Y outh's
ecstatic
desire for words came from his mouth.
Musil - Man Without Qualities - v2
he asked.
Ulrich remembered the letters that Leo Fischel had shown him. Since then he had had a lot of sympathy for this young person in whom mystic feelings raged. But at the same time, seeing him reminded him, God knows why, of a skinny dog that wants to mount a bitch much too
1650 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
big for him. He collected himself and, ignoring his question, asked Hans to explain to him what he wanted. - T h a t is to say, he added, he would like to know what he had in mind to turn his ideas into reality when he was not talking about "human being," "soul," "mystery," "ardor," "con- templation," and the like, but about the future Dr. Hans Sepp, who would be compelled to live in the world.
Ulrich really wanted to know, that was sincerely to be heard in his question; and in addition he had managed to invest it with a Masonic choice of words that astonished Hans, and Gerda's glance rested on Hans with a challenging reproach. Hans scratched his head, because he did not want to be rude and felt embarrassed. -Those aren't my ideas-he finally said-but those of German youth. Ulrich repeated his request to show him how they could be made reality. Hans thought he knew what Ulrich was getting at: whenever Hans courted Gerda with such ideas, the words were like the texture of an orchestra through which, as voice, the sight of Gerda hovered; could one tear that apart and separate it? -Y ou're asking me to make a political treatise out of a piece of music! he said.
Ulrich added: - A n d the language of politics, of trade, of arithmetic, is the language ofthe fallen angels, whose wings have long since become as vestigial as, say, our caudal vertebra. It can hardly be articulated in such a language-is that what you mean? But that's exactly why I would like to know what you're thinking of doing. Hans gave him the simplest answer to this: - I don't know! But I'm not alone. And if several thou- sand people want something that they can't picture, then one day they'll get it, as long as they remain true to themselves!
- D o you believe that too, Gerda? Ulrich asked.
Gerdawavered. -I'm convincedtoo-shesaid-thatourculturewill perish i f something isn't done.
Ulrich jumped up. -My dear children! What concern is that of yours? Tell me what you're proposing to do with each other!
Hanssetaboutdefendinghisview. -Don'ttalkdowntous! It'squite certain that this hugger-mugger called culture will perish, and every- thing else along with it-and nothing will prevail against it but the New Man!
-But Hans overestimates the significance of love between people, Gerda added. - T h e New will also leave that behind.
Hans was really a melancholy person. An emerging impurity on his skin could put him in a bad mood for days, and that was no rare occur- rence, for in his petit-bourgeois family care of the skin did not rank very high. As in many Austrian families, it had stopped at the state it had reached before the middle of the nineteenth century: that is, every Sat-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 6 5 1
urday the bathtub or a wash trough would be filled with hot water, and this setved for the cleaning of the body that was forgone on all the other days. There were just as few other luxuries in Hans Sepp's family home. His father was a minor government functionary with a small salary and the prospect of an even scantier pension, which in view of his age was imminent, and the principles as well as the conduct of life in his parents' house were distinguished from those at the Fischels' about the way that a cardboard box carefully tied together with knotted bits of string, in which the common people pack their belongings for a journey, differs from a magnificent valise. I f he looked around, all that Hans Sepp could claim as a distinction was his German name, and it had taken him a long time before he learned to regard it as more than a gift of fate, on the day that he became acquainted with the view that being German meant being aristocratic. From that day forward he bore a noble name, and it is not necessary to waste words about how nice it is to know that one is personally distinguished; one should rather write a whole book about how one ought to want not to be distinguished but to distinguish oneself; but that would tum into a book that would be absolutely and completely unsocial.
The titles Count and Prince pale in comparison with the title Hans Sepp. No one today values belonging to a secret clan whose signs are an ox's head or three stars. On the other hand, to have a German name when one had German sentiments was, among lower-class youth in Austria, a rarity. The friends through whom Hans had been introduced into the movement were named Vybiral and Bartolini. It had about it something of a symbolic cover, the miracle of the manifestation of the Holy Spirit, when one was named Hans and in addition had the family name of Sepp.
Hans Sepp felt himself one of the elect, and in the absence of a bath- room he acquired the ideal of racial purity. But within this ideal there is enclosed the ideal of purity of principles. In this way, even in his early years, Hans Sepp came to fight for all the commandments of morality, which is otherwise the privilege of the incapacity for sinning, and is a position in which one has no desire for any further changes. It is a quite remarkable thing when young people become enthusiastic about virtue: a union of fire and stubbornness.
This union is facilitated if there is the possibility of combining the af- firmation with a powerful negation. But in order to arrive at the real significance of such a negation, one must leave aside what is accidental, in this case the racial aspect, which is the form in which it expresses itself though not its sense.
But that was just the smaller and less serious advantage. Far greater is
1652 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
the advantage that a young person who adopts a negative view of the world makes the world into a comfortable nest. It is well-nigh impossible to demonstrate something as notorious as the meager intellectual con- tent of one of those novels that among the German public pass for pro- found; it is much easier to make this credible by saying that these novels aren't German, or at least it penetrates reality more easily. One should not (on the whole) underestimate the advantage of saying no to every- thing that is considered great and beautiful. For, first, one almost always hits upon something true, and second, determining it more precisely, and the process of proving it, are in all circumstances extremely difficult and, in terms ofhaving any effect, futile. In Germany there was once the ideal: "Test everything and keep the best"; this ideal ended in filth and scorn; it was the ideal of the dignified life and the cult of the home, which, in a time of obligatory specialization deprived of the aid of inter- connections, had the same inner consequence as the purposefulness of a snail: I'll hitch a ride on anything. One must never forget this impotence into which we have put ourselves if one wishes to understand the ideal- ism of maliciousness and evil. When the change of worldview to which every new outfitting ofhumanity is called stalls and becomes impossible, almost nothing remains but to say no to everything; the lowest point is always a point of rest and balance.
Closing one's eyes and gently touching one's leg is the simplest pic- ture of the world one can have.
So there are two main kinds of pessimism. One is the pessimism of weltschmerz, which despairs of everything; the other is the contempo- rary kind, which exempts one's own person from the process. It is quite understandable that when one is young one would rather consider other
people bad than oneself. This was the service that the German world- view performed for Hans Sepp. He did not so soon experience the futil- ity of ordering his ideas, he could free himself from everything that oppresses us by calling it "un-German," and he could appear ideal to himself without having to restrain himself from besmirching I scorning the ideals of everyone else.
However, the most remarkable aspect of Hans Sepp was still a third
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 6 5 3
thing. But one should not be deceived by this manner of presentation, taking one thing after another; in reality these reasons were not layers swimming atop one another; any two of them were always dissolved in a third. And what needs to be added to the two reasons named above can perhaps be called, in a correspondingly broad sense, "religious. " If one were to have asked Hans Sepp whether, in school, he had believed in the teaching of his catechist, he would have answered indignantly that the German must cut himself loose from Rome and its Jew religion, but it would also not have been possible to win him over to Luther, whom he would have characterized as a pusillanimous compromiser with the Spirit of the World. Hans Sepp's religion did not fit any of the three great European religions; it was a plant of unintelligible ancestry run to seed.
This wild religious nature of nationalism is very peculiar.
Break off This would be the place to develop the possibility of the Other Condition as something like the component freed by the weather- ing of religion as well as of liberal heroism.
Perhaps as a supplement to Lindner religious development. But in contrast to Professor August Lindner, God had never once appeared to Hans Sepp. In spite ofthat, or indeed perhaps just because ofit, because he could not bring his vague feelings of faith and love into the solid framework of religion, they were in him especially wild.
One cannot say whether it is a remnant of bisexuality, the remnant of another primitive stage, or the lost natural tenderness of life, this need to make a community out of people. To feel every action inwardly, that is, a symbol . . .
Of this kind his love for Gerda, which is really less for the woman than for the person.
His misunderstanding of Ulrich, whom he considers a rationalist be- cause he does not understand the difficulty ofwhat Ulrich has an intima- tion of, and because he makes things easy for himself through community, insolent youthful hordes, etc.
(Definition after Unger: Symbol. View sees in those events we can not incorporate in any order (e. g. , those of the Pentateuch) images to repre-
1654 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
sent the higher world that our consciousness cannot grasp in any other
way. )
Excitement also in the air as the guests left Diotima's house! Gusts of wind ran behind waves of darkness; the streetlamps reeled in their light on one side and let it flow out widely on the other; the leaves in the canopies of the trees pulled and tugged at their thin stems, or suddenly became quite still, as if on command; the clouds played high above the rooftops with the pale fire of the moon like dogs playing with a brown cat; pushed it, jumped over it, and when they retreated, it cowered with arched back, motionless in their midst. Ulrich had fallen in with Gerda and Hans Sepp; all three were surprised that it had already got dark.
Feuermaul had had an effect on Gerda. It seemed to her horribly ruthless that one is an "I," calmly mirrored in the eyes of a "you. " She applied it to the whole nation. To universal love. It was a new emotion; how was it to be understood? One is no longer linked with just one other person. That's basically always horrible; one can't stir on account of the other; in spite of love one must feel a lot of resentment. It's also quite unnatural; the only natural thing is getting together to raise a brood, but not for one's whole life, and not because of oneself, or love. Individual love seemed to her like a snowman, hard, cold; on the other hand, ifthe same thing is spread like a blanket over the whole field . . . she imagined life beneath the pure soft snow cover that hovered before her, warm and protecting every seed. -Strange-Gerda thought-that I happened to think of a snowman! But then she still felt only the other, distant, soft, melting-even ifthat was not quite the case! -Loving many, many peo- ple! she said to herself softly. And it was like: Sleeping with everyone; but with no one so brutally to the very end, but only as in a dream that is never quite clear. Kissing everybody, but the way a child lets itself be stroked. To say something nice to everyone, but not giving anyone the right to forbid her saying it to his enemy as well . . . She felt happy and anxious as she portrayed this to herself, like a tender being that has to slip through rough hands until the hands, fumbling beside it, also learn to be tender.
"A happy-anxious soul": that had been in one of Feuermaul's poems, as if the poet had uttered this expression for no one else but her, the unla10wn girl. From far away word was dispatched to her, a man who lmew nothing about her had sent out this word and still had no idea that the word had already found her; but she lmew it, for she bore his word in
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 655
her breast, which he would never see: That seemed to her like a mar- riage through magic. Gerda thought over whether she really had a hap- pily anxious soul. She had one that constantly hovered between happiness and fear, without quite making contact with either. Was that the same thing? She was not certain of it, but she felt herself really hov- ering like a moonbeam in the roaring night, filled with love and free of all misfortune, which rarely happened to her. She squinted over at Ul- rich, who was walking mutely beside her; he frightened her and only occasionally gave her a little happiness. Ulrich noticed that she was look- ing at him; he was angry with h e r . -The first time some blockhead bab- bles at you in verses you overflow! he said, smiling; but there was really some pain in this smile. -Didn't you notice that this person is the most vain and selfish creature in the world?
Gerda answered quite seriously. -You're right, he's weak; Stefan George is greater. She named her favorite poet-she knew that Ulrich had an aversion to him as well. She was a little drunk with happiness and felt: - I can love two people who hate each other. At this moment she was all love.
But at this moment Hans Sepp pushed forward from the other side; jealous restlessness impelled him, for Gerda and Ulrich had been speak- ing softly, and he only half understood; he did not want to be left out.
-Feuermaul is a prattler! he exclaimed angrily.
- O h , why! Ulrich said.
-Because!
They were just passing beneath a streetlamp. Hans wanted to stop,
because his mouth was full ofwords. But Ulrich did not stop. Hans was dragged on like a screaining child and emptied his words into the dark- ness. Gerda knew them all. The Beyond, contemplation, Christ, Edda, Gautama Buddha, and then the punishment meant for her: Feuermaul, as a Jew, had appropriated these things with his intelligence but in- wardly had no idea what they were about. She looked straight ahead, and even at the next streetlamp did not look at Hans. In the darkness she felt his dark mouth wide open at her side. It made her shudder. She did not understand that Hans no longer knew what he was saying. The darkness was terrible for him. He imagined that the two of them were laughing at him. He knew no bounds, and his words poured out as if each were try- ing to trample the next, the way people do in a panic.
In between, Gerda heard Ulrich speaking quietly and objectively, seeking to divert this storm. -The emotional scribbler-he said-is in himself the most vain and self-seeking person in the world; something like women who have no understanding, only their love. What would happen ifthese people became you-seeking? . . .
1656 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Gerda liked Ulrich's words rather better than Hans's, but they, too, made her cold. With a hasty good-bye, she left the two of them standing there and ran up the steps. Hans gasped for air, hardly touched his hat, and left Ulrich.
But he stopped at the next comer and under cover of darkness looked to see what Ulrich was going to do. Ulrich went home, and Hans began to have regrets. He knew that Gerda's parents would be home late today; Gerda was alone, and he could imagine how much his churlish behavior must be eating at her. He saw light in a window and ran away in order not to go weak. But he only ran around the block, then without stopping went up the steps. He was still excited; his clothes sat on him angrily, the dark-blond hair over his forehead was standing crookedly in the air, and his cheeks had disappeared beneath his cheekbones.
-Forgive mel he begged. -I've behaved badly.
Gerda looked at him without understanding why he was there; her emotions had grown deaf.
- I don't know what I said, Hans went on. - I t was probably some- thing ugly. But you're so far gone that you can't even separate Jewish spuriousness and your ideals!
-Ulrich's not a Jew! Gerda said spontaneously. -A nd I forbid you- she added-to speak that way about Jews! For the first time she dared to say such a thing.
- I was speaking of Feuermaul! Hans corrected her. - B u t this Jew- ish poet we heard today might at least be said to have great and honest feelings if his race permitted it, but Ulrich, your father's friend, is ten times worse! Gerda was sitting in an easy chair and looked at Hans doubtingly. Hans was standing in front of her; her behavior unnerved him. - I f someone acts-he said-like Feuermaul, as if he had seized hold of the true life, he's a swindler. The Beyond withholds itself; out-of- body contemplation reveals itself only rarely and intermittently. There are whole centuries that know nothing about it. But it is Germanic, nev- ertheless, never to lose the feeling here below of the Beyond that shim- mers through.
-Since I have known you, every second thing you've said has been about out-of-body contemplation-Gerda countered, eager to attack- but you haven't ever, not one single time, really seen anything! Tell me what you've seen! Words!
Hans implored Gerda not to lose her strength! She ought not to be so sensitive, not want to be so clever! She should get away from this Ulrich!
From the Posthumous Papers · z657
-Where does "sensitive" come from? he exclaimed. -From the senses! It's sensualistic and base!
For heaven's sake, Gerda knew that; but it had never seemed to her so hurdy-gurdy. - I f I want, I will also love a Jew, she thought, and thought of Feuermaul. A very gentle smile struggled with the anger in her face. Hans misunderstood it; he thought the tenderness in the resistance was for him. He was so excited by everything that had gone on before that he thought he would break into pieces right then and there. Over Gerda's face there is a breath of the Orient, it occurred to him at this moment, and in the same moment he thought he understood that what he loved most secretly about her was the other-racial, the Jewish; he, with his melancholy, who never felt sure of himself! Hans broke down. He hardly knew what was happening to him; he hid his face against Gerda's legs, and she felt that he was weeping in despair. That tore at her breast like the wild, covetous fingers of a small child; she, too, was suddenly excited, and tears were running down her cheeks without her knowing whether she was weeping over Hans, Feuermaul, herself, or Ulrich. So they gazed into each other's eyes with crumpled faces, when Hans raised his from her lap. He lifted himself half up and reached for her face.
Y outh's ecstatic desire for words came from his mouth. - T h e r e are only three ways back to the Great Truth, he exclaimed. -Suicide, madness, or making ourselves a symbol! She did not understand that. Why suicide or madness? She connected no filled-out notions with these words. -Perhaps Hans doesn't ever know exactly what he means, went through her head. But somehow, if one got free of oneself through sui- cide or madness, it seemed to be almost as high as being uplifted by some mystic union. Madness, death, and love have always been closely linked in the consciousness of humanity. She did not know why; she did not even think of posing such a question. But the three words, which made no sense as an idea, had somehow come together at this moment in a trembling young person who was holding Gerda's face in his hands as if he were holding in them the deepest import of his life. What they then went on talking about did not matter at all; the great experience was that they said to each other what shook them. Whoever would have heard them wouldn't have understood them; entwined, they pressed forward to God's knee and thought they saw His finger. I t was possible, since this scene was being played out in the Fischels' dining room, that this finger pointing the way out of the world and into their own consis- ted partly of the tasteless self-conscious pictures and furnishings that gave them the feeling of having nothing to do with the universe of the bourgeois.
1658 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
One evening several days after this (the) musical evening in the stu- dio, Gerda appeared at Ulrich's, after having called excitedly on the tele- phone. With a dramatic swoop she removed her hat from her head and threw it on a chair. To the question of what was up, she answered: -Now everything's been blown sky-high!
-Has Hans run off?
-Papa's broke! Gerda laughed nervously at her slangy expression. Ulrich recalled that the last time he had been with Director Fischel he had wondered at the kind oftelephone conversations the latter had been conducting from his house; but this recollection was not vivid enough to enable him to take Gerda's exclamation with complete seriousness.
-Papa was a gambler-imagine! the excited girl, struggling between merriment and despair, went on to explain. -W e all thought he was a solid bank official with no great prospects, but yesterday evening it came out that the whole time he had been making the riskiest stock specula- tions! You ought to have been there for the blowup! Gerda threw herself on the chair beside her hat and boldly swung one leg over the other. - H e came home as ifhe'd been pulled out of the river. Mama rushed at him with bicarbonate and chamomile, because she thought he was feel- ing ill. It was eleven-thirty at night; we were already asleep. Then he confessed that in three days he had to come up with lots of money and had no idea where it was to come from. Mama, splendid, offered him her dowry. Mama is always splendid; what would the few thousand crowns have meant to a gambler! But Papa went on to confess that Mama's little fortune had long since been lost along with everything else. What can I tell you? Mama screamed like a dog that's been run over. She had on nothing but her nightgown and slippers. Papa lay in an armchair and moaned. His job ofcourse is also gone once this gets out. I tell you, it was pitiable!
-Shall I speak to your father? Ulrich asked. -1 don't understand much about such things. Do you think he might do something to him- self?
Gerda shrugged her shoulders. -T oday he's trying to convince one of his unsullied business friends to help him. She suddenly turned gloomy. - 1 hope you don't think that that's why I've come to you? Mama moved out to her brother's today; she wanted to take me with her, but I won't go; I've run away from home-she had become cheerful again. -Do you know that behind the whole thing there's a woman, some sort of chanteuse? Mama found that out, and that was the last straw. Good for Papal Who would ever have thought him capable of all that! And no, I
From the Posthumous Papers · 1659
don't think he'll kill himself, she went on. -Because when it afteiWard came out about the woman, today, in the course ofthe day, he said some remarkable things: he would rather let himself be locked up and after- ward earn his bread by hawking pornographic books than go on being Director Fischel with family!
-But what's most important to me--Ulrich asked-what do you in- tend to do?
- I ' m staying with friends, Gerda said saucily. - Y o u don't need to wony!
- W i t h Hans Sepp and his friends! Ulrich exclaimed reproachfully.
- N o one's going to bother me there!
Gerda inspected Ulrich's house. Like shadows, the memory of what
had once happened here stepped out of the walls. Gerda felt herself to be a poor girl who possessed nothing outside of a few crowns, which in leaving she had, with amazing ease and freedom, taken from her mother's desk. She was sony for herself. She was inclined to weep over herself as over a tragic figure on the stage. One really ought to do some- thing good for her, she thought, but she hardly expected that Ulrich would take her comfortingly in his arms. Except that if he had, she would not have been such a coward as she had been the first time. But Ulrich said: - Y o u won't let me help you now, Gerda, I see that; you're still much too proud of your new adventure. I can only say that I fear a bad outcome for you. Remember, please, that you always, without hesi- tation, can call upon me ifyou need to. He said this reflectively and hesi- tantly, for he really could have said something else that would have been more kind. Gerda had stood up, fiddled with her hat before the mirror, and smiled at Ulrich. She would have liked to kiss him good-bye, but then it might well not have come to a good-bye; and the stream of tears that was running invisibly behind her eyes bore her like a tenderly tragic music that one cannot interrupt out into the new life which she could still not quite picture to herself.
Hans Sepp was forced to double-step, kneel down in puddles in the barracks yard, present arms and put them down again until his arms fell off. The corporal torturing him was a green peasant boy, and Hans stared uncomprehendingly into his apoplectic young face, which ex- pressed not only anger, which would have been understandable because he was forced to do extra duty with this recruit, but all the malice of which a person is capable when he lets himself go. If Hans let his glance
1660 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
roam across the breadth of the yard-and a barracks yard has in and of itselfsomething inhuman, some locked-in regularity ofthe sort the dead world ofcrystals has-it rested on squatting and stiffiy running blue fig- ures painted on all the walls, meant to be assaulted with one's weapon; and this universal goal of being shot at was expressed in the abstract manner ofthese paintings well enough to drive one to despair. This had already weighed down Hans Sepp's heart in the first hour of his arrival. '! he people in these pictures painted on the barracks walls had no faces, but instead offaces only a bright area. Nor did they have bodies that the painter had captured in one of those positions such as people and ani- mals, following the play oftheir needs, assume ofthemselves, but bodies that consisted of a crude outline filled in with dark-blue paint, capturing for an eternity the attitude of a man running with a weapon in his hand, or a man kneeling and shooting, an eternity in which there will never again be anything so superfluous as the drawing of individual people. This was by no means unreasonable; the technical term for these figures was . . target surfaces," and ifa person is regarded as a target surface, that is the way he looks; this cannot be explained away (changed). From this one might conclude that one should never be allowed to regard a person as a target surface; but for heaven's sake, if that is the way he looks the minute you lay eyes on him, the temptation to look at him that way is enormous! Hans felt drawn again and again, during the tedium of his punishment drill, bythe demonic nature ofthese pictures, as ifhe were being tortured by devils; the corporal screamed at him that he was not to gawk around but to look straight ahead; with such raw language he liter- ally seized him by the eyes, and when Hans's glance then fell straight ahead, on the corporal's red face, this face looked warm and human.
Hans had the primitive sensation of having fallen into the hands of a strange tribe and been made a slave. Whenever an officer appeared and glided past on the other side of the yard, an uninvolved, slender silhou- ette, he seemed to Hans Sepp like one of the inexorable gods of this alien tribe. Hans was treated severely and badly. An official communica- tion from the civil authorities had come to the army at the same time he had, characterizing him as . . politically unreliable," and in Kakania that was the term used for individuals hostile to the state. He had no idea who or what had gained him this reputation. Except for his participation in the demonstration against Count Leinsdorf, he had never undertaken anything against the state, and Count Leinsdorf was not the state; since he had become a student, Hans Sepp had spoken only ofthe community of Germanic peoples, of symbols, and of chastity. But something must have come to the ear of the authorities, and the ear of the authorities is like a piano from which seven ofevery eight strings have been removed.
From the Posthumous Papers · I 6 6 I
Perhaps his reputation had been exaggerated; at any rate, he came to the anny with the reputation of being an enemy of war, the military, reli- gion, the Habsburgs, and the Austrian state, suspected of plotting in se- cret associations and pan-German intrigues directed at "the goal of overthrowing the existing order of the state. "
But the situation in the Kakanian military with regard to all these crimes was such that the greatest part of all capable reserve officers could be accused of them without further ado. Almost every German Austrian had the natural sentiment of solidarity with the Germans in the Reich and of being only provisionally separated from it by the sluggish capacity of the historical process, while every non-German Austrian had (making the necessary allowances) twice as much feeling of this kind di- rected against Kakania; patriotism in Kakania, to the extent that it was not limited to purveyors to the Court, was distinctly a phenomenon of opposition, betraying either a spirit of contradiction or that tepid opposi- tion to life which constantly has need of something finer and higher. The only exception to this was Count Leinsdorf and his friends, who had the "higher" in their blood. But the active officers (of the standing anny) were also just as implicated in these reproaches that an unlotown author- ity had raised against Hans Sepp. These officers were for the most part German Austrians, and insofar as they were not, they admired the Ger- man anny; and since the Kakanian parliament did not appropriate half as many soldiers or warships as the German Reichstag, they all felt that not everything about the pan-Germanic claims could be reprehensible. Then too, they were all antidemocratic and latent revolutionaries. They had been raised from childhood to be the bulwark ofpatriotism, with the result that this word aroused in them a silent nausea. They had finally got used to leading their soldiers in the Corpus Christi procession and letting the recruits practice "kneel down for prayers" in the barracks yard, but among themselves they called the regimental chaplain Corpo-
ral Christ, and for the rank of field bishop, which was associated with a certain fullness of body, these heathens had thought up the anny name "skyball. "
When they were among themselves, they did not even take it amiss if someone was an enemy of the military, for over a fairly long period of service most of them had become that way themselves, and there were even pacifists in Kakania's anny. But this does not mean that later on, in the war, they did not do their duty with as much enthusiasm as their comrades in other countries; on the contrary, one always thinks differ- ently from the way one acts. This fact, of such extraordinary importance for the condition of world civilization as we know it today, is ordinarily understood to mean that thinking is a charming habit of the individual
1662 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
citizen, without damaging which, when it comes to action, one joins in with what is customary and what everyone is doing. This is not quite true, however, for there are people who are totally unoriginal in their thinking; but when they act, they often do so in a vexy personal way, which, because it is more appealing, is superior to their ideas, or, be- cause it is more common, inferior to them, in any case more idiosyn- cratic. One comes closer to the truth ifone does not stop with the object ofthe action, as opposed to the idea, but recognizes from the beginning that one is dealing with two different kinds of ideas. A person's idea ceases to be only an idea whenever a second person thinks something similar, and between these two something happens, even if it is only being aware ofeach other, that makes them a pair. Even then the idea is no longer pure possibility but acquires an additional component ofancil- lary considerations. But this might be a sophism or an artifice. Neverthe- less, the fact remains that evexy powerful idea goes out into the world of reality and permeates it the way energy enters a malleable material and finally rigidifies in it, without entirely losing its effectiveness as an idea. Everywhere, in schools, in lawbooks, in the aspect of houses in the city and fields in the country, in newspaper offices awash in currents of superficiality, in men's trousers and women's hats, in everything where people exercise and receive influence, ideas are encapsulated or dis- solved in varying degrees offixity and content. This is ofcourse no more than a platitude, but we are hardly always aware ofits extent, for it really amounts to nothing less than a monstrous, inside-out, third half of the brain. This third half does not think; it emits emotions, habits, experi- ences, limits, and directions, nothing but unconscious or half-conscious influences, among which individual thinking is as much and as little as a tiny candle flame in the stony darlmess ofa gigantic warehouse. And not last among these are the ideas held in reserve, which are stored like uni- forms for wartime. The moment something extraordinary begins to spread, they climb out of their petrification. Evexy day bells peal, but when a big fire breaks out or a people is called to arms, one sees for the first time the sort of feelings that have been clanging and churning in- side them. Evexy day the newspapers casually write certain sentences that they habitually use to characterize habitual happenings, but ifa rev- olution threatens or something new is about to happen, it suddenly ap- pears that these words no longer suffice and that in order to ward off or welcome, one must reach back for the oldest hats in the store and the spooks in the closet. The mind enters evexy great general mobilization, whether for peace or for war, unequipped and laden down with forgot- ten things.
Hans had fallen into this disproportion between the personal and the
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1663
general, between living and reserve principles. In other circumstances, people would have been satisfied to find him not very likable, but the official document had raised him out of the midst of private individuals and made him an object of public thought, and had admonished his su- periors that they were to apply to him not their uneducated, highly varia- ble personal feelings, but the generally accepted ones that made them vexed and bored and that can at any moment degenerate wildly, like the actions of a drunk or a hysteric who feels quite distinctly that he is stuck inside his frenzy as inside a strange, oversize husk.
But one should not think that Hans was being mistreated, or that im- permissible things were being done to him: on the contrary, he was treated strictly according to regulations. All that was missing was that iota of human warmth-no, one cannot call it warmth; but coal, fuel, on hand to be used on a suitable occasion-which even in a barracks still finds a niche. Through the absence of the possibility of any personal sympathy, the right-angled buildings, the monotonous walls with the blue figures, the ruler-straight corridors with the innumerable parallel diagonal lines ofguns hanging on them, and the trumpet signals and reg- ulations that divided up the day, all had the effect ofthe clear, cold crys- tallizing of a spirit that till then had been alien to Hans Sepp, that spirit of the commonality, of public life, of impersonal community, or what- ever it should be called, which had created this building and these forms.
The most crushing thing was that he felt that his whole spirit of con- tradiction had been blown away. He could, of course, have thought of himself as a missionary being tortured by some Indian tribe. Or he could have expunged the din of the world from his senses and immersed him- selfin the currents ofthe transcendental. He could have looked upon his sufferings as a symbol, and so forth. But since a military cap had been clapped on his head, all these thoughts had become like impotent shad- ows. The sensitive world of the mind paled to a specter, which here, where a thousand people lived together, could not penetrate. His mind was desolate and withered.
Hans Sepp had settled Gerda with the mother of one of his friends. He saw her rarely, and then he was mostly surly from fatigue and de- spair. Gerda wanted to make herself independent; she did not want any- thing from him; but she had no way of understanding the events to which he was exposed. Several times she had had the idea ofpicking him up after his daily duty, as if he were his usual self and was just coming from some kind ofevent. Lately he had taken to avoiding her. He did not even have the strength to let it bother him. In the pauses during the day, those irregular pauses that fell at the most useless times, he hung around
1664 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
with the other conscripts doing their year of military service, drank brandy and coffee in the canteen, and sat in the disconsolate flood of their conversations and jokes as in a dirty creek, without being able to make up his mind to stand up. Now for the first time he came to hate the soldier class, because he felt himself subjected to its influence. - M y mind is now nothing more than the lining of a military coat, he said to himself; but he felt astonishingly tempted to test the new movements in this clothing. It happened that even after duty he stayed with the others and tried out the rather coarse diversions of these half-independent young people.
An elegant gentleman had his car stop and called out to Ulrich; with effort Ulrich recognized in the self-confident apparition (that leaned out of the elegant vehicle) Director Leo Fischel. -Y ou're in luck! Fischel called to him. -M y secretary's been trying for weeks to get hold ofyou! She was always told you were away. -He was exaggerating, but this magisterial confidence in his manner was genuinely impressive.
Ulrich said softly: - 1 thought I'd find you in much different shape.
- W h a t have you been hearing about me? Fischel probed, curious.
- 1 think pretty much everything. For a long time I've been expecting
to hear about you through the newspapers.
-Nonsense! Women always exaggerate. Won't you accompany me
home? I'll tell you all about it.
The house had changed, taken on an aura of the top offices of some
business enterprise or other, and had become totally unfeminine. But Fischel said nothing specific. He was more concerned with shoring up his reputation with Ulrich. He treated his departure from the bank as a minor incident. -What did you expect? I could have stayed there for ten years without getting anywhere! My leaving was entirely amicable. He had taken on such a self-important manner of speaking that Ulrich felt constrained to express his illy astonishment at it. -But you had ruined yourself so completely-he said inquiringly-that people as- sumed you had to either shoot yourself or end up in court.
-I'd never shoot myself, I'd poison myself, Leo corrected. -1 wouldn't do anyone the favor of dying like an aristocrat or a section chief! But it wasn't at all necessary. Do you know what a "starching," a transitory illiquidity, is? Well! My family made a ridiculous to-do about it that they're very sorry for today!
From the Posthumous Papers · z665
- B y the way, you never said a word-Ulrich exclaimed, having just thought ofit-about becoming Leona's friend; I should at least have had the right to know that!
-Do you have any idea how this woman behaved toward me? Shameless! Her upbringing!
- I always left Leona the way she is. I suppose that with her natural stupidity she'll end up in a few years as a pensioner in a brothel.
- F a r from it! Moreover, I'm not as heartless as you, my friend. I've tried to arouse Leona's reason a little and, so to speak, her economic understanding, as far as they apply to the exploitation of her body. And on the evening when my illiquidity began to make itself palpable to me, I went to her to borrow a few hundred crowns, which I assumed Leona would have laid aside. You ought to have heard this harpy scolding me for being a skinflint, a robber; she even cursed my religion! The one thing she didn't claim was that I had robbed her of her innocence. But you're wrong about Leona's future; do you know who her friend is now, right after me?
He bent over to Ulrich and whispered a name in his ear; he did this more out of respect than because the whispering was necessary.
-W hat do you say to that? You have to admit she's a beauty.
Ulrich was astounded. The name Fischel had whispered to him was Arnheim.
Ulrich asked after Gerda. Fischel blew his soul's breath out through pursed lips; his face became anxious and betrayed secret worries. He raised his shoulders and slackly let them fall again. - I thought that you might know where she's staying.
- I have a suspicion-Ulrich answered-but I don't know. I assume she's taken a job.
-Job! As what? As governess in a family with small children! Just think, she takes a job as a domestic servant when she could have every luxury! Just yesterday I concluded a deal on a house, top location, with an apartment that's a palace by itself: But no, no, no! Fischel beat his face with his fists; his pain about his daughter was genuine, or at least was the genuine pain that she was preventing him from enjoying his vic- tory completely.
Ulrich remembered the letters that Leo Fischel had shown him. Since then he had had a lot of sympathy for this young person in whom mystic feelings raged. But at the same time, seeing him reminded him, God knows why, of a skinny dog that wants to mount a bitch much too
1650 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
big for him. He collected himself and, ignoring his question, asked Hans to explain to him what he wanted. - T h a t is to say, he added, he would like to know what he had in mind to turn his ideas into reality when he was not talking about "human being," "soul," "mystery," "ardor," "con- templation," and the like, but about the future Dr. Hans Sepp, who would be compelled to live in the world.
Ulrich really wanted to know, that was sincerely to be heard in his question; and in addition he had managed to invest it with a Masonic choice of words that astonished Hans, and Gerda's glance rested on Hans with a challenging reproach. Hans scratched his head, because he did not want to be rude and felt embarrassed. -Those aren't my ideas-he finally said-but those of German youth. Ulrich repeated his request to show him how they could be made reality. Hans thought he knew what Ulrich was getting at: whenever Hans courted Gerda with such ideas, the words were like the texture of an orchestra through which, as voice, the sight of Gerda hovered; could one tear that apart and separate it? -Y ou're asking me to make a political treatise out of a piece of music! he said.
Ulrich added: - A n d the language of politics, of trade, of arithmetic, is the language ofthe fallen angels, whose wings have long since become as vestigial as, say, our caudal vertebra. It can hardly be articulated in such a language-is that what you mean? But that's exactly why I would like to know what you're thinking of doing. Hans gave him the simplest answer to this: - I don't know! But I'm not alone. And if several thou- sand people want something that they can't picture, then one day they'll get it, as long as they remain true to themselves!
- D o you believe that too, Gerda? Ulrich asked.
Gerdawavered. -I'm convincedtoo-shesaid-thatourculturewill perish i f something isn't done.
Ulrich jumped up. -My dear children! What concern is that of yours? Tell me what you're proposing to do with each other!
Hanssetaboutdefendinghisview. -Don'ttalkdowntous! It'squite certain that this hugger-mugger called culture will perish, and every- thing else along with it-and nothing will prevail against it but the New Man!
-But Hans overestimates the significance of love between people, Gerda added. - T h e New will also leave that behind.
Hans was really a melancholy person. An emerging impurity on his skin could put him in a bad mood for days, and that was no rare occur- rence, for in his petit-bourgeois family care of the skin did not rank very high. As in many Austrian families, it had stopped at the state it had reached before the middle of the nineteenth century: that is, every Sat-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 6 5 1
urday the bathtub or a wash trough would be filled with hot water, and this setved for the cleaning of the body that was forgone on all the other days. There were just as few other luxuries in Hans Sepp's family home. His father was a minor government functionary with a small salary and the prospect of an even scantier pension, which in view of his age was imminent, and the principles as well as the conduct of life in his parents' house were distinguished from those at the Fischels' about the way that a cardboard box carefully tied together with knotted bits of string, in which the common people pack their belongings for a journey, differs from a magnificent valise. I f he looked around, all that Hans Sepp could claim as a distinction was his German name, and it had taken him a long time before he learned to regard it as more than a gift of fate, on the day that he became acquainted with the view that being German meant being aristocratic. From that day forward he bore a noble name, and it is not necessary to waste words about how nice it is to know that one is personally distinguished; one should rather write a whole book about how one ought to want not to be distinguished but to distinguish oneself; but that would tum into a book that would be absolutely and completely unsocial.
The titles Count and Prince pale in comparison with the title Hans Sepp. No one today values belonging to a secret clan whose signs are an ox's head or three stars. On the other hand, to have a German name when one had German sentiments was, among lower-class youth in Austria, a rarity. The friends through whom Hans had been introduced into the movement were named Vybiral and Bartolini. It had about it something of a symbolic cover, the miracle of the manifestation of the Holy Spirit, when one was named Hans and in addition had the family name of Sepp.
Hans Sepp felt himself one of the elect, and in the absence of a bath- room he acquired the ideal of racial purity. But within this ideal there is enclosed the ideal of purity of principles. In this way, even in his early years, Hans Sepp came to fight for all the commandments of morality, which is otherwise the privilege of the incapacity for sinning, and is a position in which one has no desire for any further changes. It is a quite remarkable thing when young people become enthusiastic about virtue: a union of fire and stubbornness.
This union is facilitated if there is the possibility of combining the af- firmation with a powerful negation. But in order to arrive at the real significance of such a negation, one must leave aside what is accidental, in this case the racial aspect, which is the form in which it expresses itself though not its sense.
But that was just the smaller and less serious advantage. Far greater is
1652 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
the advantage that a young person who adopts a negative view of the world makes the world into a comfortable nest. It is well-nigh impossible to demonstrate something as notorious as the meager intellectual con- tent of one of those novels that among the German public pass for pro- found; it is much easier to make this credible by saying that these novels aren't German, or at least it penetrates reality more easily. One should not (on the whole) underestimate the advantage of saying no to every- thing that is considered great and beautiful. For, first, one almost always hits upon something true, and second, determining it more precisely, and the process of proving it, are in all circumstances extremely difficult and, in terms ofhaving any effect, futile. In Germany there was once the ideal: "Test everything and keep the best"; this ideal ended in filth and scorn; it was the ideal of the dignified life and the cult of the home, which, in a time of obligatory specialization deprived of the aid of inter- connections, had the same inner consequence as the purposefulness of a snail: I'll hitch a ride on anything. One must never forget this impotence into which we have put ourselves if one wishes to understand the ideal- ism of maliciousness and evil. When the change of worldview to which every new outfitting ofhumanity is called stalls and becomes impossible, almost nothing remains but to say no to everything; the lowest point is always a point of rest and balance.
Closing one's eyes and gently touching one's leg is the simplest pic- ture of the world one can have.
So there are two main kinds of pessimism. One is the pessimism of weltschmerz, which despairs of everything; the other is the contempo- rary kind, which exempts one's own person from the process. It is quite understandable that when one is young one would rather consider other
people bad than oneself. This was the service that the German world- view performed for Hans Sepp. He did not so soon experience the futil- ity of ordering his ideas, he could free himself from everything that oppresses us by calling it "un-German," and he could appear ideal to himself without having to restrain himself from besmirching I scorning the ideals of everyone else.
However, the most remarkable aspect of Hans Sepp was still a third
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 6 5 3
thing. But one should not be deceived by this manner of presentation, taking one thing after another; in reality these reasons were not layers swimming atop one another; any two of them were always dissolved in a third. And what needs to be added to the two reasons named above can perhaps be called, in a correspondingly broad sense, "religious. " If one were to have asked Hans Sepp whether, in school, he had believed in the teaching of his catechist, he would have answered indignantly that the German must cut himself loose from Rome and its Jew religion, but it would also not have been possible to win him over to Luther, whom he would have characterized as a pusillanimous compromiser with the Spirit of the World. Hans Sepp's religion did not fit any of the three great European religions; it was a plant of unintelligible ancestry run to seed.
This wild religious nature of nationalism is very peculiar.
Break off This would be the place to develop the possibility of the Other Condition as something like the component freed by the weather- ing of religion as well as of liberal heroism.
Perhaps as a supplement to Lindner religious development. But in contrast to Professor August Lindner, God had never once appeared to Hans Sepp. In spite ofthat, or indeed perhaps just because ofit, because he could not bring his vague feelings of faith and love into the solid framework of religion, they were in him especially wild.
One cannot say whether it is a remnant of bisexuality, the remnant of another primitive stage, or the lost natural tenderness of life, this need to make a community out of people. To feel every action inwardly, that is, a symbol . . .
Of this kind his love for Gerda, which is really less for the woman than for the person.
His misunderstanding of Ulrich, whom he considers a rationalist be- cause he does not understand the difficulty ofwhat Ulrich has an intima- tion of, and because he makes things easy for himself through community, insolent youthful hordes, etc.
(Definition after Unger: Symbol. View sees in those events we can not incorporate in any order (e. g. , those of the Pentateuch) images to repre-
1654 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
sent the higher world that our consciousness cannot grasp in any other
way. )
Excitement also in the air as the guests left Diotima's house! Gusts of wind ran behind waves of darkness; the streetlamps reeled in their light on one side and let it flow out widely on the other; the leaves in the canopies of the trees pulled and tugged at their thin stems, or suddenly became quite still, as if on command; the clouds played high above the rooftops with the pale fire of the moon like dogs playing with a brown cat; pushed it, jumped over it, and when they retreated, it cowered with arched back, motionless in their midst. Ulrich had fallen in with Gerda and Hans Sepp; all three were surprised that it had already got dark.
Feuermaul had had an effect on Gerda. It seemed to her horribly ruthless that one is an "I," calmly mirrored in the eyes of a "you. " She applied it to the whole nation. To universal love. It was a new emotion; how was it to be understood? One is no longer linked with just one other person. That's basically always horrible; one can't stir on account of the other; in spite of love one must feel a lot of resentment. It's also quite unnatural; the only natural thing is getting together to raise a brood, but not for one's whole life, and not because of oneself, or love. Individual love seemed to her like a snowman, hard, cold; on the other hand, ifthe same thing is spread like a blanket over the whole field . . . she imagined life beneath the pure soft snow cover that hovered before her, warm and protecting every seed. -Strange-Gerda thought-that I happened to think of a snowman! But then she still felt only the other, distant, soft, melting-even ifthat was not quite the case! -Loving many, many peo- ple! she said to herself softly. And it was like: Sleeping with everyone; but with no one so brutally to the very end, but only as in a dream that is never quite clear. Kissing everybody, but the way a child lets itself be stroked. To say something nice to everyone, but not giving anyone the right to forbid her saying it to his enemy as well . . . She felt happy and anxious as she portrayed this to herself, like a tender being that has to slip through rough hands until the hands, fumbling beside it, also learn to be tender.
"A happy-anxious soul": that had been in one of Feuermaul's poems, as if the poet had uttered this expression for no one else but her, the unla10wn girl. From far away word was dispatched to her, a man who lmew nothing about her had sent out this word and still had no idea that the word had already found her; but she lmew it, for she bore his word in
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 655
her breast, which he would never see: That seemed to her like a mar- riage through magic. Gerda thought over whether she really had a hap- pily anxious soul. She had one that constantly hovered between happiness and fear, without quite making contact with either. Was that the same thing? She was not certain of it, but she felt herself really hov- ering like a moonbeam in the roaring night, filled with love and free of all misfortune, which rarely happened to her. She squinted over at Ul- rich, who was walking mutely beside her; he frightened her and only occasionally gave her a little happiness. Ulrich noticed that she was look- ing at him; he was angry with h e r . -The first time some blockhead bab- bles at you in verses you overflow! he said, smiling; but there was really some pain in this smile. -Didn't you notice that this person is the most vain and selfish creature in the world?
Gerda answered quite seriously. -You're right, he's weak; Stefan George is greater. She named her favorite poet-she knew that Ulrich had an aversion to him as well. She was a little drunk with happiness and felt: - I can love two people who hate each other. At this moment she was all love.
But at this moment Hans Sepp pushed forward from the other side; jealous restlessness impelled him, for Gerda and Ulrich had been speak- ing softly, and he only half understood; he did not want to be left out.
-Feuermaul is a prattler! he exclaimed angrily.
- O h , why! Ulrich said.
-Because!
They were just passing beneath a streetlamp. Hans wanted to stop,
because his mouth was full ofwords. But Ulrich did not stop. Hans was dragged on like a screaining child and emptied his words into the dark- ness. Gerda knew them all. The Beyond, contemplation, Christ, Edda, Gautama Buddha, and then the punishment meant for her: Feuermaul, as a Jew, had appropriated these things with his intelligence but in- wardly had no idea what they were about. She looked straight ahead, and even at the next streetlamp did not look at Hans. In the darkness she felt his dark mouth wide open at her side. It made her shudder. She did not understand that Hans no longer knew what he was saying. The darkness was terrible for him. He imagined that the two of them were laughing at him. He knew no bounds, and his words poured out as if each were try- ing to trample the next, the way people do in a panic.
In between, Gerda heard Ulrich speaking quietly and objectively, seeking to divert this storm. -The emotional scribbler-he said-is in himself the most vain and self-seeking person in the world; something like women who have no understanding, only their love. What would happen ifthese people became you-seeking? . . .
1656 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Gerda liked Ulrich's words rather better than Hans's, but they, too, made her cold. With a hasty good-bye, she left the two of them standing there and ran up the steps. Hans gasped for air, hardly touched his hat, and left Ulrich.
But he stopped at the next comer and under cover of darkness looked to see what Ulrich was going to do. Ulrich went home, and Hans began to have regrets. He knew that Gerda's parents would be home late today; Gerda was alone, and he could imagine how much his churlish behavior must be eating at her. He saw light in a window and ran away in order not to go weak. But he only ran around the block, then without stopping went up the steps. He was still excited; his clothes sat on him angrily, the dark-blond hair over his forehead was standing crookedly in the air, and his cheeks had disappeared beneath his cheekbones.
-Forgive mel he begged. -I've behaved badly.
Gerda looked at him without understanding why he was there; her emotions had grown deaf.
- I don't know what I said, Hans went on. - I t was probably some- thing ugly. But you're so far gone that you can't even separate Jewish spuriousness and your ideals!
-Ulrich's not a Jew! Gerda said spontaneously. -A nd I forbid you- she added-to speak that way about Jews! For the first time she dared to say such a thing.
- I was speaking of Feuermaul! Hans corrected her. - B u t this Jew- ish poet we heard today might at least be said to have great and honest feelings if his race permitted it, but Ulrich, your father's friend, is ten times worse! Gerda was sitting in an easy chair and looked at Hans doubtingly. Hans was standing in front of her; her behavior unnerved him. - I f someone acts-he said-like Feuermaul, as if he had seized hold of the true life, he's a swindler. The Beyond withholds itself; out-of- body contemplation reveals itself only rarely and intermittently. There are whole centuries that know nothing about it. But it is Germanic, nev- ertheless, never to lose the feeling here below of the Beyond that shim- mers through.
-Since I have known you, every second thing you've said has been about out-of-body contemplation-Gerda countered, eager to attack- but you haven't ever, not one single time, really seen anything! Tell me what you've seen! Words!
Hans implored Gerda not to lose her strength! She ought not to be so sensitive, not want to be so clever! She should get away from this Ulrich!
From the Posthumous Papers · z657
-Where does "sensitive" come from? he exclaimed. -From the senses! It's sensualistic and base!
For heaven's sake, Gerda knew that; but it had never seemed to her so hurdy-gurdy. - I f I want, I will also love a Jew, she thought, and thought of Feuermaul. A very gentle smile struggled with the anger in her face. Hans misunderstood it; he thought the tenderness in the resistance was for him. He was so excited by everything that had gone on before that he thought he would break into pieces right then and there. Over Gerda's face there is a breath of the Orient, it occurred to him at this moment, and in the same moment he thought he understood that what he loved most secretly about her was the other-racial, the Jewish; he, with his melancholy, who never felt sure of himself! Hans broke down. He hardly knew what was happening to him; he hid his face against Gerda's legs, and she felt that he was weeping in despair. That tore at her breast like the wild, covetous fingers of a small child; she, too, was suddenly excited, and tears were running down her cheeks without her knowing whether she was weeping over Hans, Feuermaul, herself, or Ulrich. So they gazed into each other's eyes with crumpled faces, when Hans raised his from her lap. He lifted himself half up and reached for her face.
Y outh's ecstatic desire for words came from his mouth. - T h e r e are only three ways back to the Great Truth, he exclaimed. -Suicide, madness, or making ourselves a symbol! She did not understand that. Why suicide or madness? She connected no filled-out notions with these words. -Perhaps Hans doesn't ever know exactly what he means, went through her head. But somehow, if one got free of oneself through sui- cide or madness, it seemed to be almost as high as being uplifted by some mystic union. Madness, death, and love have always been closely linked in the consciousness of humanity. She did not know why; she did not even think of posing such a question. But the three words, which made no sense as an idea, had somehow come together at this moment in a trembling young person who was holding Gerda's face in his hands as if he were holding in them the deepest import of his life. What they then went on talking about did not matter at all; the great experience was that they said to each other what shook them. Whoever would have heard them wouldn't have understood them; entwined, they pressed forward to God's knee and thought they saw His finger. I t was possible, since this scene was being played out in the Fischels' dining room, that this finger pointing the way out of the world and into their own consis- ted partly of the tasteless self-conscious pictures and furnishings that gave them the feeling of having nothing to do with the universe of the bourgeois.
1658 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
One evening several days after this (the) musical evening in the stu- dio, Gerda appeared at Ulrich's, after having called excitedly on the tele- phone. With a dramatic swoop she removed her hat from her head and threw it on a chair. To the question of what was up, she answered: -Now everything's been blown sky-high!
-Has Hans run off?
-Papa's broke! Gerda laughed nervously at her slangy expression. Ulrich recalled that the last time he had been with Director Fischel he had wondered at the kind oftelephone conversations the latter had been conducting from his house; but this recollection was not vivid enough to enable him to take Gerda's exclamation with complete seriousness.
-Papa was a gambler-imagine! the excited girl, struggling between merriment and despair, went on to explain. -W e all thought he was a solid bank official with no great prospects, but yesterday evening it came out that the whole time he had been making the riskiest stock specula- tions! You ought to have been there for the blowup! Gerda threw herself on the chair beside her hat and boldly swung one leg over the other. - H e came home as ifhe'd been pulled out of the river. Mama rushed at him with bicarbonate and chamomile, because she thought he was feel- ing ill. It was eleven-thirty at night; we were already asleep. Then he confessed that in three days he had to come up with lots of money and had no idea where it was to come from. Mama, splendid, offered him her dowry. Mama is always splendid; what would the few thousand crowns have meant to a gambler! But Papa went on to confess that Mama's little fortune had long since been lost along with everything else. What can I tell you? Mama screamed like a dog that's been run over. She had on nothing but her nightgown and slippers. Papa lay in an armchair and moaned. His job ofcourse is also gone once this gets out. I tell you, it was pitiable!
-Shall I speak to your father? Ulrich asked. -1 don't understand much about such things. Do you think he might do something to him- self?
Gerda shrugged her shoulders. -T oday he's trying to convince one of his unsullied business friends to help him. She suddenly turned gloomy. - 1 hope you don't think that that's why I've come to you? Mama moved out to her brother's today; she wanted to take me with her, but I won't go; I've run away from home-she had become cheerful again. -Do you know that behind the whole thing there's a woman, some sort of chanteuse? Mama found that out, and that was the last straw. Good for Papal Who would ever have thought him capable of all that! And no, I
From the Posthumous Papers · 1659
don't think he'll kill himself, she went on. -Because when it afteiWard came out about the woman, today, in the course ofthe day, he said some remarkable things: he would rather let himself be locked up and after- ward earn his bread by hawking pornographic books than go on being Director Fischel with family!
-But what's most important to me--Ulrich asked-what do you in- tend to do?
- I ' m staying with friends, Gerda said saucily. - Y o u don't need to wony!
- W i t h Hans Sepp and his friends! Ulrich exclaimed reproachfully.
- N o one's going to bother me there!
Gerda inspected Ulrich's house. Like shadows, the memory of what
had once happened here stepped out of the walls. Gerda felt herself to be a poor girl who possessed nothing outside of a few crowns, which in leaving she had, with amazing ease and freedom, taken from her mother's desk. She was sony for herself. She was inclined to weep over herself as over a tragic figure on the stage. One really ought to do some- thing good for her, she thought, but she hardly expected that Ulrich would take her comfortingly in his arms. Except that if he had, she would not have been such a coward as she had been the first time. But Ulrich said: - Y o u won't let me help you now, Gerda, I see that; you're still much too proud of your new adventure. I can only say that I fear a bad outcome for you. Remember, please, that you always, without hesi- tation, can call upon me ifyou need to. He said this reflectively and hesi- tantly, for he really could have said something else that would have been more kind. Gerda had stood up, fiddled with her hat before the mirror, and smiled at Ulrich. She would have liked to kiss him good-bye, but then it might well not have come to a good-bye; and the stream of tears that was running invisibly behind her eyes bore her like a tenderly tragic music that one cannot interrupt out into the new life which she could still not quite picture to herself.
Hans Sepp was forced to double-step, kneel down in puddles in the barracks yard, present arms and put them down again until his arms fell off. The corporal torturing him was a green peasant boy, and Hans stared uncomprehendingly into his apoplectic young face, which ex- pressed not only anger, which would have been understandable because he was forced to do extra duty with this recruit, but all the malice of which a person is capable when he lets himself go. If Hans let his glance
1660 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
roam across the breadth of the yard-and a barracks yard has in and of itselfsomething inhuman, some locked-in regularity ofthe sort the dead world ofcrystals has-it rested on squatting and stiffiy running blue fig- ures painted on all the walls, meant to be assaulted with one's weapon; and this universal goal of being shot at was expressed in the abstract manner ofthese paintings well enough to drive one to despair. This had already weighed down Hans Sepp's heart in the first hour of his arrival. '! he people in these pictures painted on the barracks walls had no faces, but instead offaces only a bright area. Nor did they have bodies that the painter had captured in one of those positions such as people and ani- mals, following the play oftheir needs, assume ofthemselves, but bodies that consisted of a crude outline filled in with dark-blue paint, capturing for an eternity the attitude of a man running with a weapon in his hand, or a man kneeling and shooting, an eternity in which there will never again be anything so superfluous as the drawing of individual people. This was by no means unreasonable; the technical term for these figures was . . target surfaces," and ifa person is regarded as a target surface, that is the way he looks; this cannot be explained away (changed). From this one might conclude that one should never be allowed to regard a person as a target surface; but for heaven's sake, if that is the way he looks the minute you lay eyes on him, the temptation to look at him that way is enormous! Hans felt drawn again and again, during the tedium of his punishment drill, bythe demonic nature ofthese pictures, as ifhe were being tortured by devils; the corporal screamed at him that he was not to gawk around but to look straight ahead; with such raw language he liter- ally seized him by the eyes, and when Hans's glance then fell straight ahead, on the corporal's red face, this face looked warm and human.
Hans had the primitive sensation of having fallen into the hands of a strange tribe and been made a slave. Whenever an officer appeared and glided past on the other side of the yard, an uninvolved, slender silhou- ette, he seemed to Hans Sepp like one of the inexorable gods of this alien tribe. Hans was treated severely and badly. An official communica- tion from the civil authorities had come to the army at the same time he had, characterizing him as . . politically unreliable," and in Kakania that was the term used for individuals hostile to the state. He had no idea who or what had gained him this reputation. Except for his participation in the demonstration against Count Leinsdorf, he had never undertaken anything against the state, and Count Leinsdorf was not the state; since he had become a student, Hans Sepp had spoken only ofthe community of Germanic peoples, of symbols, and of chastity. But something must have come to the ear of the authorities, and the ear of the authorities is like a piano from which seven ofevery eight strings have been removed.
From the Posthumous Papers · I 6 6 I
Perhaps his reputation had been exaggerated; at any rate, he came to the anny with the reputation of being an enemy of war, the military, reli- gion, the Habsburgs, and the Austrian state, suspected of plotting in se- cret associations and pan-German intrigues directed at "the goal of overthrowing the existing order of the state. "
But the situation in the Kakanian military with regard to all these crimes was such that the greatest part of all capable reserve officers could be accused of them without further ado. Almost every German Austrian had the natural sentiment of solidarity with the Germans in the Reich and of being only provisionally separated from it by the sluggish capacity of the historical process, while every non-German Austrian had (making the necessary allowances) twice as much feeling of this kind di- rected against Kakania; patriotism in Kakania, to the extent that it was not limited to purveyors to the Court, was distinctly a phenomenon of opposition, betraying either a spirit of contradiction or that tepid opposi- tion to life which constantly has need of something finer and higher. The only exception to this was Count Leinsdorf and his friends, who had the "higher" in their blood. But the active officers (of the standing anny) were also just as implicated in these reproaches that an unlotown author- ity had raised against Hans Sepp. These officers were for the most part German Austrians, and insofar as they were not, they admired the Ger- man anny; and since the Kakanian parliament did not appropriate half as many soldiers or warships as the German Reichstag, they all felt that not everything about the pan-Germanic claims could be reprehensible. Then too, they were all antidemocratic and latent revolutionaries. They had been raised from childhood to be the bulwark ofpatriotism, with the result that this word aroused in them a silent nausea. They had finally got used to leading their soldiers in the Corpus Christi procession and letting the recruits practice "kneel down for prayers" in the barracks yard, but among themselves they called the regimental chaplain Corpo-
ral Christ, and for the rank of field bishop, which was associated with a certain fullness of body, these heathens had thought up the anny name "skyball. "
When they were among themselves, they did not even take it amiss if someone was an enemy of the military, for over a fairly long period of service most of them had become that way themselves, and there were even pacifists in Kakania's anny. But this does not mean that later on, in the war, they did not do their duty with as much enthusiasm as their comrades in other countries; on the contrary, one always thinks differ- ently from the way one acts. This fact, of such extraordinary importance for the condition of world civilization as we know it today, is ordinarily understood to mean that thinking is a charming habit of the individual
1662 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
citizen, without damaging which, when it comes to action, one joins in with what is customary and what everyone is doing. This is not quite true, however, for there are people who are totally unoriginal in their thinking; but when they act, they often do so in a vexy personal way, which, because it is more appealing, is superior to their ideas, or, be- cause it is more common, inferior to them, in any case more idiosyn- cratic. One comes closer to the truth ifone does not stop with the object ofthe action, as opposed to the idea, but recognizes from the beginning that one is dealing with two different kinds of ideas. A person's idea ceases to be only an idea whenever a second person thinks something similar, and between these two something happens, even if it is only being aware ofeach other, that makes them a pair. Even then the idea is no longer pure possibility but acquires an additional component ofancil- lary considerations. But this might be a sophism or an artifice. Neverthe- less, the fact remains that evexy powerful idea goes out into the world of reality and permeates it the way energy enters a malleable material and finally rigidifies in it, without entirely losing its effectiveness as an idea. Everywhere, in schools, in lawbooks, in the aspect of houses in the city and fields in the country, in newspaper offices awash in currents of superficiality, in men's trousers and women's hats, in everything where people exercise and receive influence, ideas are encapsulated or dis- solved in varying degrees offixity and content. This is ofcourse no more than a platitude, but we are hardly always aware ofits extent, for it really amounts to nothing less than a monstrous, inside-out, third half of the brain. This third half does not think; it emits emotions, habits, experi- ences, limits, and directions, nothing but unconscious or half-conscious influences, among which individual thinking is as much and as little as a tiny candle flame in the stony darlmess ofa gigantic warehouse. And not last among these are the ideas held in reserve, which are stored like uni- forms for wartime. The moment something extraordinary begins to spread, they climb out of their petrification. Evexy day bells peal, but when a big fire breaks out or a people is called to arms, one sees for the first time the sort of feelings that have been clanging and churning in- side them. Evexy day the newspapers casually write certain sentences that they habitually use to characterize habitual happenings, but ifa rev- olution threatens or something new is about to happen, it suddenly ap- pears that these words no longer suffice and that in order to ward off or welcome, one must reach back for the oldest hats in the store and the spooks in the closet. The mind enters evexy great general mobilization, whether for peace or for war, unequipped and laden down with forgot- ten things.
Hans had fallen into this disproportion between the personal and the
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1663
general, between living and reserve principles. In other circumstances, people would have been satisfied to find him not very likable, but the official document had raised him out of the midst of private individuals and made him an object of public thought, and had admonished his su- periors that they were to apply to him not their uneducated, highly varia- ble personal feelings, but the generally accepted ones that made them vexed and bored and that can at any moment degenerate wildly, like the actions of a drunk or a hysteric who feels quite distinctly that he is stuck inside his frenzy as inside a strange, oversize husk.
But one should not think that Hans was being mistreated, or that im- permissible things were being done to him: on the contrary, he was treated strictly according to regulations. All that was missing was that iota of human warmth-no, one cannot call it warmth; but coal, fuel, on hand to be used on a suitable occasion-which even in a barracks still finds a niche. Through the absence of the possibility of any personal sympathy, the right-angled buildings, the monotonous walls with the blue figures, the ruler-straight corridors with the innumerable parallel diagonal lines ofguns hanging on them, and the trumpet signals and reg- ulations that divided up the day, all had the effect ofthe clear, cold crys- tallizing of a spirit that till then had been alien to Hans Sepp, that spirit of the commonality, of public life, of impersonal community, or what- ever it should be called, which had created this building and these forms.
The most crushing thing was that he felt that his whole spirit of con- tradiction had been blown away. He could, of course, have thought of himself as a missionary being tortured by some Indian tribe. Or he could have expunged the din of the world from his senses and immersed him- selfin the currents ofthe transcendental. He could have looked upon his sufferings as a symbol, and so forth. But since a military cap had been clapped on his head, all these thoughts had become like impotent shad- ows. The sensitive world of the mind paled to a specter, which here, where a thousand people lived together, could not penetrate. His mind was desolate and withered.
Hans Sepp had settled Gerda with the mother of one of his friends. He saw her rarely, and then he was mostly surly from fatigue and de- spair. Gerda wanted to make herself independent; she did not want any- thing from him; but she had no way of understanding the events to which he was exposed. Several times she had had the idea ofpicking him up after his daily duty, as if he were his usual self and was just coming from some kind ofevent. Lately he had taken to avoiding her. He did not even have the strength to let it bother him. In the pauses during the day, those irregular pauses that fell at the most useless times, he hung around
1664 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
with the other conscripts doing their year of military service, drank brandy and coffee in the canteen, and sat in the disconsolate flood of their conversations and jokes as in a dirty creek, without being able to make up his mind to stand up. Now for the first time he came to hate the soldier class, because he felt himself subjected to its influence. - M y mind is now nothing more than the lining of a military coat, he said to himself; but he felt astonishingly tempted to test the new movements in this clothing. It happened that even after duty he stayed with the others and tried out the rather coarse diversions of these half-independent young people.
An elegant gentleman had his car stop and called out to Ulrich; with effort Ulrich recognized in the self-confident apparition (that leaned out of the elegant vehicle) Director Leo Fischel. -Y ou're in luck! Fischel called to him. -M y secretary's been trying for weeks to get hold ofyou! She was always told you were away. -He was exaggerating, but this magisterial confidence in his manner was genuinely impressive.
Ulrich said softly: - 1 thought I'd find you in much different shape.
- W h a t have you been hearing about me? Fischel probed, curious.
- 1 think pretty much everything. For a long time I've been expecting
to hear about you through the newspapers.
-Nonsense! Women always exaggerate. Won't you accompany me
home? I'll tell you all about it.
The house had changed, taken on an aura of the top offices of some
business enterprise or other, and had become totally unfeminine. But Fischel said nothing specific. He was more concerned with shoring up his reputation with Ulrich. He treated his departure from the bank as a minor incident. -What did you expect? I could have stayed there for ten years without getting anywhere! My leaving was entirely amicable. He had taken on such a self-important manner of speaking that Ulrich felt constrained to express his illy astonishment at it. -But you had ruined yourself so completely-he said inquiringly-that people as- sumed you had to either shoot yourself or end up in court.
-I'd never shoot myself, I'd poison myself, Leo corrected. -1 wouldn't do anyone the favor of dying like an aristocrat or a section chief! But it wasn't at all necessary. Do you know what a "starching," a transitory illiquidity, is? Well! My family made a ridiculous to-do about it that they're very sorry for today!
From the Posthumous Papers · z665
- B y the way, you never said a word-Ulrich exclaimed, having just thought ofit-about becoming Leona's friend; I should at least have had the right to know that!
-Do you have any idea how this woman behaved toward me? Shameless! Her upbringing!
- I always left Leona the way she is. I suppose that with her natural stupidity she'll end up in a few years as a pensioner in a brothel.
- F a r from it! Moreover, I'm not as heartless as you, my friend. I've tried to arouse Leona's reason a little and, so to speak, her economic understanding, as far as they apply to the exploitation of her body. And on the evening when my illiquidity began to make itself palpable to me, I went to her to borrow a few hundred crowns, which I assumed Leona would have laid aside. You ought to have heard this harpy scolding me for being a skinflint, a robber; she even cursed my religion! The one thing she didn't claim was that I had robbed her of her innocence. But you're wrong about Leona's future; do you know who her friend is now, right after me?
He bent over to Ulrich and whispered a name in his ear; he did this more out of respect than because the whispering was necessary.
-W hat do you say to that? You have to admit she's a beauty.
Ulrich was astounded. The name Fischel had whispered to him was Arnheim.
Ulrich asked after Gerda. Fischel blew his soul's breath out through pursed lips; his face became anxious and betrayed secret worries. He raised his shoulders and slackly let them fall again. - I thought that you might know where she's staying.
- I have a suspicion-Ulrich answered-but I don't know. I assume she's taken a job.
-Job! As what? As governess in a family with small children! Just think, she takes a job as a domestic servant when she could have every luxury! Just yesterday I concluded a deal on a house, top location, with an apartment that's a palace by itself: But no, no, no! Fischel beat his face with his fists; his pain about his daughter was genuine, or at least was the genuine pain that she was preventing him from enjoying his vic- tory completely.
