Although
he wore his overcoat, he still felt cold.
Weininger - 1946 - Mind and Death of a Genius
handle.
net/2027/wu.
89038364857 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www.
hathitrust.
org/access_use#pd-google
? 84
Edge of Fear
poem, which his sister has made it possible for me to publish,
shows the same feeling.
Sieh mich gebeugt mit lockerm Schritte
In Mauernahe angstlich gehn,
Verhohnend dein Gebot der Sitte
Nach Fiisschen und nach Busen spahn.
Das ist der Weg, der langst bekannte,
Zu ihr, der Gottin ohne Scham,
Den ich so oft zu gehen brannte,
Und reuig weinend wiederkam.
O Gott, in all Spiegel schlage
Vernichtend deine Faust hinein,
Das klare Licht entzieh dem Tage,
Dem Bache nimm den Widerschein!
--Und htihnisch schleicht das alte Bangen
der heissbegehrten Lust voran--
O! Gib dem Laster rothe Wangen,
dass ich ihm angstlos frohnen kann!
Filled with longing and carefully hidden,
Stealing my way through the darkest night,
I laugh at all that your law has bidden,
Burning, voluptuous, yet full of fright.
This is the road I have often wandered
To her, the Goddess who knows no shame,
The road desire bade me to follow,
And I was weeping when home I came.
May darkness reign on the road I follow;
May God turn day into darkest night,
Make the windows and mirrors empty, hollow,
Leave not a shimmer, no trace of light.
And, scornful still, the ancient terror
Steals darkly ahead of the dear delight.
Oh, redden the cheeks of Sinful Error
That I may serve him, free of fright.
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? Edge of Fear 85
A strong undercurrent of sexual experience runs through the
poem. Expressed in the poetic speech are the feelings deep in
the heart of a man fighting against his sexual drives and desires.
He tries to escape his violent sexual cravings. He wants to enjoy
sin without fear, especially the fear called forth by breaking the
moral law.
The poem demonstrates an aggressive sexual impulse ("This
is the road I have often wandered. . . . The road desire bade
me to follow"), which made it difficult for him to abstain. His
sexual drive did not give him comfort, because he wanted to
enjoy it without fear. Thus even though he expected to be
attracted, he was at the same time repelled by his sexual desires.
His own sexual aggressiveness produced in him a double sense
of values and an ambivalency of sexual feelings. Simultaneously
he felt affection and disgust, warmth and hostility, love and
hate. He says in Sex and Character (p. 108): "The man has
no desire for sexual maturity while he is young; to the young
girl it means the highest of all expectations. The symptoms of
sexual maturity in a man give him uncomfortable, restless, and
hostile feelings. The woman follows her somatic development
during puberty with great excitement and the most feverish and
impatient expectations. "
Ordinarily, ambivalency of this type can, within certain
limits, be quite normal. In Weininger's personality make-up,
however, was ingrained a positively aggressive sexuality, which
turned his intense sexual drive into the opposite extreme.
While he longed for sexual experience, he at the same time felt
hostile and frightened.
We see that this frightened restraint made the longing for
sexual experiences stronger; but the stronger the longing, the
more hostile his attitude. These contradictory and conflicting
tendencies in the sexual sphere were closely associated with his
whole personality. In the course of his life he developed a
hatred toward sex, and this was the basis and root of his strong
ego-consciousness, his hypertrophic ego.
His shrinking from pleasure he extended to a principle. He
came to believe that no one should enjoy a normal sex life.
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? 86 Edge of Fear
Further, the effect was that he lived his life psychically; in other
words his sexual life took the form of fantasies. He did not love
women, but the female being. He loved from a distance and
could not have anything to do with any real woman.
His own sexual drive influenced deeply his thinking on sexual
problems in general, as may be clearly seen in Sex and Char-
acter. His ethical tendency is apparent in his great work, but
in it sexual desire prevails. As a pupil of Kant and Plato, he felt
it imperative to express his moral attitude and to formulate his
ethical confession, but he was at the same time dependent on
introspection, and his sexual nature colored his attitude. For
instance, his ideas concerning the connection of logic and
ethics and his theory of universal responsibility are independent
problems, yet in working them out he mixed in sexual motifs.
The explanation lies in the conflict of strong idealism and a
violent sexual urge within him. The moral evaluation that ap-
pears in his writings corresponds to his idealism; he applied the
personal ethical principles of Kant to himself and he trans-
ferred them to apply to humanity, but always in such a way that
in one form or another his sexuality was involved in his
personal ethics. When Lucka and Swoboda say that his moral
interest was never--or only occasionally--involved in his work
on the sexual problem, they are not correct.
Weininger was, naturally, already aware of his moralistic
tendencies, but the sources of his moral considerations, and
more particularly the mental suffering that accompanied them,
were not seen clearly at first. Only when his intellectual gifts
were in full bloom, after his thesis had been written in 1901,
was he a suffering man. All his false ideas at this time were a
product of his own mental conflict, the struggle between his
biological drives and moral tendencies as they emerged more
and more from his introspection. If he arrived at a certain idea
out of emotional motives, he then proved it by building up an
opinion through a combination of concepts. This process is
very apparent in Vber die letzten Dinge. Swoboda comments,
"The completely superficial analogy between two facts is here
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? Edge of Fear 87
taken as sufficient proof of his preconceived ideas" (Swoboda,
p. 21). The process is, of course, usually called rationalization.
This picture is confirmed by Ewald, who speaks particularly
of his life: "The calm course of the discussions had been dis-
carded. Weininger spoke passionately; he was jerky, abrupt,
more visionary than logical; claimed, rather than considered,
the facts. While in the first period of his life he limited himself
to making sound observations and gaining experience, his
main interest in his second period was in strict, systematic
argumentation; he now uttered his opinions as unconditional
dogma which had to be believed. Typical words were, 'It is
quite obvious'--expressions which drew smiles and for which
he was scolded. Most of his opinions were very far from
obvious, as he professed many peculiar ideas which, when
found in his writings, have given the malicious critic an easy
target for attack. " 4
Rappaport also stresses the fact that fear--fear for himself--
was a constituent part of his mental life (U. L. D. , p. xvi).
We must bear in mind that there is a difference between
fear and terror. Fear is directed toward something indefinite.
Terror is more a state of one's own personality, an extreme
fright, more or less definable; it may be an anticipation that
something must happen, that something will happen. One
would, then, think that fear of death is a fear in general, while
terror of death would be called forth only by the thought of
one's own immediate death. It is better to distinguish between
an indefinite, vague fear and a rationalized, definite one and
to recognize the transitional forms between the two. At the
beginning of psychotic processes it is not uncommon for a more
or less indefinite fear to manifest itself. When a partially or
completely rationalized terror takes the place of the vague fear,
the change may be an expression of relief or a result of delibera-
tion.
With this distinction in mind, we may look at the psycho-
* Oskar Ewald (pseudonym of Oskar Friedlander), Die Enveckung (Berlin,
1922), pp. 67-68. This work is hereafter cited in the text simply as Ewald.
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? 88
Edge of Fear
logical phenomenon in Otto Weininger which we must call
terror. We do not find that it was bound up in his personality
and expressed in his mood. The fear present in his original
personality resulted from the struggle between his desires for
sexual expression and for reality elsewhere and his rejection of
his longings, while the terror of his later days was a new
phenomenon, originating from reserves of earlier years, as
evidenced in his letters to Gerber. At that time his terror grew
stronger and appeared rationalized.
Only once did Weininger directly admit that he was afraid
--on the night of November 20, 1902, when he talked to
Gerber of committing suicide. In Vber die letzten Dinge he
referred to the thoughts and feelings that led up to the in-
cident: "The dog has the most amazing and deep connection
with death. Months before the dog had become a problem to
me, I sat one afternoon around five o'clock in a room in the
Miinchener Gasthof, where I was staying, and thought of some-
thing. I suddenly heard a dog bark in a very peculiar, penetrat-
ing way which was then quite new to me, and at the same
moment I had the inevitable conviction that someone was dying
at that very moment. Months later, in the most terrible night
of my whole life, without being ill, I literally had to fight against
death--because in great men there is no mental death without
physical death, because in them life and death confront each
other, violent and intense, as the only possibilities. Just as I was
trying to fall asleep, I heard a dog bark three times in just the
same way as that time in Munich. The dog had been barking
all night long, but those three times were different. I noticed
that at that moment I was biting furiously at the sheet, like a
dying man. . . .
"Shortly before that night I had had several times the same
vision that Goethe must have had, to judge from Faust. I saw
a black dog which sometimes seemed as if he were followed by
a fiery light. . . . "
In this account we can discover the signs of his change of
mood, which seems to have been more and more colored by
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? Edge of Fear 89
terror, though in writing of his experience he did not use that
word at all. Apparently--if we accept the evidence of a postcard
written in Munich on July 29, 1902--in his earlier experience
his fear had not gone so far as to concern his very self, even if a
struggle had begun within him. Yet his statement that at the
same moment he had the conviction that someone was dying
somewhere bears out the suspicion that already the fear of
death was dawning in him. The consciousness of fear increased
and grew to terror. It is significant that Weininger later in his
essay "Science and Culture" said not only that "terror is always
the feeling of lifelessness" but also that "one can be afraid only
of life" (U. L. D. , p. 146). As it gradually became clear that the
fight between his cravings and his moral ideas was turning into
a fight for his own life, his terror became definite and quite ra-
tionalized. This terror of death mounted to the night of ma-
cabre experience when he bit furiously at the sheet "like a dying
man. "
When Otto returned to Vienna in September, 1902, instead
of being a fresh, rested man, rejoicing in mental harmony and
ready to start work with new energy, he was depressed, restless,
and full of doubt. This fact in itself is of no great significance.
A man of great mental energy who is deeply engaged in work-
ing on problems will always to a certain extent show restlessness
and discontent. At that time he was making notes and working
on the first sketch of his book Sex and Character. In a letter
to Gerber on October 18, he said: "I should like to see you be-
fore Sunday, as soon as possible. Perhaps I shall call on you
Tuesday at five. The subject: the division of women into moth-
ers and prostitutes" (Taschenbuch, p. 90). That he was work-
ing on his book is also apparent from letters he wrote earlier on
his trip. Yet this fact does not explain his whole mental state.
The restlessness seemed to be altogether on the surface, cover-
ing deep-seated emotional conflicts and the feeling of a lack of
happiness. The result was a mood of depression and discourage-
ment.
Out of this dark gloom came his erratic behavior on Novem-
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? 90 Edge of Fear
ber 20, 1902. Gerber relates: "In the early afternoon of No-
vember 20, Otto's father came to tell me that the day before
Otto had been to his home and had said goodbye to his family
in such a heartfelt and serious manner that there was reason to
be afraid that something might happen. I knew nothing about
it" (Taschenbuch, p. 16).
What happened in the interval between October 18, when
he wrote the letter about his work, and November 20, when his
father reported that he had been home bidding his family
goodbye, we do not know, though Gerber does state that he saw
Otto on the afternoon of November 18 and noticed nothing
peculiar about him. If Gerber was right in saying that Otto was
quite as usual that day, it seems to the outsider that the change
in him must have come quite suddenly. This is certainly the
impression given by Gerber when he goes on to say: "At that
time of day my friend was in Heiligenstadt, where he was teach-
ing. I hurried out there and waited for him outside in the street.
It was a long time before he finally appeared. He came out of
the house at a slow, solemn tempo. The concentrated strength
in his facial expression had given way to a desperate exhaustion
and dejection, something never previously present. His face was
ravaged, worn out, sinister, and serious. In the tone of his voice
I could hear a grave and silent pain. I had not thought that his
condition could be so bad as that. We had been together the
evening and afternoon of the eighteenth, and there had been no
hint of this fundamental change in him. When I asked him why
he felt so obviously ill, he answered in a deprecatory way: 'I
might at least get rid of my uncomfortable feeling by confiding
in someone. ' The abrupt, monosyllabic phrases apparently re-
sulted in temporary relief. "
A change had taken place in Weininger. He felt, however,
that he might purge his mind if he were able to unburden him-
self. The phrase "an uncomfortable feeling" is particularly
characteristic of his condition on that day and during the whole
of that period; it sums up his misery, joylessness, and the feeling
that life was a burden to him.
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? Edge of Fear 91
Gerber goes on with his story by saying: "We took the street-
car to his lodgings, which were in Gersthof. It was a gloomy,
stormy day.
Although he wore his overcoat, he still felt cold. To
my anxious question about him he answered by saying, 'In me
is the chill of the grave! ' He said this quite slowly and with an
emphatic stress so that every word cut into my heart. It was
quite clear to me that he could not be left alone while in that
condition. When we reached his room, he said, There is al-
ready a smell of corpse here, isn't there? ' The room gave the
impression of not having had fresh air for several days. I asked
him to come and spend the evening with me. It was under those
circumstances that I told him the news that I had seen in the
morning paper, which later proved to be false--that Knut
Hamsun, to whom he felt much attached, whose books he
owned, and whose Pan he had called the greatest book in the
world, had shot himself. Otto winced, looked disturbed, and
said, 'He, too, then! ' He was even more silent now, refused to
leave his room and go with me, and his conversation consisted
only of hints which he perhaps thought I would not understand.
But those hints left no doubt as to his condition.
"It was getting dark. When I asked him to turn on the light,
he groaned as if he were being choked by an intolerable pain,
'No, no light! ' And then he repeated it, stressing each syllable
so that it was not hard to guess his thoughts, 'No light! ' . . .
"In that painful hour, when it was a question of saving or
losing my most precious friend, it was clear to me that only one
thing would be of any help--unflinching energy. Instinctively
I asked him, 'Do you have a weapon here? ' He was silent. I re-
peated the question. No answer. Then I pleaded with him and
begged him to give me his weapon.
"We had never spoken an angry word to each other. But now,
when I was trembling with sorrow and anxiety, now for the
first time in his life he shouted at me as if I were his enemy,
1 'You have no right to take away from me my own will. ' He had
jumped up and stood directly in front of me. Painful as the
moment was for both of us, it was necessary for me to remain
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? 92 Edge of Fear
uncompromisingly firm in order not to lose everything. I threat-
ened him and said that I would search for the weapon myself if
he did not give it to me willingly. Then he answered, a little
subdued: 'I have no weapon. ' Shortly afterward he said that he
was ready to go with me and to spend the night with me.
"When we arrived there it was nearly eight o'clock. He com-
plained of the cold and sat down by the stove. When supper
was served, he refused to eat a bite. All urging that he eat some-
thing was in vain. Although the windows were closed and the
stove so hot that the heat in the room was intolerable, he kept
his overcoat on, put more coal on the fire constantly, and moved
closer to it. Finally, after several hours, I succeeded-in making
him eat a little. We were now seated facing each other. His
expression seemed a bit easier. For a short while it seemed as if
everything was as it used to be, as if the future were full of hope
for both of us. But when a little time had passed his face once
more became painfully serious. The crisis was not yet over. To
be able to meet the danger, I had to discover what had brought
him into this mood. He confessed that he wanted to kill him-
self, but he refused to give any reason.
"In the hours that followed there was between us a struggle
of wills and energies. From me: 'I must know! You must tell
me! I cannot lose you this way! ' And from him always the same
sullen answer: 'I cannot tell you! Not even you! ' What we suf-
fered through that night, which I can remember only with hor-
ror, is something I am incapable of describing. Finally, long
,past midnight, he gave in. He rose very solemnly and said with
a voice as sinister, as icy cold, as desperate, and without hope as
I have ever heard from a human being: 'I know that I am a born
criminal. I am a born murderer! '
"My first thought was that this noble, rich, and pure mind
was overturned. That he, who could not pass a worm or an in-
sect on the road without stopping to take it to safety, this good,
this sacred man, was harboring such sinister ideas in his soul!
He must be mad, he must have gone insane. That was the only
possibility.
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? Edge of Fear 93
"Once he began it was easier for him to talk: 'I spent a night
in a hotel room in Munich once. I could not sleep. Then I heard
a barking dog. I have never heard a dog bark in such a terrifying
way. It must have been a black dog. It was the evil spirit. I
fought with it, I fought with it for my soul. In sheer terror I bit
the sheets to shreds that night. Since that time I have known
that I am a murderer. That is why I must kill myself! '
"Otto Weininger--the good, the noble Weininger--speak-
ing such words!
"I don't know how I answered him. I only know that I talked
to him for a long time, that I defended the 'murderer' that
night, and defended him with sincerity because I did not believe
in his guilt. I do know that I begged and pleaded for his life,
and that I always heard the same reply: 'You cannot persuade
me! You cannot force me! Let me alone! It must be! It must be!
I cannot go on living! ' " (Taschenbuch, pp. 18-20. )
Though the struggle went on, it is clear that Weininger's
emotions had reached a climax. Gerber's earlier description of
Otto's actions--his speech with its strange, remote stresses, his
closed, introvert attitude, his ice-cold words, "In me is the chill
of the grave"--shows that Weininger was in a psychotic condi-
tion. The macabre incident, ending after midnight with Otto
avowing that he was a born criminal, a born murderer, demon-
strated the extent of his self-accusation and self-reproach. Such
self-abasement is a comm^n_Sj^rn? tojnof^mental disturbance.
It had deep roots in Weininger. The conflicting torces~irrhis
mind were steadily more accentuated on that night until with
the declaration that he was a born criminal, a born murderer,
his guilt feelings reached a peak of intensity.
Gerber ends his story: "When I asked if his intention had
been directed against any definite person, he gave no clear an-
swer. It was soon dawn. The lamp had gone out. I felt exhausted
and discouraged because my efforts had been unsuccessful. I
had spent all my energy; his will had been the stronger.
"In my great fear of losing my friend and with the vague feel-
ing that I was leaving him forever, I said a few words with my
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? 94 Edge of Fear
last, decisive strength. I wept, and my sentiment had effect
where my words had availed nothing. He put his hand on my
forehead, and there were tears in his eyes. In an extremely sol-
emn tone he said, 'I thank you. ' He would go on living, but I
must be silent. He needed peace and must be left alone.
"It was full daylight when he left me.
"We never mentioned this night to each other again"
(Taschenbuch, pp. 20-21).
Such is Gerber's story of one of the crucial passages in the life
of Otto Weininger. We must then ask, How accurate is the
account? An answer cannot be given readily. It has not been
possible to find out whether or not Gerber noted down the
events in his diary at the time. If he did record Weininger's
words soon after they were spoken on that November night of
1902, we might accept them without question. Yet Gerber's
book was not published until 1919, sixteen years after Wei-
ninger's death and seventeen years after the episode mentioned
here. The fact that Gerber and Ewald deciphered Weininger's
stenographic notes after his death may possibly have affected
the account.
There is some doubt as to whether Gerber could have remem-
bered the conversation with Weininger in completely accurate
detail. On the other hand, we cannot assume that his descrip-
tion of that exciting occurrence was pure imagination. One bit
of evidence supports the theory that he wrote down his mem-
ories of Weininger shortly after Otto's death. Gerber wrote to
Strindberg, and Strindberg sent him two letters, dated October
22 and December 8, 1903, in memory of Weininger. It would
seem a natural inference that Gerber at that time wanted to
write a book about Otto shortly after his death but, for one
reason or another, did not complete the task.
At that time Gerber might well have been prompted to write
his recollections of Weininger because he found that the criti-
cism aimed at Weininger's book and the picture given of his
personality by other writers were unjust. We have also a descrip-
tion of Weininger's suicide plans from another friend. Rappa-
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? Edge of Fear 95
port wrote, "He was thinking of suicide in the fall of 1902, but
a friend was able to avert the tragedy at that time" (U. L. D. , p.
xix). In the later editions of Vber die letzten Dinge, the state-
ment was changed to read, "Even before he had finished Sex
and Character he was thinking of suicide. " Furthermore, we
have descriptions of the suicide plans from Ferdinand Probst
(Der Fall Otto Weininger, in Grenzfragen des Nerven und
Seelenlebens, Wiesbaden, 1904), who wrote his book not long
after Weininger's death. Georg Klaren (Otto Weininger, der
Mensch, sein Werk und sein Leben, Vienna, 1924) and Paul
Biro (Die Sittlichkeitsmetaphysik Otto Weiningers, Vienna,
1927) also mention the plans, but since these were written after
Gerber's account was published, they may be derived simply
from that. To be sure, Gerber was the only witness and there-
fore the only source of information, but it seems that his story
was known long before it was published.
Since the letters Otto Weininger wrote during his travels
give the impression that a catastrophe was approaching, there is
no reason for believing that the major part of Gerber's descrip-
tion of those critical days in November was untrue. The central
fact seems clear, even though the details are known only
through Gerber.
It does not follow necessarily that Gerber was fully aware of
Weininger's mental condition. If he was, it seems remarkable
that he did not, after that November day, warn the family or
move to have Weininger given psychiatric treatment and per-
haps sent to a hospital. Possibly he did not because he was keep-
ing his promise not to mention the affair to anyone, or because
Weininger had such power over him that he did not dare to
speak.
The other possibility is that Gerber did not quite understand
the gravity of the matter. This seems less likely in view of his
early grasp of the situation. He wrote, "Those hints left no
doubt as to his condition. " Weininger's words show that he was
returning to things he had had in his mind for a long time. Yet
the hints seem to have been rather stereotyped. It is common
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? 96 Edge of Fear
in certain acute psychotic cases for the sufferer to take words
and sentences out of their context, and Weininger seems to
have followed this course; he talked only in hints which he
thought Gerber would not understand--which he himself may
not have recognized fully. Yet Gerber understood that Otto's
will to live was so weak that only great effort could make him
give up his purpose. His friend realized how serious the situa-
tion was, for he decided that Weininger was in such condition
that he should not be left alone.
Since he realized this and knew very well how strong were
Otto's feelings about Hamsun, it is strange that he repeated the
false news of Hamsun's suicide. Knowledge of the reported sui-
cide had, as might have been expected, a shocking effect on
Otto. It is, of course, possible that Gerber thought it would be
better for Otto to get the news through him than in a more
harmful way through reading the story in the newspapers. On
the other hand, it is possible that he told Weininger about it
without considering the matter carefully. If so, there is some
reason for us to ask whether Gerber really did understand Otto's
condition.
It is interesting to note the discrepancy between Gerber's ac-
count and Weininger's own account of the experience of the
barking dog. Otto himself, in the passage quoted earlier, tells
of two occasions when he heard a dog barking "in a peculiar,
penetrating way": the first was at Munich in a late afternoon
of July and did not awaken deep fear in him; the second was
"months later," at night and presumably in Vienna, and caused
him to react with terror. When he talked to Gerber, the two
incidents were fused into one, and Weininger told of biting the
sheets "in sheer terror," dating the occurrence in July and plac-
ing it in Munich. We are left with the impression that what
Weininger was actually describing to Gerber was not an event
that took place in Munich in July, but more probably an ex-
perience that had taken place just a few nights before Novem-
ber 20, possibly on November 19. It seems that a displacement
had occurred in his mind, that he was trying to push the terrible
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? Edge of Fear 97
experience as far as possible out of his mind. A like fusion of
thought can be seen in the use of the words "mental and phys-
ical death. "
Weininger had thus advanced from vague fear to rationalized
terror. If we remember that he always used introspection as an
instrument of psychotherapy, we may guess how he progressed
in the summer and autumn of 1902. His terror became clearer
and clearer, and we may believe that out of necessity he grad-
ually filled it with rationalistic content. He probably was apply-
ing his own brand of psychotherapy, which he mentioned over
and over again (especially in the last months of his life). "The
only thing is psychotherapy," he wrote, "but not imperfect ex-
ternal psychotherapy as we know it today, in which the outside
will of a suggester must produce its effect; not the heteronomic,
but the autonomic, hygiene and therapy, in which everyone is
his own diagnostician and thus at the same time a therapist.
Everyone must cure himself and be his own physician. If he
does, then God will help him; if he does not, nobody will help
him" (Taschenbuch, p.
? 84
Edge of Fear
poem, which his sister has made it possible for me to publish,
shows the same feeling.
Sieh mich gebeugt mit lockerm Schritte
In Mauernahe angstlich gehn,
Verhohnend dein Gebot der Sitte
Nach Fiisschen und nach Busen spahn.
Das ist der Weg, der langst bekannte,
Zu ihr, der Gottin ohne Scham,
Den ich so oft zu gehen brannte,
Und reuig weinend wiederkam.
O Gott, in all Spiegel schlage
Vernichtend deine Faust hinein,
Das klare Licht entzieh dem Tage,
Dem Bache nimm den Widerschein!
--Und htihnisch schleicht das alte Bangen
der heissbegehrten Lust voran--
O! Gib dem Laster rothe Wangen,
dass ich ihm angstlos frohnen kann!
Filled with longing and carefully hidden,
Stealing my way through the darkest night,
I laugh at all that your law has bidden,
Burning, voluptuous, yet full of fright.
This is the road I have often wandered
To her, the Goddess who knows no shame,
The road desire bade me to follow,
And I was weeping when home I came.
May darkness reign on the road I follow;
May God turn day into darkest night,
Make the windows and mirrors empty, hollow,
Leave not a shimmer, no trace of light.
And, scornful still, the ancient terror
Steals darkly ahead of the dear delight.
Oh, redden the cheeks of Sinful Error
That I may serve him, free of fright.
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? Edge of Fear 85
A strong undercurrent of sexual experience runs through the
poem. Expressed in the poetic speech are the feelings deep in
the heart of a man fighting against his sexual drives and desires.
He tries to escape his violent sexual cravings. He wants to enjoy
sin without fear, especially the fear called forth by breaking the
moral law.
The poem demonstrates an aggressive sexual impulse ("This
is the road I have often wandered. . . . The road desire bade
me to follow"), which made it difficult for him to abstain. His
sexual drive did not give him comfort, because he wanted to
enjoy it without fear. Thus even though he expected to be
attracted, he was at the same time repelled by his sexual desires.
His own sexual aggressiveness produced in him a double sense
of values and an ambivalency of sexual feelings. Simultaneously
he felt affection and disgust, warmth and hostility, love and
hate. He says in Sex and Character (p. 108): "The man has
no desire for sexual maturity while he is young; to the young
girl it means the highest of all expectations. The symptoms of
sexual maturity in a man give him uncomfortable, restless, and
hostile feelings. The woman follows her somatic development
during puberty with great excitement and the most feverish and
impatient expectations. "
Ordinarily, ambivalency of this type can, within certain
limits, be quite normal. In Weininger's personality make-up,
however, was ingrained a positively aggressive sexuality, which
turned his intense sexual drive into the opposite extreme.
While he longed for sexual experience, he at the same time felt
hostile and frightened.
We see that this frightened restraint made the longing for
sexual experiences stronger; but the stronger the longing, the
more hostile his attitude. These contradictory and conflicting
tendencies in the sexual sphere were closely associated with his
whole personality. In the course of his life he developed a
hatred toward sex, and this was the basis and root of his strong
ego-consciousness, his hypertrophic ego.
His shrinking from pleasure he extended to a principle. He
came to believe that no one should enjoy a normal sex life.
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? 86 Edge of Fear
Further, the effect was that he lived his life psychically; in other
words his sexual life took the form of fantasies. He did not love
women, but the female being. He loved from a distance and
could not have anything to do with any real woman.
His own sexual drive influenced deeply his thinking on sexual
problems in general, as may be clearly seen in Sex and Char-
acter. His ethical tendency is apparent in his great work, but
in it sexual desire prevails. As a pupil of Kant and Plato, he felt
it imperative to express his moral attitude and to formulate his
ethical confession, but he was at the same time dependent on
introspection, and his sexual nature colored his attitude. For
instance, his ideas concerning the connection of logic and
ethics and his theory of universal responsibility are independent
problems, yet in working them out he mixed in sexual motifs.
The explanation lies in the conflict of strong idealism and a
violent sexual urge within him. The moral evaluation that ap-
pears in his writings corresponds to his idealism; he applied the
personal ethical principles of Kant to himself and he trans-
ferred them to apply to humanity, but always in such a way that
in one form or another his sexuality was involved in his
personal ethics. When Lucka and Swoboda say that his moral
interest was never--or only occasionally--involved in his work
on the sexual problem, they are not correct.
Weininger was, naturally, already aware of his moralistic
tendencies, but the sources of his moral considerations, and
more particularly the mental suffering that accompanied them,
were not seen clearly at first. Only when his intellectual gifts
were in full bloom, after his thesis had been written in 1901,
was he a suffering man. All his false ideas at this time were a
product of his own mental conflict, the struggle between his
biological drives and moral tendencies as they emerged more
and more from his introspection. If he arrived at a certain idea
out of emotional motives, he then proved it by building up an
opinion through a combination of concepts. This process is
very apparent in Vber die letzten Dinge. Swoboda comments,
"The completely superficial analogy between two facts is here
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? Edge of Fear 87
taken as sufficient proof of his preconceived ideas" (Swoboda,
p. 21). The process is, of course, usually called rationalization.
This picture is confirmed by Ewald, who speaks particularly
of his life: "The calm course of the discussions had been dis-
carded. Weininger spoke passionately; he was jerky, abrupt,
more visionary than logical; claimed, rather than considered,
the facts. While in the first period of his life he limited himself
to making sound observations and gaining experience, his
main interest in his second period was in strict, systematic
argumentation; he now uttered his opinions as unconditional
dogma which had to be believed. Typical words were, 'It is
quite obvious'--expressions which drew smiles and for which
he was scolded. Most of his opinions were very far from
obvious, as he professed many peculiar ideas which, when
found in his writings, have given the malicious critic an easy
target for attack. " 4
Rappaport also stresses the fact that fear--fear for himself--
was a constituent part of his mental life (U. L. D. , p. xvi).
We must bear in mind that there is a difference between
fear and terror. Fear is directed toward something indefinite.
Terror is more a state of one's own personality, an extreme
fright, more or less definable; it may be an anticipation that
something must happen, that something will happen. One
would, then, think that fear of death is a fear in general, while
terror of death would be called forth only by the thought of
one's own immediate death. It is better to distinguish between
an indefinite, vague fear and a rationalized, definite one and
to recognize the transitional forms between the two. At the
beginning of psychotic processes it is not uncommon for a more
or less indefinite fear to manifest itself. When a partially or
completely rationalized terror takes the place of the vague fear,
the change may be an expression of relief or a result of delibera-
tion.
With this distinction in mind, we may look at the psycho-
* Oskar Ewald (pseudonym of Oskar Friedlander), Die Enveckung (Berlin,
1922), pp. 67-68. This work is hereafter cited in the text simply as Ewald.
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? 88
Edge of Fear
logical phenomenon in Otto Weininger which we must call
terror. We do not find that it was bound up in his personality
and expressed in his mood. The fear present in his original
personality resulted from the struggle between his desires for
sexual expression and for reality elsewhere and his rejection of
his longings, while the terror of his later days was a new
phenomenon, originating from reserves of earlier years, as
evidenced in his letters to Gerber. At that time his terror grew
stronger and appeared rationalized.
Only once did Weininger directly admit that he was afraid
--on the night of November 20, 1902, when he talked to
Gerber of committing suicide. In Vber die letzten Dinge he
referred to the thoughts and feelings that led up to the in-
cident: "The dog has the most amazing and deep connection
with death. Months before the dog had become a problem to
me, I sat one afternoon around five o'clock in a room in the
Miinchener Gasthof, where I was staying, and thought of some-
thing. I suddenly heard a dog bark in a very peculiar, penetrat-
ing way which was then quite new to me, and at the same
moment I had the inevitable conviction that someone was dying
at that very moment. Months later, in the most terrible night
of my whole life, without being ill, I literally had to fight against
death--because in great men there is no mental death without
physical death, because in them life and death confront each
other, violent and intense, as the only possibilities. Just as I was
trying to fall asleep, I heard a dog bark three times in just the
same way as that time in Munich. The dog had been barking
all night long, but those three times were different. I noticed
that at that moment I was biting furiously at the sheet, like a
dying man. . . .
"Shortly before that night I had had several times the same
vision that Goethe must have had, to judge from Faust. I saw
a black dog which sometimes seemed as if he were followed by
a fiery light. . . . "
In this account we can discover the signs of his change of
mood, which seems to have been more and more colored by
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? Edge of Fear 89
terror, though in writing of his experience he did not use that
word at all. Apparently--if we accept the evidence of a postcard
written in Munich on July 29, 1902--in his earlier experience
his fear had not gone so far as to concern his very self, even if a
struggle had begun within him. Yet his statement that at the
same moment he had the conviction that someone was dying
somewhere bears out the suspicion that already the fear of
death was dawning in him. The consciousness of fear increased
and grew to terror. It is significant that Weininger later in his
essay "Science and Culture" said not only that "terror is always
the feeling of lifelessness" but also that "one can be afraid only
of life" (U. L. D. , p. 146). As it gradually became clear that the
fight between his cravings and his moral ideas was turning into
a fight for his own life, his terror became definite and quite ra-
tionalized. This terror of death mounted to the night of ma-
cabre experience when he bit furiously at the sheet "like a dying
man. "
When Otto returned to Vienna in September, 1902, instead
of being a fresh, rested man, rejoicing in mental harmony and
ready to start work with new energy, he was depressed, restless,
and full of doubt. This fact in itself is of no great significance.
A man of great mental energy who is deeply engaged in work-
ing on problems will always to a certain extent show restlessness
and discontent. At that time he was making notes and working
on the first sketch of his book Sex and Character. In a letter
to Gerber on October 18, he said: "I should like to see you be-
fore Sunday, as soon as possible. Perhaps I shall call on you
Tuesday at five. The subject: the division of women into moth-
ers and prostitutes" (Taschenbuch, p. 90). That he was work-
ing on his book is also apparent from letters he wrote earlier on
his trip. Yet this fact does not explain his whole mental state.
The restlessness seemed to be altogether on the surface, cover-
ing deep-seated emotional conflicts and the feeling of a lack of
happiness. The result was a mood of depression and discourage-
ment.
Out of this dark gloom came his erratic behavior on Novem-
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? 90 Edge of Fear
ber 20, 1902. Gerber relates: "In the early afternoon of No-
vember 20, Otto's father came to tell me that the day before
Otto had been to his home and had said goodbye to his family
in such a heartfelt and serious manner that there was reason to
be afraid that something might happen. I knew nothing about
it" (Taschenbuch, p. 16).
What happened in the interval between October 18, when
he wrote the letter about his work, and November 20, when his
father reported that he had been home bidding his family
goodbye, we do not know, though Gerber does state that he saw
Otto on the afternoon of November 18 and noticed nothing
peculiar about him. If Gerber was right in saying that Otto was
quite as usual that day, it seems to the outsider that the change
in him must have come quite suddenly. This is certainly the
impression given by Gerber when he goes on to say: "At that
time of day my friend was in Heiligenstadt, where he was teach-
ing. I hurried out there and waited for him outside in the street.
It was a long time before he finally appeared. He came out of
the house at a slow, solemn tempo. The concentrated strength
in his facial expression had given way to a desperate exhaustion
and dejection, something never previously present. His face was
ravaged, worn out, sinister, and serious. In the tone of his voice
I could hear a grave and silent pain. I had not thought that his
condition could be so bad as that. We had been together the
evening and afternoon of the eighteenth, and there had been no
hint of this fundamental change in him. When I asked him why
he felt so obviously ill, he answered in a deprecatory way: 'I
might at least get rid of my uncomfortable feeling by confiding
in someone. ' The abrupt, monosyllabic phrases apparently re-
sulted in temporary relief. "
A change had taken place in Weininger. He felt, however,
that he might purge his mind if he were able to unburden him-
self. The phrase "an uncomfortable feeling" is particularly
characteristic of his condition on that day and during the whole
of that period; it sums up his misery, joylessness, and the feeling
that life was a burden to him.
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? Edge of Fear 91
Gerber goes on with his story by saying: "We took the street-
car to his lodgings, which were in Gersthof. It was a gloomy,
stormy day.
Although he wore his overcoat, he still felt cold. To
my anxious question about him he answered by saying, 'In me
is the chill of the grave! ' He said this quite slowly and with an
emphatic stress so that every word cut into my heart. It was
quite clear to me that he could not be left alone while in that
condition. When we reached his room, he said, There is al-
ready a smell of corpse here, isn't there? ' The room gave the
impression of not having had fresh air for several days. I asked
him to come and spend the evening with me. It was under those
circumstances that I told him the news that I had seen in the
morning paper, which later proved to be false--that Knut
Hamsun, to whom he felt much attached, whose books he
owned, and whose Pan he had called the greatest book in the
world, had shot himself. Otto winced, looked disturbed, and
said, 'He, too, then! ' He was even more silent now, refused to
leave his room and go with me, and his conversation consisted
only of hints which he perhaps thought I would not understand.
But those hints left no doubt as to his condition.
"It was getting dark. When I asked him to turn on the light,
he groaned as if he were being choked by an intolerable pain,
'No, no light! ' And then he repeated it, stressing each syllable
so that it was not hard to guess his thoughts, 'No light! ' . . .
"In that painful hour, when it was a question of saving or
losing my most precious friend, it was clear to me that only one
thing would be of any help--unflinching energy. Instinctively
I asked him, 'Do you have a weapon here? ' He was silent. I re-
peated the question. No answer. Then I pleaded with him and
begged him to give me his weapon.
"We had never spoken an angry word to each other. But now,
when I was trembling with sorrow and anxiety, now for the
first time in his life he shouted at me as if I were his enemy,
1 'You have no right to take away from me my own will. ' He had
jumped up and stood directly in front of me. Painful as the
moment was for both of us, it was necessary for me to remain
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? 92 Edge of Fear
uncompromisingly firm in order not to lose everything. I threat-
ened him and said that I would search for the weapon myself if
he did not give it to me willingly. Then he answered, a little
subdued: 'I have no weapon. ' Shortly afterward he said that he
was ready to go with me and to spend the night with me.
"When we arrived there it was nearly eight o'clock. He com-
plained of the cold and sat down by the stove. When supper
was served, he refused to eat a bite. All urging that he eat some-
thing was in vain. Although the windows were closed and the
stove so hot that the heat in the room was intolerable, he kept
his overcoat on, put more coal on the fire constantly, and moved
closer to it. Finally, after several hours, I succeeded-in making
him eat a little. We were now seated facing each other. His
expression seemed a bit easier. For a short while it seemed as if
everything was as it used to be, as if the future were full of hope
for both of us. But when a little time had passed his face once
more became painfully serious. The crisis was not yet over. To
be able to meet the danger, I had to discover what had brought
him into this mood. He confessed that he wanted to kill him-
self, but he refused to give any reason.
"In the hours that followed there was between us a struggle
of wills and energies. From me: 'I must know! You must tell
me! I cannot lose you this way! ' And from him always the same
sullen answer: 'I cannot tell you! Not even you! ' What we suf-
fered through that night, which I can remember only with hor-
ror, is something I am incapable of describing. Finally, long
,past midnight, he gave in. He rose very solemnly and said with
a voice as sinister, as icy cold, as desperate, and without hope as
I have ever heard from a human being: 'I know that I am a born
criminal. I am a born murderer! '
"My first thought was that this noble, rich, and pure mind
was overturned. That he, who could not pass a worm or an in-
sect on the road without stopping to take it to safety, this good,
this sacred man, was harboring such sinister ideas in his soul!
He must be mad, he must have gone insane. That was the only
possibility.
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? Edge of Fear 93
"Once he began it was easier for him to talk: 'I spent a night
in a hotel room in Munich once. I could not sleep. Then I heard
a barking dog. I have never heard a dog bark in such a terrifying
way. It must have been a black dog. It was the evil spirit. I
fought with it, I fought with it for my soul. In sheer terror I bit
the sheets to shreds that night. Since that time I have known
that I am a murderer. That is why I must kill myself! '
"Otto Weininger--the good, the noble Weininger--speak-
ing such words!
"I don't know how I answered him. I only know that I talked
to him for a long time, that I defended the 'murderer' that
night, and defended him with sincerity because I did not believe
in his guilt. I do know that I begged and pleaded for his life,
and that I always heard the same reply: 'You cannot persuade
me! You cannot force me! Let me alone! It must be! It must be!
I cannot go on living! ' " (Taschenbuch, pp. 18-20. )
Though the struggle went on, it is clear that Weininger's
emotions had reached a climax. Gerber's earlier description of
Otto's actions--his speech with its strange, remote stresses, his
closed, introvert attitude, his ice-cold words, "In me is the chill
of the grave"--shows that Weininger was in a psychotic condi-
tion. The macabre incident, ending after midnight with Otto
avowing that he was a born criminal, a born murderer, demon-
strated the extent of his self-accusation and self-reproach. Such
self-abasement is a comm^n_Sj^rn? tojnof^mental disturbance.
It had deep roots in Weininger. The conflicting torces~irrhis
mind were steadily more accentuated on that night until with
the declaration that he was a born criminal, a born murderer,
his guilt feelings reached a peak of intensity.
Gerber ends his story: "When I asked if his intention had
been directed against any definite person, he gave no clear an-
swer. It was soon dawn. The lamp had gone out. I felt exhausted
and discouraged because my efforts had been unsuccessful. I
had spent all my energy; his will had been the stronger.
"In my great fear of losing my friend and with the vague feel-
ing that I was leaving him forever, I said a few words with my
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? 94 Edge of Fear
last, decisive strength. I wept, and my sentiment had effect
where my words had availed nothing. He put his hand on my
forehead, and there were tears in his eyes. In an extremely sol-
emn tone he said, 'I thank you. ' He would go on living, but I
must be silent. He needed peace and must be left alone.
"It was full daylight when he left me.
"We never mentioned this night to each other again"
(Taschenbuch, pp. 20-21).
Such is Gerber's story of one of the crucial passages in the life
of Otto Weininger. We must then ask, How accurate is the
account? An answer cannot be given readily. It has not been
possible to find out whether or not Gerber noted down the
events in his diary at the time. If he did record Weininger's
words soon after they were spoken on that November night of
1902, we might accept them without question. Yet Gerber's
book was not published until 1919, sixteen years after Wei-
ninger's death and seventeen years after the episode mentioned
here. The fact that Gerber and Ewald deciphered Weininger's
stenographic notes after his death may possibly have affected
the account.
There is some doubt as to whether Gerber could have remem-
bered the conversation with Weininger in completely accurate
detail. On the other hand, we cannot assume that his descrip-
tion of that exciting occurrence was pure imagination. One bit
of evidence supports the theory that he wrote down his mem-
ories of Weininger shortly after Otto's death. Gerber wrote to
Strindberg, and Strindberg sent him two letters, dated October
22 and December 8, 1903, in memory of Weininger. It would
seem a natural inference that Gerber at that time wanted to
write a book about Otto shortly after his death but, for one
reason or another, did not complete the task.
At that time Gerber might well have been prompted to write
his recollections of Weininger because he found that the criti-
cism aimed at Weininger's book and the picture given of his
personality by other writers were unjust. We have also a descrip-
tion of Weininger's suicide plans from another friend. Rappa-
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? Edge of Fear 95
port wrote, "He was thinking of suicide in the fall of 1902, but
a friend was able to avert the tragedy at that time" (U. L. D. , p.
xix). In the later editions of Vber die letzten Dinge, the state-
ment was changed to read, "Even before he had finished Sex
and Character he was thinking of suicide. " Furthermore, we
have descriptions of the suicide plans from Ferdinand Probst
(Der Fall Otto Weininger, in Grenzfragen des Nerven und
Seelenlebens, Wiesbaden, 1904), who wrote his book not long
after Weininger's death. Georg Klaren (Otto Weininger, der
Mensch, sein Werk und sein Leben, Vienna, 1924) and Paul
Biro (Die Sittlichkeitsmetaphysik Otto Weiningers, Vienna,
1927) also mention the plans, but since these were written after
Gerber's account was published, they may be derived simply
from that. To be sure, Gerber was the only witness and there-
fore the only source of information, but it seems that his story
was known long before it was published.
Since the letters Otto Weininger wrote during his travels
give the impression that a catastrophe was approaching, there is
no reason for believing that the major part of Gerber's descrip-
tion of those critical days in November was untrue. The central
fact seems clear, even though the details are known only
through Gerber.
It does not follow necessarily that Gerber was fully aware of
Weininger's mental condition. If he was, it seems remarkable
that he did not, after that November day, warn the family or
move to have Weininger given psychiatric treatment and per-
haps sent to a hospital. Possibly he did not because he was keep-
ing his promise not to mention the affair to anyone, or because
Weininger had such power over him that he did not dare to
speak.
The other possibility is that Gerber did not quite understand
the gravity of the matter. This seems less likely in view of his
early grasp of the situation. He wrote, "Those hints left no
doubt as to his condition. " Weininger's words show that he was
returning to things he had had in his mind for a long time. Yet
the hints seem to have been rather stereotyped. It is common
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? 96 Edge of Fear
in certain acute psychotic cases for the sufferer to take words
and sentences out of their context, and Weininger seems to
have followed this course; he talked only in hints which he
thought Gerber would not understand--which he himself may
not have recognized fully. Yet Gerber understood that Otto's
will to live was so weak that only great effort could make him
give up his purpose. His friend realized how serious the situa-
tion was, for he decided that Weininger was in such condition
that he should not be left alone.
Since he realized this and knew very well how strong were
Otto's feelings about Hamsun, it is strange that he repeated the
false news of Hamsun's suicide. Knowledge of the reported sui-
cide had, as might have been expected, a shocking effect on
Otto. It is, of course, possible that Gerber thought it would be
better for Otto to get the news through him than in a more
harmful way through reading the story in the newspapers. On
the other hand, it is possible that he told Weininger about it
without considering the matter carefully. If so, there is some
reason for us to ask whether Gerber really did understand Otto's
condition.
It is interesting to note the discrepancy between Gerber's ac-
count and Weininger's own account of the experience of the
barking dog. Otto himself, in the passage quoted earlier, tells
of two occasions when he heard a dog barking "in a peculiar,
penetrating way": the first was at Munich in a late afternoon
of July and did not awaken deep fear in him; the second was
"months later," at night and presumably in Vienna, and caused
him to react with terror. When he talked to Gerber, the two
incidents were fused into one, and Weininger told of biting the
sheets "in sheer terror," dating the occurrence in July and plac-
ing it in Munich. We are left with the impression that what
Weininger was actually describing to Gerber was not an event
that took place in Munich in July, but more probably an ex-
perience that had taken place just a few nights before Novem-
ber 20, possibly on November 19. It seems that a displacement
had occurred in his mind, that he was trying to push the terrible
? ? Generated for (University of Chicago) on 2014-08-19 08:38 GMT / http://hdl. handle. net/2027/wu. 89038364857 Public Domain, Google-digitized / http://www. hathitrust. org/access_use#pd-google
? Edge of Fear 97
experience as far as possible out of his mind. A like fusion of
thought can be seen in the use of the words "mental and phys-
ical death. "
Weininger had thus advanced from vague fear to rationalized
terror. If we remember that he always used introspection as an
instrument of psychotherapy, we may guess how he progressed
in the summer and autumn of 1902. His terror became clearer
and clearer, and we may believe that out of necessity he grad-
ually filled it with rationalistic content. He probably was apply-
ing his own brand of psychotherapy, which he mentioned over
and over again (especially in the last months of his life). "The
only thing is psychotherapy," he wrote, "but not imperfect ex-
ternal psychotherapy as we know it today, in which the outside
will of a suggester must produce its effect; not the heteronomic,
but the autonomic, hygiene and therapy, in which everyone is
his own diagnostician and thus at the same time a therapist.
Everyone must cure himself and be his own physician. If he
does, then God will help him; if he does not, nobody will help
him" (Taschenbuch, p.
