GITTA
HONEGGEI~
501
hooplah with as much
Schadenfreude
as their most rabid opponents, and
that history , the darkest moments in the history of this century, are being
exploited for one of the most basic theatrical impulses: the need to show
off
Along with his sudden death Bernhard provided a shocking finale
to
the
Heldenplatz
controversy that caused - once again - much embar–
rassment for Austria and a great deal of anxiety for his publishers and,
most importantly, for Claus Peymann.
In
his will he stipulated that none
of his plays be performed and none of his books be published in Austria,
nor that any unpublished material from his estate, including any letters or
Zettel
(notes), be quoted or published anywhere in the world. This
would mean that
Heldel1platz
and several of Peymann's other exemplary
Bernhard produ ctions in the Burgtheater's repertoire could no longer be
shown and that production plans for the yet unproduced play
Elisabeth
would have to be cancelled.
(Lawyer~
will be busy for some time
to
come trying to find loopholes in the text of the will.) Bernhard also
prohibited any memorial services in Austria or any kind of commemora–
tive event in any other country, if it were supported by Austrian money
or institutions.
In
Heldel1platz,
the character Professor Schuster requests in his will
that his death not be made public until a week after his funeral. Bern–
hard , too , had asked in his testament (made two days before he died)
that his death be announced only after his funeral. His brother and sole
heir, Dr. Peter Fabjan, a physician, saw him through the last days of his
illness and arranged for a secret burial at Vienna's Grinzing Cemetery
(the final resting place of yet another infamous figure of the Viennese
theater, Gustav Mahler, whose exasperated question: "Why must one be
dead so that they' ll let one live?" cou ld have been triggered only by his
harrowing experiences as director of the Vienna State Opera.) According
to Bernhard's wish, on ly three relatives were present.
It
is tempting to speculate about the motives behind this last gesture
of negation. Some say that this time, the crucible of
Heldenplatz
was
simply too much and that Bernhard died of a broken heart. Some of the
more clinically inclined among his fellow writers suggest that it had to
happen some day, that he finally choked on the volcanic force of his en–
raged rhetoric. There might even be a small comfort in perceiving his
death as a sadly metaphoric ending to his unrequited , misunderstood,
maniacal pursuit of an impossible love. Cues for his soft spots, for those
who ca red to look for them , were planted throughout his work and
most prominently in his notorious
romal1-a-clif, Woodcutters.
(Its publica–
tion a few years ago created a simi lar furor when Bernhard had it
withdrawn from Austrian bookstores, in response to a libel suit from a
one-time friend who saw himself in the character of a failed, mediocre
