-But then why don't you simply hire a private
detective
to find Gerda?
Musil - Man Without Qualities - v2
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.
-W hy don't you tum to the police? Ulrich asked.
- O h , please! I can't advertise my family affairs to the world! Besides, I want to, but my wife won't hear of it. I immediately paid my wife back what I had lost of hers; her high-and-mighty brothers aren't going to wear out their mouths about me! And in the last analysis, Gerda is as much her child as mine. In that line I'm not going to do anything without
1666 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
her agreement. Halfthe day she rides around in my car and searches her eyes out. Of course that's absurd; that's not the way to go about it. But what can one do when one's married to a woman!
- I thought your divorce was under way?
- I t was. That is, only verbally. Not yet legally. The lawyers had just fired the first shots when my situation visibly improved. I don't know myself what our current relation is; I believe Clementine is waiting for a discussion. Of course she's still living at her brother's.
-But then why don't you simply hire a private detective to find Gerda? Ulrich interrupted, having just thought of it.
-Good idea, Fischel replied.
- S h e can be tracked down through Hans Sepp!
- M y wife intends to drive out to Hans Sepp yet again one of these
days and work on him; he's not saying anything.
- O h , you know what? Hans must be doing his military service now;
don't you remember? He got a six-month postponement on account of some exams he had to take, which he ended up not taking. He must have gone in two weeks ago; I can say that precisely because it was very unusual, since around this time only the medical students are called up. So your wife will hardly find him. On the other hand, his feet could re- ally be held to the fire through his superiors. You understand, if some- one there squeezes him between his fingers, it will really loosen his tongue!
·-Splendid, and thank you! I hope my wife will see that too. For as I said, without Clementine I don't want to undertake anything in this di- rection; otheiWise I'll immediately be accused again of being a mur- derer!
Ulrich had to smile. -Freedom seems to have made you anxious, my dear Fischel.
Fischel had always been easily irritated by Ulrich; now that he had become an important man, even more so. -Y ou exaggerate freedom- he said dismissively-and it appears that you've never quite understood my position. Marriage is often a struggle as to who is the stronger; ex- traordinarily difficult as long as it involves feelings, ideas, and fantasies! But not difficult at all as soon as one is successful in life. I have the im- pression that even Clementine is beginning to realize that. One can argue for weeks over whether an opinion is correct. But as soon as one is successful, it is the opinion of a man who might have been mistaken but who needs this incidental error for his success. In the worst case, it's like the hobbyhorse ofsome great artist; and what does one do with the hob- byhorses of great artists? One loves them; one knows that they're a little secret. Since Ulrich was laughing freely, Fischel did not want to stop
From the Posthumous Papers · 1667
talking. -Listen to what I'm telling you! Pay close attention! I said that if one has no other ambitions I nothing to do I has nothing I besides feel- ings and ideas, the quarrel is endless. Ideas and feelings make one petty and neurotic. Unfortunately, that's what happened with me and Clem- entine. Today I have no time. I don't even lmow for certain whether Clementine wants to come back to me; I only believe that she does; she's sorry, and sooner or later that will come out of itself, but then most cer- tainly in a simpler and better way than if I were to think out down to the last detail how it has to come about. You could never do business, either, with a plan that is unhealthily pinned down in evexy detail!
Fischel was almost out of breath, but he felt free. Ulrich had been listening to him seriously, and did not contradict. -I'm quite relieved that everything has taken a tum for the better, he said politely. -Y our wife is an excellent woman, and when it will be advantageous for you to have a great house, she will fulfill that task admirably.
-Exactly. That too. Soon we'll be able to celebrate our silver anniver- sary, and joking aside, if the money is new, the character at least ought to be old. A silver-anniversary is worth almost as much as an aristocratic grandmother, which, moreover, she also has.
Ulrich got up to leave, but Fischel was now in high spirits. - B u t you shouldn't think that Leona managed to clip my wings! I left her to Dr. Amheim with no envy whatsoever. Do you lmow the dancer . . . He mentioned an unfamiliar name and pulled a small photo from his wallet. -W ell, where should you lmow her from, she has seldom appeared in public; private dance evenings, distinguished, Beethoven and Debussy, you lmow, that's now the coming thing. But what I wanted to tell you: you're an athlete, can you manage this? He stepped over to a table and accompanied his words with an echo ofarm and leg. -For instance, she lies this way on a table. The upper body flat on the top, her face leaning with one ear on her propped-up arms, and smiling deliciously. But at the same time her legs are spread apart, like this, along the narrow edge of the table, so that it looks like a big T. Or she suddenly stands on her forearms and palms-like this-of course I can't do it. And she has one foot way over her head and almost on the ground, the other against the cabinet up there. I tell you, you couldn't do a tenth of it, in spite of your gymnastics. That's the modem woman. She's lovelier than we, cleverer than we, and I believe that ifI tried to box with her I'd soon be clutching my belly. The only thing in which a man is stronger today than a woman is in earning money!
1668 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
Who had been responsible for Hans Sepp's receiving his black mark? Remarkably enough, it was Count Leinsdorf. Count Leinsdorf had one day asked Ulrich about this young man, and Ulrich had presented him as a harmless muddlehead; but Count Leinsdorfhad recently taken to mis- trusting Ulrich, and this information confirmed his conviction that in Hans Sepp he had before him one of those irresponsible elements who are continually preventing anything good from being done in Kakania. Count Leinsdorf had lately become nervous. He had heard through General Director Leo Fischel that a quite distinct group of immature young people that had formed around Hans Sepp had been the real in- stigator of the demonstration that had caused His Excellency more un- pleasantness than might be supposed. For this political procession had created "a quite unfavorable impression upstairs. " There was no ques- tion that it was completely harmless, and that if one had seriously wanted to prevent such a thing it could be done by a handful of police at any time; but the impression such events make is always much more ter- rifying than they actually merit, and no true politician dares neglect im- pressions. Count Leinsdorf had had serious discussions about this with his friend the Commissioner of Police, which had not produced any re- sults, and when Count Leinsdorf afterward learned the name of Hans Sepp, the Commissioner was quite ready to have this lead followed up in order to appease His Excellency. The Commissioner had been con- vinced from the start that any findings that might have previously es- caped his police would be trifling, and was only confirmed in this opinion by the results ofthe inquiries he had ordered. But still, the pre- occupation of a bureaucracy with an individual always leads to the con- clusion that this individual is shady and unreliable, that is to say, as measured by the standards of precision and security according to the rules and regulations one applies in a bureaucracy. For this reason the Commissioner found it expedient, when there was room for doubt, not to reproach a man like Count Leinsdorf for imagining things but rather to allow the case of Hans Sepp to be treated according to the model that at the moment nothing could be proved against the suspect, on which account he only remained under suspicion until the matter could be completely cleared up. This complete clearing up was tacitly set for Saint Never-Plus-One's Day, when all the files that are still open rise up from the graves ofthe archives. That in spite ofthis it brought suffering on Hans Sepp was a totally impersonal matter, which did not involve trickery ofany kind. A buried open file must from time to time be raised from its grave in order to note on it that it is still not possible to close it,
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 66g
and to mark it with a date on which the archivist is again to present it to his supervisor. This is a universal law of bureaucracy, and if it should involve a file that was never intended to be closed, on the pretext that its documentation was not complete, one must pay very close attention, for it can happen that bureaucrats are promoted, transferred, and die, and that a neophyte receiving the file causes, in his excessive zeal, a small supplementary investigation to be added to one of the last investigations that took place years ago, which causes the file to be kept alive for a few weeks until the investigation ends as a report to be inserted in, and dis- appear with, the file. Through some such process Hans Sepp's file, too, had, without any particular pwpose, become current; since Hans Sepp happened to be in the army, his file had to go to the Ministry of Justice, from there to the Ministry of War, and from there to the Command- ing Officer, etc. , and it is easy to understand how, handed on through the various in and out stamps, presentation stamps, confirmations of action, additions with bureaucratic courtesy, Relinquished, For Re- port, Not Known in this Office, and such, this file took on a dangerous appearance.
Meanwhile, in desperation, Gerda had run to Ulrich and reported that Hans had to be rescued, because he was not up to the conditions he had fallen into and was already clearly showing alarming signs of crack- ing up completely. She had still not returned to her parents' house, kept her whereabouts hidden, and was quite proud at having found some piano lessons to give and being able to add a few pennies to the money her friends lent her. At that time Leo Fischel was making the most strenuous efforts to win her back, and so Ulrich intervened as mediator. After long back-and-forth and paternal admonitions, Gerda let herself be talked into considering favorably a promise to move back to her par- ents' if Papa would declare himself ready and bring about, and Ulrich would support, freeing Hans from his doom. Ulrich spoke with General Director Fischel about it, and General Director Fischel had by then done many a worse thing than was now being asked of him in order to get his daughter back. He turned to Count Leinsdorf. General Director Leo Fischel was actively involved in business relations with Count Leinsdorf; after some commiseration and reflection, His Excellency rec- ommended him to Diotima, who at the moment was on intimate footing with the Ministry of War and, for this reason too more suitable than he was, because this whole affair, especially because ofthe slightly irregular solution required, was more the province ofwoman, ofthe heart, and of feminine tact. In this way Leo Fischel came to Diotima.
Count Leinsdorfhad already prepared her for the visit, and she made a powerful impression on Fischel. He had thought that the time when
1670 • THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
anything intellectual could compel his admiration lay behind him. But it appeared that beautiful women were especially qualified to soften his newly acquired hardness. He had had his first relapse with Leona. Leona had a face of the sort that General Director Fischel's parents would have admired, and this face again came to his mind when he saw Diotima, although there was really no similarity. At that time, the most miserable drawing teacher or photographer would not have been at peace with himself if he had not felt in his hair or his necktie some breath of genius. For this reason Leona, too, was not simply beautiful for Leo but a genius of beauty; that was the special charm through which she had led him astray into risky undertakings. - A pity she had such a mean character, Fischel thought. - H e r long fat legs were a long sight lovelier than the desiccated legs of these modem dancers. He did not know whether it was the desiccated legs or the unpleasant character that made him think of his wife, Clementine, but at any rate he remembered with emotion the happy years of his marriage, for then Clementine and he had still believed in the value ofgenius, and ifone considers this in a well-disposed way, it was not so misplaced; the line of Leo Fischel's life, looked at in this light, showed no break, for in the last analysis the belief that there were privileged geniuses was a possible way ofjustifying ruth- less and risky deals. Diotima possessed the quality of awakening such ideas that roam through the far reaches of the soul when one sat oppo- site her for the first time, and General Director Fischel meanwhile needed only to brush his hands through his sideburns once and set his pince-nez to rights before he began to speak with a sigh. Diotima con- firmed this sigh with a motherly smile, and before Fischel even got to what he wanted to say, this woman with a wholly justified reputation for her gift ofempathy said: - I have been told the purpose ofyour visit. It is sad; humanity today suffers grievously from its failure to produce more geniuses, while on the other hand it denies and persecutes every young talent that might perhaps develop into one.
Fischel ventured the question: - Y o u have heard what's happening to my protege? He's a troublemaker. Well, and what of it? All great people were troublemakers in their youth. I do not, by the way, in the least con- done it. But he was also, ifyou will permit me the observation, a forceps birth; his head was somewhat compressed; he is extremely irritable, and I thought that that might perhaps be a way . . . ?
Diotima raised her eyebrows sadly. - I spoke about it with one of the leading gentlemen of the War Ministry; unfortunately, I must tell you, General Director, that your request is meeting with almost insurmount- able difficulties.
Sadly and indignantly Fischel raised his hands. -But one cannot
From the Posthumous Papers · 1671
force an intellectual person when it goes against the intellect! The fellow has some ideas about refusing service in wartime, and the gentlemen will end up shooting him on mel
-Y es, Diotima replied. -Y ou are so right! One should not force an intellectual when it goes against the intellect. You are voicing my own opinion. But how is one to make a general understand that?
A pause ensued. Fischel almost thought he should leave, but when he scraped his feet Diotima laid a hand on his arm with mute permission to remain. She seemed to be thinking. Fischel racked his brains to see ifhe could help her find a good idea. He would have gladly offered her money for the leading gentleman of the War Ministry she had men- tioned; but such an idea was at that time absurd. Fischel felt helpless. -A Midas! occurred to him; why, he did not exactly know, and he sought to recollect this ancient legend, without quite being able to. The lenses of his spectacles almost misted over with emotion.
At this moment Diotima brightened. - I believe, General Director, that I perhaps might indeed be able to help you a little. I would in any case be delighted if I could. I can't get over the idea that an intellectual can't be forced against the intellect! Of course, it would be better not to talk too much to the gentlemen of the War Ministry about the nature of this intellect.
Leo Fischel obligingly concurred with this circumspection.
- B u t this case has also, so to speak, a maternal side--Diotima went on-a feminine, unlogical aspect; I mean, given so-and-so many thou- sands of soldiers, just one can't be so important. I'll try to make clear to a high officer who is a friend of mine that out of political considerations His Excellency considers it important to have this young man mustered out; the right people should always be put in the right places, and your future son-in-law is not of the slightest use in a barracks, whereas he . . . well, somehow that's the way I see it. Unfortunately, the military is uncommonly resistant to exceptions. But what I hope is that we can at least get the young man a fairly long leave, and then we can think what to do about the rest.
Charmed, Leo Fischel bent over Diotima's hand. This woman had won his complete confidence.
The visit was not without its effect on his way of thinking either. For understandable reasons, he had lately become quite materialistic. His experiences of life had led him to the viewpoint that a right-thinking man had to watch out for himself. Be independent; need nothing from others for which you did not have something they wanted in return: but that is also a Protestant feeling, much as it was for the first colonists in America. Leo Fischel still loved to philosophize, even though his time
1672 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
for it had become much more limited. His affairs now sometimes brought him into contact with the high clergy. He discovered that it is the mistake of all religions to teach virtue as something which is only negative, as abstinence and selflessness; this makes it anachronistic and gives the deals one has to make an aura of something like secret vice. On the other hand, the public religion ofefficiency, as he met it in Germany through his business, had seized hold of him. People are glad to help a capable and enterprising person; in other words, he can get credit any- where: this was a positive formula that allowed one to get somewhere. It taught one to be ready to help withou~ reckoning on gratitude, just as Christian teaching demands, although it did not include the uncertainty of having to rely on noble feeling in someone else, but made use of ego- tism as the single dependable human quality, which it without doubt is. And money is a tool of genius that makes it possible to calculate and regulate this basic quality. Money is ordered selfishness brought into re- lation with efficiency. An enormous organization of selfishness accord- ing to the hierarchical order of how it is earned. It is a creative umbrella organization built on baseness-emperors and kings have not tamed the passions the way money has. Fischel often wondered what human demi- urge might have invented money. Ifeverythingwere to be accessible to money, and every matter to have its price, which unfortunately is still far from being the case, then any other morality besides the existence of trade would be of no use at all. This was his opinion and his conviction. Even during the time when he had revered the great ideas of humanity, he had always felt a certain aversion to them in the mouth of anybody else. If someone simply says "virtue" or "beauty," there is something as unnatural and affected about it as-when an Austrian speaks in the past tense. Now even that had increased. His life was consumed by work, striving for power, efficiency, and the dependence on the greatness of affairs, which he had to observe and exploit. The intellectual and spiri- tual spheres came to seem to him more and more like clouds having no connection with the earth. But he was no happier. He felt himself some- how weakened. Every amusement seemed to him more superficial than before. He increased his stimuli, with the result that he succeeded only in making himself more distracted. He made fun of his daughter, but secretly he envied her her ideas.
And as Diotima had spoken so naturally and freely of maternal feel- ing, soul, mind, and goodness, he was constantly thinking: -What a mother this would be for Gerda! (? wife for you) He wept inside to hear the beauty of her speech, and he had great satisfaction in noticing how these great words gave birth to a tiny element of corruption-however elegantly-for she was ultimately fulfilling: his request, whatever reasons
From the Posthumous Papers · 1673
might have been behind it. In certain cases, when there is a question of some injustice, idealism is almost better than naked calculation; this was the teaching that Fischel drew directly from the impressions of his visit, and that he intended to think about urgently on his further course.
Hans Sepp had left the barracks and not shown up for duty, although he had been transferred from the hospital back to his company. He knew that his return would entail the most unbearable consequences; being punished like an animal and, still worse-for punishment is soli- t:aty-beforehand the dull, set face of the captain and the necessity of having to be interrogated by him. Hans knew that he had made up his mind not to go back. For the first time the holy fire of defiance again flared up in him, and the unbending sense ofpurity that avoids contami- nation with the impure flashed through him. This made even more of a torture the memory that he had lost the right to it. He considered his illness incurable and was convinced that he had been sullied for the rest of his life. He had resolved to kill himself; he had left the barracks to completely cut off a return to life; the thought that in a few hours he would have killed himselfwas the only thing that could to some degree substitute for his self-respect, even ifit could not restore it.
In order not to be immediately recognized ifthey should be looking for him, he had put on civilian clothes. He walked through the city on foot, for he felt incapable of taking a cab; he had a long route before him, as it had seemed to him for some reason a matter ofcourse that he would kill himself only in the open countryside. He actually could have done it on the way, in the middle of the city; presumably, certain ceremonies merely serve to postpone the business a bit, and among these Hans in- cluded a last glimpse of nature; but he was not at all one of those people who think about such questions in a situation such as the one he was now in. The famous dark veil that arises when the moisture content of the emotions becomes extreme without precipitating tears lay before his eyes, and the noises of the world echoed softly. Passing cars, the throng of people, housefronts stretching for blocks, all looked like a bas-relief. The tears that Hans Sepp did not want to shed outwardly in public or for other reasons nonetheless fell through him inwardly as if down an in- credibly deep, dark shaft onto his own grave, in which he already felt himself lying, which signifies about the same thing as that he was simul- taneously sitting beside it and grieving for himself. There is in all this a force that is very cheering, and by the time Hans got to the city line,
1674 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
where the train tracks ran upon which he wanted to throw himself as soon as a train came along, his grief had become attached to and affili- ated with so many things that it really felt quite good. The stretch he was on was apparently not well traveled, and Hans had to tell himself that upon arriving he would have immediately thrown himself in front of a train had one happened to be passing by at that instant, but that not lmowing the schedule, he could not simply lie down on the tracks and wait. He sat down among the sparse vegetation on the slope at the top of a cut where the railway made a curve, and he could see in both direc- tions. A train passed, but he gave himself time. He observed the incred- ible increase in speed that takes place when the train shoots, as it were, through one's vicinity, and listened to the din of the wheels in order to be able to picture how he was going to be pounded in it by the next train. This clanging and bawling seemed, in contrast to what he saw, to last for an extraordinruy length of time, and Hans turned cold.
The question of what had made him want to end his life by means of a railway train was not at all clear. Hanging had something distorted and spooky. Jumping out a window is a woman's way. He had no poison. To cut his veins he needed a bathtub. On this path of eliminating other pos- sibilities, he pursued methodically the same course he had taken in blind determination with a single step: it satisfied him; his instincts had not yet been affected. To be sure, he had left out death by shooting; he thought of it now for the first time. But Hans did not own a pistol, nor did he lmow what to do with one, and he did not want to share his last moment with his army rifle.
-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.
-W hy don't you tum to the police? Ulrich asked.
- O h , please! I can't advertise my family affairs to the world! Besides, I want to, but my wife won't hear of it. I immediately paid my wife back what I had lost of hers; her high-and-mighty brothers aren't going to wear out their mouths about me! And in the last analysis, Gerda is as much her child as mine. In that line I'm not going to do anything without
1666 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
her agreement. Halfthe day she rides around in my car and searches her eyes out. Of course that's absurd; that's not the way to go about it. But what can one do when one's married to a woman!
- I thought your divorce was under way?
- I t was. That is, only verbally. Not yet legally. The lawyers had just fired the first shots when my situation visibly improved. I don't know myself what our current relation is; I believe Clementine is waiting for a discussion. Of course she's still living at her brother's.
-But then why don't you simply hire a private detective to find Gerda? Ulrich interrupted, having just thought of it.
-Good idea, Fischel replied.
- S h e can be tracked down through Hans Sepp!
- M y wife intends to drive out to Hans Sepp yet again one of these
days and work on him; he's not saying anything.
- O h , you know what? Hans must be doing his military service now;
don't you remember? He got a six-month postponement on account of some exams he had to take, which he ended up not taking. He must have gone in two weeks ago; I can say that precisely because it was very unusual, since around this time only the medical students are called up. So your wife will hardly find him. On the other hand, his feet could re- ally be held to the fire through his superiors. You understand, if some- one there squeezes him between his fingers, it will really loosen his tongue!
·-Splendid, and thank you! I hope my wife will see that too. For as I said, without Clementine I don't want to undertake anything in this di- rection; otheiWise I'll immediately be accused again of being a mur- derer!
Ulrich had to smile. -Freedom seems to have made you anxious, my dear Fischel.
Fischel had always been easily irritated by Ulrich; now that he had become an important man, even more so. -Y ou exaggerate freedom- he said dismissively-and it appears that you've never quite understood my position. Marriage is often a struggle as to who is the stronger; ex- traordinarily difficult as long as it involves feelings, ideas, and fantasies! But not difficult at all as soon as one is successful in life. I have the im- pression that even Clementine is beginning to realize that. One can argue for weeks over whether an opinion is correct. But as soon as one is successful, it is the opinion of a man who might have been mistaken but who needs this incidental error for his success. In the worst case, it's like the hobbyhorse ofsome great artist; and what does one do with the hob- byhorses of great artists? One loves them; one knows that they're a little secret. Since Ulrich was laughing freely, Fischel did not want to stop
From the Posthumous Papers · 1667
talking. -Listen to what I'm telling you! Pay close attention! I said that if one has no other ambitions I nothing to do I has nothing I besides feel- ings and ideas, the quarrel is endless. Ideas and feelings make one petty and neurotic. Unfortunately, that's what happened with me and Clem- entine. Today I have no time. I don't even lmow for certain whether Clementine wants to come back to me; I only believe that she does; she's sorry, and sooner or later that will come out of itself, but then most cer- tainly in a simpler and better way than if I were to think out down to the last detail how it has to come about. You could never do business, either, with a plan that is unhealthily pinned down in evexy detail!
Fischel was almost out of breath, but he felt free. Ulrich had been listening to him seriously, and did not contradict. -I'm quite relieved that everything has taken a tum for the better, he said politely. -Y our wife is an excellent woman, and when it will be advantageous for you to have a great house, she will fulfill that task admirably.
-Exactly. That too. Soon we'll be able to celebrate our silver anniver- sary, and joking aside, if the money is new, the character at least ought to be old. A silver-anniversary is worth almost as much as an aristocratic grandmother, which, moreover, she also has.
Ulrich got up to leave, but Fischel was now in high spirits. - B u t you shouldn't think that Leona managed to clip my wings! I left her to Dr. Amheim with no envy whatsoever. Do you lmow the dancer . . . He mentioned an unfamiliar name and pulled a small photo from his wallet. -W ell, where should you lmow her from, she has seldom appeared in public; private dance evenings, distinguished, Beethoven and Debussy, you lmow, that's now the coming thing. But what I wanted to tell you: you're an athlete, can you manage this? He stepped over to a table and accompanied his words with an echo ofarm and leg. -For instance, she lies this way on a table. The upper body flat on the top, her face leaning with one ear on her propped-up arms, and smiling deliciously. But at the same time her legs are spread apart, like this, along the narrow edge of the table, so that it looks like a big T. Or she suddenly stands on her forearms and palms-like this-of course I can't do it. And she has one foot way over her head and almost on the ground, the other against the cabinet up there. I tell you, you couldn't do a tenth of it, in spite of your gymnastics. That's the modem woman. She's lovelier than we, cleverer than we, and I believe that ifI tried to box with her I'd soon be clutching my belly. The only thing in which a man is stronger today than a woman is in earning money!
1668 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
Who had been responsible for Hans Sepp's receiving his black mark? Remarkably enough, it was Count Leinsdorf. Count Leinsdorf had one day asked Ulrich about this young man, and Ulrich had presented him as a harmless muddlehead; but Count Leinsdorfhad recently taken to mis- trusting Ulrich, and this information confirmed his conviction that in Hans Sepp he had before him one of those irresponsible elements who are continually preventing anything good from being done in Kakania. Count Leinsdorf had lately become nervous. He had heard through General Director Leo Fischel that a quite distinct group of immature young people that had formed around Hans Sepp had been the real in- stigator of the demonstration that had caused His Excellency more un- pleasantness than might be supposed. For this political procession had created "a quite unfavorable impression upstairs. " There was no ques- tion that it was completely harmless, and that if one had seriously wanted to prevent such a thing it could be done by a handful of police at any time; but the impression such events make is always much more ter- rifying than they actually merit, and no true politician dares neglect im- pressions. Count Leinsdorf had had serious discussions about this with his friend the Commissioner of Police, which had not produced any re- sults, and when Count Leinsdorf afterward learned the name of Hans Sepp, the Commissioner was quite ready to have this lead followed up in order to appease His Excellency. The Commissioner had been con- vinced from the start that any findings that might have previously es- caped his police would be trifling, and was only confirmed in this opinion by the results ofthe inquiries he had ordered. But still, the pre- occupation of a bureaucracy with an individual always leads to the con- clusion that this individual is shady and unreliable, that is to say, as measured by the standards of precision and security according to the rules and regulations one applies in a bureaucracy. For this reason the Commissioner found it expedient, when there was room for doubt, not to reproach a man like Count Leinsdorf for imagining things but rather to allow the case of Hans Sepp to be treated according to the model that at the moment nothing could be proved against the suspect, on which account he only remained under suspicion until the matter could be completely cleared up. This complete clearing up was tacitly set for Saint Never-Plus-One's Day, when all the files that are still open rise up from the graves ofthe archives. That in spite ofthis it brought suffering on Hans Sepp was a totally impersonal matter, which did not involve trickery ofany kind. A buried open file must from time to time be raised from its grave in order to note on it that it is still not possible to close it,
From the Posthumous Papers · 1 66g
and to mark it with a date on which the archivist is again to present it to his supervisor. This is a universal law of bureaucracy, and if it should involve a file that was never intended to be closed, on the pretext that its documentation was not complete, one must pay very close attention, for it can happen that bureaucrats are promoted, transferred, and die, and that a neophyte receiving the file causes, in his excessive zeal, a small supplementary investigation to be added to one of the last investigations that took place years ago, which causes the file to be kept alive for a few weeks until the investigation ends as a report to be inserted in, and dis- appear with, the file. Through some such process Hans Sepp's file, too, had, without any particular pwpose, become current; since Hans Sepp happened to be in the army, his file had to go to the Ministry of Justice, from there to the Ministry of War, and from there to the Command- ing Officer, etc. , and it is easy to understand how, handed on through the various in and out stamps, presentation stamps, confirmations of action, additions with bureaucratic courtesy, Relinquished, For Re- port, Not Known in this Office, and such, this file took on a dangerous appearance.
Meanwhile, in desperation, Gerda had run to Ulrich and reported that Hans had to be rescued, because he was not up to the conditions he had fallen into and was already clearly showing alarming signs of crack- ing up completely. She had still not returned to her parents' house, kept her whereabouts hidden, and was quite proud at having found some piano lessons to give and being able to add a few pennies to the money her friends lent her. At that time Leo Fischel was making the most strenuous efforts to win her back, and so Ulrich intervened as mediator. After long back-and-forth and paternal admonitions, Gerda let herself be talked into considering favorably a promise to move back to her par- ents' if Papa would declare himself ready and bring about, and Ulrich would support, freeing Hans from his doom. Ulrich spoke with General Director Fischel about it, and General Director Fischel had by then done many a worse thing than was now being asked of him in order to get his daughter back. He turned to Count Leinsdorf. General Director Leo Fischel was actively involved in business relations with Count Leinsdorf; after some commiseration and reflection, His Excellency rec- ommended him to Diotima, who at the moment was on intimate footing with the Ministry of War and, for this reason too more suitable than he was, because this whole affair, especially because ofthe slightly irregular solution required, was more the province ofwoman, ofthe heart, and of feminine tact. In this way Leo Fischel came to Diotima.
Count Leinsdorfhad already prepared her for the visit, and she made a powerful impression on Fischel. He had thought that the time when
1670 • THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
anything intellectual could compel his admiration lay behind him. But it appeared that beautiful women were especially qualified to soften his newly acquired hardness. He had had his first relapse with Leona. Leona had a face of the sort that General Director Fischel's parents would have admired, and this face again came to his mind when he saw Diotima, although there was really no similarity. At that time, the most miserable drawing teacher or photographer would not have been at peace with himself if he had not felt in his hair or his necktie some breath of genius. For this reason Leona, too, was not simply beautiful for Leo but a genius of beauty; that was the special charm through which she had led him astray into risky undertakings. - A pity she had such a mean character, Fischel thought. - H e r long fat legs were a long sight lovelier than the desiccated legs of these modem dancers. He did not know whether it was the desiccated legs or the unpleasant character that made him think of his wife, Clementine, but at any rate he remembered with emotion the happy years of his marriage, for then Clementine and he had still believed in the value ofgenius, and ifone considers this in a well-disposed way, it was not so misplaced; the line of Leo Fischel's life, looked at in this light, showed no break, for in the last analysis the belief that there were privileged geniuses was a possible way ofjustifying ruth- less and risky deals. Diotima possessed the quality of awakening such ideas that roam through the far reaches of the soul when one sat oppo- site her for the first time, and General Director Fischel meanwhile needed only to brush his hands through his sideburns once and set his pince-nez to rights before he began to speak with a sigh. Diotima con- firmed this sigh with a motherly smile, and before Fischel even got to what he wanted to say, this woman with a wholly justified reputation for her gift ofempathy said: - I have been told the purpose ofyour visit. It is sad; humanity today suffers grievously from its failure to produce more geniuses, while on the other hand it denies and persecutes every young talent that might perhaps develop into one.
Fischel ventured the question: - Y o u have heard what's happening to my protege? He's a troublemaker. Well, and what of it? All great people were troublemakers in their youth. I do not, by the way, in the least con- done it. But he was also, ifyou will permit me the observation, a forceps birth; his head was somewhat compressed; he is extremely irritable, and I thought that that might perhaps be a way . . . ?
Diotima raised her eyebrows sadly. - I spoke about it with one of the leading gentlemen of the War Ministry; unfortunately, I must tell you, General Director, that your request is meeting with almost insurmount- able difficulties.
Sadly and indignantly Fischel raised his hands. -But one cannot
From the Posthumous Papers · 1671
force an intellectual person when it goes against the intellect! The fellow has some ideas about refusing service in wartime, and the gentlemen will end up shooting him on mel
-Y es, Diotima replied. -Y ou are so right! One should not force an intellectual when it goes against the intellect. You are voicing my own opinion. But how is one to make a general understand that?
A pause ensued. Fischel almost thought he should leave, but when he scraped his feet Diotima laid a hand on his arm with mute permission to remain. She seemed to be thinking. Fischel racked his brains to see ifhe could help her find a good idea. He would have gladly offered her money for the leading gentleman of the War Ministry she had men- tioned; but such an idea was at that time absurd. Fischel felt helpless. -A Midas! occurred to him; why, he did not exactly know, and he sought to recollect this ancient legend, without quite being able to. The lenses of his spectacles almost misted over with emotion.
At this moment Diotima brightened. - I believe, General Director, that I perhaps might indeed be able to help you a little. I would in any case be delighted if I could. I can't get over the idea that an intellectual can't be forced against the intellect! Of course, it would be better not to talk too much to the gentlemen of the War Ministry about the nature of this intellect.
Leo Fischel obligingly concurred with this circumspection.
- B u t this case has also, so to speak, a maternal side--Diotima went on-a feminine, unlogical aspect; I mean, given so-and-so many thou- sands of soldiers, just one can't be so important. I'll try to make clear to a high officer who is a friend of mine that out of political considerations His Excellency considers it important to have this young man mustered out; the right people should always be put in the right places, and your future son-in-law is not of the slightest use in a barracks, whereas he . . . well, somehow that's the way I see it. Unfortunately, the military is uncommonly resistant to exceptions. But what I hope is that we can at least get the young man a fairly long leave, and then we can think what to do about the rest.
Charmed, Leo Fischel bent over Diotima's hand. This woman had won his complete confidence.
The visit was not without its effect on his way of thinking either. For understandable reasons, he had lately become quite materialistic. His experiences of life had led him to the viewpoint that a right-thinking man had to watch out for himself. Be independent; need nothing from others for which you did not have something they wanted in return: but that is also a Protestant feeling, much as it was for the first colonists in America. Leo Fischel still loved to philosophize, even though his time
1672 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
for it had become much more limited. His affairs now sometimes brought him into contact with the high clergy. He discovered that it is the mistake of all religions to teach virtue as something which is only negative, as abstinence and selflessness; this makes it anachronistic and gives the deals one has to make an aura of something like secret vice. On the other hand, the public religion ofefficiency, as he met it in Germany through his business, had seized hold of him. People are glad to help a capable and enterprising person; in other words, he can get credit any- where: this was a positive formula that allowed one to get somewhere. It taught one to be ready to help withou~ reckoning on gratitude, just as Christian teaching demands, although it did not include the uncertainty of having to rely on noble feeling in someone else, but made use of ego- tism as the single dependable human quality, which it without doubt is. And money is a tool of genius that makes it possible to calculate and regulate this basic quality. Money is ordered selfishness brought into re- lation with efficiency. An enormous organization of selfishness accord- ing to the hierarchical order of how it is earned. It is a creative umbrella organization built on baseness-emperors and kings have not tamed the passions the way money has. Fischel often wondered what human demi- urge might have invented money. Ifeverythingwere to be accessible to money, and every matter to have its price, which unfortunately is still far from being the case, then any other morality besides the existence of trade would be of no use at all. This was his opinion and his conviction. Even during the time when he had revered the great ideas of humanity, he had always felt a certain aversion to them in the mouth of anybody else. If someone simply says "virtue" or "beauty," there is something as unnatural and affected about it as-when an Austrian speaks in the past tense. Now even that had increased. His life was consumed by work, striving for power, efficiency, and the dependence on the greatness of affairs, which he had to observe and exploit. The intellectual and spiri- tual spheres came to seem to him more and more like clouds having no connection with the earth. But he was no happier. He felt himself some- how weakened. Every amusement seemed to him more superficial than before. He increased his stimuli, with the result that he succeeded only in making himself more distracted. He made fun of his daughter, but secretly he envied her her ideas.
And as Diotima had spoken so naturally and freely of maternal feel- ing, soul, mind, and goodness, he was constantly thinking: -What a mother this would be for Gerda! (? wife for you) He wept inside to hear the beauty of her speech, and he had great satisfaction in noticing how these great words gave birth to a tiny element of corruption-however elegantly-for she was ultimately fulfilling: his request, whatever reasons
From the Posthumous Papers · 1673
might have been behind it. In certain cases, when there is a question of some injustice, idealism is almost better than naked calculation; this was the teaching that Fischel drew directly from the impressions of his visit, and that he intended to think about urgently on his further course.
Hans Sepp had left the barracks and not shown up for duty, although he had been transferred from the hospital back to his company. He knew that his return would entail the most unbearable consequences; being punished like an animal and, still worse-for punishment is soli- t:aty-beforehand the dull, set face of the captain and the necessity of having to be interrogated by him. Hans knew that he had made up his mind not to go back. For the first time the holy fire of defiance again flared up in him, and the unbending sense ofpurity that avoids contami- nation with the impure flashed through him. This made even more of a torture the memory that he had lost the right to it. He considered his illness incurable and was convinced that he had been sullied for the rest of his life. He had resolved to kill himself; he had left the barracks to completely cut off a return to life; the thought that in a few hours he would have killed himselfwas the only thing that could to some degree substitute for his self-respect, even ifit could not restore it.
In order not to be immediately recognized ifthey should be looking for him, he had put on civilian clothes. He walked through the city on foot, for he felt incapable of taking a cab; he had a long route before him, as it had seemed to him for some reason a matter ofcourse that he would kill himself only in the open countryside. He actually could have done it on the way, in the middle of the city; presumably, certain ceremonies merely serve to postpone the business a bit, and among these Hans in- cluded a last glimpse of nature; but he was not at all one of those people who think about such questions in a situation such as the one he was now in. The famous dark veil that arises when the moisture content of the emotions becomes extreme without precipitating tears lay before his eyes, and the noises of the world echoed softly. Passing cars, the throng of people, housefronts stretching for blocks, all looked like a bas-relief. The tears that Hans Sepp did not want to shed outwardly in public or for other reasons nonetheless fell through him inwardly as if down an in- credibly deep, dark shaft onto his own grave, in which he already felt himself lying, which signifies about the same thing as that he was simul- taneously sitting beside it and grieving for himself. There is in all this a force that is very cheering, and by the time Hans got to the city line,
1674 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
where the train tracks ran upon which he wanted to throw himself as soon as a train came along, his grief had become attached to and affili- ated with so many things that it really felt quite good. The stretch he was on was apparently not well traveled, and Hans had to tell himself that upon arriving he would have immediately thrown himself in front of a train had one happened to be passing by at that instant, but that not lmowing the schedule, he could not simply lie down on the tracks and wait. He sat down among the sparse vegetation on the slope at the top of a cut where the railway made a curve, and he could see in both direc- tions. A train passed, but he gave himself time. He observed the incred- ible increase in speed that takes place when the train shoots, as it were, through one's vicinity, and listened to the din of the wheels in order to be able to picture how he was going to be pounded in it by the next train. This clanging and bawling seemed, in contrast to what he saw, to last for an extraordinruy length of time, and Hans turned cold.
The question of what had made him want to end his life by means of a railway train was not at all clear. Hanging had something distorted and spooky. Jumping out a window is a woman's way. He had no poison. To cut his veins he needed a bathtub. On this path of eliminating other pos- sibilities, he pursued methodically the same course he had taken in blind determination with a single step: it satisfied him; his instincts had not yet been affected. To be sure, he had left out death by shooting; he thought of it now for the first time. But Hans did not own a pistol, nor did he lmow what to do with one, and he did not want to share his last moment with his army rifle.
