Mi.855 - 856 (27.07.1943)
Peter Rosegger

Link to the location of the 'Rosegger Denkmal'

Mi.855 - 856

100th Centenary of birth of Peter Rosegger

Notes: Design: Prof. Brunlechner (6+4 Pf), Maler Fuchs (12+8 Pf). Photogravure printing. Sheets 5 x 10 (Mi.855), 10 x 5 (Mi.856). Without watermark. Perf. 13¾ x 14 (Harper & Scheck), 14 (Michel). Quantity issued: unknown. Valid until May 1945

Mi.855

Peter Rosegger

Peter Rosegger( 1843-1918) was an Austrian writer and poet from Krieglach in the province of Styria. He was a son of a mountain farmer and grew up in the woodlands and mountains of Alpl. Rosegger went on to become a most prolific poet and author as well as an insightful teacher and visionary.

In his later years, he was honoured by officials from various Austrian universities and the city of Graz (the capital of Styria). He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature three times. He was nearly awarded the Nobel Prize in 1913 and is (at least among the people of Styria) something like a national treasure to this day.

Source: Wikipedia

"Neigung des Peter Rosegger": Wo der Nazi begraben liegt

(‘Peter Rosegger's Inclination': Where the Nazi is buried)

Article sourced from derstandard.at/. Translation by DeepL

‘Wou de knia nu in di stutzn. Wou de busn in da blusn’ is sung to the tune of the Styrian national anthem on the stage of the Graz Schauspielhaus at the opening of the season. The artificial Styrian that the young Upper Austrian author Thomas Arzt puts into the mouths of the protagonists in Die Neigung des Peter Rosegger when they sing is quite amusing. Unfortunately, however, the same cannot be said of the entire evening of the world premiere of the commissioned work.

This is not due to the text. Arzt has presented a compact piece in which the controversial myth of the Heimat poet serves as a template. Nationalism, xenophobia, personal sensitivities, complexes and the diffuse concept of homeland, which so many see as endangered, are negotiated with wordplay.

In a small Styrian town, the statue of Peter Rosegger on the main square suddenly tilts to the right. Was an earthquake on the Slovenian border the cause? The building contractor and big spender Wiesinger (Florian Köhler) doesn't think so. And he resists any structural measures that could prevent the poet from toppling over. The seismologist Heim (Franz Xaver Zach), who has travelled here, can talk all he wants.

The employee Elfriede (Susanne Konstanze Weber), dressed in a jogging suit and mourning the loss of her dog ‘Bumsti’, believes that the refugees are to blame for everything. Only the mayor (Evamaria Salcher) and the labourer Matthias (Nico Link) try to keep a reasonably cool head at first.

Arzt has created a multi-layered cast of characters. Florian Köhler in particular is able to make a lot out of this template: He plays the heir to a family business who always wanted to do everything right, but believed the SS grandad too much and seeks his salvation in Rosegger romanticism, with a subtle lunatic glint in his eye.

‘There are Peter Rosegger glasses. There is the Peter Rosegger jacket. There's Peter Rosegger wine,’ he says in defence of his idol when Heim asks him whether the writer, who was nominated for the Nobel Prize several times, ever received it.

Wiesinger finally reaches for a gun to defend ‘his’ Rosegger after a border fence (watch out for southern Styria!) around the statue has done nothing to help. When the seismologist warns: ‘The man has a weapon!’ and the mayor counters: ‘We all have weapons here.’, we are closer to the insane reality than Nina Gühlstorff's production ever is to the core of the text. That is a pity.

The critical and subtle humour of the text is repeatedly drowned out by the overly kitschy production. Marouscha Levy's costumes, which really hurt the eyes, are also completely out of place. The worried citizens and the frustrated town archivist, with whom Henriette Blumenau plays a wonderful amorous counterpart to Wiesinger, are described by Arzt without compassion, but not shown off. But the direction and costumes do just that, begging for laughs that have long since got stuck in your throat.

At the end, the Nazi grandfather lies buried under the statue - with his arm outstretched. You just shouldn't dig in the brown earth of the green marrow. Unless you have the right tools with you.

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