: There is a struggle
for venue between the Mayor, Binder, and the Court of Appeals.12 (Also involved is the local government, siding against Binder, with von Mieg as the president—he is the predecessor of Stichaner—But these arguments between the government and the Court of Appeals are not so important. They are mainly just turf battles of the different officials involved.)
Naturally the “Binder Novel”13 is impeachable. (By the way, the collection by Meyer, called Authentic Observations,14 is not complete: Usually the signature of the Court of Appeals is von Griner, Counsel to the Court of Appeals.) Feuerbach seems to have been involved primarily as the presiding judge of the Court of Appeals. His view of Kaspar Hauser is clear: Naturally, at that time, he could still have regarded the hypothesis that Kaspar Hauser was really the prince of Baden as a “romantic legend.”15 Before October 1829 interest was beginning to fade. Then an attempt is made on Kaspar Hauser’s life, and he becomes a European sensation. Feuerbach once again visits Kaspar Hauser and acquaints himself with the situation. (His impressions, in his own handwriting, were printed in Bartning’s book).16 At that time, I believe, he was “morally convinced” of the identity between Kaspar Hauser and the prince of Baden, for what possible reason could there be for an attempt on his life if the victim was not “of high birth”—and what other “high birth” if not from Baden?17 After 1829, but before he published his book at the end of 1831, Feuerbach received the copy of Daumer’s notes on Kaspar Hauser. The last of these several hundred sheets of paper with notes on them is dated 1830. These notes are far more convincing than the later Observations on Kaspar Hauser (vol. 2, 1832),18 which Daumer reworked [on the basis of these original notes?]. (I received this copy from Mr. Feuerbach in Lindau.19 ) Some of the pieces, to judge from their content, could not have been invented, all of them carry the unmistakable stamp of truth. (Here, at least, Daumer does not appear as the notorious “Fantasist” that he has been [in the later books], and I believe that it was these “notes” that finally strengthened Feuerbach’s conviction of the “truth” of Kaspar Hauser.20 At this point a controversy began in the professional literature. For Kaspar Hauser is Hitzig, in the Annalen.21 Against Kaspar Hauser is Merker in the competing journal: Beiträge.22
Merker was from the very beginning angry that his application to see the official documents on the case were sent to Binder, the mayor, who sent them on to the local court. This was in 1829. The local court ruled against Merker having the documents (since the case was still pending). Hitzig, on the other hand, got everything. (The whole thing got so out of hand that Merker was, at the demand of the Nuremberg authorities, officially deposed in Berlin and was unable, at that time, to bring any concrete complaint against Hitzig.) Feuerbach’s Aktenstücke23 provided the Annalen with decisive material against the competition, and Merker was for the moment defeated. It was at this time [the end of 1831],24 that Feuerbach’s exhaustive brochure appeared, which finally made the case clear for all time to any disinterested and objective party. For Feuerbach it was naturally clear that the case is a “mystery,” and that it is precisely in the nature of a mystery to remain mysterious. For the policeman Merker, who had a “sixth sense,” on the other hand, understandably, it was no “mystery.” Even today [in 1934], for the enraged[?]25 policeman, there are only two sorts of people: criminals and those who cannot be proven to be criminals. At the same time, of course, there were also some “errors” in Feuerbach’s book, as, for example, the story of Kaspar Hauser’s native ability to ride a horse, and some others, which provided the skeptic sufficient ground for attack.26 (To close the case of Merker: after Feuerbach’s death, Stanhope sent Merker his and Kaspar Hauser’s teacher Meyer’s “Materialien,” and there Merker was able, in tones of loud triumph, to declare to the astonished world that “the case of Kaspar Hauser is now, at last, finally explained in my favor.”) Unfortunately the dead man, Feuerbach, was no longer able to lash back.27 Feuerbach’s final act on behalf of Kaspar Hauser was the Mémoire.28 Naturally, concrete proofs for such a “political crime” [that is, a crime by the ruling royal house] can only be found with difficulty or perhaps not at all. (Moreover Feuerbach knew about the “story of the message in the bottle.”29 ) He was equally convinced of the “danger” of his mission [to show that Kaspar Hauser was the prince of Baden.] (Even earlier he was afraid of “poison and daggers,” as I read somewhere in the biographical Nachlasswerk of Ludwig Feuerbach.) A retraction of the content of the Mémoire [Memorandum] never took place. In short: Feuerbach had, to the end of his life, a well-rounded and well-grounded picture of Kaspar Hauser’s life and fate.
Now, what has Feuerbach been accused of? Here we have carefully to distinguish the theory of Hauser as “foundling,” and Hauser as “prince.” I: Stanhope reproached Feuerbach for having written a novel.30 For a number of reasons, which I have explained in several places in my books on Kaspar Hauser, I only believe assertions of Stanhope when they are also otherwise documented. At the end of his life Feuerbach was continuously sick, even mentally unbalanced. All the letters collected by his son [the philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach], prove that Feuerbach was plagued by illness throughout his entire life. I have collected dozens of passages that prove this. However, the best proof that the contrary was true is his work itself. Merker himself says of precisely Feuerbach’s Kaspar Hauser book (I am citing from memory here): “Feuerbach has always written enchantingly, but in this book, he has written convincingly!”31 Feuerbach himself belittles his small book! But this is a widely distributed virtue, or vice, of authors. On the one hand, I have found a passage in one of his letters where, on the contrary, he greatly praises his opus. So there is nothing to this self-description. After all, Feuerbach himself spoke of Kaspar Hauser disparagingly. Yes, and who has never so spoken about his fellow human beings? It certainly casts no doubt on Kaspar Hauser’s “authenticity.” That Kaspar Hauser sometimes was troublesome (as he was to both Daumer and Tucher) is clear. II: In regard to the prince theory. Yes, that was a dangerous story, at least Feuerbach considered it dangerous, which is crystal clear from the letter he wrote to Schmidt,32 accompanying the memorandum. He certainly had no desire to betray his secret thoughts to just any stranger he happened to meet. This is how the correspondence between Feuerbach and Eberhard (Gotha) is to be explained.33 On purely official grounds, it was incumbent on Feuerbach to research anything of importance that was brought to his attention. Naturally this included Eberhard’s accusations. He could hardly write him: “My Dear Sir: You are on a false trail.” A defender of Feuerbach has already shown that the whole style of the letter betrays Feuerbach’s irony. This is especially true where Feuerbach speaks [of Kaspar Hauser] being “only a canon in miniature—one hardly misses the tonsure.”34 This is perfectly clear to me. The following counterargument appears even more conclusive to me: Had Feuerbach taken the matter seriously, he would have waited for the results of the research (which were, in any case, negative) before so clearly betraying what he thought in that rather pompous passage in his book where he speaks of: “high and mighty Colossuses who stand guard in front of golden gates,” etc.35 It is characteristic that whenever a new objection to Feuerbach is brought forth it is always presented as a brand new “fact”! Thanks to the quiet and not-so-quiet help of Stanhope, Merker had already used all these counterarguments in his battle against Feuerbach. (He did not know anything about the Memorandum but he polemicized against those passages in the “Seelenleben” [Feuerbach’s Kaspar Hauser book] that repeat the prince theory.) At that time the memory of the great man, who had recently died, was still too revered for these arguments to have sullied his reputation. They were completely forgotten. And Julius Meyer, who wrote in what was then a still very measured manner (otherwise he would have been immediately annihilated), did not have much success. Mittelstädt36 hauled out, without knowing anything about them, the same arguments as Merker, but he had more success, thanks to the ballast of documents that in the eyes of the uninformed seemed to lend credibility to his arguments. Von der Linde37 was bela
boring the same point. To say nothing of Engel,38 the angel who didn’t have a clue, the most uninformed among the uninformed.
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