The Wild Child Read online

  THE WILD CHILD

  Also by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson

  When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals (with Susan McCarthy)

  My Father’s Guru: A Journey Through Spirituality and Disillusion

  Final Analysis: The Making and Unmaking of a Psychoanalyst

  Against Therapy: Emotional Tyranny and the Myth of Psychological Healing

  A Dark Science: Women, Sexuality and Psychiatry in the Nineteenth Century

  The Assault on Truth: Freud’s Suppression of the Seduction Theory

  The Oceanic Feeling: The Origins of Religious Sentiment in Ancient India

  The Complete Letters of Sigmund Freud to Wilhelm Fliess 1887-1904 (Editor)

  The Peacock’s Egg: Love Poems from Ancient India (Editor, translations by W. S. Merwin)

  The Dhvanyaloka of Anandavardhana with the Locana of Abhinavagupta (Translator, with D. H. H. Ingalls and M. V. Patwardhan)

  The Rasadhyaya of the Natyasastra (Translator and editor, with M. V. Patwardhan. Two volumes)

  Santarasa and Abhinavagupta’s Philosophy of Aesthetics

  THE WILD CHILD

  The Unsolved Mystery of Kaspar Hauser

  Translated and Introduced by

  Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson

  Carla Bolte

  FREE PRESS PAPERBACKS

  Published by Simon & Schuster

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  Copyright © 1996 by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson

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  including the right of reproduction

  in whole or in part in any form.

  First Free Press Paperbacks Edition 1997

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Feuerbach, Paul Johann Anselm, Ritter von, 1775-1833.

  [Kasper Hauser. English]

  The wild child : the unsolved mystery of Kaspar Hauser / translated and introduced by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson.

  p. cm.

  Previously published in English under title: Lost prince. New

  York: Free Press. © 1996.

  Includes bibliographical references and index.

  1. Hauser, Kaspar, 1812-1833.

  2. Germany—Biography.

  3. Abused children—Germany—Biography.

  4. Baden (Germany)—Kings and rulers—Biography.

  5. Baden (Germany)—History.

  I. Masson, J. Moussaieff (Jeffrey Moussaieff), 1941-.

  II. Title.

  CT1098.H4F4 1997

  943′.073′092—dc21

  [B] 96-37744

  CIP

  Published in Free Press hardcover as The Lost Prince.

  ISBN 0-684-83096-5

  ISBN: 978-0-6848-3096-4

  eISBN: 978-1-4391-4386-5

  For

  LEILA

  my found Princess

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank first and foremost Marianne Loring, my long-term associate in all my projects involving German. We have worked together since 1978, and without her help I could not have written most of the books I have written since then. In this case she read with me Feuerbach’s entire German text, and spent many hours going over sections of the translation with me. She has a wonderful command of both English and German, and was, as ever, a delight to work with. Catharine MacKinnon gave up much of her own very valuable time to read over the English translation and suggested many changes. I also appreciate the many long conversations I had with her about this fascinating text. I am deeply grateful for the many ways in which she has been a strong support to me over the many years of our friendship. My old friend Alan Keiler, a master linguist, read through the translation along with the German text, and made numerous helpful suggestions, all of which I invariably accepted. Alan is never wrong. For orienting me in Kaspar Hauser research when I knew virtually nothing, I am grateful to Ulrich Struve of Princeton University. He saved me many hours by ordering my reading priorities and sent me many hard to obtain articles and books. He also put me in touch with a number of scholars in Germany. I am especially grateful to him for suggesting that I meet with Dr. Oskar Adolf Bayer, now more than ninety years old, who turned out to be a fountain of knowledge and put his Kaspar Hauser files at my disposal. Our discussions during the two days I spent with him in Ansbach were fruitful. I was privileged to spend a year (1993-1994) at the Institute for Advanced Study in Berlin and received invaluable assistance from many people there. Even though I was not a fellow, the library staff, under the direction of Gesine Bottomley, good-naturedly allowed me to use their facilities and helped me track down and order many obscure books and articles relating to Kaspar Hauser. In fact, the staff of the institute was unfailingly courteous, and one cannot pass up the opportunity to thank the amazing Barbara Sanders, who did so much to make everyone’s stay there a pleasure. Katrina and Hans Magnus Enzensberger were particularly gracious, and I owe them much for their help and friendship. I went over the entire German text with Tanja Determann, whose wonderful command of nineteenth-century German was of enormous help. But above all I wish to thank the Kaspar Hauser scholar Johannes Mayer of Stuttgart. Not only is he the author of two of the most useful contemporary books on the subject, he also has an incomparable library, with thousands of original letters and documents, the finest resource in the world for Kaspar Hauser research. He allowed me complete access and was always ready to discuss research questions with me. It was in his precious library that I found the Daumer manuscript, which had gone unnoticed for 160 years, and it was thanks to his generosity that I was able to use passages from it for my introduction. As this book goes to press, the volume has just been published in German as part of the series Die andere Bibliothek (The other library) (series ed., Hans Magnus Enzensberger): Georg Friedrich Daumer, Anselm von Feuerbach: Kaspar Hauser, mit einem Bericht von Johannes Mayer und einem Essay von Jeffrey M. Masson (Frankfurt am Main: Eichborn Verlag, 1995).

  Susan Arellano of The Free Press has been a fine editor, and I am thankful for her light touch and patience. Susan Llewellyn saved me from a number of errors and added a great deal to the accuracy and readability of the entire book. I am very grateful to her.

  Kaspar Hauser said that he was lost in wonder when he saw the night sky for the first time in his life in 1828. I dedicate this book to Princess Leila, for I am lost in wonder at the love that radiates from her, as the foundling was at the stars he saw in Nuremberg.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  Translation of

  Anselm Ritter von Feuerbach’s Kaspar Hauser

  Appendices

  1. Translation of Mayor Binder’s Proclamation

  2. A New Kaspar Hauser Manuscript

  3. Translation of Kaspar Hauser’s Autobiography

  4. Kaspar Hauser’s Dreams

  5. Wolf Children

  Notes

  Bibliography

  Index 249

  INTRODUCTION

  Kaspar Hauser, Europe’s most famous wild child, was a sixteen-year-old boy who turned up in the streets of Nuremberg, Germany, in 1828. He immediately drew local interest because he seemed to be unable to speak and barely able to walk, and was apparently not able to understand what was said to him. Rumors, at first dismissed as nonsensical, began
to circulate that he was the heir to the throne of Baden, the son of Napoleon’s adopted daughter, Stéphanie de Beauharnais, Grand Duchess of the House of Baden. He drew international interest when it became apparent that somebody wanted him dead: A year after he first appeared, an unknown person tried to murder him. Soon all the newspapers of Europe and even the United States (the latter, no doubt, the source of Herman Melville’s abiding interest in Kaspar Hauser) were discussing him, his life, and the rumors. Was he a prince? Was he a wild man? Did his “goodness” represent the original nature of man? How easily did he learn language, and what did he talk about in that language? In 1833, less than five years after he first appeared in Nuremberg, Kaspar Hauser was lured to a deserted park on the pretext that his true origins would be revealed to him. He was stabbed in the heart, and died of his wounds three days later. The murderer was never found, despite a large reward offered by the king of Bavaria. The mystery of who he was, where he came from, and why he was killed has not been solved to this day.

  Called the “child of Europe,” this “foundling” is known in the United States as the name of a psychiatric syndrome1 and through a lovely song by Suzanne Vega called “Wood Horse (Caspar Hauser’s Song).”2

  For the last 165 years there has been unceasing interest in this mysterious story. Every year in Germany at least one new book comes out, most of them on the side of Kaspar Hauser, but a few aiming to prove he was a fraud. The literature is immense: More than three thousand books have been written about Kaspar Hauser, and at least fourteen thousand articles.3 The 1899 edition of the German Brockhaus, in its long article about Kaspar Hauser, avers that he was probably a fraud. The 1954 edition of the same encyclopedia says the opposite. The major historical and scholarly work, however, is clearly on the side of the pro-Hauser forces.

  There are many reasons for this interest: Writers and poets found something haunting and compelling in this melancholy and solitary boy who had been kept for all or most of his childhood in a lonely dungeon. Educators and intellectuals were fascinated by the light his imprisonment shed on the so-called “natural man.” The general public was convinced, not without reason, that Kaspar Hauser was really the legitimate heir to the throne of Baden, a prince who had been robbed of his birthright. For me the story resonates with my interest in child abuse.

  The Brief Life of Kaspar Hauser

  Kaspar Hauser was a young boy who was first seen wandering the streets of Nuremberg in May 1828 (the very year in which the Wild Boy of Aveyron died). The police put him in a tower, where he immediately became the focus of attention: The citizens of Nuremberg thought he was a Tiermensch (a feral child) since he could barely walk, evidently could speak but a few bizarre sentences, and could hear but not understand what was said to him. The English poet Spenser relates of his wild man that “… other language had he none, nor speech, / But a soft murmur and confused sound / Of senseless words, which nature did him teach.”4

  He showed an aversion to every kind of food—especially meat—except bread, and he would drink nothing but water. He carried a letter for the captain of the garrison of the light cavalry. He appeared to be between fifteen and eighteen years old, though in most respects he seemed more like a boy of eleven. The one sentence he repeated continually, and used as an all-purpose means of communication, was: “Ich möcht’ ein solcher Reiter werden wie mein Vater einer war.” That is the High German version of what he actually said, which was: “Reutä wähn, wie mei Vottä wähn is,” or “Ä sechtene möcht ih wähn, wie mei Vottä wähn is,” something like: “I would like to be a rider the way my father was.”

  Mayor Binder’s Proclamation

  Kaspar Hauser remained solitary and withdrawn. The mayor of the city, Jakob Friedrich Binder (1787-1856), was forty-one years old when he first met him. The day after Kaspar arrived in the city, Binder invited the city doctor, Preu, to examine him in his presence, since he had not been able to extract anything from him. Over the next few days Binder continued to meet with Kaspar, had friends speak with him, and finally issued a public proclamation, which he wrote on July 7, 1828, and published on July 14.5

  It was the first published document in the history of the Kaspar Hauser case and quickly achieved almost canonical status as the Keimzelle (germ cell) of all future versions. Since the actual text has never been translated into English, and because it contains no doubt the earliest comments of Kaspar Hauser himself (although not in direct quotations), I reproduce the entire document (see appendix 1), which is written in stilted nineteenth-century official German (most sentences in the original are a page long), but I omit its appendices since they are almost identical to information that will be supplied from elsewhere.6

  In spite of the many problems raised by the text (for example, could Kaspar Hauser really have provided all this information within less than two weeks of his arrival?), it is a document that must be read and reread. I urge the reader at this point to turn to it in the appendices and read it through before continuing with this introduction.

  Newspapers all over Europe and as far away as New York, Boston, and Philadelphia immediately reported on the strange boy.7 A day after the proclamation was issued, however, a sharply critical letter was sent to the local authorities complaining that the publication may well have compromised the investigation—which should, in any event, be under the jurisdiction of the superior court, and demanding that all the documents assembled be sent immediately to it. A government official replied immediately, agreeing with the criticisms and letting the author know that the proclamation had already been published in two newspapers (though only in small numbers), but that all remaining copies had been seized and would no longer be published. The letter was signed by the legal counsel to the court of appeals in Ansbach, a small town not far from Nuremberg. It was also signed by the president of this court, the great German jurist Paul Johann Anselm Ritter von Feuerbach (1775-1833), the man responsible for the abolition of torture in Bavaria.8 As presiding chief judge in the court of appeals for Ansbach, he headed the court that had jurisdiction over the Kaspar Hauser case. Feuerbach was not happy with this proclamation:

  This official story, if one wants to call it that, contains some unbelievable and contradictory things. There were also many details that were given with such completeness and assurance that it is hard to ascertain what came from the questioner and what from Kaspar Hauser; how much really flows from his dim memories and how much he was unwittingly talked into, or how much was adapted from the many questions; what was added to or created through suppositions; what was grounded in simply misunderstood comments he made, since he was an animal-like man barely capable of speech, still unacquainted with the most commonplace natural phenomena, and impoverished in everyday concepts. Nevertheless, the story told in the declaration agrees by and large—that is, with respect to the essential major circumstances—with what Hauser himself, duly sworn, was to write later in an essay, incorporated into official court depositions that were taken in the year 1829, as well as with what he has told me and many other people on different occasions, all of them in essential agreement.9

  This may well be true; nonetheless the document is unique in that it represents the fruit of the earliest discussions (if that is what they were) with Kaspar Hauser. Although it is difficult to know what Binder “guessed” or “invented,” as Feuerbach says, it is the only document that testifies to the fact that Kaspar Hauser claims, at least, to have spoken with toy horses he played with in the prison, which means that he was capable of speech (though what he said to them is unknown). If Binder is correct, contrary to the generally accepted notion that Kaspar had no idea what any words meant, he knew approximately fifty. What is not certain is whether he knew them before he arrived, or acquired some or many of them in the first few days.

  The document is also important in giving us a sense of what was already, from the very beginning, expected of Kaspar Hauser. He was, for reasons that Binder passionately conveys, considered to have come from a noble
family. The expectations were obviously high, which may have had something to do with his later depression. The reason that Binder thought Kaspar was of high birth had to do with what he calls his Anlage, a word with high visibility in German nineteenth-century psychiatry,10 and refers to a person’s inherited capacities. Because Kaspar Hauser seemed in the beginning to learn very quickly—words, phrases, manners, music, drawing—it was assumed that he was born with certain talents that he could only have had through noble birth!

  Before the proclamation was actually published on July 14, on July 11, Feuerbach himself paid a visit to Kaspar Hauser. It was a fateful day, for Feuerbach evidently was as touched by the meeting as the mayor, and soon took it upon himself to begin an elaborate investigation of both Kaspar Hauser and the circumstances that brought him to Nuremberg. From that day on, probably no child living in Europe at the time was observed in such close detail as was Kaspar Hauser. The book that Feuerbach would write just four years later, Kaspar Hauser: Beispiel eines Verbrechens am Seelenleben des Menschen (Kaspar Hauser: A case of a crime against the soul of a human being) would make the boy famous in Europe and beyond from that day to the present. Considered one of the masterpieces of German judicial literature, Feuerbach’s book has remained popular. It has also been enormously influential, and is the source of most of the films, as well as the poems and other literary works, about Kaspar Hauser from 1832 down to our own time.11

  Kaspar immediately became a sensation, even a tourist draw. People would visit the tower where he was kept to watch him play with wooden toy animals.12 He was often sick, however, and subject to profound melancholy.

  Kaspar Hauser Finds a Teacher

  When Feuerbach visited Kaspar Hauser on July 11, 1828, he said that unless his situation was quickly changed, he would “die of fever of the nerves or fall into idiocy or insanity.” To the public at large, he may have been a freak (a point made in the various films about him) or the subject of rumors that he was of royal blood, but to one man, Georg Friedrich Daumer (1800-75), only twelve years older than Kaspar himself, he was a boy in need of care and a family. This is the man Feuerbach and Binder selected to take Kaspar Hauser out of the tower and into his own home, which he did on July 18, 1828. Daumer had been a student of the philosophers Friedrich Wilhelm Schelling (1775-1884) and Georg Wilhelm Hegel (1770-1831), and was now the tutor to Hegel’s children.13