No More Learning

Usually this kind of talk brought him high marks fqr "remarkable intelligence" in the court's judgment, respectful attention to his words during the proceedings, and tougher sentences; yet deep down, his flattered vanity regarded these hearings as the high points ofhis life. Which is why he hated no one as fervently as he hated the psychiatrists who imagined they could dismiss his whole complex personality with a few foreign words, as if it were for them an every- day affair. As always in such cases, the medical diagnoses of his men- tal condition fluctuated under the pressure of the superior world of juridical concepts, and Moosbrugger never missed a chance to dem- onstrate in open court his own superiority over the psychiatrists, un- masking them as puffed-up dupes and charlatans who knew nothing at all, and w~om he could trick into placing him in a mental institu- tion instead of sending him to prison, where he belonged. For he did not deny what he had done, but simply wanted his deeds understood as the mishaps of an important philosophy of life. It was those snick- ering women who were in the forefront of the conspiracy against him. They all had their skirt-chasers and turned up their noses at a real man's straight talk, ifthey didn't take it as a downright insult. He gave them a wide berth as long as he could, so as not to let them provoke him, but it was not possible all the time. There are days when a man feels confused and can't get hold of anything because his hands are sweating with restlessness. If one then has to give in, he can be sure that at the first step he takes there will be, far up the road like an advance patrol sent out by the others, one ofthose poisons on two feet crossing his path, a cheat who secretly laughs at the man while she saps his strength and puts on her act for him, if she doesn't do something much worse to him in her unscrupulousness!
And so the end of that night had come, a night of listless boozing, with lots of noise to keep down the inner restlessness. The world can be unsteady even when you aren't drunk. The street walls waver like stage sets behind which something is waiting for its cue. It gets qui-
eter at the edge of town, where you come into the open fields lit by the moon. That was where Moosbrugger had to circle back to get home, and it was there, by the iron bridge, that the girl accosted him. She was one of those girls who hire themselves out to men in the fields, a jobless, runaway housemaid, a little thb;lg of whom all you could see were two gleaming little mouse eyes under her kerchief. Moosbrugger turned her down and quickened his step, but she begged him to take her home with him. Moosbrugger walked: straight ahead, then around a corner, finally helplessly, this way and that; he took big strides, and she ran alongside him; he stopped, she stood there like a shadow. It was as if he were drawing her along behind him. He made one more attempt to drive her off: he sud- denly turned around and spat twice in her face. It was no use; she was invulnerable.
This happened in the immense park, which they had to cross at its narrowest part. Moosbrugger beg~ to feel sure that the girl had a protector nearby-how else would she have the neiVe to keep after him despite his exasperation? He reached for the knife in his pants pocket; he wasn't anyone's fool! They might jump him together; be- hind those bitches the other man was always hiding to jeer at you. Come to think of it, didn't she look like a man in disguise? He saw shadows move and heard crackling in the bushes, while this schemer beside him repeated her plea again and again, at regular inteiVals like a gigantic pendulum. But he could see nothing to hurl his giant's strength at, and the uncanny way nothing at all was happening began to frighten him.
By the time they turned into the first, still very dark street, there were beads of sweat on his forehead, and he was trembling. He kept his eyes straight ahead and walked into the first cafe that was still open. He gulped down a black coffee and three brandies and could sit there in peace, for fifteen minutes or so; but when he paid his check the worry was there again: what would he do if she was waiting for him outside? There are such thoughts, like string winding in end- less snares around arms and legs. He had hardly taken a few steps on the dark street when he felt the girl at his side. Now she was no lon- ger humble but cocky and self-confident; nor did she plead anymore but merely kept silent. Then he realized that he would never get rid of her, because it was he himself who was drawing her after him. His
A Sort ofIntroduction · 73
74 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
throat filled up with tearful disgust. He kept walking, and that crea- ture, trailing him, was himself again. It was just the same as when he was always meeting those processions of women in the road. Once, he had cut a big wooden splinter out of his own leg because he was too impatien~to wait for the doctor; in the same way, he now felt his knife lying long and hard in his pocket.
But by a superhuman exertion ofhis moral sense, Moosbrugger hit upon one more way out. Behind the board fence along which the road now led was a playing field; one couldn't be seen. there, and so he went in. He lay down in the cramped ticket booth and pushed his head into the comer where it was darkest; the soft, accursed second self lay down beside him. So he pretended to fall asleep right away, in order to be able to sneak out later on. But when he started to creep out softly, feet first, there ·it was again, winding its arms around his neck. Then he felt something hard, in her pocket or his. He tugged it out. He couldn't say whether it was a scissors or a knife; he stabbed her with it. He had claimed it was only a pair ofscissors, but it was his own knife. She fell with her head inside the booth. He dragged her partway outside, onto the soft ground, and kept on stabbing her until he had completely separated her from himself. Then he stood there beside her for maybe another quarter of an hour, looking down at her, while the night grew calmer again and wonderfully smooth. Now she could never again insult a man and trail after him. He finally carried the corpse across the street and laid it down in front of a bush so that it could be more easily found and buried, as he stated, be- cause now it was no longer her fault.
During his trial Moosbrugger created the most unpredictable problems for his lawyer. He sat relaxed on his bench, like a spectator, and called out "Bravo! " every time the prosecutor made a point of what a public menace the defendant was, which Moosbrugger re- gru:ded ~ worthy of him, and gave out good marks to witnesses who declared that they had never noticed anything about him to indicate that he could not be held responsible for his actions.
"You're quite a character," the presiding judge flattered him"from time to time, humoring him along as he conscientiously tightened the noose the accused had put around his own neck. At such mo- ments Moosbrugger looked astonished, like a harried bull in the arena, let his eyes wander, and noticed in the faces around him,
though he could not understand it, that he had again worked himself one level deeper into his guilt.
Ulrich was especially taken with the fact that Moosbrugger's de- fense was evidently based on some dimly discernible principle. He had not gone out with int~nt to kill, nor did his dignity permit him to plead insanity. There could be no question of lust as a motive-he had felt only disgust and contempt. The act could accordingly only be called manslaughter, to which he had been induced by the suspi- cious conduct of "this caricature of a woman," as he put it. If one understood him rightly, he even wanted the killing to be regarded as a political crime, and he sometimes gave the impression that he was fighting not for himself but for this view of the legal issue. The judge's tactics against him were based on the usual assumption that he was dealing with a murderer's obvious, cunning efforts to evade responsibility.
"Why did you wipe the blood off your hands? Why did you throw the knife away? Why did you change into fresh underwear and clean clothes afterward? Because it was Sunday? Not because you were covered with blood? Why did you go out looking for entertainment? So the crime didn't prevent you from doing so? Did you feel any re- morse at all? " Ulrich well understood the deep resignation with which Moosbrugger at such moments lamented his lack of an educa- tion, which left him helpless to undo the knots in this net woven of incomprehension. The judge translated this into an emphatic re- proof: "You always find a way to shift the blame to others! "
This judge added it all up, starting with the police record and the vagrancy, and presented it as Moosbrugger's guilt, while to Moos- brugger it was a series of completely separate incidents having noth- ing to do with one another, each ofwhich had a different cause that lay outside Moosbrugger somewhere in the world as a whole. In the judge's eyes, Moosbrugger was the source of his acts; in Moosbrug- ger's eyes they had perched on him like birds that had flown in from somewhere or other. To the judge, Moosbrugger was a special case; for himself he was a universe, and it was very hard to say something convincing about a universe. Two strategies were here locked in combat, two integral positions, two sets of logical consistency. But Moosbrugger had the less favorable position; even a much cleverer man could not have expressed the strange, shadowy reasonings of his
A Sort ofIntroduction · 75
76 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
mind. They rose directly out of the confused isolation of his life, and while all other lives . exist in hundreds of ways-perceived the same way by those who lead them and by all others, who confinn them- his own true life existed only for him. It was a vapor, always losing and changing shape. He might, of course, have asked his judges whether their lives were essentially different. But he thought no such
thing. Standing before the court: everything that had happened so
I
naturally in sequence was now senselessly jumbled up inside him, and he made the greatest efforts to make such sense of it as would be no less worthy than the arguments of his distinguished opponents. The judge seemed almost kindly as he lent support to this effort, of- fering a helpful word or idea, even if these turned out later to have the most terrible consequences for Moosbrugger.
It was like the struggle of a shadow with a wall, and in the end Moosbrugger's shadow was reduced to a lurid flickering. Ulrich was present on the last day of the trial. When the presiding judge read out the psychiatrists' findings that the accused was responsible for his actions, Moosbrugger rose to his feet and announced to the court: "I am satisfied with this opinion and have achieved my purpose. " The response of scornful incredulity in the eyes-around him made him add angrily: "Since it is I who forced the indictment, I declare myself satisfied with the conduct of the case. " The presidingjudge, who had now become all strictness and retribution, reprimanded him with the remark that the court was not concerned with giving him satisfaction. Then he read him the death sentence, exactly as if it were now time to answer seriously the nonsense Moosbrugger had been spouting throughout the ~rial, to the amusement of the spectators. Moosbrug- ger said nothing to this, so that he would not appear to be frightened. Then the proceedings were concluded and it was all over. His mind reeled; he fell back, helpless against the arrogance of those who failed to understand. Even as the guards were leading him out,. he turned around, struggling for words, raised his hands in the air, and cried out, in a voice that shook him free of his guards' grip: "I am satisfied, even though I must confess to you that you have con- demned a madman. "
That was a non sequitur, but Ulrich sat there breathless. This was clearly madness, and just as clearly it was no more than a distortion of our own elements of being. Cracked and obscure it was; it somehow
occurred to Ulrich that if mankind could dream as a whole, that dream would be Moosbrugger. Ulrich came back to reality. only when "that miserable clown of a lawyer," as Moosbrugger ungrate- fully referred to him during the trial, announced that he would ap- peal to have the verdict set aside on grounds of some detail or other, while his towering client was led away.
19
A LETTER OF ADMONITION AND A CHANCE TO ACQUIRE QUALITIES. RIV ALRY OF TWO ACCESSIONS TO THE THRONE
So the time passed, until one day Ulrich received a letter from his father. ·
"My dear son, once again several months have gone by without my being able to deduce from your scanty communications that you have taken the slightest step forward in your career or have made any preparations to do so.
"I will joyfully acknowledge that in the course of the last few years the satisfaction has been vouchsafed me of hearing your achieve- ments praised in various esteemed quarters, with predictions on that basis of a promising future for you. But on the one hand, the tend- ency you have inherited, though not from me, to make enthusiastic first strides in some new endeavor that attracts you, only to forget soon afterward, so to speak, what you owe yourself and those who have rested their hopes on you, and on the other hand, my inability to detect in your communications the slightest sign of a plan for your future, fill me with grave concern.
"it is not only that at your age other men have already secured a solid position in life, but also that I may die at any time, and the prop- erty I shall bequeath in equal shares to you and your sister, though not negligible, is not sufficiently ample, under present circum-
A Sort ofIntroduction · 77
78 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
stances, to secure unaided that social position which you will now, at last, have to establish for yourself. What fills me with grave concern is the thought that ever since you took your degree, you have only vaguely talked ofplans to be realized in various fields, and which you, in your usual way, may considerably overestimate, but that you never write of taking any interest in a university appointment, nor of any preliminary approach to one or another university with regard to such plans, nor of making· any other contact with influential circles. No one can possibly suspect me of denigrating a scholar's need for independence, considering that it was I who was the first, forty-seven years ago, to break with the other schools of crim~al jurisprudence on that point in my book on Samuel Pufendorf's Theory ofthe Re- sponsibility for Moral Actions and Its Relation to Modem Jurispru- dence, which you know and which is now going into its twelfth edition, where I brought the true. context of the problem to light. Just as little can I accept, after the experiences of a hardworking life, that a man rely on himself alone and neglect the academic and social con- nections that provide the support by means of which alone the indi- vidual's work prospers as part of a fruitful and beneficial whole.
"I therefore hope and trust that I shall be hearing from you at your earliest convenience, and that the expenditures I have made on be- half of your advancement will be rewarded by your taking up such connections, now that you have returned home, and by your ceasing to neglect them. I have also written in this vein to myoid and trusted friend and patron, the former President of the Treasury and present Chairman ofthe Imperial Family Court Division, 9ffice ofthe Court Chamberlain, His Excellency Count Stallburg, asking him to give his beneficent attention to the request you will in due course soon pre- sent to him. My highly placed friend has already been so kind as to reply by return mail. It is your good fortune that he will not only see you but expresses a warm interest in your personal progress as de- picted by myself. This means that your future is assured, insofar as it is in my power and estimation to do so, assuming that you under- stand how to make a favorable impression on His Excellency, while also strengthening the esteem in which you are held by the leading academic circles.
"As regards the request I am certain you will be glad to lay before
His Excellency, as soon as you lmow what it is about, its object is th~ following:
"There will take place in Germany in 1918, specifically on or about the 15th ofJune, a great celebration marking the jubilee of Emperor Wilhelm II's thirtieth year upon the throne, to impress upon the world Germany's greatness and power. Although that is still several years away, a reliable source informs us that preparations are already being made, though for the time being quite unofficially, of course. Now you are certainly aware that in the same year our own revered Emperor Franz Josefwill be celebrating the seventieth jubilee of his accession and that this date falls on December znd. Given the mod- esty which we Austrians display far too much in all questions con- cerning our own fatherland, there is reason to fear, I must say, that we will experience another Sadowa, meaning that the Germans, with their trained methodical aim for effect, will anticipate us, just as they did in that campaign, when they introduced the needle gun and took us by surprise.
"Fortunately, the anxiety I have just expressed has already been anticipated by other patriotic personages with good connections, and I can tell you confidentially that there is a campaign under way in Vienna to forestall the eventuality of such a coup and to bring to bear the full weight of a seventy-year reign, so rich in blessings and sor- rows, against a jubilee of a mere thirty years. Inasmuch as December znd cannot of course possibly be moved ahead of June 15th, some- one came up with the splendid idea of declaring the entire year of 1918 as a jubilee year for our Emperor of Peace. I am, however, only insofar apprised of this as the institutions of which I am a member have had occasion to express their views on this proposal. You will learn the details as soon as you present yourself to Count Stallburg, who intends to place you on the Planning Committee in a position of considerable distil)ction for so young a man as yourself.
"Let me also prevail upon you not to continue neglecting-as, to my acute embarrassment, you have-the relations I have so long rec- ommended to you with Section ChiefTuzzi of the Imperial Foreign Office, but to call at once upon his wife, who, as you lmow, is the daughter of a cousin of my late brother's widow, and hence your cousin. I am told she occupies a prominent position in the project I
A Sort ofIntroduction · 79
Bo • THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
have just described. My revered friend Count Stallburg has already had the extraordinary kindness to infonn her ofyour intended visit to her, which is why you must not delay. it a moment longer.
"& regards myself, there is nothing much to report; other than my lectures, work on the new edition o£ my aforementioned book takes up all of my time, as well as the remainder of energy one still has at one's disposal in old age. One has to make good use of one's time, for it is short.
"From your sister I hear only that she is in good health. She has a fine, capable husband, although she will never admit that she is satis- fied with her lot and feels happy in it.
'W ith my blessing, your loving
Father. "
PART-II PSE. U00REALITY PREVAILS
20
A TOUCH OF REALITY. IN SPITE OF THE ABSENCE OF QUALITIES, ULRICH TAKES RESOLUTE AND SPIRITED ACTION
That Ulrich ac~ally decided to call on Count Stallburg was prompted not least, though not only, by curiosity.
Count Stallburg had his office in that lmp! 'lrial and Royal citadel the Hofburg, and the Emperor and King of Kakania was a legendary old gentleman. A great many books have of course been written about him since, and exactly what he did, prevented, or left undone is now known, but then, in the last decade of his and Kakania's life, the younger people who kept abreast of the arts and sciences some- times wondered whether he actually existed. The number of his por- traits one saw was almost as large as the number of his kingdom's inhabitants; on his birthday as much food and drink was consumed as on that of the Savior, bonfires blazed on the mountains, and the voices ofmillions vowed that they loved him as a father; an anthem in his honor was the only work of poetry or music of which every Kakanian knew at least a line. But this popularity and publicity was so superconvincing that believing in his existence was rather like believ- ing in stars that one sees though they ceased to exist thousands of years ago. .
The first thing that happened when Ulrich arrived in his cab at the Imperial Hofburg was that the cabbie stopped in the outer courtyard and asked to be paid, claiming that although he was allowed to drive through the inner courtyard, he was not permitted to stop there. . Ul- rich was annoyed at the cabbie, whom he took for a cheat or a cow- ard, but his protests were powerless against the man's timid refusal, which suddenly made him sense the aura of a power mightier than he. When he walked into the inner courtyard he was much im- pressed with the numerous red, blue, white, and yellow coats, trou- sers, and helmet plumes that stood there stiffly in the sun like birds
84 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
on a sandbank. Up to that moment he had considered "His Majesty" one of those meaningless terms which had stayed in use, as one may be an atheist and still say "Thank God. " But now his gaze wandered up high walls and he saw an island-gray, self-contained, and armed-lying there while the city's speed rusped blindly past it.
After he had presented himself he was led up stairways and along corridors, through rooms large and small. Although he waS very well dressed, he felt that his exact measure was being taken by every eye he encountered. It would apparently occur to no one here to confuse intellectual aristocracy with the real thing, and against this Ulrich had no recourse but ironic protest and bourgeois criticism. He ascer- tained that he ~aswalking through a vast shell with little content; the great public rooms were almost unfurnished, but this empty taste lacked the bitterness of a great style. He passed a casual sequence of individual guardsmen and servants, who formed a guard more hap- hazard than magnificent; a half dozen well-trained and well-paid pri- vate detectives might have served far more effectively. One kind of servant, in a gray uniform and cap like a bank messenger's, shuttling between the lackeys and the guardsmen, made him think of a lawyer or dentist who does not keep his office and his living quarters suffi- ciently separate. "One feels clearly through all this how it must have awed the Biedermeier generation with its splendor," Ulrich thought, "but today it can't even compete with the attractiveness and comfort of a hotel, so it continues to fall back on being all noble restraint and stiffness. "
But when he entered Count Stallburg's presence, Ulrich was re- ceived by His Excellency inside a great hollow prism of the best pro- portions, in the center of which this unpretentious, bald-headed, somewhat stooped man, his knees bent like an orangutan's, stood facing Ulrich in a manner that could not possibly be the way an emi- nent Imperial Court functionary of noble birth would naturally look-it had to be an imitation ofsomething. His Excellency's shoul- ders were bowed, his underlip drooped, he resembled an aged bea- gle or a worthy accountant. Suddenly there could be no doubt as to whom he reminded one of; Count Stallburg became transparent, and Ulrich realized that a man who has been for seventy years the All- Highest Center of supreme power must find a certain satisfaction in retreating behind himself and looking like the most subservient of
his subjects. Consequently it simply became good manners and a natural form of discretion for those in the vicinity of this All-Highest personage not to look more personal than he did. This seems to be why kings so often like to call themselves the first servants of their country, and a quick glance confirmed for Ulrich that His Excellency indeed wore those short, ice-gray muttonchop whiskers framing a clean-shaven chin that were sported by every clerk and railway por- ter in Kakania. The beliefwas that they were emulating the appear- ance of their Emperor and King. but the deeper need in such cases is reciprocity.
Ulrich had time for such reflections because he had to wait awhile for His Excellency to speak. The theatrical instinct for disguise and transformation, one of life's pleasures, could here be seen in all its purity, without the least taint or awareness of a performance; so strongly did it manifest itself here in this unconscious, perennial art of self-representation that by comparison the middle-class custom of building theaters and staging plays as an art that can be rented by the hour struck him as something quite unnatural, decadent, and schiz- oid. And when His Excellency finally parted his lips and said to him: "Your dear father . . . ,"only to come to a halt, there was something in his voice that made one notice his remarkably beautiful yellowish hands and something like an aura of finely tuned morality surround- ing the whole figure, which charmed Ulrich into forgetting himself, as intellectuals are apt to do. For His Excellency now asked him what he did, and when Ulrich said "Mathematics" responded with "In- deed, how interesting, at which school? " When Ulrich assured him that he had nothing to do with schools, His Excellency said, "Indeed, how interesting, I see, research, university. " This seemed to Ulrich so natural and precise, just the way one imagines a fine piece of con-
versation, that he inadvertently took to behaving as though he were at home here and followed his thoughts instead of the protocol de- manded by the situation. He suddenly thought of Moosbrugger. Here was the Power of Clemency close at hand; nothing seemed to him simpler than to make a stab at using it.
"Your Excellency," he said, "may I take this favorable opportunity to appeal to you on behalf of a man who has been unjustly con- demned to death? " ·
The question made Count Stallburg's eyes open wide.
Pseudoreality Prevails · 8s
86 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
"A sex murderer, to be sure," Ulrich conceded, though he realized at once that he was entirely out of order. "The man's insane, of course," he hastily added to save the situation, and was about to add "Your Excellency must be aware that our penal code, dating from the middle of the la5t century, is outdated on this point," but he had to swallow and got stuck. It was a blunder to impose on this man a dis- cussion of a kind that people used to intellectual activity engage in, often quite without purpose. Just a few words, adroitly planted, can be as fruitful as rich garden loam, but in this place their effect was closer to that of a little clump of dirt one has inadvertently brought into the room on the sole of one's shoe. But now Count Stallburg, noticing Ulrich's embarrassment, showed him his truly great benevolence.
"Yes, yes, I remember," he said with a slight effort after Ulrich had given him the man's name, "and so you say he is insane, and you would like to help him? "
"He can't be held responsible for what he does. "
"Quite so, those are always especially unpleasant cases. "
Count Stallburg seemed much distressed by the difficulties in-
volved. Looking bleakly at Ulrich, he asked, as if nothing else were to be expected, whether Moosbrugger's sentence was final. Ulrich had to admit that it was not.
"Ah, in that case," he went on, sounding relieved, "there's still time," and he began to speak of Ulrich's "papa," leaving th. e ~oos­ brugger case in amiable ambiguity.
Ulrich's slip had momentarily made him lose his presence of mind, but oddly enough his mistake seemed not to have made a bad im- pression on Count Stallburg. His Excellency had been nearly speechless at first, as though someone had taken off his jacket in his presence, but then such spontaneity from a man so well recom- mended carne to seem to him refreshingly resolute and high-spir- ited. He was pleased to have found these two words, intent as he was on forming a favorable impression. He wrote them immediately ('We hope that we have found a resolute and high-spirited helper") in his letter of introduction to the chairman of the great patriotic campaign. When Ulrich received this document a few moments later, he felt like a child who is dismissed with a piece of chocolate pressed into its little hand. He now held something between his fin-
gers and received instructions to come again, in a manner that left him uncertain whether it was an order or an invitation, but without giving him an opportunity to protest. "There must be some misun- derstanding-! really had no intention whatever . . . ,"he would have liked to say, but by this time he was already on his way out, back along the great corridors and through the vast salons.
He suddenly came to a stop, thinking, "That picked me up like a cork and set me down somewhere I never meant to go! " He scrutinized the insidious simplicity of the decor with curiosity, and felt quite certain in decid- ing that even now he was still unimpressed by it. This was simply a world that had not yet been cleared away. But still, what was that strong, peculiar quality it had made him feel? Damn it all, there was hardly any other way to put it: it was simply amazingly real.
. 21
THE REAL INVENTION OF THE PARALLEL CAMP AIGN BY COUNT LEINSDORF
The real driving force behind the great patriotic campaign-to be known henceforth as the Parallel Campaign, both for the sake of ab- breviation and because it was supposed to "bring to bear the full weight of a seventy-year reign, so rich in blessings and sorrows, against a jubilee of a mere thirty years"-was not, however, Count Stallburg, but his friend His Grace the Imperial Liege,. . Count Leinsdorf.
At the· time Ulrich was making his visit in the Hofburg, Count Leinsdorf's secretary was standing in that great nobleman's beauti- ful, tall-windowed study, amid multiple layers of tranquillity, devo- tion, gold braid, and the solemnity of fame, with a book in his hand from which he was reading aloud to His Grace a passage he had been directed to find. This time it was something out of Johann Gottlieb Fichte that he had dug up in the Addresses to the German Nation and considered most appropriate:
Pseudoreality Prevails · 87
88 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
To be freed from the original sin ofsloth [he read] and the cowardice and duplicity that follow in its wake, men need models, such as the founders of the great religions actually were, to prefigure for them the enigma of freedom: The necessary teaching of moral conviction is the task of the Church, whose symbols must be regarded not as homilies but only as the means of instruction for the proclamation of the eternal verities.
He stressed the words "sloth," "prefigure," and "Church. " His Grace listened benevolently, had the book shown to him, but then shook his head.
"No," said the Imperial Count, "the book may be all right, but this Protestant bit about the Church won't do. " ·
The secretary looked frustrated, like a minor official whose fifth draft of a memo has been returned to him by the head of his depart- ment, and cautiously demurred: "But wouldn't Fichte make an ex- cellent impression on nationalistic circles? ''
"I think," His Grace replied, "we had better do without him for the present. " As he clapped the book shut his face clapped shut too, and at this wordless command the secretary clapped shut with a deep bow and took back his Fichte, as if removing a dish from the table, which he would file away again on the shelf with all the other philo- sophic systems of the world. One does not do one's own cooking but has it taken care of by the servants.
"So, for the time being," Count Leinsdorf said, "we keep to our four points: Emperor of Peace, European Milestone, True Austria, Property and Culture. You will draw up the circular letter along those lines. "
Just then a political thought had struck His Grace, which trans- lated into words came to, more or less, "They'll come along of their own accord. " He meant those sectors ofhis Fatherland who felt they belonged less to· Austria than to the greater German nation. He re- garded them with disfavor. Had his secretary found a more accept- able quotation with which to flatter their sensibilities-hence the choice ofJ. G. Fichte-he might have let him write it down. But the moment that offensive note about the Church gave him a pretext to drop it, he did so with a sigh of relief.
His Grace was the originator of the great patriotic campaign. When the disturbing news reached him from Germany, it was he who had come up with the slogan "Emperor of Peace. " This phrase instantly evoked the image of an eighty-eight-year-old sovereign-a true father of his people-and an uninterrupted reign of seventy years. The image naturally bore the faJlliliar features of his Imperial Master, but its halo was not that of majesty but of the proud fact that his Fatherland possessed the oldest sovereign with the longest reign in the world. Foolish people might be tempted to see in this ·merely his pleasure in a rarity-as if Count Leinsdorf, had, for instance, rated the possession of the far rarer horizontally striped "Sahara" stamp with watermark and one missing perforation over the posses- sion of an El Greco, as in fact he did, even though he owned both and was not unmindful ofhis family's celebrated collection ofpaintings- but this is simply because these people don't understand what en- riching power a symbol has, even beyond that of the great~stwealth.
For Count Leinsdorf, his allegory of the aged ruler held the thought both of his Fatherland, which he loved, and of the world to which it should be a model. Count Leinsdorfwas stirred by great and aching hopes. He could not have said what moved him more, grief at not seeing his country established in quite·the place of honor among the family of nations which was her due, or jealousy of Prussia, which had thrust Austria down from that place of eminence (in 1866, by a stab in the back! ), or else whether he was simply filled with pride in the nobility of a venerable state and the desire to show the world just how exemplary it was. In his view, the nations of Europe were help- lessly adrift in the whirlpool of materialistic democracy. What hov- ered before him was an inspiring symbol that would serve both as a warning and as a sign to return to the fold. It was clear to him that something had to be done to put Austria in the vanguard, so that this "splendorous rally of the Austrian spirit" would prove a "milestone" for the whole world arid enable it to find its own true being again; and all of this was connected with the possession of an eighty-eight- year-old Emperor of Peace.
Anything more, or more specific, Count Leinsdorf did not yet know. But he was certain that he was in the grip of a great idea. Not only did it kindle his passion-which should have put him on his guard, as a Christian of strict and responsible upbringing-but with
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dazzling conclusiveness this idea flowed directly into such sublime and radiant conceptions as that ofthe Sovereign, the Fatherland, and the Happiness of Mankind. Whatever obscurity still clung to his vi- sion could not upset His Grace. He was well acquainted with the the- ological doctrine of the contemplatio in caligine divina, the contemplation in divine darkness, which is infinitely clear in itself but a dazzling darkness to the human intellect. Besides, he had al- ways believed that a man who does something truly great usually doesn't know why. As Cromwell had said: "A man never gets as far as when he does not know where he is going! " So Count Leinsdorf se- renely indulged himself in enjoying his symbol, whose uncertainty aroused him far more powerfully than any certainties.
Symbols apart, his political views were o f an extraordinary solidity and had that freedom ofgreat character such as is made possible only by a total absence of doubts. As the heir to a feudal estate he was a member of the Upper House, but he was not politically active, nor did he hold a post at Court or in the government. He was "nothing but a patriot. " But precisely because of this, and because of his inde- pendent wealth, he had become the focus for all other patriots who followed with concern the development of the Empire and of man- kind. The ethical obligation not to remain a passive onlooker but to "offer a helping hand from above" permeated his life. He was con- vinced that "the people" were "good. " Since not only his many offi- cials, employees, and servants but countless others depended on him for their economic security, he had never known "the people" in any other respect, except on Sundays and holidays, when they po. ured out from behind the scenery as a cheerful, colorful throng, like an opera chorus. Anything . that did not fit in with this image he at- tributed to "subversive elements," the work ofirresponsible, callow, sensation-seeking individuals. Brought up in a religious and feudal spirit, never exposed to contradiction through having to deal with middle-class people, not unread, but as an aftereffect of the clerical instruction of his sheltered youth prevented for the rest of his life from recognizing in a book anything other than agreement with or mistaken divergence from his own principles, he knew the outlook of more up-to-date people only from the controversies in Parliament or in the newspapers. And since he knew enough to recognize the many superfi~alities there, he was daily confirmed in his prejudice that the
true bourgeois world, more deeply understood, was basically nothing other than what he hims_elf conceived it to be. In general, "the true" pref'IXed to political convictions was one ofhis aids for finding his way in a world that although created by God too often denied Him. He was firmly convinced that even true socialism fitted in with his view of things. He had had from the beginning, in fact, a deeply personal notion, which he had never fully acknowledged even to himself, to build a bridge across which the socialists were to come marching into his own camp. It is obvious that helping the poor is a proper chivalric task, and that for the true high nobility there was really no very great difference between a middle-class factory owner and his workers. "We're all socialists at heart" was one of his pet sayings, meaning no more and no less than that there were no social distinctions in the hereafter. In this world, however, he considered them necessary facts oflife, and expected the ~orkingclass, after due attention to its material welfare, to resist the unreasonable slogans imported by for- eign agitators and to accept the natural order of things in a world where everyone finds duty and prosperity in his allotted place. The true aristocrat accordingly seemed as important to him as the true artisan, and the solution of political and economic questions was sub- sumed for him in a harmonious vision he called "Fatherland. "
His Grace could not have said how much of-all this had run through his mind in the quarter ofan hour since. his secretary had left the room. All of it, perhaps. The medium-tall man, some sixty years old, sat motionless at his desk, his hands clasped in his lap, and did not know that he was smiling. He wore a low collar because ofa tend- ency to ·goiter, and a handlebar mustache, either for the same reason or because it gave him a look slightly reminiscent of certain portraits of Bohemian noblemen of the Wallenstein era. A high-ceilinged room stood around him, and this in tum was surrounded by the huge empty spaces of the anteroom and the library, around which, shell upon shell, further rooms, quiet, deference, solemnity, and the wreath of two sweeping stone staircases arranged themselves. Where the staircases led to the entrance gate, a tall doorkeeper stood in a heavy braided coat, his staff in his hand, gazing through the hole of the archway into the bright fluidity of the day, where pedestrians floated past like goldfish in a bowl. On the border between these two worlds rose the playful tendrils of a rococo fa~ade, famed among art
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historians not only for its beauty but because its height exceeded its width. It is now considered the first attempt to draw the skin of an expensive, comfortable country manor over the skeleton of a town house, grown tall because of the middle-class urban constriction of its ground plan, and represents one of the most important examples of the transition from feudal landed splendor to the style of middle- class democracy. It was here that the existence ofthe Leinsdorfs, art- historically certified, made the transition into the spirit of the age. But whoever did not know that saw as little of it as a drop of water shooting by sees of its sewer wall; all he would notice was the mellow grayish hole made by the archway breaking the otherwise solid fa- ~de·ofthe street, a surprising,. almost exciting recess in whose cav- ernous depth gleamed the gold of the braid and the large knob on the doorkeeper's staff. In fine weather, this man stood in front of the entrance like a flashing jewel visible from afar, intermingled with a row of housefronts that no one noticed, even though it was just these walls that imposed the order of a street upon the countless, name- less, passing throngs. It is a safe bet that most ofthe common people over whose order Count Leinsdorf kept anxious and ceaseless vigil linked his nam. e, when it came up, with nothing but their recollection of this doorkeeper.
His Grace would not have felt pushed into the background; he would rather have been inclined to consider the possession ofsuch a doorkeeper as the "true selflessness" that best becomes a nobleman.
zz
THE PARALLEL CAMPAIGN, IN THE FORM OF AN INFLUENTIAL LADY OF INEFFABLE SPIRITUAL GRACE, STANDS READY TO DEVOUR ULRICH
I t was this· Count Leinsdorf whom Ulrich should have gone to see next, as Count Stallburg wished, but he had decided to visit instead the "great cousin" recommended by his father, because he was cu- rious to see her with his own eyes. He had never met her but had taken a special dislike to her ever since all the well-meaning people who knew they were related had begun saying: "There's a woman you must get to know. " It was always said with that marked empha- sis on the "you" intended to single out the person addressed as ex- ceptionally well placed to appreciate such a jewel, and which can be a sincere compliment or a cloak for the conviction that he was just the sort of fool for such an acquaintanCe. Ulrich's frequent re- quests for a detailed description of this lady's qualities never brought satisfying replies. I t was either "She has such an ineffable spiritual grace" or "She is our loveliest and cleverest woman" or, as many would say, simply, "She's an ideal woman. " "How old is she? " Ulrich would ask, but nobody knew her age and the person thus asked was usually amazed that it had never occurred to him to give it a thought. 'Well then, who is her lover? " "An affair? " The not inexperienced young man he asked this of looked at him in wonder: "You're quite right. No one would ever suspect her of such a thing. "
"I see-a high-minded beauty," Ulrich concluded, "a second Di- otima. " And from that day forth that was what. he called her in his thoughts, after the celebrated female teacher of love.
But in reality her name was Ermelinda Tuzzi, and in truth it was just plain Hermine. Now, Ermelinda is, to be ·sure, not even a trans- lation of Hermine, but she had earned the right to this beautiful
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name one day through a flash of intuition, when it suddenly stood before her spiritual ear as a higher form of truth, even though her husband went on being called Hans, and not Giovanni. Despite his surname he had first learned Italian at the consular school. Ulrich was no less prejudiced ag~nst this Section Chief Tuzzi than against his wife. He was the only commoner in a position of authority in the Imperial Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which was even more feudal than the other government departments. There Tuzzi was the head of the most influential section, was considered the right hand-even the brains, it was rumored-of his Minister, and was one of the few men who could influence the fate of Europe. But when a commoner rises to such a position in such exalted surroundings, he may reason- ably be supposed to possess qualities favorably combining personal indispensability with a knack for keeping modestly in the back- ground. Ulrich was close to imagining this influential section chief as a kind of upright regimental sergeant major in the cavalry obl. i. ged to drill one-year conscripts from the high nobility. The fitting comple- ment, Ulrich thought, would be a spouse who, despite the extolling of her beauty, was ambitious, no longer young, and encased in a middle-class corset of culture.
But Ulrich was mightily surprised when he made his visit. Diotima received him with the indulgent smile of an eminent lady who knows that she is also beautiful and has to forgive men, superficial creatures that they are, for always thinking of her beauty first.
"I've been expecting you," she said, leaving Ulrich uncertain whether she meant this as a kindness or a rebuke. The hand she gave him was plump and weightless.
He held it a moment too long. his thoughts unable to let go of this hand at once. It rested in his own like a fleshy petal; its pointed nails, like beetle wings, seemed poised to fly offwith her at any moment into the improbable. He was overwhelmed by the exaltation of this female hand, basically a rather shameless human organ that, like a dog's muzzle, will tquch anything and yet is publicly considered the seat of fidelity, nobility, and tenderness. During these few seconds, he noted that there were several rolls of fat on Diotima's neck, cov- ered with the finest skin; her hair was wound into a Grecian knot,
which stood out stiffly and in its perfection resembled a wasp's nest. •
Ulrich felt a hostile impulse, an urge to offend this smiling ~man, and yet he could not quite resist her beauty.
Diotima, fur her part, also gave him a long and almost searching gaze. She had heard things about this cousin that to her ear had a slight tinge of the scandalous, and besides, he was related to her. Ulrich noticed that she, too, could not quite resist the impression of his physical appearance. He was used to this. He was clean- shaven, tall, well-built, and supplely muscular; his face was bright but impenetrable; in a word, he sometimes regarded himself as the preconceived idea most women have of an impressive and still young man; he simply did not always have the energy to disabuse them. Diotima resisted this impression by deciding to feel compas- sion for him. Ulrich could see that she was constantly studying his appearance and, obviously not moved by unfavorable feelings, was probably telling herself that the noble qualities he so palpably seemed to possess must be suffocated by a vicious life and could be saved. Although she was not much younger than Ulrich and physi- cally in full open bloom, her appearance emanated something with- held and virginal that formed a strange contrast to her self-confidence. So they went on surveying each other even after they had begun to talk. .
Diotima began by calling the Parallel Campaign a unique, never- to-recur opportunity to bring into existence what must be regarded as the greatest and most important thing in the ~rld. "We must and will bring to life a truly great idea. We have the opportunity, and we must not fail to use it. "
"Do you have something specific in mind? " Ulrich asked naively.
No, Diotima did not have anything specific in mind. How could she? No one who speaks of the greatest and most important thing in the world means anything that really exists. What peculiar quality of the world would it be equivalent to? It all amounts to one thing being greater and more important, or more beautiful and sadder, than an- other; in other words, the existence of a hierarchy of values and the comparative mode, which surely implies an end point and a superla- tive? But ifyou point this out to someone who happens at that very moment to be speaking of the greatest and most important thing in the world, that person will suspect that she is dealing with an individ-
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ual devoid offeelings and ideals. This was Diotima's reaction, and so had Ulrich spoken. .
As a woman admired for her intellect, Diotima found Ulrich's ob- jection irreverent. After a moment she smiled and replied: "There is so much that is great and good that has not yet been realized that the choice will not be easy. But we will set up committees from all sec- tors of the population, which will help us in our work. Or don't you think, Herr von , that it is an incredible privilege to be in a position to call on a whole nation-indeed, on the whole world-on such an occasion, to awaken it in the midst ofits materialistic preoc- cupations to the life ofthe spirit? You must not assume that we have in mind something 'patriotic' in the long-outdated sense. " -
Ulrich was humorously evasive.
Diotima did not laugh, but barely smiled. She was accustomed to witty men, but they were all something else pesides. Paradox for the sake ofparadox struck her as immature, and aroused the need to re- mind her cousin ofthe seriousness ofthe reality that lent to this great national undertaking dignity as well as responsibility. In a tone of fi- nality, she made a fresh start. Ulrich involuntarily sought between her words those black-and-yellow tapes that are used for interleaving and fastening official papers in Austrian government offices; but what came from Diotima's lips were by no means only bureaucr. atic formul~ but also such cultural code words as "soulless age, domi- nated only by logic and psychology" or "the present and eternity," and suddenly there was mention of Berlin, too, and the "treasure of feeling" Austria had still preserved, in contrast to Prussia.
Ulrich attempted several times to interrupt these ex cathedra pro- nouncements, but the vestry incense of high bureaucracy instantly clouded over the interruption, gently veiling its tactlessness. Ulrich was astonished. He rose. His first visit was clearly at an end.
During these moments of his retreat Diotima treated him with that bland courtesy, carefully and pointedly a little overdone, which she had learned by imitating her husband. He used it in his dealings with young aristocrats who were his subordinates but might one day be his ministers. There was, in her manner of inviting him to come again, a touch ofthat supercilious uneasiness ofthe intellectual when faced with a ruder vitality. When he held her gentle, weightless hand ip his own once more, they looked into each other's eyes. Ulrich had
the distinct impression that they were destined to cause each other considerable annoyance through love.
"Truly," he thought, "a hydra of a beauty. " He had meant to let the great patriotic campaign wait for him in vain, but it seemed to have become incarnate in the person of Diotima and stood ready to swallow him up. It was a semi-comical feeling: despite his maturity and experience, he felt like a destructive little worm being eyed at- tentively by a large chicken. "For heaven's sake," he thought, "I can't let myself be provoked to petty derelictions by this giantess of the soul! " He had had enough ofhis affair with Bonadea, and he commit- ted himself to exercise the utmost restraint.
As he was leaving the apartment, he was cheered by a pleasant impression he had already had on his arrival. A little chambermaid with dreamy eyes showed him out. In the darkness of the entrance hall her eyes, fluttering up to his for the first time, had been like black butterflies; now, as he left, they floated down through the dark- ness like black snowflakes. There was something Arabian or Al- gerian-Jewish about the little girl, something so unobtrusively sweet that Ulrich again forgot to take a good look at her. It was only when he was out in the street again that he felt what an uncommonly alive and refreshing sight the little maid was after Diotima's presence.
A. GREAT MAN'S INITIAL INTERVENTION
Ulrich's departure had left both Diotima and her maid in a state of vague excitement. But while the little black lizard always felt as though she had been allowed to flit up a high, shimmering wall whenever she saw a distinguished visitor to the door, Diotima han- dled her impression ofUlrich with the conscientiousness ofa woman who doesn't really mind feeling touched though she should because she has the ability to keep herself gently in check. Ulrich did not
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know that on that same day another man had entered her life to lift her up like a giant mountain offering a tremendous view.
Dr. Paul Arnheim had called on her soon after arriving in town.
He was immeasurably rich. His father was the mightiest mogul of "Iron Germany," that is, Bismarck's Germany, to which even Section Chief Tuzzi had condescended. Tuzzi was laconic on principle. He . felt that puns and the like, even ifone could not do entirely without them in witty conversation, had better not be too good, because that would be middle-class. He had advised his wife to treat this visitor with marked distinction, for even ifhis kind were not yet on top in the German Reich, and their influence at Court was not to be com- pared with that of the Krupps, they might, in his opinion, be on top tomorrow. He also passed on to her a confidential rumor that the son-a man well into his forties, incidentally-was aiming not merely at his father's position but was preparing himself, based on the trend of the times and his international connections, to become a Reichsminister someday. Tuzzi ofcourse regarded this as completely out of the question, unless a world cataclysm were to pave the way.
He had no idea what a tempest his words unleashed in his wife's imagination. In her circle it was a matter ofprinciple not to think too highly of "men in trade," but like every person of bourgeois outlook, she admired wealth in those depths of the heart that are quite im- mune to convictions, and the prospect of actually meeting so incredi- bly rich a man made her feel as if golden angel's wings had come down to her from on high. Ever since her husband's rise, Ermelinda Tuzzi was not entirely unaccustomed to consorting with fame and riches. But fame based on intellectual achievements melts away with surprising speed as one becomes socially involved with its bearers, and feudal wealth manifests itselfeither in the foolish debts ofyoung attaches or is constrained by a traditional style of living without ever attaining the brimming profusion of freely piled-up mountains of money and the brilliant cascading showers of gold with which the great banks and industrial combines fuel their business. All Diotima knew of banks was that even their middle-echelon executives trav- eled first-class on business, while she always had to go second-class unless accompanied by her husband. This was the standard by which she imagined the luxury that must surround the top despots offinan- cial operations on so oriental a scale.
Her little maid, Rachel-it goes without saying that Diotima pro- nounced it in the French style-had heard fantastic things. The least she had to report was that the nabob had arrived in his own private train, had reserved an entire hotel, and had brought a little black slave with him. The truth. was considerably more modest, if only be- cause Paul Arnheim never acted conspicuously. Only the little black- amoor was real. Some years ago, on a trip in southernmost Italy, Amheim had picked him out of a traveling dance troupe, partly for show and partly from an impulse to raise a fellow creature from the depths and carry out God's work by opening up the life of the mind to him. He soon enough lost interest and used the now sixteen-year- old boy only as a servant, even though before the boy was fourteen Arnheim had been giving him Stendhal and Dumas to read.
But even though the rumors her maid brought home were so childish in their extravagance that Diotima had to smile, she made her repeat them word for word, because she found it charming and unspoiled, as was only possible in this one great city, which was "rife with culture to the point of innocence.