now-although her dejection kept her from realizing it her- self-Agathe had been really glad, ovexjoyed in fact, at her brother's
secretly
doing the opposite ofwhat he had outwardly advocated dur- ing the time oftheir humorous brother-sister flirtation, since offend- ing Hagauer could only have the effect of erecting a barrier to her ever returning to him.
Musil - Man Without Qualities - v2
She was extraordinarily beautiful: brunette, with full lips, strong eyebrows, a slightly turned-up nose; perhaps a dark- haired Polish girl, or a southern Slav.
As I recall, the dress she was wearing suggested some national costume: long jacket, tight waist, laced bodice, and frills at the throat and wrists, all in its way as per- fect as the little person herself.
Perhaps she was Albanian.
I was sit- ting too far away to be able to hear what she was saying.
It struck me that the features of her grave little face were mature beyond her years, so that she seemed fully adult; yet it was not the face of a dwarfishly tiny woman, but unquestionably that of a child.
On the other hand, it was not at all the immature stage of an adult's face.
It seems that a woman's face may sometimes be complete at the age of twelve, formed even spiritually like a perfect first sketch from the hand of a master, so that everything added later to develop the pic- ture only spoils its original greatness.
One can fall passionately in love with such a phenomenon, mortally so, and really without any
1024 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
physical desire. I remember I glanced around nervously at the other passengers, because I felt as if I were falling apart. When she got off, I got off, too, but lost her in the crowded street," he ended his little story.
After giving it a moment or two, Agathe asked with a smile: "And how does that fit in with the time for love being over, leaving only sex and companionship? "
"It doesn't fit in at all! " Ulrich laughed.
His sister thought about it, and remarked with a noticeable harsh- ness-it seemed to be an intentional repetition of the words he had used the evening of her arrival: "All men like to play at little-brother- and-little-sister. There must really be some stupid idea behind it. These little brothers and sisters call each other 'father' and 'mother' when they're not quite sober. "
Ulrich was taken aback It was not merely that Agathe was right, for gifted women are merciless observers of the men they love in their lives; but not being inclined to theorize, they make no use of their discoveries except when provoked. He felt somewhat affronted.
"Of course they've got a psychological explanation for it," he said hesitantly. "It's pretty obvious that the two of us are psychologically suspect. Incestuous tendencies, demonstrable in early childhood, to- gether with antisocial dispositions and a rebellious attitude toward life. Possibly even a not sufficiently rooted gender identification, al- though I-"
"Nor I, either! " Agathe broke in, laughing, if possibly somewhat against her will. "I have no use for women at all! "
"It really doesn't matter anyway," Ulrich said. "Psychic entrails, in any case. You might also say that there's a sultanesque need to be the only one who adores and is adored, to the exclusion of the rest of the world. In the ancient Orient it produced the harem, and today we have family, love, and the dog. And I don't mind saying that the mania to possess another person so entirely that no one else can come anywhere near is a sign of personal loneliness within the human community, which even the socialists rarely deny. If you'd like to see it that way, we represent nothing but a bourgeois extrava- gance! Oh, look at that! How splendid! " He broke off, pulling on her arm.
They were standing at the edge of a small marketplace surrounded
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 2 5
by old houses. Around the neoclassical statue of some intellectual giant, colorful vegetables were spread out, the big canvas umbrellas of the market stands had been set up, fruits tumbled, baskets were being dragged along, dogs chased away from the outspread trea- sures, and one saw the red faces of rough men and women. The air throbbed and pounded with industriously loud voices and smelled of the sun that shines on the earthly hodgepodge.
"Can we help loving the world when we simply see it and smell it? " Ulrich asked spiritedly. "Yet we can't love it, because we don't agree with what's inside people's heads," he added.
This did not happen to be a reservation entirely to Agathe's taste, and she did not reply. But she pressed her brother's ann, and both of them understoodthatthiswasasifshehadgentlylaidherhandover his mouth.
Ulrich laughed, saying: "Not that I like myself either! That's what happens when one is always finding fault with other people. But even I have to be able to love something, and a Siamese sister who's nei- ther me nor herself, but just as much me as herself, is clearly the only point where everything comes together for me! "
He had cheered up again. And Agathe usually went along with his mood. But they never again talked as they had on the first night of their reunion, or before. That was gone, like castles in the clouds, which, when they hover over city streets teeming with life instead of over the deserted countryside, are hard to believe in. Perhaps the cause of this was only that Ulrich did not know what degree of sub- stantiality he should ascribe to the experiences that moved him, while Agathe often thought that he regarded them solely as excesses of fantasy. And she could not prove to him that it was not so; she always spoke less than he did, she could not hit the right note, and did not feel confident enough to try. She merely felt that he was avoiding coming to grips with it, and that he should not be doing that. So they were actually both hiding in their lighthearted happiness, which had no depth or weight, and Agathe became sadder day by day, although she laughed quite as often as her brother.
1026
PROFESSOR HAGAUER TAKES PEN IN HAND
But thanks to Agathe's disregarded husband, this changed.
On a morning that brought these joyful days to an end, Agathe received a fat, official-looking letter with a great round yellow seal imprinted with the white insignia ofthe Imperial and Royal Rudolfs- gymnasium in . Instantly, while she was still holding the letter unopened in her hand, there arose out of nothing two-story houses with the mute mirrors of well-polished windows; with white ther- mometers on the outside of their brown frames, one for each story, to tell what the weather was; with classical pediments and Baroque scallops above the windows, heads projecting from the walls, and other such mythological sentinels, which looked as if they had been produced in a wood-carving shop and painted as stone. The streets ran through the town brown and wet, just like the country roads they were on the way in, with deep ruts, and lined on both sides by shops with their brand-new display windows, looking for all that like gen- tlewomen of thirty years earlier who have lifted up their long skirts but cannot make up their mind to step from the sidewalk into the muddy street: the provinces in Agathe's head! Apparition in Agathe's head! Something incomprehensible still inside her, which she had been so sure of having shaken off forever! Even more incomprehen- sible: that she had ever been tied to it! She saw the way from her front door, past familiar housefronts, to the school, the way taken four times daily by her husband, Hagauer, which in the beginning she had often taken with him, accompanying him from his home to his work, in those days when she conscientiously did not let a drop of her bitter medicine escape. "Is Hagauer taking his lunches at the hotel these days? " she wondered. "Does he tear a page off the calen- der each morning, which I used to do? " It had all suddenly come back to life, so surreally vivid as ifit could never die, and with a mute shudder she recognized that familiar craven feeling awakening in her that consisted ofindifference, oflost courage, ofsaturation with ugli-
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 2 7
ness, and of her own insecure volatility. With a kind of avidity, she opened the thick letter her husband had addressed to her.
When Professor Hagauer had returned to his home and workplace from his father-in-law's funeral and a briefvisit to the capital, his sur- roundings welcomed him exactly as they always did after one of his short trips: with the agreeable awareness of his having properly ac- complished his mission; and changing from his shoes into the house slippers in which a man works twice as well, he turned his attention to his environment. He went off to his school, was respectfully greeted by the porter, felt welcomed back when he met the teachers who were under him. In the administration office the files and prob- lems no one had dared to deal with in his absence awaited him. When he hastened through the corridors he was accompanied by the feeling that his steps lent wings to the whole building: Gottlieb Hagauer was somebody, and he knew it. Encouragement and good cheer beamed from his brow throughout the educational establish- ment under his wing, and when anyone outside school inquired after the health and whereabouts ofhis wife, he replied with the serenity of a man conscious of having married creditably. Everyone knows that the male of the species, so long as he is still capable of procre- ation, reacts to brief interruptions of his married life as if an easy yoke has been lifted from his shoulders, even when he does not think ofillicit associations in connection with it and at the end ofthis inter- lude, refreshed, resumes his happy lot. In this manner Hagauer at first accepted his wife's absence, and for a while did not even notice how long she was staying away.
What actually first drew his attention to it was that same wall cal- endar that had figured in Agathe's memory as such a hateful symbol oflife byits needing to have a page tom offevery morning. It hung in the dining room as a spot that did not belong on the wall, stranded there as a New Year's greeting from a stationery shop brought home from school by Hagauer, and because ofits dreariness not only toler- ated but actually cultivated by Agathe. It would have been quite true to form for Hagauer to have taken over the chore of ripping off the daily page in Agathe's absence, for it was not in keeping with his hab- its to let that part of the wall run wild, as it were. On the other hand, he was also a man who always knew precisely on what latitude of the week or month he found himself upon the ocean of infinity; more-
1028 • THE MAN WITH 0 U T QUALITIES
over, he of course had a proper calendar in his office at school; and lastly, just as he was nevertheless about to lift his hand so as to prop- erly regulate the time in his household, and inwardly smiling, he felt something peculiar stop him-one ofthose impulses through which, as it would later turn out, fate declares itself, but which at the time he merely took for a tender, chivalrous sentiment that surprised him and made him feel pleased with himself: he decided to leave un- touched the page marking the day on which Agathe had left the house as a token of homage and a reminder, until her return.
So the wall calendar became in time a festering wound, reminding Hagauer at every glance how long his wife was avoiding her home. A man thrifty with his emotions as with his household, he wrote her postcards to let her know how he was and to ask her, with gradually increasing urgency, when she would be coming back. He received no answer. Now he no longer beamed in answer to sympathetic inqui- ries whether his wife would be away much longer in ful£llment of her sad duties. But luckily he always had a great deal to keep him busy, apart from his duties at school and the various clubs to which he belonged, since the mail daily brought him a pile of invitations, inquiries, letters from admiring readers, attacks, proofs, periodicals, and important books. Hagauer's human self might be living in the provinces, as an element in the unendearing impressions these might make on a stranger passing through, but his spirit called Europe its home, and this kept him for a long time from grasping the full signifi- cance of Agathe's prolonged absence. There came a day, however, when the mail brought him a letter from Ulrich, curtly informing him that Agathe no longer intended to return to him and asking him to agree to a divorce. Politely worded as it was, this letter was so la- conic and was written with such a lack of consideration as to make Hagauer feel indignantly that Ulrich cared about his, the recipient's, feelings about as much as if he were an insect to be flicked off a leaf. His first reaction of inner defense was: Don't take it seriously, a whim! There the letter lay, like a grinning specter in the bright daylight of pressing correspondence and showers of professional recognition.
It was not until evening, when Hagauer entered his empty house again, that he sat down at his desk and in dignified brevity wrote to Ulrich that it would be best to pretend his communication had never
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 2 9
been written. But he soon received a new letter from Ulrich, reject- ing this view of the matter, reiterating Agathe's request (without her knowledge), and merely asking Hagauer in somewhat more courte- ous detail to do all he could toward keeping the necessary legal steps simple as befitted a man of his high moral principles, and as was also desirable if the deplorable concomitants of a public dispute were to be avoided. Hagauer now grasped the seriousness of the situation, and allowed himself three days' time to compose an answer that would leave nothing to be either desired or regretted afterward.
For the first two days he felt as though someone had struck him a blow in the solar plexus. "A bad dream! " he said plaintively to himself several times, and it took great self-discipline not to let himself forget that he had really received such a request. He felt a deep discomfort in his breast very much like injured love, and an indefinable jealousy as well, which was directed not so much against a lover-which he assumed to be the cause of Agathe's behavior-as against some in- comprehensible Something that had shunted him aside. It was a kind of humiliation, similar to that of an extremely orderly man when he has broken or forgotten something; something that had had its fixed place in his mind since time immemorial and that he no longer no- ticed,. but on which much depended, was suddenly smashed. Pale and distraught, in real anguish-not to be underestimated merely because it was lacking in beauty-Hagauer made his rounds, avoid- ing people, shrinking from the explanations he would have to give and the humiliations to be borne. It was only on the third day that his condition finally stabilized. Hagauer's natural dislike for Ulrich was just as great as Ulrich's for him, and while this had never before come out into the open it did so now, all at once, when he intuitively imputed all the blame for Agathe's conduct to her will-o'-the-wisp gypsy brother, who must have turned her head. He sat down at his desk and demanded in a few words the immediate return of his wife, resolutely declaring that as her husband he would only discuss any- thing further with her.
From Ulrich came a refusal, equally terse and resolute.
Now Hagauer decided to work on Agathe herself; he made copies of his correspondence with Ulrich and added a long, carefully con- sidered letter; all of this was what Agathe saw before her when she opened the large envelope with the official seal.
1030 ·THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Hagauer himself was unable to believe that these things were re- ally happening. Back from his daily obligations, he had sat that eve- ning in his "deserted home," facing a blank sheet of paper much as Ulrich had faced one, not knowing how to begin. But in Hagauer's experience the tried and true "buttons method" had worked more than once, and he resorted to it again in this case. It consists in taking a systematic approach to one's problems, even problems that cause great agitation, on the same principle on which a man has buttons sewn on his clothes to save the time that would be lost ifhe acted on the assumption that he could get out of his clothes faster without buttons. The English writer Surway, for example, whose work on the subject Hagauer now consulted, for even in his depressed state it was important for him to compare SUIWay's work with his own views, dis- tinguishes five such buttons in the process of successful reasoning: (a) close observation of an event, in which the observation immedi- ately reveals problems of interpretation; (b) establishing such prob- lems and defining them more narrowly; (c) hypothesis of a possible solution; (d) logically developing the consequences of this hypothe- sis; and (e) further observations, leading to acceptance or rejection of the hypothesis and thereby to a successful outcome of the thinking process. Hagauer had already profitably applied a similar method to so worldly an enterprise as lawn tennis when he was learning the game at the Civil Service Club, and it had lent considerable intellec- tual charm to the game for him; but he had never yet resorted to this method for purely emotional matters, since his ordinary inner life consisted mainly ofprofessional concerns, and for personal events he relied on that "sound instinct" which is a mix of all the possible feel- ings acceptable and customary to the Caucasian race in any given situation, with a certain bias toward the most proximate local, profes- sional, or class feelings. Applying the buttons to so extraordinary a situation as his wife's extraordinary demand was not going to be easy given his lack of practice, and in cases of personal problems even the "sound instinct" shows a tendency to split in two: It told Hagauer on the one hand that much obliges a man who moved with the times as he did to put no obstacles in the way of a proposal to dissolve a rela- tionship based on trust; but on the other hand, if this goes against the grain, much also absolves him of such an obligation, for the wide- spread irresponsibility in such matters nowadays should in no way be
IntotheMillennium(TheCriminals) · 1 0 3 1
encouraged. In such a case, as Hagauer had learned, it behooves a modern man to "relax," i. e. , disperse his attention, loosen up physi- cally, and listen intently for whatever may be audible of his deepest inner self. So he cautiously stopped thinking, stared at the orphaned wall calendar, and hearkened to his inner voice; after a while it an- swered, coming from a depth beneath his conscious mind, and told him what he had already thought: the voice said that he had no rea- son whatsoever to put up with anything so unjustifiable as Agathe's preposterous demand.
But at this point Professor Hagauer's mind found itself set down willy-nilly in front of Swway's buttons a toe, or some equivalent se- ries of buttons, and he felt afresh all the difficulties of interpreting the event under his observation. "Can I, Gottlieb Hagauer, possibly be to blame for this embarrassing business? " he asked himself. He examined himself and could not find a single point on which he could be faulted. "Is the cause another man she is in love with? " was his second hypothesis toward a possible solution. It was an assumption he had difficulty accepting, for if he forced himself to look at the matter objectively, he could not really see what another man could offer Agathe that was better than what he did. Still, this problem was especially susceptible to being muddied by personal vanity, so he studied it in exacting detail; and here he found vistas opening up that he had never even thought of. Suddenly, from Surway's point c, Hagauer found himself on the track ofa possible solution via d and e: for the first time since his marriage, he was struck by a complex of phenomena reported, as far as he knew, only in women whose erotic response to the opposite sex was never deep or passionate. It pained him to find nowhere in his memories any indication of that com- pletely openhearted, dreamy surrender he had experienced earlier, in his bachelor years, with females about whose sensual bent there could be no doubt; but this offered the advantage of enabling him to rule out, with absolute scientific detachment, the destruction of his marital bliss by a third party. Agathe's conduct was reduced, in con- sequence, to a purely idiosyncratic rebellion against their happiness, all the more so because she had left without giving the slightest hint of such intentions, and there simply had not been enough time since then for her to develop a rational basis for changing her mind! Hagauer had to conclude, and this conviction never left him, that
1032 · THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
Agathe's incomprehensible behavior could only be understood as one of those slowly building temptations to turn one's back on life, known to occur in characters who do not know what they want.
But was Agathe really that sort ofperson? That still remained to be investigated, and Hagauer pensively weeded his whiskers with the end of his pen. Though she usually seemed companionable enough, easy to live with, as he put it, still, when it came to what most preoc- cupied him, she tended to show a marked indifference, not to say apathy! There was in fact something in her that did not fit in with himself or other people and their interests; not that she set herself up against them. She laughed along with them and looked serious in the right places, but she had always, now that he came to think of it, made a somewhat distracted impression through all these years. She seemed to be listening attentively to what she was told, yet never to believe it. There was something downright unhealthy about her in- difference, the more he thought about it. Sometimes one got the im- pression that she was not taking in what was going on around her at all. . . . And all at once, before he was aware of it himself, his pen had begun to race over the paper with his purposeful motion. "Who can guess what may be going on in your mind," he wrote, "if you think yourself too good to love the life I am in a position to offer you, which I can say in all modesty is a pure and full life; you've always handled it as ifwith fire tongs, as it now seems to me. You have shut yourself off from the riches of human and moral values that even an unassuming life has to offer, and even if I had to believe that you could somehow have felt justified in doing this, there is still your lack of the moral will to change; instead, you have chosen an artificial way out, a fantasy! "
He mulled it over once more. He mustered the schoolboys who had passed through his guiding hands, searching for a case that might be instructive. But even before he had got into this, there popped into his mind the missing bit that had been uneasily hovering in the back ofhis mind. At this point Agathe ceased to be a completely per- sonal problem for him, without any clues to its general nature, for when he thought how much she was ready to give up in life without being blinded by any specific passion he was led inescapably, to his joy, to that basic assumption so familiar to modern pedagogy, that she lacked the capacity for objective thought and for keeping in finn
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 3 3
intellectual touch with the world of reality! Swiftly he wrote: "Proba- bly you are even at this moment far from being aware of what it is, exactly, that you are about to do; but I warn you, before you come to a decisive conclusion! You are perhaps the absolute opposite of the kind ofperson, such as I represent, who knows life and knows how to face it, but that is precisely why you should not lightly divest yourself of the support I offer you! "
Actually, Hagauer had meant to write something else. For human intelligence is not a self·contained and unrelated faculty; its flaws in- volve moral flaws-we speak of moral idiocy-just as moral flaws, though so much less attention is paid to them, often misdirect or to- tally confuse the rational power in whatever direction they choose. And so Hagauer had fonned in his mind an image of a fixed type that he was now inclined, in the course of these reflections, to define as "an adequately intelligent variant of moral idiocy that expresses itself only in certain irregular fonns of behavior. " But he could not bring himself to use this illuminating phrase, partly to avoid provoking his runaway wife even more, and partly because a layperson usually mis- understands such tenns when applied to himself. Objectively, how- ever, it was now established that the fonns of behavior that Hagauer deprecated came under the great inclusive genus of the "subnor- mal," and in the end Hagauer hit upon a way out of this conflict be- tween conscience and chivalry: the irregularities in his wife's conduct could be classified with a fairly general pattern of female behavior and tenned "socially deficient. "
In this spirit he concluded his letter in words charged with feeling. With the prophetic ire of the scorned lover and pedagogue, he de- picted Agathe's asocial, solipsistic, and morbid temperament as a "minus factor" that never pennitted her to grapple vigorously and creatively with life's problems, as "our era" demands of"its people," but "shielded her instead from reality behind a pane of glass," mired in deliberate isolation and always on the edge of pathological peril. "If there was something about me you didn't like, you ought to have done something about it," he wrote, "but the truth is that your mind is not equipped to cope with the energies of our time, and evades its demands! Now that I have warned you about your character," he concluded, "I repeat: You, more urgently than most people, need someone strong to lean on. In your own interest I urge you to come
1034 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
back immediately, and I assure you that the responsibility I bear as your husband forbids me to accede to your wish. "
Before signing this letter Hagauer read it through once more. Al- though not satisfied with his description of the psychological type under discussion, he made no changes except at the end-expelling as a gusty sigh through his mustache the unaccustomed, proudly mastered strain of thinking hard about his wife as he pondered how much more still needed to be said about "our modem age"-where he inserted beside the word "responsibility" a chivalrous phrase about his venerated late father-in-law's precious bequest to him.
When Agathe had read all this, a strange thing happened: the content of these arguments did not fail to make an impression on her. After reading it word for word a second time, where she stood, without bothering to sit down, she slowly lowered the letter and handed it to Ulrich, who had been observing his sister's agitation with astonishment.
ULRICH AND AGATHE LOOK FOR A REASON AFTER THE FACT
While Ulrich was reading, Agathe dispiritedly watched his face. It was bent over the letter, and its expression seemed to be irresolute, as though he could not decide between ridicule, gravity, sadness, or contempt. Now a heavy weight descended on Agathe from all sides, as if the air that had been so unnaturally light and delicious were becoming unbearably dense and sultry; what she had done to her fa- ther's will oppressed her conscience for the first time. To say that she suddenly realized the full measure of her culpability would not be sufficient; what she realized rather was her guilt toward everything, even her brother, and she was overcome with an indescribable disil- lusionment. Everything she had done seemed incomprehensible to
IntotheMillennium(TheCriminals) · 1035
her. She had talked of killing her husband, she had falsified a will, and she had imposed herself on her brother without asking whether she would be disrupting his life: she had done this in a state of being drunk on her own fantasies. What she was most ashamed of at this moment was that it had never occurred to her to do the obvious, the most natural thing: any other woman who wanted to leave a husband she did not like would either look for a better man or arrange for something else, something equally natural. Ulrich himself had pointed this out often enough, but she had paid no attention. And now here she stood and did not know what he would say. Her behav- ior seemed to her so much that of a being who was not entirely men- tally competent that she thought Hagauer was right; he was only holding up the mirror to her in his own way. Seeing his letter in Ul- rich's hand struck her dumb in the same way a person might be struck dumb who had been charged with a crime and on top of that receives a letter from a former teacher excoriating him. She had of course never allowed Hagauer to have any influence over her; never- theless, it now looked as ifhe had the right to say: ''I'm disappointed in you! " or else: ''I'm afraid I've never been disappointed in you but always had the feeling you'd come to a bad end! " In her need to shake off this absurd and distressing feeling she impatiently inter- rupted Ulrich, who was still absorbed in reading the letter without giving any sign of coming to the end, by saying: "His description of me is really quite accurate. " She spoke in an apparently casual tone but with a note of defiance, clearly betraying some hope of hearing the opposite. "And even if he doesn't say it in so many words, it's true; either I was not mentally competent when I married him for no compelling reason, or I am not so now, when I'm leaving him for just as little reason. "
Ulrich, who was rereading for the third time those passages that made his vivid imagination an involuntary witness of her close rela- tions with Hagauer, absently muttered something she did not catch.
"Do please listen to me! " Agathe pleaded. "Am I the up-to-date woman, active somehow either economically or intellectually? No. Am I a woman in love? No again. Am I the good, nest-building wife and mother who simplifies things and smooths over the rough spots? That least of all. What else is there? Then what in the world am I good for? The social life we're caught up in, I can tell you frankly,
1036 · THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
basically means nothing at all to me. And I almost think I could get along without whatever it is in music, art, and literature that sends the cognoscenti into raptures. Hagauer, for instance, is different: he needs all that, ifonly for his quotations and allusions. He at least has the pleasure and satisfaction of a collector. So isn't he right when he accuses me of doing nothing at all, of rejecting the 'wealth of the beautiful and moral,' and tells me that it's only with Professor Hagauer that I can find any sympathy and tolerance? ''
Ulrich handed the letter back to her and replied with composure. "Let's face it, the term for you is 'socially retarded,' isn't it? '' He smiled, but there was in his tone a hint ofirritation left from his hav- ing been made privy to this intimate letter.
But her brother's answer did not sit well with Agathe. It made her feel worse. Shyly she tried to turn the tables on him: "In that case why did you insist, if that is what you did, without telling me any- thing, that I must get a divorce and lose my only protector? ''
'Well," he said evasively, "probably because it is so delightfully easy to adopt a firm, manly tone in our exchanges. I bang my fist on the table, he bangs his fist on the table; so of course I have to bang mine twice as hard the next time around. That's why I think I did it. "
Up to.
now-although her dejection kept her from realizing it her- self-Agathe had been really glad, ovexjoyed in fact, at her brother's secretly doing the opposite ofwhat he had outwardly advocated dur- ing the time oftheir humorous brother-sister flirtation, since offend- ing Hagauer could only have the effect of erecting a barrier to her ever returning to him. Yet even in the place of that secret joy there was now only a hollow sense ofloss, and Agathe fell silent.
'W e mustn't overlook," Ulrich went on, "how well Hagauer suc- ceeds in misunderstanding you so accurately, if I may say so. Just wait, you'll see that in his own way-without hiring detectives, just by cogitating over the weaknesses of your attachment to the human race-he'll find out what you did to Father's will. How are we going to defend you then? ''
So it happened that for the first time since they had been together again the subject came up of the blissful but horrible prank Agathe had played on Hagauer. She fiercely shrugged her shoulders, with a vague gesture of waving it aside.
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1037
"Hagauer is in the right, of course," Ulrich offered, with gentle emphasis, for her consideration.
"He's not in the right! " she answered vehemently.
"He's partly right," Ulrich compromised. "In so risky a situation we must start off by facing things openly, including ourselves. What you've done can put us both in jail. "
Agathe stared at him with startled eyes. She had known this, of course, but it had never been so straightforwardly stated.
Ulrich responded with a reassuring gesture. "But that's not the worst of it," he continued. "How do we keep what you've done, and the way you did it, from being perceived as"-he groped for the right word and failed to find it-"well, let's just say that to some extent it's the way Hagauer sees it, that it's all a bit on the shadowy side, the side of abnormality and the kind of flaw that comes from something already flawed. Hagauer voices what the world thinks, even though it sounds ridiculous coming from him. "
"Now we're getting to the cigarette case," Agathe said in a small voice.
"Right, here it comes," Ulrich said firmly. "I have to tell you some- thing that's been on my mind for a long time. "
Agathe tried to stop him. 'Wouldn't it be better to undo the whole thing? " she asked. "Suppose I have a friendly talk with him and make some sort of apology? ''
"It's already too late for that. He might use it to blackmail you into coming back to him," Ulrich declared.
Agathe was silent.
Ulrich returned to his hypothetical cigarette case, stolen on a whim by a man who is well off. He had worked out a theory that there could be only three basic motivations for such a theft of prop- erty: poverty, profession, or, ifit was neither ofthese, a damaged psy- che. "You pointed out when we talked about it once that it might be done out of conviction too," he added.
"I said one might just do it! " Agathe interjected.
"Right, on principle. "
"No, not on principle! "
"But that's just it! " Ulrich said. "If one does such a thing at all,
there has to be at least some conviction behind it! There's no getting
1038 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
away from that. Nobody 'just does' anything; there has to be a reason, either an external or an internal one. It may be hard to know one from the other, but we won't philosophize about that now. I'm only saying that ifone feels one is doing the right thing with absolutely no basis for it, or some decision arises out of the blue, then there's good reason to suspect some sickness, something constitutionally wrong. "
This was certainly far more and much worse than Ulrich had meant to say; it merely converged with the drift of his qualms.
"Is that all you have to say to me about it? " Agathe asked very quietly.
"No, it's not all," Ulrich replied grimly. "When one has no reason, one must look for one! "
Neither-of them was in any doubt where to look for it. But Ulrich was after something else, and after a slight pause he continued thoughtfully: "The moment you fall out of step with the rest of the world, you can never ever know what's good and what's evil. If you want to be good you have to be convinced that the world is good. And neither one of us is. We're living at a time when morality is either dissolving or in convulsions. But for the sake of a world yet to come, one should keep oneself pure. "
"Do you really think that will have any effect on whether it comes or not? " Agathe asked skeptically.
"No, I'm afraid I don't think that. Or at most I think like this: If even those people who understand don't act as they should, it cer- tainly won't come at all, and there's no way to stop everything from falling apart! "
"And what do you care whether it's any different five hundred years from now or not? "
Ulrich hesitated. ''I'm doing my duty, don't you see? Maybe like a soldier. "
Probably because on that miserable morning Agathe needed a more comforting, more affectionate kind of answer than Ulrich was giving, she said: "No different from your General, then? "
Ulrich said nothing.
Agathe was not inclined to stop. "You don't even know for sure whether it's your duty," she went on. "You do it because that's how you are and because you enjoy it. And that's all I did! "
Suddenly she lost her self-control. Something was terribly sad.
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1039
Tears sprang to her eyes, and a violent sob rose in her throat. To hide it from her brother's eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and hid her face against his shoulder. Ulrich felt her crying and the trem- bling of her back. A burdensome embarrassment came over him: he was aware of turning cold. At this moment, when he should have been sympathetic, all the tender and happy feelings he thought he had for his sister deserted him; his sensibility was disturbed and wouldn't function. He stroked Agathe's back and whispered some comforting words, but it went against his grain. Since he did not share her agitation, the contact of their two bodies seemed to him like that of two wisps of straw. He put an end to it by leading Agathe to a chair and himself sitting down in another, some distance away. Then he gave her his answer: "You're not enjoying this business with the will at all. And you never shall, because it's all been a disorderly mess! "
"Order? " Agathe exclaimed through her tears. "Duty? ''
She was really quite beside herself because Ulrich had behaved so coldly. But she was already smiling again. She realized that she would have to work things out for herself. She felt that the smile she had forced seemed to be hovering somewhere out there, far from her icy lips. Ulrich meanwhile had shaken off his embarrassment; he was even pleased not to have felt the usual physical stirring; he realized that this, too, would have to be different between them. But he did not have time to think about that now, because he could see that Agathe was deeply troubled, and so he began to talk.
"Don't be upset by the words I used," he pleaded, "and don't hold them against me. I suppose I'm wrong to use words such as 'order' and 'duty'-they sound too much like preaching. But why"-he now went off at a tangent-"why the devil is preaching contemptible? It really ought to be our greatest joy! "
Agathe had no desire to answer this.
Ulrich let it drop.
"Please don't think I'm trying to set myself up as morally supe-
rior! " he begged. "I didn't mean to say that I never do anything bad. What I don't like is having to do it in secret. I like the good highway robbers of morality, not the sneak thieves. I'd like to make a moral robber out of you," he joked, "and not let you err out of weakness. "
I040 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
"It's not a point of honor with me," his sister said from behind her distantly hovering smile.
"It's really extremely funny that there are times like ours, when all young people are infatuated with whatever's bad," he said with a laugh, to distance the conversation from the personal level. "This current preference for the morally gruesome is a weakness, of course. Probably middle-class gorging on goodness; being all sucked dry. I myself originally thought one had to say no to everything; ev- eryone thinks so who is between twenty-five and forty-five today; but of course it was only a kind of fashion. I can imagine a reaction set- ting in soon, and with it a new generation that will again stick moral- ity instead of immorality in its buttonhole. The oldest donkeys, who never in their lives felt any moral fervor, who merely uttered moral platitudes when the occasion called for them, will then suddenly be hailed as precursors and pioneers of a new character! "
Ulrich had risen to his feet and was restlessly pacing the room.
'We might put it this way," he suggested. "Good has become a cliche almost by its very nature, while evil remains criticism. The im- moral achieves its divine right by being a drastic critique of the moral! It shows us that life has other possibilities. It shows us up for liars. For this we show our gratitude by a certain forbearance. That there are truly delightful people who forge wills should prove that there is something amiss with the sanctity of private property. Even ifthis doesn't need proving, it is where our task begins: for every kind of crime, we must be able to conceive of criminals who can be ex- cused, even including infanticide or whatever other horrors there maybe. . . . "
He had been trying in vain to catch his sister's eye, even though he was teasing her by bringing up the will. Now she made an involuntary gesture of protest. She was no theoretician; the only crime she re- garded as excusable was her own, and she was insulted all over again by his comparison.
Ulrich laughed. "It looks like an intellectual game, but this kind of juggling does mean something," he assured her. "It goes to show that there's something amiss in the way we judge our conduct. And there really is, you know. In a company ofwill-forgers you would certainly stand up for the inviolability of the legal regulations; it's only in the company of the righteous that it all gets blurred and perverted. If
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only Hagauer were a rogue, you would be flamingly just; it's too bad he's such a decent fellow! That's the seesaw we're on. "
He waited for a response but none came, so he shrugged his shoul- ders and came back to the point:
"We're looking to justify what you did. We have established that respectable people are deeply attracted to crime, though of course only in their imagination. We might add that criminals, to hear them talk, would almost without exception like to be regarded as respect- able people. So we might arrive at a definition: Crimes are the con- centrated form, within sinners, ofeverything other people work offin little irregularities, in their imagination and in innumerable petty ev- eryday acts and attitudes of spite and viciousness. W e could also say: Crimes are in the air and simply seek the path of least resistance, which leads them to certain individuals. We could even say that while they are the acts ofindividuals who are incapable ofbehaving morally, in the main they're the condensed expression of some kind of general human maladjustment where the distinction between good and evil is concerned. This is what has imbued us from our youth with the criti- cal spirit our contemporaries have never been able to get beyond! "
"But what is good and evil? " Agathe tossed off the question, while Ulrich remained oblivious to the pain his banter was causing her.
"Well, how would I know? " he answered with a laugh. "''ve only just noticed for the first time that I loathe evil. Until today I really didn't know how much. My dear Agathe, you have no idea what it's like," he complained moodily. "Take science, for instance! For a mathematician, to put it very simply, minus five is no worse than plus five. A scientist researching a problem mustn't recoil in horror from anything, and under certain conditions he might get more excited by a lovely cancer than a lovely woman. A man ofknowledge knows that nothing is true and that the whole truth will be revealed only at the end of time. Science is amoral. All our glorious thrusting of ourselves into the Unknown gets us out of the habit of being personally con- cerned with our conscience; in fact, it doesn't even give us the satis- faction of taking our conscience entirely seriously. And art? Doesn't it amount to a creation ofimages that don't correspond to the reali- ties of life? I'm not talking about bogus idealism, or the paintings of voluptuous nudes in a period when everyone goes around covered up to the eyeballs," he joked again. "But think of a real work of art: have
1042 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
you never had the feeling that something about it is reminiscent of the smell of burning metal you get from a knife you're whetting on a grindstone? It's a cosmic, meteoric, lightning-and-thunder smell, something divinely uncanny! "
This was the only point at which Agathe interrupted him with real interest: "Didn't you once write poetry yourself? '' she asked him.
"You still remember that? When did I let you in on it? '' Ulrich asked. "Yes; we all write verses at one time or another. I even went on doing it when I was a mathematician," he admitted. "But the older I got, the worse they became; not so much because of lack of talent, I think, as from a growing aversion to the disorderly and bohe- mian romanticism ofthat sort ofemotional excess. . . . "
His sister shook her head almost imperceptibly, but Ulrich noticed it. "Yes," he insisted, "a poem should be no more of an exceptional phenomenon than an act of goodness! But what, if I may ask, be- comes of the moment of inspiration the moment after? You love po- etry, I know; but what I'm saying is that it isn't enough to breathe out one great puff of fire and let it fade away. This kind of sporadic per- formance is the counterpart of the kind of morality that exhausts it- self in half-baked criticism. " And abruptly returning to his main subject, he said to his sister: "If I were to behave in this Hagauer matter the way you're expecting me to today, I would have to be skeptical, casual, and ironic. The exemplary children you or I might yet have would then be able to say truthfully of us that we belonged to a very secure period of middle-class values that was never plagued by doubts, or plagued at most by superficial doubts. But in fact you and I have already gone to such trouble over our philosophy . . . ! "
Ulrich probably wanted to say a great deal more; he was actually only leading up to some way of coming down on his sister's side, which he had already worked out, and it would have been good ifhe had revealed it to her. For she suddenly stood up and on some vague pretext got her outdoor things.
"So we're leaving it that I'm morally retarded? '' she asked with a forced attempt at humor. "I can't keep up with all you've been saying to the contrary! "
"We're both morally retarded! " Ulrich gallantly assured her. "Both of us! " And he was rather proud of the haste with which his sister left him without saying when she would return.
31
AGA THE W ANTS TO COMMIT SUICIDE AND MAKES A GENTLEMAN'S ACQUAINTANCE
In truth she had rusheq offto spare her brother the sight ofthe tears she could barely hold back. She was as sad as a person who has lost everything. She did not know why. It had come over her while Ulrich was talking. Why? She didn't know that either. He should have done something other than talk. What? She didn't know. He was right, of course, not to take seriously the "stupid coincidence" of her being upset and the arrival of that letter, and to go on talking as he always did. But Agathe had to get away.
At first she felt only the need to walk. She rushed headlong from their house. Where the layout ofthe streets forced her to detour, she always kept to the same general direction. She fled, in the way peo- ple and animals flee from a catastrophe.
1024 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
physical desire. I remember I glanced around nervously at the other passengers, because I felt as if I were falling apart. When she got off, I got off, too, but lost her in the crowded street," he ended his little story.
After giving it a moment or two, Agathe asked with a smile: "And how does that fit in with the time for love being over, leaving only sex and companionship? "
"It doesn't fit in at all! " Ulrich laughed.
His sister thought about it, and remarked with a noticeable harsh- ness-it seemed to be an intentional repetition of the words he had used the evening of her arrival: "All men like to play at little-brother- and-little-sister. There must really be some stupid idea behind it. These little brothers and sisters call each other 'father' and 'mother' when they're not quite sober. "
Ulrich was taken aback It was not merely that Agathe was right, for gifted women are merciless observers of the men they love in their lives; but not being inclined to theorize, they make no use of their discoveries except when provoked. He felt somewhat affronted.
"Of course they've got a psychological explanation for it," he said hesitantly. "It's pretty obvious that the two of us are psychologically suspect. Incestuous tendencies, demonstrable in early childhood, to- gether with antisocial dispositions and a rebellious attitude toward life. Possibly even a not sufficiently rooted gender identification, al- though I-"
"Nor I, either! " Agathe broke in, laughing, if possibly somewhat against her will. "I have no use for women at all! "
"It really doesn't matter anyway," Ulrich said. "Psychic entrails, in any case. You might also say that there's a sultanesque need to be the only one who adores and is adored, to the exclusion of the rest of the world. In the ancient Orient it produced the harem, and today we have family, love, and the dog. And I don't mind saying that the mania to possess another person so entirely that no one else can come anywhere near is a sign of personal loneliness within the human community, which even the socialists rarely deny. If you'd like to see it that way, we represent nothing but a bourgeois extrava- gance! Oh, look at that! How splendid! " He broke off, pulling on her arm.
They were standing at the edge of a small marketplace surrounded
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 2 5
by old houses. Around the neoclassical statue of some intellectual giant, colorful vegetables were spread out, the big canvas umbrellas of the market stands had been set up, fruits tumbled, baskets were being dragged along, dogs chased away from the outspread trea- sures, and one saw the red faces of rough men and women. The air throbbed and pounded with industriously loud voices and smelled of the sun that shines on the earthly hodgepodge.
"Can we help loving the world when we simply see it and smell it? " Ulrich asked spiritedly. "Yet we can't love it, because we don't agree with what's inside people's heads," he added.
This did not happen to be a reservation entirely to Agathe's taste, and she did not reply. But she pressed her brother's ann, and both of them understoodthatthiswasasifshehadgentlylaidherhandover his mouth.
Ulrich laughed, saying: "Not that I like myself either! That's what happens when one is always finding fault with other people. But even I have to be able to love something, and a Siamese sister who's nei- ther me nor herself, but just as much me as herself, is clearly the only point where everything comes together for me! "
He had cheered up again. And Agathe usually went along with his mood. But they never again talked as they had on the first night of their reunion, or before. That was gone, like castles in the clouds, which, when they hover over city streets teeming with life instead of over the deserted countryside, are hard to believe in. Perhaps the cause of this was only that Ulrich did not know what degree of sub- stantiality he should ascribe to the experiences that moved him, while Agathe often thought that he regarded them solely as excesses of fantasy. And she could not prove to him that it was not so; she always spoke less than he did, she could not hit the right note, and did not feel confident enough to try. She merely felt that he was avoiding coming to grips with it, and that he should not be doing that. So they were actually both hiding in their lighthearted happiness, which had no depth or weight, and Agathe became sadder day by day, although she laughed quite as often as her brother.
1026
PROFESSOR HAGAUER TAKES PEN IN HAND
But thanks to Agathe's disregarded husband, this changed.
On a morning that brought these joyful days to an end, Agathe received a fat, official-looking letter with a great round yellow seal imprinted with the white insignia ofthe Imperial and Royal Rudolfs- gymnasium in . Instantly, while she was still holding the letter unopened in her hand, there arose out of nothing two-story houses with the mute mirrors of well-polished windows; with white ther- mometers on the outside of their brown frames, one for each story, to tell what the weather was; with classical pediments and Baroque scallops above the windows, heads projecting from the walls, and other such mythological sentinels, which looked as if they had been produced in a wood-carving shop and painted as stone. The streets ran through the town brown and wet, just like the country roads they were on the way in, with deep ruts, and lined on both sides by shops with their brand-new display windows, looking for all that like gen- tlewomen of thirty years earlier who have lifted up their long skirts but cannot make up their mind to step from the sidewalk into the muddy street: the provinces in Agathe's head! Apparition in Agathe's head! Something incomprehensible still inside her, which she had been so sure of having shaken off forever! Even more incomprehen- sible: that she had ever been tied to it! She saw the way from her front door, past familiar housefronts, to the school, the way taken four times daily by her husband, Hagauer, which in the beginning she had often taken with him, accompanying him from his home to his work, in those days when she conscientiously did not let a drop of her bitter medicine escape. "Is Hagauer taking his lunches at the hotel these days? " she wondered. "Does he tear a page off the calen- der each morning, which I used to do? " It had all suddenly come back to life, so surreally vivid as ifit could never die, and with a mute shudder she recognized that familiar craven feeling awakening in her that consisted ofindifference, oflost courage, ofsaturation with ugli-
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 2 7
ness, and of her own insecure volatility. With a kind of avidity, she opened the thick letter her husband had addressed to her.
When Professor Hagauer had returned to his home and workplace from his father-in-law's funeral and a briefvisit to the capital, his sur- roundings welcomed him exactly as they always did after one of his short trips: with the agreeable awareness of his having properly ac- complished his mission; and changing from his shoes into the house slippers in which a man works twice as well, he turned his attention to his environment. He went off to his school, was respectfully greeted by the porter, felt welcomed back when he met the teachers who were under him. In the administration office the files and prob- lems no one had dared to deal with in his absence awaited him. When he hastened through the corridors he was accompanied by the feeling that his steps lent wings to the whole building: Gottlieb Hagauer was somebody, and he knew it. Encouragement and good cheer beamed from his brow throughout the educational establish- ment under his wing, and when anyone outside school inquired after the health and whereabouts ofhis wife, he replied with the serenity of a man conscious of having married creditably. Everyone knows that the male of the species, so long as he is still capable of procre- ation, reacts to brief interruptions of his married life as if an easy yoke has been lifted from his shoulders, even when he does not think ofillicit associations in connection with it and at the end ofthis inter- lude, refreshed, resumes his happy lot. In this manner Hagauer at first accepted his wife's absence, and for a while did not even notice how long she was staying away.
What actually first drew his attention to it was that same wall cal- endar that had figured in Agathe's memory as such a hateful symbol oflife byits needing to have a page tom offevery morning. It hung in the dining room as a spot that did not belong on the wall, stranded there as a New Year's greeting from a stationery shop brought home from school by Hagauer, and because ofits dreariness not only toler- ated but actually cultivated by Agathe. It would have been quite true to form for Hagauer to have taken over the chore of ripping off the daily page in Agathe's absence, for it was not in keeping with his hab- its to let that part of the wall run wild, as it were. On the other hand, he was also a man who always knew precisely on what latitude of the week or month he found himself upon the ocean of infinity; more-
1028 • THE MAN WITH 0 U T QUALITIES
over, he of course had a proper calendar in his office at school; and lastly, just as he was nevertheless about to lift his hand so as to prop- erly regulate the time in his household, and inwardly smiling, he felt something peculiar stop him-one ofthose impulses through which, as it would later turn out, fate declares itself, but which at the time he merely took for a tender, chivalrous sentiment that surprised him and made him feel pleased with himself: he decided to leave un- touched the page marking the day on which Agathe had left the house as a token of homage and a reminder, until her return.
So the wall calendar became in time a festering wound, reminding Hagauer at every glance how long his wife was avoiding her home. A man thrifty with his emotions as with his household, he wrote her postcards to let her know how he was and to ask her, with gradually increasing urgency, when she would be coming back. He received no answer. Now he no longer beamed in answer to sympathetic inqui- ries whether his wife would be away much longer in ful£llment of her sad duties. But luckily he always had a great deal to keep him busy, apart from his duties at school and the various clubs to which he belonged, since the mail daily brought him a pile of invitations, inquiries, letters from admiring readers, attacks, proofs, periodicals, and important books. Hagauer's human self might be living in the provinces, as an element in the unendearing impressions these might make on a stranger passing through, but his spirit called Europe its home, and this kept him for a long time from grasping the full signifi- cance of Agathe's prolonged absence. There came a day, however, when the mail brought him a letter from Ulrich, curtly informing him that Agathe no longer intended to return to him and asking him to agree to a divorce. Politely worded as it was, this letter was so la- conic and was written with such a lack of consideration as to make Hagauer feel indignantly that Ulrich cared about his, the recipient's, feelings about as much as if he were an insect to be flicked off a leaf. His first reaction of inner defense was: Don't take it seriously, a whim! There the letter lay, like a grinning specter in the bright daylight of pressing correspondence and showers of professional recognition.
It was not until evening, when Hagauer entered his empty house again, that he sat down at his desk and in dignified brevity wrote to Ulrich that it would be best to pretend his communication had never
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 2 9
been written. But he soon received a new letter from Ulrich, reject- ing this view of the matter, reiterating Agathe's request (without her knowledge), and merely asking Hagauer in somewhat more courte- ous detail to do all he could toward keeping the necessary legal steps simple as befitted a man of his high moral principles, and as was also desirable if the deplorable concomitants of a public dispute were to be avoided. Hagauer now grasped the seriousness of the situation, and allowed himself three days' time to compose an answer that would leave nothing to be either desired or regretted afterward.
For the first two days he felt as though someone had struck him a blow in the solar plexus. "A bad dream! " he said plaintively to himself several times, and it took great self-discipline not to let himself forget that he had really received such a request. He felt a deep discomfort in his breast very much like injured love, and an indefinable jealousy as well, which was directed not so much against a lover-which he assumed to be the cause of Agathe's behavior-as against some in- comprehensible Something that had shunted him aside. It was a kind of humiliation, similar to that of an extremely orderly man when he has broken or forgotten something; something that had had its fixed place in his mind since time immemorial and that he no longer no- ticed,. but on which much depended, was suddenly smashed. Pale and distraught, in real anguish-not to be underestimated merely because it was lacking in beauty-Hagauer made his rounds, avoid- ing people, shrinking from the explanations he would have to give and the humiliations to be borne. It was only on the third day that his condition finally stabilized. Hagauer's natural dislike for Ulrich was just as great as Ulrich's for him, and while this had never before come out into the open it did so now, all at once, when he intuitively imputed all the blame for Agathe's conduct to her will-o'-the-wisp gypsy brother, who must have turned her head. He sat down at his desk and demanded in a few words the immediate return of his wife, resolutely declaring that as her husband he would only discuss any- thing further with her.
From Ulrich came a refusal, equally terse and resolute.
Now Hagauer decided to work on Agathe herself; he made copies of his correspondence with Ulrich and added a long, carefully con- sidered letter; all of this was what Agathe saw before her when she opened the large envelope with the official seal.
1030 ·THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
Hagauer himself was unable to believe that these things were re- ally happening. Back from his daily obligations, he had sat that eve- ning in his "deserted home," facing a blank sheet of paper much as Ulrich had faced one, not knowing how to begin. But in Hagauer's experience the tried and true "buttons method" had worked more than once, and he resorted to it again in this case. It consists in taking a systematic approach to one's problems, even problems that cause great agitation, on the same principle on which a man has buttons sewn on his clothes to save the time that would be lost ifhe acted on the assumption that he could get out of his clothes faster without buttons. The English writer Surway, for example, whose work on the subject Hagauer now consulted, for even in his depressed state it was important for him to compare SUIWay's work with his own views, dis- tinguishes five such buttons in the process of successful reasoning: (a) close observation of an event, in which the observation immedi- ately reveals problems of interpretation; (b) establishing such prob- lems and defining them more narrowly; (c) hypothesis of a possible solution; (d) logically developing the consequences of this hypothe- sis; and (e) further observations, leading to acceptance or rejection of the hypothesis and thereby to a successful outcome of the thinking process. Hagauer had already profitably applied a similar method to so worldly an enterprise as lawn tennis when he was learning the game at the Civil Service Club, and it had lent considerable intellec- tual charm to the game for him; but he had never yet resorted to this method for purely emotional matters, since his ordinary inner life consisted mainly ofprofessional concerns, and for personal events he relied on that "sound instinct" which is a mix of all the possible feel- ings acceptable and customary to the Caucasian race in any given situation, with a certain bias toward the most proximate local, profes- sional, or class feelings. Applying the buttons to so extraordinary a situation as his wife's extraordinary demand was not going to be easy given his lack of practice, and in cases of personal problems even the "sound instinct" shows a tendency to split in two: It told Hagauer on the one hand that much obliges a man who moved with the times as he did to put no obstacles in the way of a proposal to dissolve a rela- tionship based on trust; but on the other hand, if this goes against the grain, much also absolves him of such an obligation, for the wide- spread irresponsibility in such matters nowadays should in no way be
IntotheMillennium(TheCriminals) · 1 0 3 1
encouraged. In such a case, as Hagauer had learned, it behooves a modern man to "relax," i. e. , disperse his attention, loosen up physi- cally, and listen intently for whatever may be audible of his deepest inner self. So he cautiously stopped thinking, stared at the orphaned wall calendar, and hearkened to his inner voice; after a while it an- swered, coming from a depth beneath his conscious mind, and told him what he had already thought: the voice said that he had no rea- son whatsoever to put up with anything so unjustifiable as Agathe's preposterous demand.
But at this point Professor Hagauer's mind found itself set down willy-nilly in front of Swway's buttons a toe, or some equivalent se- ries of buttons, and he felt afresh all the difficulties of interpreting the event under his observation. "Can I, Gottlieb Hagauer, possibly be to blame for this embarrassing business? " he asked himself. He examined himself and could not find a single point on which he could be faulted. "Is the cause another man she is in love with? " was his second hypothesis toward a possible solution. It was an assumption he had difficulty accepting, for if he forced himself to look at the matter objectively, he could not really see what another man could offer Agathe that was better than what he did. Still, this problem was especially susceptible to being muddied by personal vanity, so he studied it in exacting detail; and here he found vistas opening up that he had never even thought of. Suddenly, from Surway's point c, Hagauer found himself on the track ofa possible solution via d and e: for the first time since his marriage, he was struck by a complex of phenomena reported, as far as he knew, only in women whose erotic response to the opposite sex was never deep or passionate. It pained him to find nowhere in his memories any indication of that com- pletely openhearted, dreamy surrender he had experienced earlier, in his bachelor years, with females about whose sensual bent there could be no doubt; but this offered the advantage of enabling him to rule out, with absolute scientific detachment, the destruction of his marital bliss by a third party. Agathe's conduct was reduced, in con- sequence, to a purely idiosyncratic rebellion against their happiness, all the more so because she had left without giving the slightest hint of such intentions, and there simply had not been enough time since then for her to develop a rational basis for changing her mind! Hagauer had to conclude, and this conviction never left him, that
1032 · THE MAN WITH0 UT QUALITIES
Agathe's incomprehensible behavior could only be understood as one of those slowly building temptations to turn one's back on life, known to occur in characters who do not know what they want.
But was Agathe really that sort ofperson? That still remained to be investigated, and Hagauer pensively weeded his whiskers with the end of his pen. Though she usually seemed companionable enough, easy to live with, as he put it, still, when it came to what most preoc- cupied him, she tended to show a marked indifference, not to say apathy! There was in fact something in her that did not fit in with himself or other people and their interests; not that she set herself up against them. She laughed along with them and looked serious in the right places, but she had always, now that he came to think of it, made a somewhat distracted impression through all these years. She seemed to be listening attentively to what she was told, yet never to believe it. There was something downright unhealthy about her in- difference, the more he thought about it. Sometimes one got the im- pression that she was not taking in what was going on around her at all. . . . And all at once, before he was aware of it himself, his pen had begun to race over the paper with his purposeful motion. "Who can guess what may be going on in your mind," he wrote, "if you think yourself too good to love the life I am in a position to offer you, which I can say in all modesty is a pure and full life; you've always handled it as ifwith fire tongs, as it now seems to me. You have shut yourself off from the riches of human and moral values that even an unassuming life has to offer, and even if I had to believe that you could somehow have felt justified in doing this, there is still your lack of the moral will to change; instead, you have chosen an artificial way out, a fantasy! "
He mulled it over once more. He mustered the schoolboys who had passed through his guiding hands, searching for a case that might be instructive. But even before he had got into this, there popped into his mind the missing bit that had been uneasily hovering in the back ofhis mind. At this point Agathe ceased to be a completely per- sonal problem for him, without any clues to its general nature, for when he thought how much she was ready to give up in life without being blinded by any specific passion he was led inescapably, to his joy, to that basic assumption so familiar to modern pedagogy, that she lacked the capacity for objective thought and for keeping in finn
Into the Millennium (The Criminals) · 1 0 3 3
intellectual touch with the world of reality! Swiftly he wrote: "Proba- bly you are even at this moment far from being aware of what it is, exactly, that you are about to do; but I warn you, before you come to a decisive conclusion! You are perhaps the absolute opposite of the kind ofperson, such as I represent, who knows life and knows how to face it, but that is precisely why you should not lightly divest yourself of the support I offer you! "
Actually, Hagauer had meant to write something else. For human intelligence is not a self·contained and unrelated faculty; its flaws in- volve moral flaws-we speak of moral idiocy-just as moral flaws, though so much less attention is paid to them, often misdirect or to- tally confuse the rational power in whatever direction they choose. And so Hagauer had fonned in his mind an image of a fixed type that he was now inclined, in the course of these reflections, to define as "an adequately intelligent variant of moral idiocy that expresses itself only in certain irregular fonns of behavior. " But he could not bring himself to use this illuminating phrase, partly to avoid provoking his runaway wife even more, and partly because a layperson usually mis- understands such tenns when applied to himself. Objectively, how- ever, it was now established that the fonns of behavior that Hagauer deprecated came under the great inclusive genus of the "subnor- mal," and in the end Hagauer hit upon a way out of this conflict be- tween conscience and chivalry: the irregularities in his wife's conduct could be classified with a fairly general pattern of female behavior and tenned "socially deficient. "
In this spirit he concluded his letter in words charged with feeling. With the prophetic ire of the scorned lover and pedagogue, he de- picted Agathe's asocial, solipsistic, and morbid temperament as a "minus factor" that never pennitted her to grapple vigorously and creatively with life's problems, as "our era" demands of"its people," but "shielded her instead from reality behind a pane of glass," mired in deliberate isolation and always on the edge of pathological peril. "If there was something about me you didn't like, you ought to have done something about it," he wrote, "but the truth is that your mind is not equipped to cope with the energies of our time, and evades its demands! Now that I have warned you about your character," he concluded, "I repeat: You, more urgently than most people, need someone strong to lean on. In your own interest I urge you to come
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back immediately, and I assure you that the responsibility I bear as your husband forbids me to accede to your wish. "
Before signing this letter Hagauer read it through once more. Al- though not satisfied with his description of the psychological type under discussion, he made no changes except at the end-expelling as a gusty sigh through his mustache the unaccustomed, proudly mastered strain of thinking hard about his wife as he pondered how much more still needed to be said about "our modem age"-where he inserted beside the word "responsibility" a chivalrous phrase about his venerated late father-in-law's precious bequest to him.
When Agathe had read all this, a strange thing happened: the content of these arguments did not fail to make an impression on her. After reading it word for word a second time, where she stood, without bothering to sit down, she slowly lowered the letter and handed it to Ulrich, who had been observing his sister's agitation with astonishment.
ULRICH AND AGATHE LOOK FOR A REASON AFTER THE FACT
While Ulrich was reading, Agathe dispiritedly watched his face. It was bent over the letter, and its expression seemed to be irresolute, as though he could not decide between ridicule, gravity, sadness, or contempt. Now a heavy weight descended on Agathe from all sides, as if the air that had been so unnaturally light and delicious were becoming unbearably dense and sultry; what she had done to her fa- ther's will oppressed her conscience for the first time. To say that she suddenly realized the full measure of her culpability would not be sufficient; what she realized rather was her guilt toward everything, even her brother, and she was overcome with an indescribable disil- lusionment. Everything she had done seemed incomprehensible to
IntotheMillennium(TheCriminals) · 1035
her. She had talked of killing her husband, she had falsified a will, and she had imposed herself on her brother without asking whether she would be disrupting his life: she had done this in a state of being drunk on her own fantasies. What she was most ashamed of at this moment was that it had never occurred to her to do the obvious, the most natural thing: any other woman who wanted to leave a husband she did not like would either look for a better man or arrange for something else, something equally natural. Ulrich himself had pointed this out often enough, but she had paid no attention. And now here she stood and did not know what he would say. Her behav- ior seemed to her so much that of a being who was not entirely men- tally competent that she thought Hagauer was right; he was only holding up the mirror to her in his own way. Seeing his letter in Ul- rich's hand struck her dumb in the same way a person might be struck dumb who had been charged with a crime and on top of that receives a letter from a former teacher excoriating him. She had of course never allowed Hagauer to have any influence over her; never- theless, it now looked as ifhe had the right to say: ''I'm disappointed in you! " or else: ''I'm afraid I've never been disappointed in you but always had the feeling you'd come to a bad end! " In her need to shake off this absurd and distressing feeling she impatiently inter- rupted Ulrich, who was still absorbed in reading the letter without giving any sign of coming to the end, by saying: "His description of me is really quite accurate. " She spoke in an apparently casual tone but with a note of defiance, clearly betraying some hope of hearing the opposite. "And even if he doesn't say it in so many words, it's true; either I was not mentally competent when I married him for no compelling reason, or I am not so now, when I'm leaving him for just as little reason. "
Ulrich, who was rereading for the third time those passages that made his vivid imagination an involuntary witness of her close rela- tions with Hagauer, absently muttered something she did not catch.
"Do please listen to me! " Agathe pleaded. "Am I the up-to-date woman, active somehow either economically or intellectually? No. Am I a woman in love? No again. Am I the good, nest-building wife and mother who simplifies things and smooths over the rough spots? That least of all. What else is there? Then what in the world am I good for? The social life we're caught up in, I can tell you frankly,
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basically means nothing at all to me. And I almost think I could get along without whatever it is in music, art, and literature that sends the cognoscenti into raptures. Hagauer, for instance, is different: he needs all that, ifonly for his quotations and allusions. He at least has the pleasure and satisfaction of a collector. So isn't he right when he accuses me of doing nothing at all, of rejecting the 'wealth of the beautiful and moral,' and tells me that it's only with Professor Hagauer that I can find any sympathy and tolerance? ''
Ulrich handed the letter back to her and replied with composure. "Let's face it, the term for you is 'socially retarded,' isn't it? '' He smiled, but there was in his tone a hint ofirritation left from his hav- ing been made privy to this intimate letter.
But her brother's answer did not sit well with Agathe. It made her feel worse. Shyly she tried to turn the tables on him: "In that case why did you insist, if that is what you did, without telling me any- thing, that I must get a divorce and lose my only protector? ''
'Well," he said evasively, "probably because it is so delightfully easy to adopt a firm, manly tone in our exchanges. I bang my fist on the table, he bangs his fist on the table; so of course I have to bang mine twice as hard the next time around. That's why I think I did it. "
Up to.
now-although her dejection kept her from realizing it her- self-Agathe had been really glad, ovexjoyed in fact, at her brother's secretly doing the opposite ofwhat he had outwardly advocated dur- ing the time oftheir humorous brother-sister flirtation, since offend- ing Hagauer could only have the effect of erecting a barrier to her ever returning to him. Yet even in the place of that secret joy there was now only a hollow sense ofloss, and Agathe fell silent.
'W e mustn't overlook," Ulrich went on, "how well Hagauer suc- ceeds in misunderstanding you so accurately, if I may say so. Just wait, you'll see that in his own way-without hiring detectives, just by cogitating over the weaknesses of your attachment to the human race-he'll find out what you did to Father's will. How are we going to defend you then? ''
So it happened that for the first time since they had been together again the subject came up of the blissful but horrible prank Agathe had played on Hagauer. She fiercely shrugged her shoulders, with a vague gesture of waving it aside.
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"Hagauer is in the right, of course," Ulrich offered, with gentle emphasis, for her consideration.
"He's not in the right! " she answered vehemently.
"He's partly right," Ulrich compromised. "In so risky a situation we must start off by facing things openly, including ourselves. What you've done can put us both in jail. "
Agathe stared at him with startled eyes. She had known this, of course, but it had never been so straightforwardly stated.
Ulrich responded with a reassuring gesture. "But that's not the worst of it," he continued. "How do we keep what you've done, and the way you did it, from being perceived as"-he groped for the right word and failed to find it-"well, let's just say that to some extent it's the way Hagauer sees it, that it's all a bit on the shadowy side, the side of abnormality and the kind of flaw that comes from something already flawed. Hagauer voices what the world thinks, even though it sounds ridiculous coming from him. "
"Now we're getting to the cigarette case," Agathe said in a small voice.
"Right, here it comes," Ulrich said firmly. "I have to tell you some- thing that's been on my mind for a long time. "
Agathe tried to stop him. 'Wouldn't it be better to undo the whole thing? " she asked. "Suppose I have a friendly talk with him and make some sort of apology? ''
"It's already too late for that. He might use it to blackmail you into coming back to him," Ulrich declared.
Agathe was silent.
Ulrich returned to his hypothetical cigarette case, stolen on a whim by a man who is well off. He had worked out a theory that there could be only three basic motivations for such a theft of prop- erty: poverty, profession, or, ifit was neither ofthese, a damaged psy- che. "You pointed out when we talked about it once that it might be done out of conviction too," he added.
"I said one might just do it! " Agathe interjected.
"Right, on principle. "
"No, not on principle! "
"But that's just it! " Ulrich said. "If one does such a thing at all,
there has to be at least some conviction behind it! There's no getting
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away from that. Nobody 'just does' anything; there has to be a reason, either an external or an internal one. It may be hard to know one from the other, but we won't philosophize about that now. I'm only saying that ifone feels one is doing the right thing with absolutely no basis for it, or some decision arises out of the blue, then there's good reason to suspect some sickness, something constitutionally wrong. "
This was certainly far more and much worse than Ulrich had meant to say; it merely converged with the drift of his qualms.
"Is that all you have to say to me about it? " Agathe asked very quietly.
"No, it's not all," Ulrich replied grimly. "When one has no reason, one must look for one! "
Neither-of them was in any doubt where to look for it. But Ulrich was after something else, and after a slight pause he continued thoughtfully: "The moment you fall out of step with the rest of the world, you can never ever know what's good and what's evil. If you want to be good you have to be convinced that the world is good. And neither one of us is. We're living at a time when morality is either dissolving or in convulsions. But for the sake of a world yet to come, one should keep oneself pure. "
"Do you really think that will have any effect on whether it comes or not? " Agathe asked skeptically.
"No, I'm afraid I don't think that. Or at most I think like this: If even those people who understand don't act as they should, it cer- tainly won't come at all, and there's no way to stop everything from falling apart! "
"And what do you care whether it's any different five hundred years from now or not? "
Ulrich hesitated. ''I'm doing my duty, don't you see? Maybe like a soldier. "
Probably because on that miserable morning Agathe needed a more comforting, more affectionate kind of answer than Ulrich was giving, she said: "No different from your General, then? "
Ulrich said nothing.
Agathe was not inclined to stop. "You don't even know for sure whether it's your duty," she went on. "You do it because that's how you are and because you enjoy it. And that's all I did! "
Suddenly she lost her self-control. Something was terribly sad.
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Tears sprang to her eyes, and a violent sob rose in her throat. To hide it from her brother's eyes, she threw her arms around his neck and hid her face against his shoulder. Ulrich felt her crying and the trem- bling of her back. A burdensome embarrassment came over him: he was aware of turning cold. At this moment, when he should have been sympathetic, all the tender and happy feelings he thought he had for his sister deserted him; his sensibility was disturbed and wouldn't function. He stroked Agathe's back and whispered some comforting words, but it went against his grain. Since he did not share her agitation, the contact of their two bodies seemed to him like that of two wisps of straw. He put an end to it by leading Agathe to a chair and himself sitting down in another, some distance away. Then he gave her his answer: "You're not enjoying this business with the will at all. And you never shall, because it's all been a disorderly mess! "
"Order? " Agathe exclaimed through her tears. "Duty? ''
She was really quite beside herself because Ulrich had behaved so coldly. But she was already smiling again. She realized that she would have to work things out for herself. She felt that the smile she had forced seemed to be hovering somewhere out there, far from her icy lips. Ulrich meanwhile had shaken off his embarrassment; he was even pleased not to have felt the usual physical stirring; he realized that this, too, would have to be different between them. But he did not have time to think about that now, because he could see that Agathe was deeply troubled, and so he began to talk.
"Don't be upset by the words I used," he pleaded, "and don't hold them against me. I suppose I'm wrong to use words such as 'order' and 'duty'-they sound too much like preaching. But why"-he now went off at a tangent-"why the devil is preaching contemptible? It really ought to be our greatest joy! "
Agathe had no desire to answer this.
Ulrich let it drop.
"Please don't think I'm trying to set myself up as morally supe-
rior! " he begged. "I didn't mean to say that I never do anything bad. What I don't like is having to do it in secret. I like the good highway robbers of morality, not the sneak thieves. I'd like to make a moral robber out of you," he joked, "and not let you err out of weakness. "
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"It's not a point of honor with me," his sister said from behind her distantly hovering smile.
"It's really extremely funny that there are times like ours, when all young people are infatuated with whatever's bad," he said with a laugh, to distance the conversation from the personal level. "This current preference for the morally gruesome is a weakness, of course. Probably middle-class gorging on goodness; being all sucked dry. I myself originally thought one had to say no to everything; ev- eryone thinks so who is between twenty-five and forty-five today; but of course it was only a kind of fashion. I can imagine a reaction set- ting in soon, and with it a new generation that will again stick moral- ity instead of immorality in its buttonhole. The oldest donkeys, who never in their lives felt any moral fervor, who merely uttered moral platitudes when the occasion called for them, will then suddenly be hailed as precursors and pioneers of a new character! "
Ulrich had risen to his feet and was restlessly pacing the room.
'We might put it this way," he suggested. "Good has become a cliche almost by its very nature, while evil remains criticism. The im- moral achieves its divine right by being a drastic critique of the moral! It shows us that life has other possibilities. It shows us up for liars. For this we show our gratitude by a certain forbearance. That there are truly delightful people who forge wills should prove that there is something amiss with the sanctity of private property. Even ifthis doesn't need proving, it is where our task begins: for every kind of crime, we must be able to conceive of criminals who can be ex- cused, even including infanticide or whatever other horrors there maybe. . . . "
He had been trying in vain to catch his sister's eye, even though he was teasing her by bringing up the will. Now she made an involuntary gesture of protest. She was no theoretician; the only crime she re- garded as excusable was her own, and she was insulted all over again by his comparison.
Ulrich laughed. "It looks like an intellectual game, but this kind of juggling does mean something," he assured her. "It goes to show that there's something amiss in the way we judge our conduct. And there really is, you know. In a company ofwill-forgers you would certainly stand up for the inviolability of the legal regulations; it's only in the company of the righteous that it all gets blurred and perverted. If
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only Hagauer were a rogue, you would be flamingly just; it's too bad he's such a decent fellow! That's the seesaw we're on. "
He waited for a response but none came, so he shrugged his shoul- ders and came back to the point:
"We're looking to justify what you did. We have established that respectable people are deeply attracted to crime, though of course only in their imagination. We might add that criminals, to hear them talk, would almost without exception like to be regarded as respect- able people. So we might arrive at a definition: Crimes are the con- centrated form, within sinners, ofeverything other people work offin little irregularities, in their imagination and in innumerable petty ev- eryday acts and attitudes of spite and viciousness. W e could also say: Crimes are in the air and simply seek the path of least resistance, which leads them to certain individuals. We could even say that while they are the acts ofindividuals who are incapable ofbehaving morally, in the main they're the condensed expression of some kind of general human maladjustment where the distinction between good and evil is concerned. This is what has imbued us from our youth with the criti- cal spirit our contemporaries have never been able to get beyond! "
"But what is good and evil? " Agathe tossed off the question, while Ulrich remained oblivious to the pain his banter was causing her.
"Well, how would I know? " he answered with a laugh. "''ve only just noticed for the first time that I loathe evil. Until today I really didn't know how much. My dear Agathe, you have no idea what it's like," he complained moodily. "Take science, for instance! For a mathematician, to put it very simply, minus five is no worse than plus five. A scientist researching a problem mustn't recoil in horror from anything, and under certain conditions he might get more excited by a lovely cancer than a lovely woman. A man ofknowledge knows that nothing is true and that the whole truth will be revealed only at the end of time. Science is amoral. All our glorious thrusting of ourselves into the Unknown gets us out of the habit of being personally con- cerned with our conscience; in fact, it doesn't even give us the satis- faction of taking our conscience entirely seriously. And art? Doesn't it amount to a creation ofimages that don't correspond to the reali- ties of life? I'm not talking about bogus idealism, or the paintings of voluptuous nudes in a period when everyone goes around covered up to the eyeballs," he joked again. "But think of a real work of art: have
1042 • THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
you never had the feeling that something about it is reminiscent of the smell of burning metal you get from a knife you're whetting on a grindstone? It's a cosmic, meteoric, lightning-and-thunder smell, something divinely uncanny! "
This was the only point at which Agathe interrupted him with real interest: "Didn't you once write poetry yourself? '' she asked him.
"You still remember that? When did I let you in on it? '' Ulrich asked. "Yes; we all write verses at one time or another. I even went on doing it when I was a mathematician," he admitted. "But the older I got, the worse they became; not so much because of lack of talent, I think, as from a growing aversion to the disorderly and bohe- mian romanticism ofthat sort ofemotional excess. . . . "
His sister shook her head almost imperceptibly, but Ulrich noticed it. "Yes," he insisted, "a poem should be no more of an exceptional phenomenon than an act of goodness! But what, if I may ask, be- comes of the moment of inspiration the moment after? You love po- etry, I know; but what I'm saying is that it isn't enough to breathe out one great puff of fire and let it fade away. This kind of sporadic per- formance is the counterpart of the kind of morality that exhausts it- self in half-baked criticism. " And abruptly returning to his main subject, he said to his sister: "If I were to behave in this Hagauer matter the way you're expecting me to today, I would have to be skeptical, casual, and ironic. The exemplary children you or I might yet have would then be able to say truthfully of us that we belonged to a very secure period of middle-class values that was never plagued by doubts, or plagued at most by superficial doubts. But in fact you and I have already gone to such trouble over our philosophy . . . ! "
Ulrich probably wanted to say a great deal more; he was actually only leading up to some way of coming down on his sister's side, which he had already worked out, and it would have been good ifhe had revealed it to her. For she suddenly stood up and on some vague pretext got her outdoor things.
"So we're leaving it that I'm morally retarded? '' she asked with a forced attempt at humor. "I can't keep up with all you've been saying to the contrary! "
"We're both morally retarded! " Ulrich gallantly assured her. "Both of us! " And he was rather proud of the haste with which his sister left him without saying when she would return.
31
AGA THE W ANTS TO COMMIT SUICIDE AND MAKES A GENTLEMAN'S ACQUAINTANCE
In truth she had rusheq offto spare her brother the sight ofthe tears she could barely hold back. She was as sad as a person who has lost everything. She did not know why. It had come over her while Ulrich was talking. Why? She didn't know that either. He should have done something other than talk. What? She didn't know. He was right, of course, not to take seriously the "stupid coincidence" of her being upset and the arrival of that letter, and to go on talking as he always did. But Agathe had to get away.
At first she felt only the need to walk. She rushed headlong from their house. Where the layout ofthe streets forced her to detour, she always kept to the same general direction. She fled, in the way peo- ple and animals flee from a catastrophe.
