"There's a lot ofselfishness and
instinctive
need for protection and such things in it," Ulrich ventured, but added that it could also be, at least at certain stages, a real passion.
Musil - Man Without Qualities - v2
Ifyou're supposed to love the whole
world, the way you are today? What is it then that you're loving? You would say: 'Nothing special'! " Agathe laughed.
"Haven't you noticed, too, that today it's downright disturbing if you happen to meet a person who is so beautiful that you have to say something personal about it? '' he asked her.
'Then it's not a feeling about the real world and the real person! " she said firmly.
"So then we have to tackle the question as to what part of this per- son it's true of, or what metamorphosis and transformation of the real person and the real world," Ulrich said, softly but emphatically.
After a short pause, Agathe answered, with a timid conscience: "Perhaps that is the real person? '' But Ulrich hesitantly resisted this, shaking his head.
Shining through the content of this inquiring assertion there was,
From the Posthumous Papers · z197
no doubt, a profound obviousness. The breezes and delights of these days were so tender and merry that the impression arose spontane- ously that man and world must be showing themselves as they really were: this transparency harbored a small, odd, suprasensory shud- der, such as is glimpsed in the flowing transparency of a brook, a transparency that allows the glance to see to the bottom but, when it arrives there, wavering, makes the mysterious colored stones look like fish scales, and beneath them what the glance had thought it was experiencing is truly concealed, without possibility of access. Agathe, surrounded by sunshine, needed only to disengage her glance a little to have the feeling of having stumbled into a supernatural domain; for the shortest interval she could easily imagine that she had come in contact with a higher truth and reality, or at least had come upon an aspect of existence where a little door behind the earth mysteri- ously indicated the way from the earthly garden into the beyond. But when she again limited the range of her glance to an ordinary span and let life's glare stream in on her once more, she saw whatever might actually happen to be there: perhaps a little flag being waved to and fro by a child's hand, merrily and without any kind of puzzled thought; a police wagon with prisoners, its black-green paint spar- kling in the light; or a man with a colorful cap contentedly turning a pile of manure; or finally a company of soldiers, whose shouldered rifles were pointing their barrels at the sky. All this seemed to have had poured over it something related to love, and everyone also seemed more ready to open themselves to this feeling than usual: but to believe that the empire oflove was now really happening would be just as difficult, Ulrich said, as imagining that at this moment no dog could bite or no person do anything evil.
The same happened with all the other attempts at explanation, which had in common with this one that they opposed some kind of person who was far off and true to people who were everyday, earth- bound, and bad and good, but at all events people as we know them. Brother and sister examined these ideal types one after the other, and could not believe in any of them. There was the feeling that on such festive days nature brought forth in her creatures all their hid- den goodness and beauty. Then there were the more psychological explanations, that people in this transparent, nuptial air did not show themselves as different in some magical way, but still displayed
Izg8 • THE MAN w·ITH0UT QUALITIES
themselves so as to be as lovable as they would like to be and saw themselves as being: sweating their egotism and inward-turned in- dulgence, as it were, out through their pores. And finally there is also the variation that people were showing their goodwill; to be sure, this cannot prevent them from doing evil, but emerges miraculously and unscathed on days like these from the evil will that usually governs them, like Jonah from the belly of the whale. But the most succinct explanation one heard was that this is the immortal part of man, which shimmers through the mortal part. All these imputations had in common that they located the real person in a part of him that, among the insubstantial remainder, does not come into play; and if the promising contact with this real self was a process clearly di- rected upward, there was also a second, no less abundant group of explanations, which directed this process just as clearly downward: these were all those according to which man is supposed to have lost his natural innocence through intellectual arrogance and all kinds of misfortune brought upon him by civilization. There are, therefore, two genuine people, who appear to the mind with the greatest punc- tuality in the same, constantly recurring situations, yet both these types-the one a divine superman, the other an animal-like infra- man-were on opposite sides of the person as he really is. Finally, Ulrich remarked dryly: "The only trait that remains as common, and also very characteristic, is that even when he is being good, a person does not seek the true person in himself but takes himself to be something else 'plus or minus'! "
But here brother and sister had arrived at a borderline case of that love for another that is so problematic and so gently entwines every- thing within it, and Agathe sighed in vexation, but not without charm. "Then all that remains of all this is just a 'mood'! " she said, disappointed. "The sun is shining. You get into a frame of mind! "
Ulrich added to this: "The social instincts stretch themselves out in the sun like mercury in the thermometer tube, at the expense of the egotistic instincts, which otherwise hold them more or less in bal- ance. Perhaps nothing else. "
"So an 'unconscious craving' like a schoolgirl's or schoolboy's! " Agathe continued. "They would like to kiss the whole world and have no idea why! So we can't say any more than that either? ''
They had suddenly become tired offeeling; and it sometimes hap-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1199
pened that in such a conversation, dealing only with their capacity for feeling, they neglected to use it. Also, because the surfeit of emotions that could nowhere find an outlet actually hurt, they sometimes got back at it with a little ingratitude. But when they had both spoken in this fashion, Agathe quickly looked sidelong at her brother. "That would," she protested, "be saying too little! "
The moment she said this, they both felt once more that they were not just relying on some subjective fantasy but were facing an invisi- ble reality. Truth was hovering in the mood inundating them, reality was under the appearance, transformation of the world gazed out of the world like a shadow! The reality about which they felt so expect- ant was, to be sure, remarkably lacking a nucleus and only half com- prehensible, and it was a long-intimate half-truth, familiar and unfulfillable, that wooed credibility: not an everyday reality and truth for everyone, but a secret one for lovers. Obviously, it was not just caprice or delusion either, and its most mysterious insinuation whis- pered: "Just leave yourself to me without mistrust, and you'll dis- cover the whole truth! " Giving an account of this was so difficult because the language of love is a secret language and in its highest perfection is as silent as an embrace.
The thought "secret language" had the effect of making Agathe dimly recall that it was written somewhere: ''Whosoever abides in love abides in God, and God in him. He who has not love does not know God. " She did not know where.
Ulrich on the other hand, because she had said before that it was "just a mood," was considering an idea as sweetly temperate as the sound of a flute. One had only to assume that such a mood of being in love was not always just a transitory special state but was also, beyond its immediate occasion, capable of enduring and spreading; in other words, all you had to assume was that a person could be a lover alone and in accordance with his enduring being, in exactly the same way that he can be indifferent, and this would lead him to a totally changed way of life: indeed, presumably it would take him to an en- tirely unfamiliar world that would be present in his mind without his having to be considered mentally ill. This thought, that everything could be made different by one small step, indeed just by a move- ment that the mind merely had to let happen, was extremely seduc- tive. And suddenly Ulrich asked his sister with curiosity: ''What do
I. 200 • THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
you think would happen if we were to stop one of these people and say to him: 'Brother, stay with us! ' or 'Stop, 0 hastening soul'? ''
"He would look at us flabbergasted," Agathe replied.
"And then unobtrusively double his pace, or call a policeman," Ul- rich finished.
"He would probably think he'd fallen in with good-natured mad- men," Agathe added.
"But ifwe were to yell at him: 'You criminal, you piece of nothing! ' he probably wouldn't consider us crazy," Ulrich noted with amuse- ment, "but would merely take us to be 'people who think differently,' or 'members of a different party,' who had turned angry at him. "
Agathe frowned, smiling, and then they both again gazed into the human current that was pulling them along and flowing against them. Together they felt again the self-forgetfulness and power, the happiness and goodness, the deep and elevated constraint, that pre- dominate inside a vital human community, even if it is only the con-, tingent community of a busy street, so that one does not believe that there could also be anything bad or divisive; and their own sense of existence, that sharply bounded and difficult having-been-placed- here, that basic happiness and basic hostility, stood in marvelous contrast to this communal scene. They both thought the same; but they also thought differently, without its being obvious. They guessed each other's meaning; but sometimes they guessed wrongly. And gradually an indolence, indeed a paralysis of thinking, emanated from this double-pearled juxtaposition on the oyster shell of the world, as Ulrich called it rather scornfully, and they then parried it by laughing at each other, or about something.
But when this happened again Agathe said: "It always makes me so sadwhen we're forced to laugh at ourselves; and I don't know why I have to. "
Ulrich replied: "Nothing is funnier than opening one's eyes tore- ality when they're still filled with the inner soul! "
But Agathe did not pick up on this; she repeated: "Everything re- mains so uncertain. It seems to draw itselftogether and then extend itself again, without any shape. It pennits no activity, and the inac- tivity becomes unbearable. I can't even say that I really love these people, or that I love these real people, as they are when we look at them. I'm afraid our own feelings are pretty unreal! "
From the Posthumous Papers · I . 20 I
"But these people respond to each other in exactly the same way! " Ulrich retorted. "They want to love each other, yet at the decisive moment they think antipathy is more natural and healthier! So it's the same for everyone: We feel that real life has snapped off a possi- ble life! "
"But then tell me," Agathe retorted angrily, "why love always needs a church or a bed! "
"For heaven's sake"-Ulrich soothed his companion with a laugh-"don't speak so openly! " He touched her hand with his fin- gertips and went on, joking mysteriously: "All these people can also be called in public what you and I are in private: the unseparated but not united! "
It was not an assertion, merely a cajoling constellation of words, a joke, a candid little cloud of words; and they knew that feeling one- self chosen was the cheapest of all magic formulas and quite adoles- cent. Nevertheless, Ulrich's fraternal words slowly rose from the ground to a position above their heads. Agathe, too, now whispered jokingly: "Sometimes you feel your breath blow back from your veil still hot, like a pair of strange lips: that's how it sometimes seems to me-call it illusion or reality-that I'm you! " was her response, and her gentle smile drew silence closed like a curtain after it as it died away.
In such back-and-forth fashion they came to reproach the millions of loving couples who in their serious desire for certainty ask them- selves a hundred times a day whether they really and truly love each other, and how long it can last: who, however, don't have to fear con- juring up similar oddities.
1202
LOVE BLINDS. OR DIFFICULTIES WHERE THEY ARE NOT LOOKED FOR
Another of these world-oriented discussions went like this: "Then how would things stand when a love occurs between two so-called persons of different gender, which is as famous as it is gladly experi- enced? " Ulrich objected. "You probably are really partly in love with the person you think you're loving. "
"But what you're mostly doing is simply making a puppet of him! " Agathe interjected resentfully.
"In any event, what he says and thinks in the process also has its charm! "
"As long as you love him! Because you love him! But not the other way round! I f you've once understood how the other person means it, it's not only anger that's disarmed, as one always says, but for the most part love as well! "
Again it was Agathe who gave this passionate answer. Ulrich smiled. She must have banged her head pretty hard against this wall more than once.
"But at first you can like the other person's opinions, that's often involved in the beginning: the well-known marvelous 'agreeing about everything'; later, of course, you no longer understand it at all," he said placatingly, and asked: "But deeds? Does love depend on deeds? ''
"Only insofar as they embody a person's sentiments. Or tum the imagination into a sort of monument! "
"But didn't we just decide it wasn't so much a matter of senti- ments? '' Ulrich recalled teasingly.
"It doesn't depend on anything at alii" Agathe cried. "Not on what the other person is, not on what he thinks, not on what he wants, and not on what he does! There are times when you despise a person but love him all the same. And there are times when you love a person
From the Posthu'TTWUs Papers · 1 2 0 3
and have the secret feeling that this person with the beard (or breasts), whom you think you've known for a long time and . . . trea- sure, and who talks about himself incessantly, is really only visiting love. You could leave aside his sentiments and merits, you could change his destiny, you could give him a new beard or different legs-you could leave aside almost the whole person, and still love him! As far as you happen to love him at all," she added, mitigating her statement.
Her voice had a deep ring, with a restless glitter buried in its depths like a flame. She sat down guiltily, having involuntarily jumped up from her chair in her zeal.
Ulrich summed up the result in balanced fashion: "Both contra- dictions are always present and form a team of four horses: you love a person because you know him and because you don't know him; and you know him because you love him and don't know him because you love him. And sometimes that grows strong enough to become quite palpable. Those are the well-known moments when Venus gazes through Apollo and Apollo through Venus at an empty scare- crow, and each is mightily surprised at having seen something there before. If, furthermore, love is stronger than astonishment, it comes to a struggle between them, and sometimes out of this struggle love emerges-even if it is despairing, exhausted, and mortally wounded-as the victor. But if love is not that strong, it leads to a battle between the people involved, to insults intended to make up for having been played for a simpleton . . . to terrible incursions of reality . . . to utter degradation. . . . " He had participated in this stormy weather of love often enough to be at ease describing it.
Agathe interrupted him. "But I fmd that these marital and extramarital affairs of honor are usually greatly overrated! " she objected.
"Love as a whole is overrated! The maniac who in his delusion pulls a knife and stabs some innocent person who just happens to be standing in for his hallucination-in love he's the normal one! " Ul- rich said, and laughed.
Agathe, too, smiled as she looked at him.
Ulrich became serious. "It's odd enough to have to think that there really are no two people who can agree spontaneously, without
1204 • THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
their opinions and convictions being more or less powerfully in- fluenced," he noted thoughtfully, and for a while this gave the con- versation a somewhat different turn.
Brother and sister were sitting in Ulrich's room, on either side of the long, darkly shining desk of heavy wood, whose center was now empty because apparently Ulrich was not working on anything. Each of them had lazily posed an arm on the desk and was looking at a small papier-mache horse standing in the vacant middle ground be- tween them.
"Even in rational thinking, where everything has logical and objec- tive connections," Ulrich went on, "it's usually the case that you un- reservedly recognize the superior conviction of someone else only if you have submitted to him in some way, whether as a model and guide, or as a friend or teacher. But without such a feeling, which has nothing to do with the case, every time you make someone else's opinion your own, it will only be with the silent reservation that you can do more with it than its originator; if indeed you weren't already out to show this fellow what unsuspected importance his idea really contained! Especially in art, most of us certainly know it would be impossible for us to do ourselves what we read, see, and hear; but we still have the patronizing awareness that ifwe were able to do any of these things, we could of course do them better! And perhaps it has to be that way, and lies in the active nature of the mind, which doesn't allow itself be filled up like an empty pot," Ulrich concluded, "but actively appropriates everything, and literally has to make it part of itself. "
He would gladly have added something more that occurred to him, and it would not let him rest, so he was already giving vent to his scruple before Agathe had any chance to respond. "But we should also ask ourselves," he suggested, "what sort of life would arise if all this were not so unfavorable. Our feelings ultimately want to be han- dled quite roughly, it appears, but in the other borderline case- when we assimilate someone else's sentiments without resistance, when we submit completely to someone else's feelings, indeed, when we reach a pure agreement with a second understanding-is there not a happiness that is pathologically tender, in fact almost anti-intellectual? And how could this light be produced without the shadow? '' This thought made him want to linger over the conversa-
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1 2 0 5
tion; but although the idea was not entirely alien to Agathe either, she was occupied at the moment with smaller concerns. She looked at her brother for a while without speaking, struggling against what was coming over her, but then made up her mind to ask the offensive question, as casually as possible, whether that meant he had arrived at the considered conviction that "even only two people" could never be of one mind, and lovers under no circumstances whatever?
Ulrich was almost at the point of expressing through a gesture that this was neither to be taken as real nor worth talking about, when he was struck by his sister's misplaced warmth; he had to suppress a smile at this suspicious inquisitiveness, but in doing so lost his own more serious inquisitiveness and fell back again into the interrupted meny flow ofhis initial jokingway oftalking. "You yourselfbegan by belittling love! " he replied.
"Let's leave it at that! " Agathe decreed magnanimously. "Let's leave it at people not agreeing, when they're in love. But in ordinary life, which is certainly nothing less than loving, you must admit that all kinds of people have similar convictions and that that plays an enormous role! "
"They only think they have them! " Ulrich broke in.
"They agree with each other! "
"The agreement is imposed on them! People are like a fire that
immediately shoots out in all directions unless there's a stone on top! "
"But aren't there, for instance, generally prevailing opinions? " Agathe asked, intending to keep up with her brother.
"Now you're saying it yourself! " he countered. "'Prevailing! ' Since it's necessary that we agree, innumerable' arrangements of course exist to take care of the externals and delude us inwardly into thinking it so. In making us people of one mind, these arrangements aren't exactly subtle. Hypnotic suggestion, violence, intimidation, thoughtlessness, cowardice, and such things play a not inconsidera- ble role. The exercise of these arrangements is mostly alloyed with something base and corrupting. But iftheir influence stops for just a single moment, allowing reason to take over their affairs, you will very shortly see mankind start gabbling and fall to quarreling, the way the insane start running around when their warders aren't looking! "
1:206 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Agathe recalled the walks in lovely weather where everything had been in unqualified harmony with everything else, and the people, even if they were apparently mistaken in believing that they loved each other, were at least very attentive to one another and filled with an almost solemn amiability and curiosity. It seemed appropriate to mention that love was, after all, the only thing in the world that made people of one mind, and that in every one of its varieties it did so from both sides voluntarily.
"But love is precisely one of the agreement machines. It has the lucky effect of making people blind! " Ulrich objected. "Love bli~: half the riddles about loving one's neighbor we've been trying to solve are already contained in this proposition! "
"The most one might add is that love also enables one to see what isn't there," Agathe maintained, concluding reflectively: "So really these two propositions contain everything you need in the world, in order to be happy despite it! "
In direct connection with this point, however, it was the tiny papier-mache horse, standing between them all alone in the middle of the desk, that bore the sole responsibility for their conversation. It was hardly a hand's breadth high; its neck was daintily curved; the brown of its coat was as tender and full as the stomach of a fifteen- year-old girl who has almost, but not yet quite, eaten too much cake, and its mane and tail, its hooves and reins, were of one single, deep- est black. It was a horse belonging to a court carriage, but as in leg- end two gods often grow into one, it was also a candy box in the form of a horse. Ulrich had discovered this little horse in a suburban con- fectioner's window and had immediately acquired it, for he knew it from his childhood and had loved it so intensely back then that he could hardly recall whether he had ever owned it. Fortunately, such mercantile poems are sometimes preserved over several generations and merely wander with time from the centers of commerce to dis- play windows in more modest parts of the city. So Ulrich had rever- ently installed this find on his desk, having already explained the significance of the species to his sister. The candy horse was a close relative ofthose circus animals-lions, tigers, horses, and dogs-that had lived at the same time, the time of Ulrich's childhood, on the posters of traveling circuses, and could no more be summoned from the raging expressions of their palpable but one-dimensional exis-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 2 0 7
tence into fully developed life than this·little horse could jump through the glass pane of the shop window. Agathe had quickly un- derstood this, for the confectioner's horse constituted part of the large family of children's fancies which are always chasing their desires with the zigzag flight of a butterfly, until at last they reach their goal only to find a lifeless object. And wandering back along childhood's paths of love, brother and sister had even opened the horse and, with the mixed feelings attending the unsealing of a crypt, found inside a variety of round, flat little tents strewn with grains of sugar, which they thought they had not seen for decades, and which they enjoyed with the cautious courage of explorers.
In a distracted and pensive way, during the pause that had fol- lowed the last exchange with Ulrich, Agathe had been observing this small object with the magnetic soul that stood before them. In the far distances of this daydreaming, perhaps there also emerged from the river ofwords about similarities and differences in thinking, that idea of the unseparated but not united, and now this joined in a peculiar way with their companionship as children. Agathe finally landed on time's other shore of silence without knowing how long the interrup- tion had lasted, and she picked up the conversation where it had left off by asking with direct vehemence, as if something had been for- gotten: "But not every love has to blind! "
Ulrich, too, was immediately ready to be pressed into service again in pursuit of the exchange of words that had rushed away, as if he were not sure how long he had been standing there distracted. "Let's go on! " he suggested, and led with a random example: "Maternal love! "
"Doting, it's called," Agathe replied.
"In any case, it loves blindly, loves in advance. Won't let anything distract it," Ulrich stated, immediately continuing: "And its opposite, a child's love? "
"Is that love at all? " Agathe asked.
"There's a lot ofselfishness and instinctive need for protection and such things in it," Ulrich ventured, but added that it could also be, at least at certain stages, a real passion. Next, he asked about the love of friends.
They were again agreed: youth was the only time for passionate friendships.
1208 • THE MAN WITH 0 U T QUALITIES
"Love of honor? " Ulrich asked.
Agathe shrugged her shoulders.
"Love of virtue? "
She repeated the gesture, then thought it over and said: "Saints or
martyrs might call it love. "
"But then it's obviously a passion for overcoming the world, or
something like that, as well," Ulrich interjected. "An oppositional passion, but in any case something containing a lot ofcomplications. " "But there can also be a lot of complications in love of honor,"
Agathe added.
"Love of power? " Ulrich went on, assenting to her objection with
only a nod of his head.
"That's probably a contradiction in terms. "
"Perhaps," Ulrich agreed. "You might think that force and love are
mutually exclusive. "
"But they aren't/" Agathe exclaimed, having changed her mind in
the meantime. "Look: to be compelled! For women especially, being loved and being compelled is no contradiction at all! "
Ulrich responded in contradictory ways to this reminder of the possibility of such experiences in his sister's past; on the one hand he desired an informed explanation; on the other, the primordial igno- rance of the gods. Frowning, he thought over what his response should be, and finally said, clearly but hesitating involuntarily: "In that case the association ofthe words is indeed ambivalent. All power is laid low before love, and ifit humiliates love, then-"
"Let's not dwell on it," Agathe interrupted, and offered a new question: "Love of truth? "
Since he hesitated, "You should know all about that! " she added in jesting reproach; his long-drawn-out efforts to be accurate some- times made her impatient.
But the conversation was already inhibited, and slowly it became diffuse. "There, too, it's not easy to separate out the right concepts," Ulrich decided. "You can love truth in many different ways: as honor, as power, as virtue, or also like pure spring water and the air you breathe, or like-"
"Is that love? " Agathe interrupted him again. "That way you could love spinach too! "
"And why not? Even being partial to something is a form oflove.
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1 2 o g
There are many transitions," Ulrich countered. "And 'love of truth' especially is one of the most contradictory tenns: If the concept of truth is stronger, love is correspondingly less, and in the last analysis you can hardly call the honorable or even the utilitarian need for truth 'love'; but if the concept oflove is strong, what you might call the purest, highest love, then truth ceases to exist. "
"Truth, unfortunately, arises in cold blood," Agathe remarked pointedly.
"To demand truth from love is just as mistaken as demanding jus- tice from anger," Ulrich agreed. "Emotion is injurious there. "
"Oh perhaps that's only men's talk! " Agathe protested.
"That's the way it is: Love tolerates truth, but truth does not toler- ate love," Ulrich confirmed. "Love dissolves truth. "
"But if it dissolves the truth, then it has no truth? " Agathe asked this with the seriousness of the ignorant child who knows by heart the story it wants to hear repeated for the twentieth time.
"A new truth begins," Ulrich said. "AI> soon as a person encounters love not as some kind of experience but as life itself, or at least as a kind of life, he knows a swarm of truths. Whoever judges without love calls this opinions, personal views, subjectivity, whim; and for him that's all it is. But the one who loves knows about himself that he is not insensitive to truth, but oversensitive. He finds himself in a kind of ecstasy of thinking, where the words open up to their very centers. He understands in every way more than is necessary. He can hardly save himself from an inexhaustible flood. And he feels that every rational desire to understand can only banish it. I don't want to claim that this really is a different truth-for there is only one and the same truth-but it is a hundred possibilities that are more impor- tant than truth; it is, to say it more clearly, something by means of which all truth loses the importance attributed to it. Perhaps one might say: truth is the unequivocal result of an attitude to life which we by no means feel unequivocally to be the true attitude! " Ulrich, happy because he had finally achieved a more exact description, drew the conclusion: "So apparently to be surrounded by a swarm of truths means nothing other than that the lover is open to everything that has been loved, and also willed, thought, and put down in words; open to all contradictions, which are after all those of sentient beings; open even to every shared experience, if a word exists that can lift it
1210 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
tenderly to the point ofarticulation. The distinctive signs oftruth and morality have been suppressed for him by the gentle power of life stirring all around him; they remain present, but fruitfulness and fullness have out- and overgrown them. For the lover, truth and deception are equally trivial, and yet this does not strike him as ca- price: Now, this is probably no more than a changed personal atti- tude, but I would say that it still finally depends on countless possibilities underlying whatever reality has conquered them, possi- bilities that could also have become realities. The lover awakens them. Everything suddenly appears different to him from what you think. Instead of a citizen of this world, he becomes a creature of countless worlds-"
"But that is another reality! " Agathe exclaimed.
"No! " said Ulrich hesitantly. "At least I don't know. It's merely the age-old opposition between knowledge and love, which has always been supposed to exist. "
Agathe gave him a confused but encouraging smile.
"No! " Ulrich repeated. "That's still not the right one. "
Her smile disappeared. "So we have to pick up our business once
again, otherwise we won't get to the end this way either," Agathe suggested with comic distress, and with a sigh she began anew: "What is love of money? "
"You said things like that weren't love at all," Ulrich interjected. "But you said there were transitions," Agathe countered.
"Love of beauty? " Ulrich asked, ignoring this.
"Love is also supposed to make an ugly person beautiful," Agathe
replied, following a sudden inspiration. "Do you love something be- cause it's beautiful or is it beautiful because it's loved? "
Ulrich found this question important but unpleasant. So he re- sponded: "Perhaps beauty is nothing other than having been loved. If something was once loved, its ability to be beautiful is directed outward. And beauty presumably arises in no other way but this: that something pleases a person who also has the power to give other peo- ple a kind of set of directions for repetition. " Then he added sharply: "Nevertheless, men who, like friend Lindner, waylay beauty are sim- ply funny! "
"Love one's enemy? '' Agathe asked, smiling.
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1 2 1 1
"Difficult! " said Ulrich. "Perhaps a leftover from magical-religious cannibalism. "
"Compared to that, loving life is simple," Agathe stated. "No idea at all is connected with it; it's simply a blind instinct. "
"Passion for hunting? "
"Love of fatherland? Love of home? Necrophilia? Love of nature? Love of ponies? Idolatry? Puppy love? Hate-love? " Agathe shook them all out together, raising her arms in a circle and letting them fall to her lap with a gesture of discouragement.
Ulrich answered with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile. "Love becomes real in many ways and in the most varied connections. But what is the common denominator? What in all these loves is the es- sential fluid and what merely its crystallization? And what, especially, is that 'love! ' that can also occur spontaneously and fill the whole world? " he asked, showing little hope of an answer. "Even if some- one were to compare the various forms more seriously," he went on, "he would presumably find only as many emotions as there are exter- nal conditions and attitudes. Under all these circumstances one can love; but only because one can also despise or remain indifferent: in this way whatever is shared in common surfaces as something vaguely like love. "
"But doesn't that just mean that full love doesn't correspond to experience? " Agathe interrupted. "But who questions that? That's the decisive point! If love exists, in order to become manifest it will be entirely different from everything it is alloyed with! "
Now Ulrich interrupted. ''What would that prove? As feeling and action, this love would have no limits, and therefore there is no atti- tude or behavior that would correspond to it. "
Agathe listened eagerly. She was waiting for a final word. "And what do you do if there is no attitude or behavior? " she asked.
Ulrich understood her artless question. But he showed himself prepared for these reconnaissance expeditions to last even longer; he merely shrugged his shoulders resignedly and answered with a jest: "It doesn't seem nearly so simple to love as nature would have us believe, just because she's provided every bungler with the tools! "
1212
49
GENERAL VON STUMM DROPS A BOMB. CONGRESS FOR WORLD PEACE
A soldier must not let anything deter him. So General Stumm von Bordwehr was the only person to push his way through to Ulrich and Agathe; but then he was perhaps the only person for whom they did not make it absolutely impossible, since even refugees from the world can see to it that their mail is forwarded to them periodically. And as he burst in to interrupt their continuing their conversation, he crowed: "It wasn't easy to penetrate all the perimeter defenses and fight my way into the fortress! ", gallantly kissed Agathe's hand, and, addressing himself to her in particular, said: 'Til be a famous man, just because I've seen you! Everyone is asking what event could have swallowed up the Inseparables, and is asking after you; and in a certain sense I am the emissary of society, indeed of the Fatherland, sent to discover the cause ofyour disappearance! Please excuse me if I appear importunate! "
Agathe bade him a polite welcome, but neither she nor her brother was immediately able to conceal their distractedness from their visitor, who stood before them as the embodiment of the weak- ness and imperfection of their dreams; and as General Stumm again stepped back from Agathe, a remarkable silence ensued. Agathe was standing on one long side of the desk, Ulrich on the other, and the General, like a suddenly becalmed sailing vessel, was at a point ap- proximately halfway between them. Ulrich meant to come forward to meet his visitor, but could not stir from the spot. Stumm now noticed that he really had butted in, and considered how he might save the situation. The twisted beginnings of a friendly smile lay on all three faces. This stiff silence lasted barely a fraction of a second; it was just then that Stumm's glance fell on the small papier-mache horse standing isolated among them, like a monument, in the center of the empty desk.
Clicking his heels together, he pointed to it solemnly with the flat
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 2 1 3
of his hand and exclaimed with relief: "But what's this? Do I perceive in this house the great animal idol, the holy animal, the revered deity of the cavalry? ''
At Stumm's remark, Ulrich's inhibition, too, dissolved, and moving quickly over to Stumm but at the same time turning toward his sister, he said animatedly: "Admittedly it's just a coach horse, but you have wonderfully guessed the rest! W e were really just talking about idols and how they originate. Now tell me: What is it one loves, which part, what reshaping and transformation does one love, when one loves one's neighbor without knowing him? In other words, to what extent is love dependent on the world and reality, and to what extent is it the other way round? "
Stumm von Bordwehr had directed his glance questioningly to Agathe.
"Ulrich is talking about this little thing," she assured him, some- what disconcerted, pointing to the candy horse. "He used to have a passion for it. "
"That was, I hope, quite a long time ago," Stumm said in astonish- ment. "For if I'm not mistaken, it's a candy jar? ''
"It is not a candy jar! Friend Stumm! " Ulrich implored, seized by the disgraceful desire to chat with him about it. "If you fall in love with a saddle and harness that are too expensive for you, or a uniform or a pair of riding boots you see in a shop window: what are you in love with? "
"You're being outrageous! I don't love things like that! " the Gen- eral protested.
"Don't deny it! " Ulrich replied. "There are people who can dream day and night of a suit fabric or a piece of luggage they have seen in a shop; everyone's known something like that; and the same thing will have happened to you, at least with your first lieutenant's uniform! And you'll have to admit that you might have no use for this material or this suitcase, and that you don't even have to be in the position of being able to really desire it: so nothing is easier than loving some- thing before you know it and without knowing it. May I, moreover, remind you that you loved Diotima at first sight? "
This time, the General looked up cunningly. Agathe had in the meantime asked him to sit down and also procured a cigar for him, since her brother had forgotten his duty. Stumm, fringed with blue
1214 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
clouds, said innocently: "Since then she's become a textbook of love, and I didn't much like textbooks in school, either. But I still admire and respect this woman," he added with a dignified composure that was new to him.
Ulrich, unfortunately, didn't notice it immediately. "All those things are idols," he went on, pursuing the questions he had directed at Stumm. "And now you see where they came from. The instincts embedded in our nature need only a minimum of external motiva- tion and justification; they are enormous machines set in motion by a tiny switch. But they equip the object they are applied to with only as many ideas that can bear investigation as perhaps correspond to the flickering oflight and shadow in the light ofan emergency lamp-"
"Stop! " Stumm begged from his cloud ofsmoke. 'What is 'object'? Are you talking about the boots and that suitcase again? "
''I'm speaking of passion. Of longing for Diotima, just as much as longing for a forbidden cigarette. I want to make clear to you that every emotional relationship had the groundwork laid for it by pre- liminary perceptions and ideas that belong to reality; but that such a relationship also immediately conjures up perceptions and ideas that it fits out in its own way. In short, affect sets up the object the way it needs it to be, indeed it creates it so that the affect finally applies to an object that, having come about in such a way, is no longer recog- nizable. But affect isn't destined for knowledge, either, but really for passion! This object that is born of passion and hovers in it," Ulrich concluded, returning to his starting point, "is of course something different from the object on which it is outwardly fastened and which it can reach out to grasp, and this is therefore also true oflove. 'I love you' is mistaken; for 'you,' this person who has evoked the passion and whom you can seize in your arms, is the one you think you love; the person evoked by passion, this wildly religious invention, is the one you really love, but it is a different person. "
"Ustening to you"-Agathe interrupted her brother with a re- proach that betrayed her inner sympathies-"you might think you don't really love the real person, but really love an unreal person! "
"That's precisely what I meant to say, and I've also heard you say- ing much the same. "
"But in reality both are ultimately one person! "
"That's exactly the major complication, that the hovering image of
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 2 1 5
the person you love has to be represented in every outward connec- tion by the person himself and is indeed one and the same. That's what leads to all the confusions that give the simple business of love such an excitingly ghostly quality! "
"But perhaps it's only love that makes the real person entirely real? Perhaps he's not complete before then? ''
"But the boot or the suitcase you dream about is in reality none other than the one you could actually buy! "
"Perhaps the suitcase only becomes completely real ifyou love it! "
"In a word, we come to the question of what is real. Love's old question! " Ulrich exclaimed impatiently, yet somehow satisfied.
"Oh, let's forget the suitcase! " To the astonishment of both, it was the General's voice that interrupted their sparring. Stumm had com- fortably squeezed one leg over the other, which, once achieved, lent him great security. "Let's stay with the person," he went on, and praised Ulrich: "So far you've said some things terrifically well! Peo- ple always believe that nothing is easier than loving each other, and then you have to remind them every day: 'Dearest, it's not as easy as it is for the apple woman! ' " In explanation of this more military than civilian expression, he turned politely to Agathe. "The 'apple woman,' dear lady, is an army expression for when someone thinks something is easier than it is: in higher mathematics, for example, when you're doing short division so short that, willy-nilly, you come up with a false result! Then the appple woman is held up to you, and it's applied the same way in other places as well, where an ordinary person might just say: that's not so simple! " Now he turned back to Ulrich and continued: "Your doctrine of the two persons interests me a good deal, because I'm also always telling people that you can love people only in two parts: in theory, or, as you put it, as a hovering person, is the way you ought to love someone, as I see it; but in prac- tice, you have to treat a person strictly and, in the last analysis, harshly too! That's the way it is between man and woman, and that's the way it is in life in general! The pacifists, for instance, with their love that has no soles on its shoes, haven't the slightest notion of this; a lieutenant knows ten times as much about love as these dilettantes! "
Through his earnestness, through his carefully weighed manner of speaking, and not least through the boldness with which, despite
1216 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Agathe's presence, he had condemned woman to obedience, Stumm von Bordwehr gave the impression of a man to whom something im- portant had happened and who had striven, not without success, to master it. But Ulrich still had not grasped this, and proposed: 'Well, you decide which person is truly worth loving and which has the walk-on part! "
"That's too deep for me!
world, the way you are today? What is it then that you're loving? You would say: 'Nothing special'! " Agathe laughed.
"Haven't you noticed, too, that today it's downright disturbing if you happen to meet a person who is so beautiful that you have to say something personal about it? '' he asked her.
'Then it's not a feeling about the real world and the real person! " she said firmly.
"So then we have to tackle the question as to what part of this per- son it's true of, or what metamorphosis and transformation of the real person and the real world," Ulrich said, softly but emphatically.
After a short pause, Agathe answered, with a timid conscience: "Perhaps that is the real person? '' But Ulrich hesitantly resisted this, shaking his head.
Shining through the content of this inquiring assertion there was,
From the Posthumous Papers · z197
no doubt, a profound obviousness. The breezes and delights of these days were so tender and merry that the impression arose spontane- ously that man and world must be showing themselves as they really were: this transparency harbored a small, odd, suprasensory shud- der, such as is glimpsed in the flowing transparency of a brook, a transparency that allows the glance to see to the bottom but, when it arrives there, wavering, makes the mysterious colored stones look like fish scales, and beneath them what the glance had thought it was experiencing is truly concealed, without possibility of access. Agathe, surrounded by sunshine, needed only to disengage her glance a little to have the feeling of having stumbled into a supernatural domain; for the shortest interval she could easily imagine that she had come in contact with a higher truth and reality, or at least had come upon an aspect of existence where a little door behind the earth mysteri- ously indicated the way from the earthly garden into the beyond. But when she again limited the range of her glance to an ordinary span and let life's glare stream in on her once more, she saw whatever might actually happen to be there: perhaps a little flag being waved to and fro by a child's hand, merrily and without any kind of puzzled thought; a police wagon with prisoners, its black-green paint spar- kling in the light; or a man with a colorful cap contentedly turning a pile of manure; or finally a company of soldiers, whose shouldered rifles were pointing their barrels at the sky. All this seemed to have had poured over it something related to love, and everyone also seemed more ready to open themselves to this feeling than usual: but to believe that the empire oflove was now really happening would be just as difficult, Ulrich said, as imagining that at this moment no dog could bite or no person do anything evil.
The same happened with all the other attempts at explanation, which had in common with this one that they opposed some kind of person who was far off and true to people who were everyday, earth- bound, and bad and good, but at all events people as we know them. Brother and sister examined these ideal types one after the other, and could not believe in any of them. There was the feeling that on such festive days nature brought forth in her creatures all their hid- den goodness and beauty. Then there were the more psychological explanations, that people in this transparent, nuptial air did not show themselves as different in some magical way, but still displayed
Izg8 • THE MAN w·ITH0UT QUALITIES
themselves so as to be as lovable as they would like to be and saw themselves as being: sweating their egotism and inward-turned in- dulgence, as it were, out through their pores. And finally there is also the variation that people were showing their goodwill; to be sure, this cannot prevent them from doing evil, but emerges miraculously and unscathed on days like these from the evil will that usually governs them, like Jonah from the belly of the whale. But the most succinct explanation one heard was that this is the immortal part of man, which shimmers through the mortal part. All these imputations had in common that they located the real person in a part of him that, among the insubstantial remainder, does not come into play; and if the promising contact with this real self was a process clearly di- rected upward, there was also a second, no less abundant group of explanations, which directed this process just as clearly downward: these were all those according to which man is supposed to have lost his natural innocence through intellectual arrogance and all kinds of misfortune brought upon him by civilization. There are, therefore, two genuine people, who appear to the mind with the greatest punc- tuality in the same, constantly recurring situations, yet both these types-the one a divine superman, the other an animal-like infra- man-were on opposite sides of the person as he really is. Finally, Ulrich remarked dryly: "The only trait that remains as common, and also very characteristic, is that even when he is being good, a person does not seek the true person in himself but takes himself to be something else 'plus or minus'! "
But here brother and sister had arrived at a borderline case of that love for another that is so problematic and so gently entwines every- thing within it, and Agathe sighed in vexation, but not without charm. "Then all that remains of all this is just a 'mood'! " she said, disappointed. "The sun is shining. You get into a frame of mind! "
Ulrich added to this: "The social instincts stretch themselves out in the sun like mercury in the thermometer tube, at the expense of the egotistic instincts, which otherwise hold them more or less in bal- ance. Perhaps nothing else. "
"So an 'unconscious craving' like a schoolgirl's or schoolboy's! " Agathe continued. "They would like to kiss the whole world and have no idea why! So we can't say any more than that either? ''
They had suddenly become tired offeeling; and it sometimes hap-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1199
pened that in such a conversation, dealing only with their capacity for feeling, they neglected to use it. Also, because the surfeit of emotions that could nowhere find an outlet actually hurt, they sometimes got back at it with a little ingratitude. But when they had both spoken in this fashion, Agathe quickly looked sidelong at her brother. "That would," she protested, "be saying too little! "
The moment she said this, they both felt once more that they were not just relying on some subjective fantasy but were facing an invisi- ble reality. Truth was hovering in the mood inundating them, reality was under the appearance, transformation of the world gazed out of the world like a shadow! The reality about which they felt so expect- ant was, to be sure, remarkably lacking a nucleus and only half com- prehensible, and it was a long-intimate half-truth, familiar and unfulfillable, that wooed credibility: not an everyday reality and truth for everyone, but a secret one for lovers. Obviously, it was not just caprice or delusion either, and its most mysterious insinuation whis- pered: "Just leave yourself to me without mistrust, and you'll dis- cover the whole truth! " Giving an account of this was so difficult because the language of love is a secret language and in its highest perfection is as silent as an embrace.
The thought "secret language" had the effect of making Agathe dimly recall that it was written somewhere: ''Whosoever abides in love abides in God, and God in him. He who has not love does not know God. " She did not know where.
Ulrich on the other hand, because she had said before that it was "just a mood," was considering an idea as sweetly temperate as the sound of a flute. One had only to assume that such a mood of being in love was not always just a transitory special state but was also, beyond its immediate occasion, capable of enduring and spreading; in other words, all you had to assume was that a person could be a lover alone and in accordance with his enduring being, in exactly the same way that he can be indifferent, and this would lead him to a totally changed way of life: indeed, presumably it would take him to an en- tirely unfamiliar world that would be present in his mind without his having to be considered mentally ill. This thought, that everything could be made different by one small step, indeed just by a move- ment that the mind merely had to let happen, was extremely seduc- tive. And suddenly Ulrich asked his sister with curiosity: ''What do
I. 200 • THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
you think would happen if we were to stop one of these people and say to him: 'Brother, stay with us! ' or 'Stop, 0 hastening soul'? ''
"He would look at us flabbergasted," Agathe replied.
"And then unobtrusively double his pace, or call a policeman," Ul- rich finished.
"He would probably think he'd fallen in with good-natured mad- men," Agathe added.
"But ifwe were to yell at him: 'You criminal, you piece of nothing! ' he probably wouldn't consider us crazy," Ulrich noted with amuse- ment, "but would merely take us to be 'people who think differently,' or 'members of a different party,' who had turned angry at him. "
Agathe frowned, smiling, and then they both again gazed into the human current that was pulling them along and flowing against them. Together they felt again the self-forgetfulness and power, the happiness and goodness, the deep and elevated constraint, that pre- dominate inside a vital human community, even if it is only the con-, tingent community of a busy street, so that one does not believe that there could also be anything bad or divisive; and their own sense of existence, that sharply bounded and difficult having-been-placed- here, that basic happiness and basic hostility, stood in marvelous contrast to this communal scene. They both thought the same; but they also thought differently, without its being obvious. They guessed each other's meaning; but sometimes they guessed wrongly. And gradually an indolence, indeed a paralysis of thinking, emanated from this double-pearled juxtaposition on the oyster shell of the world, as Ulrich called it rather scornfully, and they then parried it by laughing at each other, or about something.
But when this happened again Agathe said: "It always makes me so sadwhen we're forced to laugh at ourselves; and I don't know why I have to. "
Ulrich replied: "Nothing is funnier than opening one's eyes tore- ality when they're still filled with the inner soul! "
But Agathe did not pick up on this; she repeated: "Everything re- mains so uncertain. It seems to draw itselftogether and then extend itself again, without any shape. It pennits no activity, and the inac- tivity becomes unbearable. I can't even say that I really love these people, or that I love these real people, as they are when we look at them. I'm afraid our own feelings are pretty unreal! "
From the Posthumous Papers · I . 20 I
"But these people respond to each other in exactly the same way! " Ulrich retorted. "They want to love each other, yet at the decisive moment they think antipathy is more natural and healthier! So it's the same for everyone: We feel that real life has snapped off a possi- ble life! "
"But then tell me," Agathe retorted angrily, "why love always needs a church or a bed! "
"For heaven's sake"-Ulrich soothed his companion with a laugh-"don't speak so openly! " He touched her hand with his fin- gertips and went on, joking mysteriously: "All these people can also be called in public what you and I are in private: the unseparated but not united! "
It was not an assertion, merely a cajoling constellation of words, a joke, a candid little cloud of words; and they knew that feeling one- self chosen was the cheapest of all magic formulas and quite adoles- cent. Nevertheless, Ulrich's fraternal words slowly rose from the ground to a position above their heads. Agathe, too, now whispered jokingly: "Sometimes you feel your breath blow back from your veil still hot, like a pair of strange lips: that's how it sometimes seems to me-call it illusion or reality-that I'm you! " was her response, and her gentle smile drew silence closed like a curtain after it as it died away.
In such back-and-forth fashion they came to reproach the millions of loving couples who in their serious desire for certainty ask them- selves a hundred times a day whether they really and truly love each other, and how long it can last: who, however, don't have to fear con- juring up similar oddities.
1202
LOVE BLINDS. OR DIFFICULTIES WHERE THEY ARE NOT LOOKED FOR
Another of these world-oriented discussions went like this: "Then how would things stand when a love occurs between two so-called persons of different gender, which is as famous as it is gladly experi- enced? " Ulrich objected. "You probably are really partly in love with the person you think you're loving. "
"But what you're mostly doing is simply making a puppet of him! " Agathe interjected resentfully.
"In any event, what he says and thinks in the process also has its charm! "
"As long as you love him! Because you love him! But not the other way round! I f you've once understood how the other person means it, it's not only anger that's disarmed, as one always says, but for the most part love as well! "
Again it was Agathe who gave this passionate answer. Ulrich smiled. She must have banged her head pretty hard against this wall more than once.
"But at first you can like the other person's opinions, that's often involved in the beginning: the well-known marvelous 'agreeing about everything'; later, of course, you no longer understand it at all," he said placatingly, and asked: "But deeds? Does love depend on deeds? ''
"Only insofar as they embody a person's sentiments. Or tum the imagination into a sort of monument! "
"But didn't we just decide it wasn't so much a matter of senti- ments? '' Ulrich recalled teasingly.
"It doesn't depend on anything at alii" Agathe cried. "Not on what the other person is, not on what he thinks, not on what he wants, and not on what he does! There are times when you despise a person but love him all the same. And there are times when you love a person
From the Posthu'TTWUs Papers · 1 2 0 3
and have the secret feeling that this person with the beard (or breasts), whom you think you've known for a long time and . . . trea- sure, and who talks about himself incessantly, is really only visiting love. You could leave aside his sentiments and merits, you could change his destiny, you could give him a new beard or different legs-you could leave aside almost the whole person, and still love him! As far as you happen to love him at all," she added, mitigating her statement.
Her voice had a deep ring, with a restless glitter buried in its depths like a flame. She sat down guiltily, having involuntarily jumped up from her chair in her zeal.
Ulrich summed up the result in balanced fashion: "Both contra- dictions are always present and form a team of four horses: you love a person because you know him and because you don't know him; and you know him because you love him and don't know him because you love him. And sometimes that grows strong enough to become quite palpable. Those are the well-known moments when Venus gazes through Apollo and Apollo through Venus at an empty scare- crow, and each is mightily surprised at having seen something there before. If, furthermore, love is stronger than astonishment, it comes to a struggle between them, and sometimes out of this struggle love emerges-even if it is despairing, exhausted, and mortally wounded-as the victor. But if love is not that strong, it leads to a battle between the people involved, to insults intended to make up for having been played for a simpleton . . . to terrible incursions of reality . . . to utter degradation. . . . " He had participated in this stormy weather of love often enough to be at ease describing it.
Agathe interrupted him. "But I fmd that these marital and extramarital affairs of honor are usually greatly overrated! " she objected.
"Love as a whole is overrated! The maniac who in his delusion pulls a knife and stabs some innocent person who just happens to be standing in for his hallucination-in love he's the normal one! " Ul- rich said, and laughed.
Agathe, too, smiled as she looked at him.
Ulrich became serious. "It's odd enough to have to think that there really are no two people who can agree spontaneously, without
1204 • THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
their opinions and convictions being more or less powerfully in- fluenced," he noted thoughtfully, and for a while this gave the con- versation a somewhat different turn.
Brother and sister were sitting in Ulrich's room, on either side of the long, darkly shining desk of heavy wood, whose center was now empty because apparently Ulrich was not working on anything. Each of them had lazily posed an arm on the desk and was looking at a small papier-mache horse standing in the vacant middle ground be- tween them.
"Even in rational thinking, where everything has logical and objec- tive connections," Ulrich went on, "it's usually the case that you un- reservedly recognize the superior conviction of someone else only if you have submitted to him in some way, whether as a model and guide, or as a friend or teacher. But without such a feeling, which has nothing to do with the case, every time you make someone else's opinion your own, it will only be with the silent reservation that you can do more with it than its originator; if indeed you weren't already out to show this fellow what unsuspected importance his idea really contained! Especially in art, most of us certainly know it would be impossible for us to do ourselves what we read, see, and hear; but we still have the patronizing awareness that ifwe were able to do any of these things, we could of course do them better! And perhaps it has to be that way, and lies in the active nature of the mind, which doesn't allow itself be filled up like an empty pot," Ulrich concluded, "but actively appropriates everything, and literally has to make it part of itself. "
He would gladly have added something more that occurred to him, and it would not let him rest, so he was already giving vent to his scruple before Agathe had any chance to respond. "But we should also ask ourselves," he suggested, "what sort of life would arise if all this were not so unfavorable. Our feelings ultimately want to be han- dled quite roughly, it appears, but in the other borderline case- when we assimilate someone else's sentiments without resistance, when we submit completely to someone else's feelings, indeed, when we reach a pure agreement with a second understanding-is there not a happiness that is pathologically tender, in fact almost anti-intellectual? And how could this light be produced without the shadow? '' This thought made him want to linger over the conversa-
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1 2 0 5
tion; but although the idea was not entirely alien to Agathe either, she was occupied at the moment with smaller concerns. She looked at her brother for a while without speaking, struggling against what was coming over her, but then made up her mind to ask the offensive question, as casually as possible, whether that meant he had arrived at the considered conviction that "even only two people" could never be of one mind, and lovers under no circumstances whatever?
Ulrich was almost at the point of expressing through a gesture that this was neither to be taken as real nor worth talking about, when he was struck by his sister's misplaced warmth; he had to suppress a smile at this suspicious inquisitiveness, but in doing so lost his own more serious inquisitiveness and fell back again into the interrupted meny flow ofhis initial jokingway oftalking. "You yourselfbegan by belittling love! " he replied.
"Let's leave it at that! " Agathe decreed magnanimously. "Let's leave it at people not agreeing, when they're in love. But in ordinary life, which is certainly nothing less than loving, you must admit that all kinds of people have similar convictions and that that plays an enormous role! "
"They only think they have them! " Ulrich broke in.
"They agree with each other! "
"The agreement is imposed on them! People are like a fire that
immediately shoots out in all directions unless there's a stone on top! "
"But aren't there, for instance, generally prevailing opinions? " Agathe asked, intending to keep up with her brother.
"Now you're saying it yourself! " he countered. "'Prevailing! ' Since it's necessary that we agree, innumerable' arrangements of course exist to take care of the externals and delude us inwardly into thinking it so. In making us people of one mind, these arrangements aren't exactly subtle. Hypnotic suggestion, violence, intimidation, thoughtlessness, cowardice, and such things play a not inconsidera- ble role. The exercise of these arrangements is mostly alloyed with something base and corrupting. But iftheir influence stops for just a single moment, allowing reason to take over their affairs, you will very shortly see mankind start gabbling and fall to quarreling, the way the insane start running around when their warders aren't looking! "
1:206 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Agathe recalled the walks in lovely weather where everything had been in unqualified harmony with everything else, and the people, even if they were apparently mistaken in believing that they loved each other, were at least very attentive to one another and filled with an almost solemn amiability and curiosity. It seemed appropriate to mention that love was, after all, the only thing in the world that made people of one mind, and that in every one of its varieties it did so from both sides voluntarily.
"But love is precisely one of the agreement machines. It has the lucky effect of making people blind! " Ulrich objected. "Love bli~: half the riddles about loving one's neighbor we've been trying to solve are already contained in this proposition! "
"The most one might add is that love also enables one to see what isn't there," Agathe maintained, concluding reflectively: "So really these two propositions contain everything you need in the world, in order to be happy despite it! "
In direct connection with this point, however, it was the tiny papier-mache horse, standing between them all alone in the middle of the desk, that bore the sole responsibility for their conversation. It was hardly a hand's breadth high; its neck was daintily curved; the brown of its coat was as tender and full as the stomach of a fifteen- year-old girl who has almost, but not yet quite, eaten too much cake, and its mane and tail, its hooves and reins, were of one single, deep- est black. It was a horse belonging to a court carriage, but as in leg- end two gods often grow into one, it was also a candy box in the form of a horse. Ulrich had discovered this little horse in a suburban con- fectioner's window and had immediately acquired it, for he knew it from his childhood and had loved it so intensely back then that he could hardly recall whether he had ever owned it. Fortunately, such mercantile poems are sometimes preserved over several generations and merely wander with time from the centers of commerce to dis- play windows in more modest parts of the city. So Ulrich had rever- ently installed this find on his desk, having already explained the significance of the species to his sister. The candy horse was a close relative ofthose circus animals-lions, tigers, horses, and dogs-that had lived at the same time, the time of Ulrich's childhood, on the posters of traveling circuses, and could no more be summoned from the raging expressions of their palpable but one-dimensional exis-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 2 0 7
tence into fully developed life than this·little horse could jump through the glass pane of the shop window. Agathe had quickly un- derstood this, for the confectioner's horse constituted part of the large family of children's fancies which are always chasing their desires with the zigzag flight of a butterfly, until at last they reach their goal only to find a lifeless object. And wandering back along childhood's paths of love, brother and sister had even opened the horse and, with the mixed feelings attending the unsealing of a crypt, found inside a variety of round, flat little tents strewn with grains of sugar, which they thought they had not seen for decades, and which they enjoyed with the cautious courage of explorers.
In a distracted and pensive way, during the pause that had fol- lowed the last exchange with Ulrich, Agathe had been observing this small object with the magnetic soul that stood before them. In the far distances of this daydreaming, perhaps there also emerged from the river ofwords about similarities and differences in thinking, that idea of the unseparated but not united, and now this joined in a peculiar way with their companionship as children. Agathe finally landed on time's other shore of silence without knowing how long the interrup- tion had lasted, and she picked up the conversation where it had left off by asking with direct vehemence, as if something had been for- gotten: "But not every love has to blind! "
Ulrich, too, was immediately ready to be pressed into service again in pursuit of the exchange of words that had rushed away, as if he were not sure how long he had been standing there distracted. "Let's go on! " he suggested, and led with a random example: "Maternal love! "
"Doting, it's called," Agathe replied.
"In any case, it loves blindly, loves in advance. Won't let anything distract it," Ulrich stated, immediately continuing: "And its opposite, a child's love? "
"Is that love at all? " Agathe asked.
"There's a lot ofselfishness and instinctive need for protection and such things in it," Ulrich ventured, but added that it could also be, at least at certain stages, a real passion. Next, he asked about the love of friends.
They were again agreed: youth was the only time for passionate friendships.
1208 • THE MAN WITH 0 U T QUALITIES
"Love of honor? " Ulrich asked.
Agathe shrugged her shoulders.
"Love of virtue? "
She repeated the gesture, then thought it over and said: "Saints or
martyrs might call it love. "
"But then it's obviously a passion for overcoming the world, or
something like that, as well," Ulrich interjected. "An oppositional passion, but in any case something containing a lot ofcomplications. " "But there can also be a lot of complications in love of honor,"
Agathe added.
"Love of power? " Ulrich went on, assenting to her objection with
only a nod of his head.
"That's probably a contradiction in terms. "
"Perhaps," Ulrich agreed. "You might think that force and love are
mutually exclusive. "
"But they aren't/" Agathe exclaimed, having changed her mind in
the meantime. "Look: to be compelled! For women especially, being loved and being compelled is no contradiction at all! "
Ulrich responded in contradictory ways to this reminder of the possibility of such experiences in his sister's past; on the one hand he desired an informed explanation; on the other, the primordial igno- rance of the gods. Frowning, he thought over what his response should be, and finally said, clearly but hesitating involuntarily: "In that case the association ofthe words is indeed ambivalent. All power is laid low before love, and ifit humiliates love, then-"
"Let's not dwell on it," Agathe interrupted, and offered a new question: "Love of truth? "
Since he hesitated, "You should know all about that! " she added in jesting reproach; his long-drawn-out efforts to be accurate some- times made her impatient.
But the conversation was already inhibited, and slowly it became diffuse. "There, too, it's not easy to separate out the right concepts," Ulrich decided. "You can love truth in many different ways: as honor, as power, as virtue, or also like pure spring water and the air you breathe, or like-"
"Is that love? " Agathe interrupted him again. "That way you could love spinach too! "
"And why not? Even being partial to something is a form oflove.
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1 2 o g
There are many transitions," Ulrich countered. "And 'love of truth' especially is one of the most contradictory tenns: If the concept of truth is stronger, love is correspondingly less, and in the last analysis you can hardly call the honorable or even the utilitarian need for truth 'love'; but if the concept oflove is strong, what you might call the purest, highest love, then truth ceases to exist. "
"Truth, unfortunately, arises in cold blood," Agathe remarked pointedly.
"To demand truth from love is just as mistaken as demanding jus- tice from anger," Ulrich agreed. "Emotion is injurious there. "
"Oh perhaps that's only men's talk! " Agathe protested.
"That's the way it is: Love tolerates truth, but truth does not toler- ate love," Ulrich confirmed. "Love dissolves truth. "
"But if it dissolves the truth, then it has no truth? " Agathe asked this with the seriousness of the ignorant child who knows by heart the story it wants to hear repeated for the twentieth time.
"A new truth begins," Ulrich said. "AI> soon as a person encounters love not as some kind of experience but as life itself, or at least as a kind of life, he knows a swarm of truths. Whoever judges without love calls this opinions, personal views, subjectivity, whim; and for him that's all it is. But the one who loves knows about himself that he is not insensitive to truth, but oversensitive. He finds himself in a kind of ecstasy of thinking, where the words open up to their very centers. He understands in every way more than is necessary. He can hardly save himself from an inexhaustible flood. And he feels that every rational desire to understand can only banish it. I don't want to claim that this really is a different truth-for there is only one and the same truth-but it is a hundred possibilities that are more impor- tant than truth; it is, to say it more clearly, something by means of which all truth loses the importance attributed to it. Perhaps one might say: truth is the unequivocal result of an attitude to life which we by no means feel unequivocally to be the true attitude! " Ulrich, happy because he had finally achieved a more exact description, drew the conclusion: "So apparently to be surrounded by a swarm of truths means nothing other than that the lover is open to everything that has been loved, and also willed, thought, and put down in words; open to all contradictions, which are after all those of sentient beings; open even to every shared experience, if a word exists that can lift it
1210 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
tenderly to the point ofarticulation. The distinctive signs oftruth and morality have been suppressed for him by the gentle power of life stirring all around him; they remain present, but fruitfulness and fullness have out- and overgrown them. For the lover, truth and deception are equally trivial, and yet this does not strike him as ca- price: Now, this is probably no more than a changed personal atti- tude, but I would say that it still finally depends on countless possibilities underlying whatever reality has conquered them, possi- bilities that could also have become realities. The lover awakens them. Everything suddenly appears different to him from what you think. Instead of a citizen of this world, he becomes a creature of countless worlds-"
"But that is another reality! " Agathe exclaimed.
"No! " said Ulrich hesitantly. "At least I don't know. It's merely the age-old opposition between knowledge and love, which has always been supposed to exist. "
Agathe gave him a confused but encouraging smile.
"No! " Ulrich repeated. "That's still not the right one. "
Her smile disappeared. "So we have to pick up our business once
again, otherwise we won't get to the end this way either," Agathe suggested with comic distress, and with a sigh she began anew: "What is love of money? "
"You said things like that weren't love at all," Ulrich interjected. "But you said there were transitions," Agathe countered.
"Love of beauty? " Ulrich asked, ignoring this.
"Love is also supposed to make an ugly person beautiful," Agathe
replied, following a sudden inspiration. "Do you love something be- cause it's beautiful or is it beautiful because it's loved? "
Ulrich found this question important but unpleasant. So he re- sponded: "Perhaps beauty is nothing other than having been loved. If something was once loved, its ability to be beautiful is directed outward. And beauty presumably arises in no other way but this: that something pleases a person who also has the power to give other peo- ple a kind of set of directions for repetition. " Then he added sharply: "Nevertheless, men who, like friend Lindner, waylay beauty are sim- ply funny! "
"Love one's enemy? '' Agathe asked, smiling.
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1 2 1 1
"Difficult! " said Ulrich. "Perhaps a leftover from magical-religious cannibalism. "
"Compared to that, loving life is simple," Agathe stated. "No idea at all is connected with it; it's simply a blind instinct. "
"Passion for hunting? "
"Love of fatherland? Love of home? Necrophilia? Love of nature? Love of ponies? Idolatry? Puppy love? Hate-love? " Agathe shook them all out together, raising her arms in a circle and letting them fall to her lap with a gesture of discouragement.
Ulrich answered with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile. "Love becomes real in many ways and in the most varied connections. But what is the common denominator? What in all these loves is the es- sential fluid and what merely its crystallization? And what, especially, is that 'love! ' that can also occur spontaneously and fill the whole world? " he asked, showing little hope of an answer. "Even if some- one were to compare the various forms more seriously," he went on, "he would presumably find only as many emotions as there are exter- nal conditions and attitudes. Under all these circumstances one can love; but only because one can also despise or remain indifferent: in this way whatever is shared in common surfaces as something vaguely like love. "
"But doesn't that just mean that full love doesn't correspond to experience? " Agathe interrupted. "But who questions that? That's the decisive point! If love exists, in order to become manifest it will be entirely different from everything it is alloyed with! "
Now Ulrich interrupted. ''What would that prove? As feeling and action, this love would have no limits, and therefore there is no atti- tude or behavior that would correspond to it. "
Agathe listened eagerly. She was waiting for a final word. "And what do you do if there is no attitude or behavior? " she asked.
Ulrich understood her artless question. But he showed himself prepared for these reconnaissance expeditions to last even longer; he merely shrugged his shoulders resignedly and answered with a jest: "It doesn't seem nearly so simple to love as nature would have us believe, just because she's provided every bungler with the tools! "
1212
49
GENERAL VON STUMM DROPS A BOMB. CONGRESS FOR WORLD PEACE
A soldier must not let anything deter him. So General Stumm von Bordwehr was the only person to push his way through to Ulrich and Agathe; but then he was perhaps the only person for whom they did not make it absolutely impossible, since even refugees from the world can see to it that their mail is forwarded to them periodically. And as he burst in to interrupt their continuing their conversation, he crowed: "It wasn't easy to penetrate all the perimeter defenses and fight my way into the fortress! ", gallantly kissed Agathe's hand, and, addressing himself to her in particular, said: 'Til be a famous man, just because I've seen you! Everyone is asking what event could have swallowed up the Inseparables, and is asking after you; and in a certain sense I am the emissary of society, indeed of the Fatherland, sent to discover the cause ofyour disappearance! Please excuse me if I appear importunate! "
Agathe bade him a polite welcome, but neither she nor her brother was immediately able to conceal their distractedness from their visitor, who stood before them as the embodiment of the weak- ness and imperfection of their dreams; and as General Stumm again stepped back from Agathe, a remarkable silence ensued. Agathe was standing on one long side of the desk, Ulrich on the other, and the General, like a suddenly becalmed sailing vessel, was at a point ap- proximately halfway between them. Ulrich meant to come forward to meet his visitor, but could not stir from the spot. Stumm now noticed that he really had butted in, and considered how he might save the situation. The twisted beginnings of a friendly smile lay on all three faces. This stiff silence lasted barely a fraction of a second; it was just then that Stumm's glance fell on the small papier-mache horse standing isolated among them, like a monument, in the center of the empty desk.
Clicking his heels together, he pointed to it solemnly with the flat
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 2 1 3
of his hand and exclaimed with relief: "But what's this? Do I perceive in this house the great animal idol, the holy animal, the revered deity of the cavalry? ''
At Stumm's remark, Ulrich's inhibition, too, dissolved, and moving quickly over to Stumm but at the same time turning toward his sister, he said animatedly: "Admittedly it's just a coach horse, but you have wonderfully guessed the rest! W e were really just talking about idols and how they originate. Now tell me: What is it one loves, which part, what reshaping and transformation does one love, when one loves one's neighbor without knowing him? In other words, to what extent is love dependent on the world and reality, and to what extent is it the other way round? "
Stumm von Bordwehr had directed his glance questioningly to Agathe.
"Ulrich is talking about this little thing," she assured him, some- what disconcerted, pointing to the candy horse. "He used to have a passion for it. "
"That was, I hope, quite a long time ago," Stumm said in astonish- ment. "For if I'm not mistaken, it's a candy jar? ''
"It is not a candy jar! Friend Stumm! " Ulrich implored, seized by the disgraceful desire to chat with him about it. "If you fall in love with a saddle and harness that are too expensive for you, or a uniform or a pair of riding boots you see in a shop window: what are you in love with? "
"You're being outrageous! I don't love things like that! " the Gen- eral protested.
"Don't deny it! " Ulrich replied. "There are people who can dream day and night of a suit fabric or a piece of luggage they have seen in a shop; everyone's known something like that; and the same thing will have happened to you, at least with your first lieutenant's uniform! And you'll have to admit that you might have no use for this material or this suitcase, and that you don't even have to be in the position of being able to really desire it: so nothing is easier than loving some- thing before you know it and without knowing it. May I, moreover, remind you that you loved Diotima at first sight? "
This time, the General looked up cunningly. Agathe had in the meantime asked him to sit down and also procured a cigar for him, since her brother had forgotten his duty. Stumm, fringed with blue
1214 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
clouds, said innocently: "Since then she's become a textbook of love, and I didn't much like textbooks in school, either. But I still admire and respect this woman," he added with a dignified composure that was new to him.
Ulrich, unfortunately, didn't notice it immediately. "All those things are idols," he went on, pursuing the questions he had directed at Stumm. "And now you see where they came from. The instincts embedded in our nature need only a minimum of external motiva- tion and justification; they are enormous machines set in motion by a tiny switch. But they equip the object they are applied to with only as many ideas that can bear investigation as perhaps correspond to the flickering oflight and shadow in the light ofan emergency lamp-"
"Stop! " Stumm begged from his cloud ofsmoke. 'What is 'object'? Are you talking about the boots and that suitcase again? "
''I'm speaking of passion. Of longing for Diotima, just as much as longing for a forbidden cigarette. I want to make clear to you that every emotional relationship had the groundwork laid for it by pre- liminary perceptions and ideas that belong to reality; but that such a relationship also immediately conjures up perceptions and ideas that it fits out in its own way. In short, affect sets up the object the way it needs it to be, indeed it creates it so that the affect finally applies to an object that, having come about in such a way, is no longer recog- nizable. But affect isn't destined for knowledge, either, but really for passion! This object that is born of passion and hovers in it," Ulrich concluded, returning to his starting point, "is of course something different from the object on which it is outwardly fastened and which it can reach out to grasp, and this is therefore also true oflove. 'I love you' is mistaken; for 'you,' this person who has evoked the passion and whom you can seize in your arms, is the one you think you love; the person evoked by passion, this wildly religious invention, is the one you really love, but it is a different person. "
"Ustening to you"-Agathe interrupted her brother with a re- proach that betrayed her inner sympathies-"you might think you don't really love the real person, but really love an unreal person! "
"That's precisely what I meant to say, and I've also heard you say- ing much the same. "
"But in reality both are ultimately one person! "
"That's exactly the major complication, that the hovering image of
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 2 1 5
the person you love has to be represented in every outward connec- tion by the person himself and is indeed one and the same. That's what leads to all the confusions that give the simple business of love such an excitingly ghostly quality! "
"But perhaps it's only love that makes the real person entirely real? Perhaps he's not complete before then? ''
"But the boot or the suitcase you dream about is in reality none other than the one you could actually buy! "
"Perhaps the suitcase only becomes completely real ifyou love it! "
"In a word, we come to the question of what is real. Love's old question! " Ulrich exclaimed impatiently, yet somehow satisfied.
"Oh, let's forget the suitcase! " To the astonishment of both, it was the General's voice that interrupted their sparring. Stumm had com- fortably squeezed one leg over the other, which, once achieved, lent him great security. "Let's stay with the person," he went on, and praised Ulrich: "So far you've said some things terrifically well! Peo- ple always believe that nothing is easier than loving each other, and then you have to remind them every day: 'Dearest, it's not as easy as it is for the apple woman! ' " In explanation of this more military than civilian expression, he turned politely to Agathe. "The 'apple woman,' dear lady, is an army expression for when someone thinks something is easier than it is: in higher mathematics, for example, when you're doing short division so short that, willy-nilly, you come up with a false result! Then the appple woman is held up to you, and it's applied the same way in other places as well, where an ordinary person might just say: that's not so simple! " Now he turned back to Ulrich and continued: "Your doctrine of the two persons interests me a good deal, because I'm also always telling people that you can love people only in two parts: in theory, or, as you put it, as a hovering person, is the way you ought to love someone, as I see it; but in prac- tice, you have to treat a person strictly and, in the last analysis, harshly too! That's the way it is between man and woman, and that's the way it is in life in general! The pacifists, for instance, with their love that has no soles on its shoes, haven't the slightest notion of this; a lieutenant knows ten times as much about love as these dilettantes! "
Through his earnestness, through his carefully weighed manner of speaking, and not least through the boldness with which, despite
1216 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Agathe's presence, he had condemned woman to obedience, Stumm von Bordwehr gave the impression of a man to whom something im- portant had happened and who had striven, not without success, to master it. But Ulrich still had not grasped this, and proposed: 'Well, you decide which person is truly worth loving and which has the walk-on part! "
"That's too deep for me!
