No More Learning

''I'm not laughing at all. I just have to add: as far as one can! " I Or: mysticism as anomalous psychology of normal life: You believe that mys- ticism is a secret through which we enter another world; but it is only, or even, the secret of living differently in our world. "
"Oh? Yes, that's what you wrote. But didn't you even much earlier sometimes call it the concave, submerged world? " Agathe ascertained. "You spoke of an encompassing and an encompassed possibility of feel- ing as if they were old tales. Of gods and goddesses. Of two branches of development in life. Ofmoon-nights and day. Oftwo inseparable twins! "
It is the answer to all our conversations, all our peculiarities.
Agathe was pressing, but Ulrich yielded of his own accord: "You can add anything you like: everything that has truly moved me has its expla- nation here. The victories that come from acting in the world, and the emotions that go with them, have always been alien to me, even if at times I felt an obligation to them. An apparently inactive state I called love, without loving a woman, was opposed in me to the processes of knowledge that gave me the passion a rider has for his horse I which I called the world of love because I couldn't love in the everyday world! I We always imagined a different life before us. "
Agathe interrupted him animatedly. But it was hard for her to fmd the right words. At the beginning, although soon swept away by what she was saying, there was a little awkwardness in her voice, as when a boy tries to speak in a man's bass voice, or when a girl paints a mustache on her face, as she began: "You know that I'm no shrinking touch-me-not. And I've often reproached myself for my so-called passions, which have always left me completely unmoved. I clearly felt that I was being moved by them only because I hadn't found what could truly move us. " Possibly better this way: When she applied the expression "touch-me-not" to herself. She said Ulrich knew that she wasn't one and that she attached no importance to it. But also (that is: he knew) that she found her so- called passions most shameful after the fact. "You scrape yourself like a cow against a tree, just as happily, and suddenly stop in the same bewil- derment," she said.
Ulrich: A person is passionate in two senses. A kind of appetitive sense, which reaches out for everything and undertakes everything, and another, which is timid, has a hard time making up its mind to do things, and is full ofinexpressible longing. One probably has both within oneself.
Agathe: The man with qualities and the man without qualities! Mar-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1359
velous, marvelous. If someone understands you properly he has saved his life! What author wouldn't be flattered by such praise! Ulrich re- sponded: It's not immaterial that we are talking about a passionate per- son in two quite different senses. We've become accustomed to applying the term chiefly to people we really ought to call lustful, to gluttons in every kind of passion, while we rather tend to regard people who are profoundly passionate within themselves as weak in affect, people who ascetically serve some sort of nobler passion of life. That leads to stupid mixups.
Agathe: I'm reproached for acting badly-
Who reproaches you? (a little suspiciously)
Agathe violently twitched her shoulders. "Professor Hagauer. Think
ofhis letters. Indeed, I've often reproached myselffor having done what I did with the will-"
"We'll make amends for it," Ulrich intervened.
"What a situation to be in, feeling that you're not a good person and yet not wanting it any other way! You yourself once reproached me about this, and I was insulted-"
Ulrich interrupted her with anapologetic, defensive gesture. Proba- bly (too) from the author, that it's important that they have now recog- nized that they've got to the center oftheir difficulties.
Agathe: "Oh, you've often talked about morality. You've set before me at least ten different definitions; every time, listening to you was a totally new experience. But now I'm reproached for being immoral, I'm made to believe it myself, but for all that I'm an absolute marvel of morality! "
Ulrich: And why a marvel?
Agathe: You showed me the way! The only condition I love and seek needs no morality, it is morality! Every twitch of the little toe that hap- pens in it is moral. Am I right? (laughs)
Ulrich: Yes, you're right.
Agathe: But first I want to ask you something else . . . Everything we've been talking about half jokingly and half seriously for the last few days: is it all settled?
Ulrich: Of course.
Agathe: T o love your neighbor as yourself is an ecstatic demand? Ulrich: It is the natural morality of mystic ecstasy, which teaches
something that never quite fits the ord[inary] activity of our lives.
EARLy-MORNING wALK
Part I
Around Clarisse's mouth laughter was struggling with the difficulties facing her; her mouth kept opening and then pressing itself tightly shut. She had got up too early: Walter was still sleeping; she had hastily thrown on a light dress and gone outside. The singing of birds reached her from the woods through the empty morning stillness. The hemi- sphere ofthe sky had not yet filled with warmth. Even the light was still shallowly dispersed. "It only reaches my ankles," Clarisse thought. "The cock of the morning has just been wound up! Everything is before its time! " Clarisse was deeply moved that she was wandering through the world before it was time. It almost made her cry.
Without saying anything about it to Walter or Ulrich, Clarisse had been to the asylum a second time. Since then she had been especially sensitive. She applied everything she had seen or heard during her two visits to herself. Three events especially preoccupied her. The first was that she had been addressed and greeted as the Emperor's son and a man. When this assertion had been repeated, she had quite distinctly felt her resistance to it yield, as if something ordinary that usually stood in the way of this royal quality was vanishing. And she was filled with an inexpressible desire. The second thing that excited her was that Mein- gast, too, was transforming himself, and was obviously using her and Walter's proximity in the process. Since she had surprised him in the vegetable garden-it might have been a few weeks agcr-and terrified him with her truly prophetic shout that she could transform herself too and also be a man, he had been avoiding her company. Since then she had not seen him often, even at meals; he locked himself in with his work or spent the whole day out of the house, and whenever he was hungry he secretly took something to eat from the pantry (without ask- ing). It had been just a short time ago that she had succeeded in talking to him again alone. She had told him: "Walter has forbidden me to talk about how you're undergoing a transformation in our house! " and had blinked her eyes. But even here Meingast kept himself concealed and acted surprised, indeed annoyed. He did not want to let her in on the secret he was busily working on. This seemed to be the explanation. But Clarisse had said to him: "Perhaps I'll steal a march on you! " And she connected that with the first event. There was little reflection in this, and on that account its relation to reality was unclear; but what was clearly palpable was the lustful emergence of a different being from within the foundation of her own.
From the Posthunwus Papers · 1361
Clarisse was now convinced that the insane people had found her out (that she had offered to Meingast that she could also be a man). And since then she had one secret more: when an invitation to repeat the interrupted visit did not arrive, either from the secretly resisting General von Stumm or from Ulrich, she had after long hesitation her- self called Dr. Friedenthal and announced that she would visit him at the hospital. And the doctor had promptly found time for Clarisse. When she asked him immediately upon her arrival whether mad peo- ple did not know a great deal that healthy people could not even guess at, he smiled and shook his head, but gazed deeply into her eyes and answered in a tone of complacency: "The doctors of the insane know a lot that healthy people don't even suspect! " And when he had to go on his rounds he had offered to take Clarisse along, and to begin where they had stopped the last time. As if it were already a matter of course, Clarisse again slipped into the white doctor's coat that Friedenthal held for her.
But-and this was the third event that still excited Clarisse after the fact, and even more than the others-she again did not get to see Moos- brugger. For something remarkable happened. They had left the last pavilion and were breathing in the spicy air of the grounds as they walked, during which Friedenthal ventured: "Now it's time for Moos- brugger! " when again a guard came running up with a message. Frie- denthal shrugged his shoulders and said: "Strange! It's not going to work out this time either! At this moment the Director and a Commission are with Moosbrugger. I can't take you with me. " And after he had assured her on his own initiative that he would invite her to continue her visit at the first opportunity, he left with rapid strides, while the guard con- ducted Clarisse back to the street.
Clarisse found it striking and extraordinary that her visits had twice come to nothing, and suspected that there was something behind it. She had the impression that she was intentionally not being allowed to see Moosbrugger and that a new excuse was being thought up each time, perhaps even with the purpose of making Moosbrugger disappear before she could get through to him.
But when Clarisse thought this over again, she nearly cried. She had let herself be outsmarted and felt quite ashamed; for she had heard nothing from Friedenthal. But while she was getting so upset, she was also calming down again. A thought occurred to her that often preoc- cupied her now, that in the course of the history of mankind many great men had been spirited away and tortured by their contemporaries, and that in the madhouse many had even disappeared. "They could neither defend themselves nor explain, because all they felt for their time was
1362 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
scorn! " she thought. And she recalled Nietzsche, whom she idolized, with his great, sad mustache and grown totally mute behind it.
But this gave her an uncanny feeling. What had just now insulted or provoked her, her defeat at the hands of the cunning doctor, was sud- denly revealed to her as a sign that the destiny ofsuch a great man might also have been preordained for her. Her eyes sought the direction in which the asylum lay, and she knew that she always felt this direction as something special, even when she wasn't thinking of it.
It was extremely oppressive to feel oneself so at one with madmen, but she told herself that "to put oneself on the level of the uncanny is to decide for genius! "
Meanwhile the sun had come up, and this made the landscape even emptier; it was green and cool, with bloody wisps; the world was still low, and reached up only to Clarisse's ankles on the little rise she was stand- ing on. Here and there a bird's voice shrieked like a lost soul. Her nar- row mouth expanded and smiled at the course of the morning. She stood girded round by her smile like the Blessed Virgin on the earth embraced by sin I crescent moon. She mulled over what she should do. She was under the sway of a peculiar mood of sacrifice: far too many things had recently been going through her head. She had repeatedly believed that it was now beginning with her: to do a great deed, something great with all her soul! But she did not know what.
She only felt that something was imminent. She stood in fear of it, but felt a longing for the fearful. It hovered in the emptiness of the morning like a cross above her shoulders. But really it was more an active hurt. A great deed. A transformation. There was that idea again, so laden with associations! But, as it were, empty, like a rising first ball of light. And yet it was something active and aggressive. What it might be and her at- tempts to imagine it caromed through her head in all directions. The swallows, too, had meanwhile begun to dart back and forth through the air.
Suddenly Clarisse became cheerful again, although the uncanniness did not entirely disappear. It occurred to her that she had got quite far away from her house. She turned around, and began to dance on the way. She stretched her arms straight out and lifted her knee. That was how she traversed the entire last part of her route.
But before she got home, at a bend in the path, she came upon Gen- eral von Stumm.
From the Posthunwus Papers · 1363 Part II
(1) "Good morning, dear lady! How are things? " he called already from a distance offifteen yards.
"Quite well! " Clarisse replied with a stern face, in a toneless soft voice.
(2) Stumm was in uniform, and his little round legs were ensconced in boots and dun-colored riding breeches with a general's red stripes. At the Ministry he militantly pretended that he sometimes went on long rides in the morning before work, but in reality he went strolling with Clarisse over the banks and meadows that surrounded her house. At this hour Walter was still sleeping, or had to busy himself with his clothes and breakfast in joyless haste so he wouldn't be late to the office; and if Walter peeked out of the window, filled with jealousy he saw the sun sparkling on the buttons and colors of a uniform, alongside which a red or blue summer dress was usually to be seen billowing in the wind, as happens in old paintings to the garments of angels in the exuberance of their descending.
(3) "Shall we go to the ski jump? " Stumm asked cheerfully. The "ski jump" was a small quarry in the hills, and had nothing whatever to do with its name. But Stumm found this name, one that Clarisse had cho- sen, "exquisite and dynamic. " "As if it were winter! " he exclaimed. "It makes me laugh every time. And you would doubtless, my dear lady, call a snowbank a 'summer hill'? "
Clarisse liked being called "my dear lady" and immediately agreed to turn around with him, because once she had become accustomed to the general's company she found it quite agreeable. First, because he was, after all, a general; not "nothing," like Ulrich and Meingast and Walter. She now loved everything that was important in the world. Then, be- cause it had occurred to her that it was really a quite peculiar circum- stance to be always carrying a sword around, an odd relation to the world that corresponded to the great and fearful feelings that at times I often preoccupied her. Further, she esteemed the voluble von Stumm be- cause she unconsciously recognized that he did not, like the others, de- sire her in a way that, when she was not in the mood herself, demeaned her. "There's something strangely pure about him! " she had explained to her jealous husband. But as a final reason, she also needed a person with whom she could talk, for she was oppressed by myriad swarms of inner promptings that she had to keep to herself. And when the General was listening to her, she felt that everything she said and did was good. "You have, my dear lady," the General would often assure her, "some-
1364 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
thing that sets you apart from all women I have had the honor of getting to know. You positively teach me energy, martial courage, and the con- quering of Austrian negligence! " He smiled as if it were a joke, but she clearly noticed that he meant some of it seriously.
(4) But the major topic oftheir conversations was, as is also the rule in love, recollections of their common great experience, the visit to the in- sane asylum, and so this time Clarisse began to confide to the General that she had since been back a second time.
"With whom? " the General inquired, relieved to have escaped a hor- rible mission.
"Alone," Clarisse said.
"Good God! " Stumm exclaimed, and stopped, although they had only taken a few steps. "Really alone? You don't let anything give you the creeps! And did you see anything special? " he asked, curious.
"The murderers' house," Clarisse responded with a smile.
This was the designation that Dr. Friedenthal, a good stage director, had used as they had walked across the soundless moss under the trees of the old garden toward a group of small buildings from which horrible cries came echoing toward them with remarkable regularity. Frieden- thal, too, had smiled, and had told Clarisse, as Clarisse now told the General, that every inmate of this group of houses had killed at least one person, sometimes a number of people.
"And now they're screaming when it's too late! " Stumm said in a tone of reproachful acquiescence in the way of the world.
But Clarisse did not appreciate his response. She recalled that she, too, had asked what the cries meant. And Friedenthal had told her that they were manic fits; but he said this quite softly and cautiously, as if they were not to intrude. And just at that moment the gigantic guards had suddenly materialized around them and opened the reinforced doors; and Clarisse, repeating this and falling back into the mood, like being at an exciting play, softly whispered the term "manic fits" while looking meaningfully into the General's eyes.
She turned away and walked on a few paces ahead, so that Stumm almost had to run to catch up with her. When he was at her side again, she asked him what he thought about modern painting, but before he could gather his impressions, she surprised him with the information that there was an astonishing correspondence between this painting and an architecture born from the spirit ofthe madhouse: "The buildings are dice, and the patients live in hollowed-out concrete dice," she explained. "There is a corridor through the middle, and cube-shaped cells left and right, and in each cell there is nothing but one person and the space around him. Even the bench he's sittingon is part ofthe wall. Ofcourse
From the Posthumous Papers · 1365
all edges have been carefully rounded off so he can't hurt himself," she added with precision, for she had observed everything with the greatest attention.
She found no words for what she really wanted to say. Since she had been surrounded by art all her life and had listened to the concerns ex- pressed about art, this island had remained relatively resistant to the changes that had been slowly growing in other areas of her thinking; and especially since her own artistic activity did not spring directly from pas- sion but was merely an appendix of her ambition and a consequence of the circumstances in which she lived, her judgment in this area, despite the illness that had recently made new inroads on her personality, was no more perverse than is common, from time to time, in the develop- ment of art. She could, therefore, deal quite comfortably with an idea like "purpose-oriented architecture" or "a manner of building deriving from the mission of an insane asylum," and it was only the peopling of these up-to-date dwellings with the insane that surprised her as a new concept and tickled her like a scent kindled in the nose.
But Stumm von Bordwehr interrupted her with the modest observa- tion that he had always imagined that cells for manics had to be padded.
Clarisse became uncertain, for perhaps the cells had been made of light-colored rubber, and so she cut offhis objection. "Maybe in the old days," she said finnly. "In the days ofupholstered furniture and tasseled drapes, maybe the cells were upholstered too. But today, when people think objectively and spatially, it's quite impossible. Cultural progress
doesn't stop, even in insane asylums! "
But Stumm would rather have heard something about the manics
themselves than be diverted by the problem of what connections there might be between them and painting and architecture, so he replied: "Most interesting! But now I'm really anxious to hear what happened in these modem spaces! "
"You'll be surprised," Clarisse said. "As quiet as a cemetery. "
"Interesting! I recall that in the courtyard of murderers that we saw, it was that still for a few moments too. "
"But this time only a single man had on a striped linen smock," Clarisse went on. "A weak, little old man with blinking eyes. " And suddenly she gave a loud laugh. "He dreamed that his wife had deceived him, and when he woke up in the morning he beat her to death with the bootjack! "
Stumm laughed too. "Right when he woke up? That's capital! " he agreed. "He was evidently in a hurry! And the others? Why do you say that he was the only one who had on a smock? "
"Because the others were in black. They were quieter than the dead," Clarisse replied, overcome with seriousness.
1366 · THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
"Murderers really don't seem to be merry people," Stumm hazarded. "Oh, you're thinking of the nutcracker! " Clarisse said.
For a moment the General did not know whom she meant.
"The one with nutcracker teeth who said to me that Vienna is a beau-
tiful city! "
"And what did this lot say to you? " the General asked with a smile. "But I told you, they were as silent as ghosts! "
"But, my dear lady," Stumm excused himself, "you can't call that
manic! "
"They were waiting for their attacks! "
"What do you mean, waiting? It's strange to wait for an attack of
mania the way you wait for an inspiring corps commander. And you say that they were dressed in black: ready to be reviewed, in a way? I'm afraid, dear lady, that you must have been mistaken in what you were seeing just then. I most humbly beg your pardon, but I am accustomed to imagining such things with the greatest precision! "
Clarisse, who found it not at all disagreeable that Stumm insisted on precision, for something was weighing her down that was not clear to her either, replied: "Dr. Friedenthal explained it to me that way, and I can only repeat, General, that that's the way it was. There were three men waiting there; all three had on black suits, and their hair and beards were black. One was a doctor, the second a lawyer, and the third a wealthy businessman. They looked like political martyrs about to be shot. "
"Why did they look that way? '' asked the incredulous Stumm. "Because they were wearing neither collar nor tie. "
"Perhaps they had just arrived? ''
"No! Friedenthal said they had been in the asylum a long time," Cla-
risse asserted warmly. "And yet that's the way they looked, as if they could stand up at any moment and go to the office or visit a patient. That's what was so strange. "
"Well, it's all the same to me," Stumm responded, to tum the conver- sation, and yet with a nobility that was new to him, while at the same time he struck his boots aggressively with his riding crop. ''I've seen fools in uniform, and consider more people crazy than one might think I would. But I imagined 'manic' as something more vivid, even if I con- cede that you can't ask ofa person that he be manic all the time. But that all three were so quiet . . . I'm sorry I wasn't there myself, for I think this Dr. Friedenthal is capable of pulling the wool over a person's eyes! "
"When he was speaking they listened quite mutely," Clarisse re- ported. "You wouldn't have noticed that they were ill at all ifyou hadn't happened to meet them there. And imagine, as we were leaving, the one
From the Posthumous Papers · 1367
who was a doctor stood up and motioned me, with a truly chivalrous gesture, to go first, saying to Friedenthal: 'Doctor, you often bring visi- tors. You are always showing guests around. Today for a change I'll come with you too. ' "
"And then of course those bullies, those toadies of guards, immedi- ately-" the General began heatedly, even though he might have been more touched by the tragedienne than the tragedy.
"No, they didn't grab him," Clarisse interrupted. "It was really with the greatest respect that they kept him from following me. And I assure you, it was all so moving in this polite and silent fashion. As if the world were hung with heavy, precious fabrics, and the words one would like to say have no resonance. It's hard to understand these people. You'd have to live in an asylum yourself for a long time to be able to enter their world! "
"What an exquisite idea! But God preserve us from it! " Stumm re- sponded quickly. "You know, dear lady, that I am indebted to you for a pretty good insight into the value of shaking up the bourgeois spirit by means ofillness and murder: but still, there are certain limits! "
With these words they had arrived at the hill that was their goal, and the General paused for breath before undertaking the pathless climb. Clarisse surveyed him with an expression of grateful solicitude and a tender mockery that she rarely showed. "But one ofthem did have a fit! " she informed him roguishly, the way one hauls out a present that had been concealed.
"Well, so there! " Stumm exclaimed. He could not think of anything else to say. But his mouth remained open as he mindlessly groped around for a word; suddenly he beat against his boots again with his crop. "But of course, the shouts! " he added. "Right at the beginning you spoke of the shouting you heard, and I overlooked that when you were talking about the deathly stillness. You tell a story so magnificently that one forgets everything! "
"As we stood in front of the door from which shouts and a strange moaning alternated," Clarisse began, "Friedenthal asked me once more whether I really wanted to go in. I was so excited I could hardly answer, but the guards paid no attention and began opening the doors. You may imagine, General, that at that moment I was terribly afraid, for I'm really only a woman. I had the feeling: when the door opens, the maniac is going to jump mel"
"One always hears that such mentally ill people have incredible strength," the General said by way of encouragement.
"Yes; but when the door was open and we all stood at the entrance, he paid absolutely no attention to us! "
1368 · THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
"Paid no attention? " Stumm asked.
"None at all! He was almost as tall as Ulrich, and perhaps my age. He was standing in the middle of the cell, with his head bent forward and his legs apart. Like this! " Clarisse imitated it.
General: Was he dressed in black too? Clarisse: No, stark naked.
General: Looks at Clarisse from head to toe.
''Thick strands of saliva were spread all over his young man's brown- ish-blond beard; the muscles literally jumped out of his scrawniness; he was naked, and his hair, I mean specific hairs-"
''You present everything so vividly one understands it all! " Stumm in- teiVened soothingly.
"-were dully bright, shamelessly bright; he fixed us with them as if they were an eye that looks at you without noticing anything about you! " Clarisse had reached the top, the General sat at her feet. From the "ski jump" one looked down on vineyards and meadows sloping away, on large and small houses that for a short distance rose in a jumble up the slope from below, and in one place the glance escaped into the charming depth of the hilly plateau that on the far horizon bordered high moun- tains. But if, like Stumm, you were sitting on a low tree stump, all you saw was an accidental hump of forest arching its back toward the sky, white clouds in the familiar, fatly drifting balls, and Clarisse. She stood with her legs apart in front of the General and mimicked a manic fit. She held one arm bent out at a right angle and stiffiy locked to her body; with her head bent forward, she was executing with her torso in an unvarying sequence a jerky motion that formed a shallow forward circle, while she bent one finger after another as if she were counting. And she allowed each of these motions to be accompanied by a pantingly uttered cry, whose force, however, she considerately restrained. ''You can't imitate the essential part," she explained. "'Ib. at's the incredible strain with every motion, which gives an impression as if each time the person is
tearing his body from a vise. . . . "
"But that's moral" the General exclaimed. ''You ! mow, that game of
chance? Whoever guesses the right number of fingers wins. Except that you can't bend one finger after another but have to show as many as you think of on the spur of the moment. All our peasants on the Italian bor- der play it. "
From the Posthu'TIWUs Papers · 1369
"It really is mora," said Clarisse, who had seen it on her travels. "And he also did it the way you described! "
"Well then, mora," Stumm repeated with satisfaction. "But I'd like to lmow where these insane people get their ideas," he added, and here commenced the strenuous part of the conversation.
Clarisse sat down on the tree stump beside the General, a little apart from him so that she could, if need be, "cast an eye" on him, and each time this happened he had a ridiculous horrible feeling, as if he were being pinched by a stag beetle. She was prepared to explain for his bene- fit the emotional life of the insane as she herself understood it after much reflection. One ofits most important elements-because she con- nected everything with herself-was the idea that the so-called mentally ill were some kind of geniuses who were spirited away and deprived of their rights, and for some reason that Clarisse had not yet discovered, this was something they were not able to defend themselves against. It was only natural that the General could not concur in this opinion, but this did not surprise either of them. "I am willing to concede that such an idiot might occasionally guess something that the likes of us don't lmow," he protested. "That's the way you imagine them being: they have a certain aura; but that they should think more than we healthy people- no, please, I beg to differ! "
Clarisse insisted seriously that people who were mentally healthy thought less than those who were mentally unhealthy. "Have you ever strayed off a point, General, from A to B? " she asked Stumm, and he was forced to agree that he had. "Have you ever, then, done it the other way round, from B to A? " she asked further, and Stumm had even less desire to deny it, after considering for a while what it meant, for it is part of a man's pride to think through for himself to the single thing called truth. But Clarisse reasoned: ''You see, and that's nothing but cowardice, this neat and orderly reflecting about things. On account of their cowardice men will never amount to anything! "
'Tve never heard that before," Stumm asserted dismissively. But he thought it over. Wouldn't that mean . . . ? "
Clarisse moved closer to him with her eyes. "Surely some woman has whispered in your ear: 'You god-man'? "
Stumm could not recall this happening, but he didn't want to admit it, so he merely made a gesture that could just as well mean "unfortunately not" as 'Tm sick and tired of hearing itl" In words, he replied: "Many women are very high-strung! But what does that have to do with our conversation? Something of that sort is simply an exaggerated compli- ment! "
1370 · THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
"Do you remember the painter whose sketches the doctor showed us? " Clarisse asked.
''Yes, of course. What he had painted was really magnificent. "
"He was dissatisfied with Friedenthal because the doctor doesn't un- derstand anything about art. 'Show it to this gentleman! ' he said, point- ing to me," Clarisse went on, again suddenly casting her eye on the General. "Do you believe it was merely a compliment that he addressed me as a man? "
"It's just one of those ideas," Stumm said. "Honestly, I've never thought about it. I would assume it's what's called an association, or an analogy, or something like that. He just had some reason or other to take you for a man! "
But does it give you pleasure to be taken for a man? Pleasure? No. But . . .
Although Stumm was convinced that with these last words he had ex- plained something to Clarisse, he was still surprised by the wannth with which she exclaimed: "Terrific! Then I only need tell you that it has the same cause as in love when there's whispering about god-man! For the world is full of double beings! "
One should not of course believe that it was agreeable to Stumm when Clarisse talked this way, shooting a cleft glance from eyes nar- rowed to slits; he was thinking, rather, whether it would not be more proper not to conduct such conversations in uniform, but to appear for the next walk in mufti. But on the other hand the good Stumm, who admired Clarisse with great caution, ifnot concealed terror, had the am- bitious desire to understand this young woman who was so passionate, and also to be understood by her, for which reason he quickly discovered a good side to her assertion. He put it this way, that most things involv- ing the world and people were indeed ambivalent, which accorded well with his newly acquired pessimism. He assuaged himself further by as- suming that what was meant by god-man and man-woman was no differ- ent from what could be said about anybody: that he was a bit of a noble person and a bit of a rascal. Still, he preferred to steer the conversation back to the more natural view, and began to spin out his knowledge of analogies, comparisons, symbolic forms ofexpression, and the like.
"Please excuse me and permit me, dear lady, to adopt your excite- ment for a moment and accept the idea that you really are a man," he began, advised by the guardian angel of intuition, and went on in the
From the Posthunwus Papers · 1371
same fashion: "because then you would be able to imagine what it means for a lady to wear a heavy veil and show only a small part of her face; or, which is almost the same thing, for a ball gown to swirl up from the floor in a dance and expose an ankle: that's how it was just a few years ago, about the time I was a major; and such hints strike one much more strongly, I might almost say more passionately, than if one were to see the lady up to her knee with no obstacle in the way-yes, obstacle is precisely the right word! Because that's how I would also describe what analogies or comparisons or symbols consist of. They present an obstacle to thinking, and in doing so arouse it more strongly than is usually the case. I believe that's what you mean when you say that there's something cowardly about ordinary reflection. "
But Clarisse meant nothing of the sort. "People have an obligation to get beyond mere hints! " she asserted.
"Quite remarkable! " Stumm exclaimed, honestly moved. "Old Count Leinsdorf says the same thing you do! Just recently I had a most pro- found discussion with that distinguished gentleman about metaphors and symbols, and in connection with the patriotic campaign he ex- pressed precisely the opinion you did: that all of us have the obligation to reach out beyond the condition of metaphor to reality! "
"I once wrote him a letter in which I asked him to do something about freeing Moosbrugger," Clarisse said.
You see, even then we already had two acquaintances in common with- out knowing it!
"And what was his response? For of course he couldn't do it. I mean, even if he could, he couldn't, because he's much too conservative and legalistic a gentleman. "
"But you could? " Clarisse asked.
"No; whatever's in the madhouse can stay there. No matter how am- biguous it is. Caution, you know, is the mother ofwisdom. "
"But what's this? " Clarisse asked, smiling, for she had discovered on the scabbard of the General's sword the woven double eagle, the em- blem of the Imperial and Royal Monarchy.