Really not nobly; for he had to do it, it was his inner law, every person has an animal which he
inwardly
resembles.
Musil - Man Without Qualities - v2
Are you following the newspapers?
I'm still getting foreign papers, al- though it's beginning to be difficult.
Here and abroad they're saying the same things.
Get the screws on them.
Tighten the screws on them.
Cold- bloodedly continue the tight-screw policy.
Don't hesitate to apply the "strong method" of breaking windows.
That's the way they're talking here, and abroad it's not much different.
I believe they've already intro- duced martial law, and ifwe should get into the war zone we'll be threat- ened with the gallows.
That's the strong method.
I can understand that it makes an impression on you.
It's clean, precise, and abhors chatter.
It qualifies the nation for great things by treating each individual person who is part of it like a dog!
Leo Fischel smiled.
Gerda shook her tousled head decisively, but in a slow, friendly way.
- Y o u must be clear about this, Fischel added. - W h e n the industri- alists' association supplied a bourgeois workers' opposition party with an election fund, or when my former bank made money available for some- thing, they weren't doing anything different. And a deal only comes about at all if I either force another person to meet me halfway, because otherwise it will hurt him, or if I give him the impression that there's a good deal to be made; then I mostly outsmart him, and that's also a form of my power over him. But how delicate and adaptable this power is! It's creative and flexible. Money gives measure to a man. It's ordered selfish- ness. It's the most splendid organization ofselfishness, a creative super- organization, constructed on a real notion of bearish speculation!
Gerda had been listening to her father, but her own thoughts buzzed in her mind. She answered: -Papa, I didn't understand everything, but you're surely right. Of course, you're looking at things as a rationalist, and for me it's precisely the irrational (what goes beyond all calculation) in what's going on now that's fascinating!
-What does irrational mean? General Director Fischel protested. -By that you mean illogical and incalculable and wild, the way one sometimes is in dreams? To that I can only say that buying and selling is
168o • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
like war; you have to calculate and you can calculate, but even there what is decisive in the last analysis is will, courage, the individual, or, as you call it, the irrational. No, my child-he concluded-money is self- ishness brought into relation with enterprise and efficiency. All of you are trying another way to regulate selfishness. It's not new, I acknowl- edge it, it's related. But wait and see how it works! For centuries capital- ism has been a proven way oforganizing human powers according to the ability to make money; where its influence is suppressed, you will find that arbitrariness, backroom deals, kowtowing for advantage, and adven- turism will spring up. As far as I'm concerned, you can do away with money if you like, but you won't abolish the superior power of whoever is holding the advantages in his hand. Except that you'll put someone who doesn't know what to do with them in the place of someone who did! For you're mistaken if you believe that money is the cause of our selfishness; it's the consequence.
-But I don't believe that at all, Papa, Gerda said modestly. -I'm only telling you that's what's going on n o w -
-And furthermore-Fischel interrupted her-it's the most reason- able consequence!
-What's going on now-Gerda went on with her sentence-rises above reason. The way a poem or love rises above the commerce of the world.
-Y ou're a deep girl! Fischel embraced her and released her. He liked Gerda's youthful ardor. -M y fortune! he called her mentally, and fol- lowed her with a tender glance. A discussion with a person one loves and understands is bracing. He had not philosophized this way for a long time; it was a remarkable period. In conversation with this child Fischel had achieved some clarity about himself. He wanted to buy. Not a ship; at least five ships. He summoned his secretary. -W e can't do this our- selves-he told him-it wouldn't look good, but let's do it through an intermediary. But for Leo Fischel this was not the main thing. The main thing was that he had gained a feeling ofconnection with events and yet a feeling ofisolation, too. In spite ofthe ups and downs going on around him, he had created order within himself.
To THE COMPLEX: LEO FISCHEL-GERDA-HANS SEPP Note: Development of a Man of Action (Leo Fischel)
Title: Return to an abandoned world I Leo Fischel as messenger from the world I Encounter with a messenger from an abandoned world I News from a lost world
Walking through the train, Ulrich saw a familiar face, stopped, and realized that it was Leo Fischel, who was sitting in a compartment by himself, leafing through a stack of flimsy papers he held in his hand. With his pince-nez far down on his nose, and his reddish-blond mutton- chop sideburns, he looked like an English lord of the 186os. Ulrich was so in need of contact with everyday life that he greeted his old acquaint- ance, whom he had not seen for months, almost joyfully.
Fischel asked him where he was coming from.
"From the south," Ulrich responded vaguely.
'We haven't seen you for quite a while," Fischel said with concern.
"You've been having trouble, haven't you? ''
"How so? ''
"I just mean in general. In your position with the campaign, I'm think-
ing. "
"I never had a connection with the campaign that could be called a
position," Ulrich objected with some heat.
"You just disappeared one day," Fischel said. "Nobody knew where
you were. That led me to think that you were having problems. " "Except for that error, you're very well informed: how come? '' Ulrich
laughed.
"I was looking for you like a needle in a haystack. Hard times, bad
stories, my friend," Fischel replied with a sigh. "The General didn't know where you were, your cousin didn't know where you were, and you weren't having your mail forwarded, I was told. Did you get a letter from Gerda? ''
"Get it? No. Perhaps I'll find it waiting for me at home. Has some- thing happened to Gerda? ''
Director Fischel did not answer; the conductor was passing by, and he
z68z
1682 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
motioned him in to give him some telegrams, requesting that he send them off at the next stop.
Ulrich now first noticed that Fischel was traveling first class, which he would not have expected of him.
"Since when are you seeing my cousin and the General? '' he asked.
Fischel looked at him reflectively. Obviously he did not understand the question right away. "Oh," he then said, "I think you hadn't even left yet. Your cousin consulted me on a matter of business, and through her I met the General, whom I wanted at that time to request somethingofon account of Hans Sepp. You know, don't you, that Hans shot and killed himself? ''
Ulrich gave an involuntary start.
"It even got into some of the newspapers," Fischel confirmed. "He was called up for his military service and a few weeks later shot himself. "
"But why? ''
"God knows! Frankly speaking, he could just as well have done it sooner. He could always have shot himself. He was a fool. But in the final analysis, I liked him. You won't believe it, but I even liked his anti- Semitism and his diatribes against bank directors. "
"Was there anything between him and Gerda? "
"Bitter quarrels," Fischel confirmed. "But it wasn't that alone. Listen: I've missed you. I searched for you. When I'm talking with you I have the feeling I'm talking not with a reasonable person but with a philoso- pher. Whatever you say-please permit an old friend to say this-is never to the point, never has hands and feet, but it has head and heart! So what do you say about Hans Sepp's having shot himself? ''
"Is that why yOu. . ___were searching for me? "
"No, not because of that. On account of business and the General and Arnheim, who are friends ofyours. The man before you is no longer with Lloyd's Bank but has gone into business for himself. It's a handful, let me tell you! I've had a lot oftrouble, but now, thank goodness, things are going splendidly-"
"If I'm not mistaken, what you call trouble is losing your job? "
"Yes; thank goodness I lost my job at Lloyd's; otherwise today I would still be a head clerk with the title of Director and would remain one until I was put out to pasture. When I was forced to give that up, my wife began divorce proceedings against m e - "
"Honestly! You really do have a lot of news to telll"
"Hmphl" Fischel went. 'We no longer live in the old apartment. While the divorce is going on, my wife has moved in with her brother"- he took out a business card-"and this is my address. I hope you'll pay me a visit soon. " On the card Ulrich read several ambiguous titles, such
From the Posthumous Papers · z683
as "Import/Export" and "Trans-European Goods and Currency Ex- change Company," and a prestigious address. "You have no idea how one rises all by oneself," Fischel explained to him, "once all those weights like family and job responsibilities, the wife's fancy relations, and responsibility for the leading minds of humanity are taken off one's shoulders! In a few weeks I became an influential man. And a well-off man, to boot. Perhaps the day after tomorrow I'll have nothing again, but I may have even more! "
"What are you now, actually? "
"It's not easy to explain casually to an outsider. I conduct transactions. Transactions of goods, transactions of currency, political transactions, art transactions. In every case the important thing is to get out at the right moment; then you can never lose. " As in the old days, it seemed to give Leo Fischel pleasure to accompany his activity with "philosophy," and Ulrich listened to him with curiosity.
-Philosophy of money
ofthe free man, among others-
Then Ulrich: "But with all that, it's also important for me to know
what Gerda said about Hans's suicide. "
"She claims I murdered him! But they had broken up definitively well
before! "
RACHEL
And while Ulrich was letting the notion of remorse surface in his re- flections, in order to dissolve it immediately again in the deep play of thought, his little friend Rachel was suffering this word in all its tor- tures, dissolved by nothing but the palliative effect of tears and the cautious return of temptation after the remorse had gone on for a while. One will recall that Diotima's intense little maid, ejected from her parents' house because of a misstep, who had landed in the golden aura of virtue surrounding her mistress, had, in the weakest of a series of increasingly weak moments, submitted to the attacks of the black Moorish boy. It happened and made her very unhappy. But this un- happiness aspired to repeat itself as often as the scanty opportunities that Diotima's house offered would allow. On the second or third day after every unhappiness a remarkable change occurred, which can be compared to a flower that, bent over by the rain, raises its little head again. Can be compared to fine weather that, way up above, peeks from a remote corner of the sky through a rainy day; finds friendly lit- tle spots of blue; forms a blue lake; becomes a blue sky; is veiled by a light haze of the overwhelming brightness of a day of happiness; is tinged with brown; lets down one hot veil of haze after another and fi- nally towers, torrid and trembling, from earth to sky, filled with the zigzags and cries of birds, filled with the listless droop of tree and leaf, filled with the craziness of not-yet-discharged tensions that cause man and beast to roam madly about.
On the last day before the remorse, the head of the Moor always twitched through the house like a rolling head of cabbage, and little Ra- chel would have loved to creep on it like a caterpillar with a sweet tooth. But then remorse set in. As if a pistol had been fired and a shimmering glass ball been turned into a powder of glassy sand. Rachel felt sand be- tween her teeth, in her nose, her heart; nothing but sand. The world was dark; not dark like a Moor, but nauseatingly dark, like a pigsty. Rachel, having disappointed the confidence placed in her, seemed to herself be- smirched through and through. Grief placed a deep drill in the vicinity of her navel. A raging fear of being pregnant blinded her thoughts. One
From the Posthumous Papers · 1685
could go on in this fashion-every limb in Rachel ached individually with remorse-but the main thing was not in these details but seized hold ofthe whole person, driving her before the wind like a cloud ofdust raised by a broom. The knowledge that a misstep that has happened can- not be rectified by anything in the world made the world something of a hurricane in which one can find no support to stand up. The peaceful- ness of death seemed to Rachel like a dark feather bed, which it must be delightful to roll on. She had been torn out ofher world, abandoned to a feeling whose intensity was unlike anything in Diotima's house. She could not get at this feeling with an idea, any more than comfortings can get at a toothache, while it actually seemed to her, on the other hand, that there was only one remedy, to pull little Rachel entirely out of the world like a bad tooth.
Had she been cleverer, she would have been able to assert that re- morse is a basic disturbance of equilibrium, which one can restore in the most various ways. But God helped her out with his old, proven home remedy by again giving her, after a few days, the desire to sin.
We, however, cannot of course be as indulgent as the great Lord, to whom earthly matters offer little that is new or important. We must ask whether in a condition in which there is no sin there can be any remorse. And since this question has already been answered in the negative, ex- cept for a few borderline cases, a second question immediately arises: from which ocean did the little drop of hell's fire fall into Rachel's heart, ifit may not be said to have originated in the ocean whose clouds Ulrich had discovered? Every such question was suited to plunge Ulrich out of the sky on which he wanted to set foot purely theoretically. There are so many lovelythings on earth that have nothing to do with divine, seraphic love, and most decidedly there are among them things that forbid any- thing and everything to be expected from their rediscovery. This ques- tion was later to be of the greatest significance for Ulrich and Agathe.
LATE 1920S
The weeks since Rachel had left Diotima's house had passed with an improbability that a different person would hardly have accepted calmly. But Rachel had been shown the door of her parents' house as a sinner, and at the conclusion ofthat fall had landed, straight as an arrow, in paradise, at Diotima's; now Diotima had thrown her out, but such an enchantingly refined man as Ulrich had been standing there and had
1686 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
caught her: how could she not believe that life is the way it is described in the novels she loved to read? Whoever is destined to be a hero fate throws into the air in daredevil ways over and over, but it always catches him again in its strong arms. Rachel placed blind confidence in fate, and during this entire time had really done nothing but wait for its next inter- vention, when it might perhaps unveil its intentions. She had not become pregnant; so the experience with Soliman seemed to have been only a passing incident. She ate in a small pub, together with coachmen, out-of-work servant girls, workers who had business in the neighbor- hood, and those undefinable transients who flood a large city. The place she had chosen for herself, at a specific table, was reserved for her every day; she wore better clothes than the other women who frequented the pub; the way she used her knife and fork was different from what one was accustomed to seeing here; in this place Rachel enjoyed a secret respect, which she was acutely aware of even though not many people wanted to show it, and she assumed that she was taken for a countess or the mistress of a prince, who for some reason was compelled for a time to conceal her class. It happened that men with dubious diamonds on their fingers and with slicked-down hair, who sometimes turned up among the respectable guests, arranged to sit at Rachel's table and di- rected seductively sinuous compliments to her; but Rachel knew how to refuse these with dignity and without unfriendliness, for although the compliments pleased her as much as the buzzing and creeping ofinsects and caterpillars and snakes on a luxuriant summer day, she still sensed that she could not let herselfgo in this direction without running the risk of losing her freedom. She most liked to converse with older people, who knew something of life and told stories of its dangers, disappoint- ments, and events. In this way she picked up knowledge that, broken into crumbs, came to her the way food sinks down to a fish lying quietly at the bottom ofits tank. Adventurous things were going on in the world. People were now said to be flying faster than birds. Building houses en- tirelywithout bricks. The anarchists wanted to assassinate the Emperor. A great revolution was imminent, and then the coachmen would sit in- side the coaches and the rich people would be in harness, instead of the horses. In a tenement block in the vicinity, a woman had, in the night, poured petroleum on her husband and lit him; it was unimaginable! In America, blind people were given glass eyes with which they could really see again, but it still cost lots of money and was only for billionaires. These were the gripping things Rachel heard, of course not all at once, as she sat and ate. When afterward she stepped out into the street, noth- ing of such monstrosities was to be seen: everything flowed on in its well-ordered way or stood there exactly as it had the day before; but was
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1687
not the air boiling in these summer days, was not the asphalt secretly yielding underfoot, without Rachel having to picture clearly that the sun had softened it? On the church roofs the saints stretched out their arms and lifted their eyes in a way that made one think that everywhere there must be something special to be seen. The policemen wiped away the sweat of their exertions in the midst of the commotion that roared around them. Vehicles going at high speed braked violently as an old lady crossing the street was almost run over because she was not paying attention to anything. When Rachel got back to her little room, she felt her curiosity sated by this light nourishment; she took out her undergar- ments to mend them, or altered a dress or read a novel-for with aston- ishment at the way the world was run, she had discovered the institution of the lending library-her landlady came in and chatted with her defer- entially, because Rachel had money without having to work and without one's being able to discern any misconduct; and so the day passed, with no time to miss anything in the least, and poured its contents, filled to the brim with exciting things, into the dreams of the night.
To be sure, Ulrich had forgotten to send money promptly, or to ask Rachel to come to him, and she had already begun to use up the small savings from her work. But she was not concerned, for Ulrich had prom- ised to protect her for the present, and to go to him to remind him seemed to her quite improper. In all the fairy tales she knew, there was something one was forbidden to say or do; and it would have been ex- actly that had she gone to Ulrich and told him she was out of money. This is not in any way to imply that she expressly thought that her man- ner oflife seemed like a fairy tale, or that she believed in fairy tales at all. On the contrary, that was the way the reality that she had never known differently was constituted, even if it had never been as beautiful as it was now. There are people to whom this is permitted, and people to whom it is forbidden; the ones sink from step to step and end in utter misery, while the others become rich and happy-and leave behind lots of children. Rachel had never been told to which of the two groups she belonged; she had never revealed to the two people who might have ex- plained the difference to her that she was dreaming, but had worked industriously, except for the two unintentional missteps that had had such serious consequences. And one day her landlady actually reported that while she was out to eat, a fine lady had asked for her and an- nounced that she would return in an hour. Anxiously, Rachel gave a de- scription of Diotima; but the lady who was looking for her was most decidedly not tall, the landlady asserted, and not stout either, not even if by stout one did not mean fat. The lady who was looking for Rachel was most decidedly, rather, to be called small and skinny.
1688 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
And indeed the lady was slender and small, and returned within a half hour. She said "Dear Fraulein" to Rachel, mentioned Ulrich's name, and pulled from her purse a tightly folded, rather considerable sum of money, which she gave to Rachel on behalf of their friend. Then she began to tell an involved and exciting story, and Rachel had never in her life been so enthralled by a conversation. There was a man, the lady said, who was being pursued by his enemies because he had nobly sacrificed himself for them.
Really not nobly; for he had to do it, it was his inner law, every person has an animal which he inwardly resembles. -You, for example, Fraulein-the lady said-have either a gazelle or a queen snake in you-it can't always be determined at first glance.
If it had been the cook in Diotima's kitchen who had said that, it would have made either no impression on Rachel or an unfavorable one; but it was said by someone who with every word radiated the certainty of a well-bred lady, the gift: ofcommand that would make any doubt appear to be an offense against respect. It was therefore firmly established in Rachel's mind that there was some link between herself and a gazelle or a queen snake, a link that at the moment was over her head, but that could doubtless be explained in some fashion, for one sometimes does hear such things. Rachel felt herself ch_arged with this piece of news like a candy box one can't get open.
The man who had sacrificed himself, the lady continued, had within himself a bear, that is to say, the soul of a murderer, and that meant that he had taken murder upon himself, all murder: the murder of unborn and handicapped children, the cowardly murder that people commit against their talents, and murder on the street by vehicles, bicyclists, and trams. Clarisse asked Rachel-for of course it was Clarisse who was speaking-whether she had ever heard the name Moosbrugger. Now, Rachel had, although she later forgot him again, loved and feared Moos- brugger like a robber captain, at the time when he had horrified all the newspapers, and he had often been the topic of conversation at Di- otima's; so she asked right away whether it concerned him.
Clarisse nodded. - H e is innocent!
For the first time Rachel heard from an authority what she had earlier often thought herself.
- W e have freed him, Clarisse went on. - W e , the responsible peo- ple, who know more than the others do. But now we must hide him. Clarisse smiled, and so peculiarly and yet with such rapturous friendli- ness that Rachel's heart, intending to fall into her panties, got stuck on the way, somewhere in the neighborhood of her stomach. -Hide where? she stammered, pale.
- T h e police will be looking for him---Clarisse declared-so it has to
From the Posthumous Papers · 1689
be where no one would think of looking for him. The best thing would be ifyou would pretend he was your husband. He would have to wear a wooden leg, that's easy to pretend, or something, and you would get a little shop with living quarters attached, so it would look as ifyou were supporting your invalid husband who can't leave the house. The whole thing would be for only a few weeks, and I could offer you more money than you need.
- B u t why don't you take him in yourself? Rachel dared to counter.
-My husband isn't in on it and would never allow it, Clarisse an- swered, adding the lie that the proposal she had made came from Ul- rich.
-But I'm afraid ofhim! Rachel exclaimed.
-That's as it should be, Clarisse said. -But, my dear Fraulein, ev- erything great is terrible. Many great men have been in the insane asy- lum. It is uncanny to put oneself on a level with someone who is a murderer; but to put oneself on a level with the uncanny is to resolve to be great! '
-But does he want to? Rachel asked. -Does he know me? He won't do anything to me?
- H e knows that we want to save him. Look, his whole life he's known only substitute women; you understand what I mean. He'll be happy at having a real woman to protect him and take him in; and he won't lay a finger on you ifyou don't let him. I'll back you up on that all the way! He knows that I have the power to compel him, ifI want!
- N o , no! was all Rachel could get out; from everything Clarisse was saying she could hear only the shape of the voice and language, a friend- liness and a sisterly equality that she could not resist. A lady had never spoken to her this way, and yet there was nothing artificial or false in it; Clarisse's face was on a level with hers and not up in the air like Di- otima's; she saw her features working, especially two long furrows that constantly formed by the nose and ran down by the mouth; Clarisse was visibly struggling together with her for the solution.
-Consider, Fraulein- Clarisse went on to say-that he who recog- nizes must sacrifice himself. You recognized right away that Moosbrug- ger only appears to be a murderer. Therefore you must sacrifice yourself. You must draw what is murderous out of him, and then what's behind it, which corresponds to your own nature, will come out. For like is attracted only by like; that's the merciless law of greatness!
- B u t when will it be?
-Tomorrow. I'll come in the late afternoon and get you. By that time everything will be arranged.
- I f a third person could live with us, I'd do it, Rachel said.
16go • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
-I'll drop in every day-Clarisse said-and watch over things; the living arrangement is only for show. Then too, it wouldn't do to be un- grateful to Ulrich ifhe needs you to do him a favor.
That clinched the matter. Clarisse had confidently used his Christian name. It appeared to Rachel as though her cowardice were unworthy of her benefactor. The portrayal our inner being gives us of what we ought to do is extraordinarily deceitful and capricious. Suddenly the whole thing seemed to Rachel a joke, a game, a trifle. She would have a shop and a room; ifshe wanted, she could bar the door between them. Then too, there would be two exits, the way there are in rooms on the stage. The whole proposal was only a formality, and it was really exaggerated of her to make difficulties, even though she was horribly afraid of Moos- brugger. She had to get over this cowardice. And what had the lady said? What corresponds to your own nature will come out in him. If he really was not so fearsome, then she would have what she had earlier passion- ately wished for.
The shop and the adjoining room and the two exits came to nothing. Clarisse had appeared and declared that at the last minute the rent had posed an obstacle; since time was pressing, they had to take what was available, and fate perhaps depended on a matter of minutes. She had found another room. Had Rachel already packed up her things, and was she ready? The taxi was waiting downstairs. Unfortunately, it was not a nice room. And above all it was not yet furnished. But Clarisse had hast- ily had the most necessary items brought over. Now it was only a matter of getting Moosbrugger settled quickly. Everything else could be taken care of tomorrow. Today everything was only provisional. Clarisse re- ported the greater part of this when they were in the taxi. The words were dizzying. Rachel had no time to think. The taxi meter, half lit by a tiny light, advanced incessantly; with every revolution of the wheels Ra- chel heard the ticking of the meter, like a jug that has sprung a leak and drips unceasingly; in the darkness of the old cab Clarisse pressed a sum of money into her hand, and Rachel had to concentrate on stuffing it into her purse; in the process, the paper expanded, individual notes sailed away and had to be pursued and caught; laughing, Clarisse helped her find them, and this took up the rest of the long ride.
The taxi stopped in a remote alley in front of an old tumbledown "court," one of those deep plots of land where, from a narrow frontage on the alley, low wings run to the back, with workshops, stables, chick-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1691
ens, children, and the small dwellings of large families opening directly onto the courtyard or, one story higher, onto an open gallery connecting everything from the outside. Clarisse helped Rachel drag her things and seemed anxious to avoid the superintendent; they bumped into wagons standing in the dark, into tools that lay around everywhere, and into the well, but they arrived undamaged at Rachel's new dwelling. Clarisse had a candle in her pocket and with its aid found a large oil lamp she had remembered to sneak from her parents' attic. It was a tall piece worked in metal, incorporating all the latest advances the petroleum age had made just before it was irrevocably shunted aside by electrical illumina- tion, and it filled the entire room, because it lacked a shade, with moder- ate light. Clarisse was very proud of it, but she had to huny, since she had had the taxi wait at the next corner in order to fetch Moosbrugger.
As soon as she was alone and looked around in her new surroundings, tears filled Rachel's eyes. Except for the dirty walls, the thick white light of the lamp was almost the only thing in the room. But her fright had made Rachel misjudge; on closer inspection she found against one wall a narrow iron bed, on which there was something like bedclothes; in a corner, a pile of blankets was heaped up in disorder, no doubt meant to be the second sleeping place; blankets were also hanging in front of the windows and the door that led outside, and formed before a small and extremely plain table a kind of carpet, on which a roughly finished chair stood. Sighing, Rachel sat down on it and drew out her money in order to count and sort it. But now she again got a fright, this time over the size, indeed the excess, of the amount Clarisse, throwing caution to the winds, had thrust at her in the taxi. She smoothed the banknotes and concealed them in a small purse, which she wore on her breast. If she had known that she was sitting at the table at which Meingast had cre- ated his great work, and that the narrow iron bed had also been his, she might perhaps have understood a little more. But as it was, she simply sighed once more, already made easier about the future, and even dis- covered an old fireplace, a spirit stove, and odds and ends of dishes before Clarisse returned with Moosbrugger.
This moment was like the terrifying moment when one is called in by the dentist, which Rachel had experienced only once, and she stood up obediently as the two entered.
Moosbrugger allowed himself to be led into the room the way a great artist is introduced to a circle of people who have been waiting for him. He pretended not to notice Rachel, and first inspected the new room; only then, after he had found fault with nothing, did he direct his glance at the girl and nod byway of greeting. Clarisse seemed to have no more to say to him; she pushed him, her tiny hand against his gigantic arm,
1692 • THE MAN WITH 0 U T QUALITIES
toward the table and merely smiled, the way a person does who during a risky enterprise has to tense every muscle and is meanwhile trying to smile, so that the delicate facial muscles have to pull themselves to- gether sharply in order to force their way between the pressure of all the other muscles. She maintained this expression while she placed a bag of groceries on the table and explained to the other two that she could not stay a minute longer but had to rush home. She promised to come back the next morning around ten and would then take care of anything else they might need.
So now Rachel was alone with the revered man. She covered the table with a pillowcase, since she could not find a tablecloth, and spread out on a large platter the cold cuts Clarisse had brought. These duties greatly eased her embarrassment. Then, placing the meal on the table, she said in carefully chosen German: "You will most certainly be hun- gry"; she had thought out this sentence ahead of time. Moosbrugger had stood up, and with a gallant gesture of his big paw offered her his place, for it turned out that there was only the one chair. - O h , no thank y o u - Rachel said-I don't want much; I'll sit over there. She took two slices from the platter Moosbrugger offered her and sat down on the bed.
Moosbrugger had taken a horrifying long folding knife from his pocket and used it while eating. In the days of his flight he had eaten irregularly and badly, and had developed a great hunger. Rachel took advantage of the opportunity to study him; more properly, she had to, for as soon as she turned in the direction of the table, this man com- pletely filled her field of vision; more, his appearance overflowed her eyes, spilling over their rims in every direction, and Rachel could not properly let her glance roam around; it was, for instance, quite a long distance across the whole extent of his chest, or from the edge of the table to his thick mustache, and also from his chin to the top of his pow- erful skull, and one could linger in the reddish-blond hairs of his mighty fists as in underbrush. In the meantime, all the ideas and some of the fantasies ofwhich Moosbrugger had once been the object came back to Rachel. Above all, she sought to bring to mind how many women would envy the situation in which she found herself. For her, Moosbrugger was a great and famous man, which corresponded to the truth if one leaves aside the different degrees of public notoriety that are made but are by no means clear or precise. She did not at all overlook the fearfulness of the notoriety, which had been acquired by cruel, indeed even treacher- ous deeds, for she was trembling with fear, although she was also burn- ing with excitement. But like all people, she admired the energy in this cruelty, and like all impulsive people she assumed that in contact with
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1693
her, this herculean strength would not be dangerous but could be turned toward the good, so that her fear seemed to her only a petty ex- ternal habit, while her soul became braver and braver the longer she was together with Moosbrugger. And indeed, whoever lives in the proper relation to criminals lives as securely among them as among other people.
Moosbrugger had not found it proper to be bothered by the girl's glances during such an important an occasion as eating. But when he had finished he leaned back, snapped his knife shut, stroked the crumbs from his mustache, and said: -Well, little Fraulein, now a glass of schnapps wouldn't b e -
Rachel hastened to assure him that there were no alcoholic drinks in the house, adding the lie that Clarisse had charged her not to provide any.
Moosbrugger hadn't meant it that seriously. He was not a drinker, in- deed he himself took care not to drink, out of fear of its unpredictable effects. But he hadn't seen a drop for months, and after the substantial meal had thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to try one on this dull eve- ning. He was angry at her refusal. These women had him really locked up. But he did not show it, and undertook to canyon the conversation in the most civilized manner.
-So here we are, man and wife, in a way, for the time being, little Fraulein, he began. -What should I call you? He used the natural Du of simple people; Rachel did not find this unpleasant, but just as natu- rally she stayed with the formal Sie. -My name is Rachel or R~le, whichever you like.
-Oo-la-la, R~le, my compliments! He pronounced the French name twice over, with pleasure. -And Rachel was the loveliest daughter of Laban. He laughed gallantly.
-T ell me how you beat the masons! Rachel asked. She dared not ask about anything more exciting.
Moosbrugger turned away and rolled a cigarette. He was insulted. In his circles such a question was regarded as an unwarranted intimacy after so short an acquaintance. He smoked several cigarettes in succes- sion. He was bored. Insignificant, importunate women meant nothing to him. He became sleepy. In prison and the asylum he had become accus- tomed to going to bed early.
Rachel was upset that he was smoking so inconsiderately. She also had the feeling of having done something wrong, without knowing what.
Moosbrugger stood up, stretched his legs, and yawned. - D o you want to go to sleep? Rachel asked.
1694 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
-W hat else is there to do? Moosbrugger said. He inspected the bed; then, remembering the commandments of chivahy, turned to the comer where the bedding lay.
-Sleep in the bed; you need rest, Rachel said.
-No, you can sleep in the bed. Indolently, he removed his coat. Ra- chel was embarrassed when Moosbrugger took offhis pants. But then he lay down on the blankets as he was, and pulled one of them over himself. Rachel waited awhile, then blew out the lamp and undressed in the dark.
During the night she again grew afraid; she imagined that if she were to fall asleep it might happen that she would never wake up again. But soon she did sleep, and when she awoke, morning was shining into the room. Moosbrugger lay covered up in the comer like a huge mountain. Everything was still quiet in the house. Rachel took advantage of it to fetch water from the well. She also cleaned her shoes and Moosbrug- ger's out in the courtyard. When she softly slipped in the door again, Moosbrugger said good morning to her.
-W ould you like coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? she asked him. Moos- brugger was astonished. He said coffee, but did not find the decision an easy one. Then too, he liked Rachel better in the daylight than he had last evening; there was something delicate and refined in her appear- ance. He took care getting dressed, and turned away from the wall only when he was finished.
- W e r e you angry at me last evening? Rachel asked, noticing his good humor.
-Oh, women always want to know everything, but ifyou like I'll tell you the story about the masons. That will show you what people are like; they're all the same. And what have you been doing up to now?
- I was in a very elegant house, where I was treated like a daughter. -W ell, and what got you turned out? ·
- O h ! said Rachel, not at all resolved to tell the truth. - Y o u know,
the master in this house is a very high diplomat, and there was this busi- ness with a Moorish prince-
- A r e you pregnant? Moosbrugger asked suspiciously.
-For shame! Rachel exclaimed indignantly. -You're taking too many liberties in speaking to me that way! Would the lady have en- trusted you to me?
Moosbrugger definitely liked her. She was something finer, you could see and hear that. When he thought over the females he knew, he had never had anything so fine. -W ell, all right, he said. - I didn't mean to insult you. The story with the masons went like this:
He told it minutely and with dignity, together with all the scheming
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1695
and corruption that a man like himselfencounters before the court, and because she had mentioned an acquaintance with a Moorish prince, he felt he had to match it, so he also told her about his march to Constanti- nople.
- D o the Turks have more than one wife? Rachel asked.
-Only the rich ones. But that's why the Turks aren't worth anything, he answered with a gallant smile. -Even one wife will ruin a man!
-Have you had bad experiences with women? Rachel asked, her blood twitching in circles like the tail of a cat lying in ambush.
Moosbrugger looked at her inquiringly, and became serious. -A ll my life I've had only bad experiences. If I were to write down my life, a lot of people would be surprised!
Gerda shook her tousled head decisively, but in a slow, friendly way.
- Y o u must be clear about this, Fischel added. - W h e n the industri- alists' association supplied a bourgeois workers' opposition party with an election fund, or when my former bank made money available for some- thing, they weren't doing anything different. And a deal only comes about at all if I either force another person to meet me halfway, because otherwise it will hurt him, or if I give him the impression that there's a good deal to be made; then I mostly outsmart him, and that's also a form of my power over him. But how delicate and adaptable this power is! It's creative and flexible. Money gives measure to a man. It's ordered selfish- ness. It's the most splendid organization ofselfishness, a creative super- organization, constructed on a real notion of bearish speculation!
Gerda had been listening to her father, but her own thoughts buzzed in her mind. She answered: -Papa, I didn't understand everything, but you're surely right. Of course, you're looking at things as a rationalist, and for me it's precisely the irrational (what goes beyond all calculation) in what's going on now that's fascinating!
-What does irrational mean? General Director Fischel protested. -By that you mean illogical and incalculable and wild, the way one sometimes is in dreams? To that I can only say that buying and selling is
168o • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
like war; you have to calculate and you can calculate, but even there what is decisive in the last analysis is will, courage, the individual, or, as you call it, the irrational. No, my child-he concluded-money is self- ishness brought into relation with enterprise and efficiency. All of you are trying another way to regulate selfishness. It's not new, I acknowl- edge it, it's related. But wait and see how it works! For centuries capital- ism has been a proven way oforganizing human powers according to the ability to make money; where its influence is suppressed, you will find that arbitrariness, backroom deals, kowtowing for advantage, and adven- turism will spring up. As far as I'm concerned, you can do away with money if you like, but you won't abolish the superior power of whoever is holding the advantages in his hand. Except that you'll put someone who doesn't know what to do with them in the place of someone who did! For you're mistaken if you believe that money is the cause of our selfishness; it's the consequence.
-But I don't believe that at all, Papa, Gerda said modestly. -I'm only telling you that's what's going on n o w -
-And furthermore-Fischel interrupted her-it's the most reason- able consequence!
-What's going on now-Gerda went on with her sentence-rises above reason. The way a poem or love rises above the commerce of the world.
-Y ou're a deep girl! Fischel embraced her and released her. He liked Gerda's youthful ardor. -M y fortune! he called her mentally, and fol- lowed her with a tender glance. A discussion with a person one loves and understands is bracing. He had not philosophized this way for a long time; it was a remarkable period. In conversation with this child Fischel had achieved some clarity about himself. He wanted to buy. Not a ship; at least five ships. He summoned his secretary. -W e can't do this our- selves-he told him-it wouldn't look good, but let's do it through an intermediary. But for Leo Fischel this was not the main thing. The main thing was that he had gained a feeling ofconnection with events and yet a feeling ofisolation, too. In spite ofthe ups and downs going on around him, he had created order within himself.
To THE COMPLEX: LEO FISCHEL-GERDA-HANS SEPP Note: Development of a Man of Action (Leo Fischel)
Title: Return to an abandoned world I Leo Fischel as messenger from the world I Encounter with a messenger from an abandoned world I News from a lost world
Walking through the train, Ulrich saw a familiar face, stopped, and realized that it was Leo Fischel, who was sitting in a compartment by himself, leafing through a stack of flimsy papers he held in his hand. With his pince-nez far down on his nose, and his reddish-blond mutton- chop sideburns, he looked like an English lord of the 186os. Ulrich was so in need of contact with everyday life that he greeted his old acquaint- ance, whom he had not seen for months, almost joyfully.
Fischel asked him where he was coming from.
"From the south," Ulrich responded vaguely.
'We haven't seen you for quite a while," Fischel said with concern.
"You've been having trouble, haven't you? ''
"How so? ''
"I just mean in general. In your position with the campaign, I'm think-
ing. "
"I never had a connection with the campaign that could be called a
position," Ulrich objected with some heat.
"You just disappeared one day," Fischel said. "Nobody knew where
you were. That led me to think that you were having problems. " "Except for that error, you're very well informed: how come? '' Ulrich
laughed.
"I was looking for you like a needle in a haystack. Hard times, bad
stories, my friend," Fischel replied with a sigh. "The General didn't know where you were, your cousin didn't know where you were, and you weren't having your mail forwarded, I was told. Did you get a letter from Gerda? ''
"Get it? No. Perhaps I'll find it waiting for me at home. Has some- thing happened to Gerda? ''
Director Fischel did not answer; the conductor was passing by, and he
z68z
1682 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
motioned him in to give him some telegrams, requesting that he send them off at the next stop.
Ulrich now first noticed that Fischel was traveling first class, which he would not have expected of him.
"Since when are you seeing my cousin and the General? '' he asked.
Fischel looked at him reflectively. Obviously he did not understand the question right away. "Oh," he then said, "I think you hadn't even left yet. Your cousin consulted me on a matter of business, and through her I met the General, whom I wanted at that time to request somethingofon account of Hans Sepp. You know, don't you, that Hans shot and killed himself? ''
Ulrich gave an involuntary start.
"It even got into some of the newspapers," Fischel confirmed. "He was called up for his military service and a few weeks later shot himself. "
"But why? ''
"God knows! Frankly speaking, he could just as well have done it sooner. He could always have shot himself. He was a fool. But in the final analysis, I liked him. You won't believe it, but I even liked his anti- Semitism and his diatribes against bank directors. "
"Was there anything between him and Gerda? "
"Bitter quarrels," Fischel confirmed. "But it wasn't that alone. Listen: I've missed you. I searched for you. When I'm talking with you I have the feeling I'm talking not with a reasonable person but with a philoso- pher. Whatever you say-please permit an old friend to say this-is never to the point, never has hands and feet, but it has head and heart! So what do you say about Hans Sepp's having shot himself? ''
"Is that why yOu. . ___were searching for me? "
"No, not because of that. On account of business and the General and Arnheim, who are friends ofyours. The man before you is no longer with Lloyd's Bank but has gone into business for himself. It's a handful, let me tell you! I've had a lot oftrouble, but now, thank goodness, things are going splendidly-"
"If I'm not mistaken, what you call trouble is losing your job? "
"Yes; thank goodness I lost my job at Lloyd's; otherwise today I would still be a head clerk with the title of Director and would remain one until I was put out to pasture. When I was forced to give that up, my wife began divorce proceedings against m e - "
"Honestly! You really do have a lot of news to telll"
"Hmphl" Fischel went. 'We no longer live in the old apartment. While the divorce is going on, my wife has moved in with her brother"- he took out a business card-"and this is my address. I hope you'll pay me a visit soon. " On the card Ulrich read several ambiguous titles, such
From the Posthumous Papers · z683
as "Import/Export" and "Trans-European Goods and Currency Ex- change Company," and a prestigious address. "You have no idea how one rises all by oneself," Fischel explained to him, "once all those weights like family and job responsibilities, the wife's fancy relations, and responsibility for the leading minds of humanity are taken off one's shoulders! In a few weeks I became an influential man. And a well-off man, to boot. Perhaps the day after tomorrow I'll have nothing again, but I may have even more! "
"What are you now, actually? "
"It's not easy to explain casually to an outsider. I conduct transactions. Transactions of goods, transactions of currency, political transactions, art transactions. In every case the important thing is to get out at the right moment; then you can never lose. " As in the old days, it seemed to give Leo Fischel pleasure to accompany his activity with "philosophy," and Ulrich listened to him with curiosity.
-Philosophy of money
ofthe free man, among others-
Then Ulrich: "But with all that, it's also important for me to know
what Gerda said about Hans's suicide. "
"She claims I murdered him! But they had broken up definitively well
before! "
RACHEL
And while Ulrich was letting the notion of remorse surface in his re- flections, in order to dissolve it immediately again in the deep play of thought, his little friend Rachel was suffering this word in all its tor- tures, dissolved by nothing but the palliative effect of tears and the cautious return of temptation after the remorse had gone on for a while. One will recall that Diotima's intense little maid, ejected from her parents' house because of a misstep, who had landed in the golden aura of virtue surrounding her mistress, had, in the weakest of a series of increasingly weak moments, submitted to the attacks of the black Moorish boy. It happened and made her very unhappy. But this un- happiness aspired to repeat itself as often as the scanty opportunities that Diotima's house offered would allow. On the second or third day after every unhappiness a remarkable change occurred, which can be compared to a flower that, bent over by the rain, raises its little head again. Can be compared to fine weather that, way up above, peeks from a remote corner of the sky through a rainy day; finds friendly lit- tle spots of blue; forms a blue lake; becomes a blue sky; is veiled by a light haze of the overwhelming brightness of a day of happiness; is tinged with brown; lets down one hot veil of haze after another and fi- nally towers, torrid and trembling, from earth to sky, filled with the zigzags and cries of birds, filled with the listless droop of tree and leaf, filled with the craziness of not-yet-discharged tensions that cause man and beast to roam madly about.
On the last day before the remorse, the head of the Moor always twitched through the house like a rolling head of cabbage, and little Ra- chel would have loved to creep on it like a caterpillar with a sweet tooth. But then remorse set in. As if a pistol had been fired and a shimmering glass ball been turned into a powder of glassy sand. Rachel felt sand be- tween her teeth, in her nose, her heart; nothing but sand. The world was dark; not dark like a Moor, but nauseatingly dark, like a pigsty. Rachel, having disappointed the confidence placed in her, seemed to herself be- smirched through and through. Grief placed a deep drill in the vicinity of her navel. A raging fear of being pregnant blinded her thoughts. One
From the Posthumous Papers · 1685
could go on in this fashion-every limb in Rachel ached individually with remorse-but the main thing was not in these details but seized hold ofthe whole person, driving her before the wind like a cloud ofdust raised by a broom. The knowledge that a misstep that has happened can- not be rectified by anything in the world made the world something of a hurricane in which one can find no support to stand up. The peaceful- ness of death seemed to Rachel like a dark feather bed, which it must be delightful to roll on. She had been torn out ofher world, abandoned to a feeling whose intensity was unlike anything in Diotima's house. She could not get at this feeling with an idea, any more than comfortings can get at a toothache, while it actually seemed to her, on the other hand, that there was only one remedy, to pull little Rachel entirely out of the world like a bad tooth.
Had she been cleverer, she would have been able to assert that re- morse is a basic disturbance of equilibrium, which one can restore in the most various ways. But God helped her out with his old, proven home remedy by again giving her, after a few days, the desire to sin.
We, however, cannot of course be as indulgent as the great Lord, to whom earthly matters offer little that is new or important. We must ask whether in a condition in which there is no sin there can be any remorse. And since this question has already been answered in the negative, ex- cept for a few borderline cases, a second question immediately arises: from which ocean did the little drop of hell's fire fall into Rachel's heart, ifit may not be said to have originated in the ocean whose clouds Ulrich had discovered? Every such question was suited to plunge Ulrich out of the sky on which he wanted to set foot purely theoretically. There are so many lovelythings on earth that have nothing to do with divine, seraphic love, and most decidedly there are among them things that forbid any- thing and everything to be expected from their rediscovery. This ques- tion was later to be of the greatest significance for Ulrich and Agathe.
LATE 1920S
The weeks since Rachel had left Diotima's house had passed with an improbability that a different person would hardly have accepted calmly. But Rachel had been shown the door of her parents' house as a sinner, and at the conclusion ofthat fall had landed, straight as an arrow, in paradise, at Diotima's; now Diotima had thrown her out, but such an enchantingly refined man as Ulrich had been standing there and had
1686 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
caught her: how could she not believe that life is the way it is described in the novels she loved to read? Whoever is destined to be a hero fate throws into the air in daredevil ways over and over, but it always catches him again in its strong arms. Rachel placed blind confidence in fate, and during this entire time had really done nothing but wait for its next inter- vention, when it might perhaps unveil its intentions. She had not become pregnant; so the experience with Soliman seemed to have been only a passing incident. She ate in a small pub, together with coachmen, out-of-work servant girls, workers who had business in the neighbor- hood, and those undefinable transients who flood a large city. The place she had chosen for herself, at a specific table, was reserved for her every day; she wore better clothes than the other women who frequented the pub; the way she used her knife and fork was different from what one was accustomed to seeing here; in this place Rachel enjoyed a secret respect, which she was acutely aware of even though not many people wanted to show it, and she assumed that she was taken for a countess or the mistress of a prince, who for some reason was compelled for a time to conceal her class. It happened that men with dubious diamonds on their fingers and with slicked-down hair, who sometimes turned up among the respectable guests, arranged to sit at Rachel's table and di- rected seductively sinuous compliments to her; but Rachel knew how to refuse these with dignity and without unfriendliness, for although the compliments pleased her as much as the buzzing and creeping ofinsects and caterpillars and snakes on a luxuriant summer day, she still sensed that she could not let herselfgo in this direction without running the risk of losing her freedom. She most liked to converse with older people, who knew something of life and told stories of its dangers, disappoint- ments, and events. In this way she picked up knowledge that, broken into crumbs, came to her the way food sinks down to a fish lying quietly at the bottom ofits tank. Adventurous things were going on in the world. People were now said to be flying faster than birds. Building houses en- tirelywithout bricks. The anarchists wanted to assassinate the Emperor. A great revolution was imminent, and then the coachmen would sit in- side the coaches and the rich people would be in harness, instead of the horses. In a tenement block in the vicinity, a woman had, in the night, poured petroleum on her husband and lit him; it was unimaginable! In America, blind people were given glass eyes with which they could really see again, but it still cost lots of money and was only for billionaires. These were the gripping things Rachel heard, of course not all at once, as she sat and ate. When afterward she stepped out into the street, noth- ing of such monstrosities was to be seen: everything flowed on in its well-ordered way or stood there exactly as it had the day before; but was
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1687
not the air boiling in these summer days, was not the asphalt secretly yielding underfoot, without Rachel having to picture clearly that the sun had softened it? On the church roofs the saints stretched out their arms and lifted their eyes in a way that made one think that everywhere there must be something special to be seen. The policemen wiped away the sweat of their exertions in the midst of the commotion that roared around them. Vehicles going at high speed braked violently as an old lady crossing the street was almost run over because she was not paying attention to anything. When Rachel got back to her little room, she felt her curiosity sated by this light nourishment; she took out her undergar- ments to mend them, or altered a dress or read a novel-for with aston- ishment at the way the world was run, she had discovered the institution of the lending library-her landlady came in and chatted with her defer- entially, because Rachel had money without having to work and without one's being able to discern any misconduct; and so the day passed, with no time to miss anything in the least, and poured its contents, filled to the brim with exciting things, into the dreams of the night.
To be sure, Ulrich had forgotten to send money promptly, or to ask Rachel to come to him, and she had already begun to use up the small savings from her work. But she was not concerned, for Ulrich had prom- ised to protect her for the present, and to go to him to remind him seemed to her quite improper. In all the fairy tales she knew, there was something one was forbidden to say or do; and it would have been ex- actly that had she gone to Ulrich and told him she was out of money. This is not in any way to imply that she expressly thought that her man- ner oflife seemed like a fairy tale, or that she believed in fairy tales at all. On the contrary, that was the way the reality that she had never known differently was constituted, even if it had never been as beautiful as it was now. There are people to whom this is permitted, and people to whom it is forbidden; the ones sink from step to step and end in utter misery, while the others become rich and happy-and leave behind lots of children. Rachel had never been told to which of the two groups she belonged; she had never revealed to the two people who might have ex- plained the difference to her that she was dreaming, but had worked industriously, except for the two unintentional missteps that had had such serious consequences. And one day her landlady actually reported that while she was out to eat, a fine lady had asked for her and an- nounced that she would return in an hour. Anxiously, Rachel gave a de- scription of Diotima; but the lady who was looking for her was most decidedly not tall, the landlady asserted, and not stout either, not even if by stout one did not mean fat. The lady who was looking for Rachel was most decidedly, rather, to be called small and skinny.
1688 · THE MAN WITH0UT QUALITIES
And indeed the lady was slender and small, and returned within a half hour. She said "Dear Fraulein" to Rachel, mentioned Ulrich's name, and pulled from her purse a tightly folded, rather considerable sum of money, which she gave to Rachel on behalf of their friend. Then she began to tell an involved and exciting story, and Rachel had never in her life been so enthralled by a conversation. There was a man, the lady said, who was being pursued by his enemies because he had nobly sacrificed himself for them.
Really not nobly; for he had to do it, it was his inner law, every person has an animal which he inwardly resembles. -You, for example, Fraulein-the lady said-have either a gazelle or a queen snake in you-it can't always be determined at first glance.
If it had been the cook in Diotima's kitchen who had said that, it would have made either no impression on Rachel or an unfavorable one; but it was said by someone who with every word radiated the certainty of a well-bred lady, the gift: ofcommand that would make any doubt appear to be an offense against respect. It was therefore firmly established in Rachel's mind that there was some link between herself and a gazelle or a queen snake, a link that at the moment was over her head, but that could doubtless be explained in some fashion, for one sometimes does hear such things. Rachel felt herself ch_arged with this piece of news like a candy box one can't get open.
The man who had sacrificed himself, the lady continued, had within himself a bear, that is to say, the soul of a murderer, and that meant that he had taken murder upon himself, all murder: the murder of unborn and handicapped children, the cowardly murder that people commit against their talents, and murder on the street by vehicles, bicyclists, and trams. Clarisse asked Rachel-for of course it was Clarisse who was speaking-whether she had ever heard the name Moosbrugger. Now, Rachel had, although she later forgot him again, loved and feared Moos- brugger like a robber captain, at the time when he had horrified all the newspapers, and he had often been the topic of conversation at Di- otima's; so she asked right away whether it concerned him.
Clarisse nodded. - H e is innocent!
For the first time Rachel heard from an authority what she had earlier often thought herself.
- W e have freed him, Clarisse went on. - W e , the responsible peo- ple, who know more than the others do. But now we must hide him. Clarisse smiled, and so peculiarly and yet with such rapturous friendli- ness that Rachel's heart, intending to fall into her panties, got stuck on the way, somewhere in the neighborhood of her stomach. -Hide where? she stammered, pale.
- T h e police will be looking for him---Clarisse declared-so it has to
From the Posthumous Papers · 1689
be where no one would think of looking for him. The best thing would be ifyou would pretend he was your husband. He would have to wear a wooden leg, that's easy to pretend, or something, and you would get a little shop with living quarters attached, so it would look as ifyou were supporting your invalid husband who can't leave the house. The whole thing would be for only a few weeks, and I could offer you more money than you need.
- B u t why don't you take him in yourself? Rachel dared to counter.
-My husband isn't in on it and would never allow it, Clarisse an- swered, adding the lie that the proposal she had made came from Ul- rich.
-But I'm afraid ofhim! Rachel exclaimed.
-That's as it should be, Clarisse said. -But, my dear Fraulein, ev- erything great is terrible. Many great men have been in the insane asy- lum. It is uncanny to put oneself on a level with someone who is a murderer; but to put oneself on a level with the uncanny is to resolve to be great! '
-But does he want to? Rachel asked. -Does he know me? He won't do anything to me?
- H e knows that we want to save him. Look, his whole life he's known only substitute women; you understand what I mean. He'll be happy at having a real woman to protect him and take him in; and he won't lay a finger on you ifyou don't let him. I'll back you up on that all the way! He knows that I have the power to compel him, ifI want!
- N o , no! was all Rachel could get out; from everything Clarisse was saying she could hear only the shape of the voice and language, a friend- liness and a sisterly equality that she could not resist. A lady had never spoken to her this way, and yet there was nothing artificial or false in it; Clarisse's face was on a level with hers and not up in the air like Di- otima's; she saw her features working, especially two long furrows that constantly formed by the nose and ran down by the mouth; Clarisse was visibly struggling together with her for the solution.
-Consider, Fraulein- Clarisse went on to say-that he who recog- nizes must sacrifice himself. You recognized right away that Moosbrug- ger only appears to be a murderer. Therefore you must sacrifice yourself. You must draw what is murderous out of him, and then what's behind it, which corresponds to your own nature, will come out. For like is attracted only by like; that's the merciless law of greatness!
- B u t when will it be?
-Tomorrow. I'll come in the late afternoon and get you. By that time everything will be arranged.
- I f a third person could live with us, I'd do it, Rachel said.
16go • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
-I'll drop in every day-Clarisse said-and watch over things; the living arrangement is only for show. Then too, it wouldn't do to be un- grateful to Ulrich ifhe needs you to do him a favor.
That clinched the matter. Clarisse had confidently used his Christian name. It appeared to Rachel as though her cowardice were unworthy of her benefactor. The portrayal our inner being gives us of what we ought to do is extraordinarily deceitful and capricious. Suddenly the whole thing seemed to Rachel a joke, a game, a trifle. She would have a shop and a room; ifshe wanted, she could bar the door between them. Then too, there would be two exits, the way there are in rooms on the stage. The whole proposal was only a formality, and it was really exaggerated of her to make difficulties, even though she was horribly afraid of Moos- brugger. She had to get over this cowardice. And what had the lady said? What corresponds to your own nature will come out in him. If he really was not so fearsome, then she would have what she had earlier passion- ately wished for.
The shop and the adjoining room and the two exits came to nothing. Clarisse had appeared and declared that at the last minute the rent had posed an obstacle; since time was pressing, they had to take what was available, and fate perhaps depended on a matter of minutes. She had found another room. Had Rachel already packed up her things, and was she ready? The taxi was waiting downstairs. Unfortunately, it was not a nice room. And above all it was not yet furnished. But Clarisse had hast- ily had the most necessary items brought over. Now it was only a matter of getting Moosbrugger settled quickly. Everything else could be taken care of tomorrow. Today everything was only provisional. Clarisse re- ported the greater part of this when they were in the taxi. The words were dizzying. Rachel had no time to think. The taxi meter, half lit by a tiny light, advanced incessantly; with every revolution of the wheels Ra- chel heard the ticking of the meter, like a jug that has sprung a leak and drips unceasingly; in the darkness of the old cab Clarisse pressed a sum of money into her hand, and Rachel had to concentrate on stuffing it into her purse; in the process, the paper expanded, individual notes sailed away and had to be pursued and caught; laughing, Clarisse helped her find them, and this took up the rest of the long ride.
The taxi stopped in a remote alley in front of an old tumbledown "court," one of those deep plots of land where, from a narrow frontage on the alley, low wings run to the back, with workshops, stables, chick-
From the Posthumous Papers · 1691
ens, children, and the small dwellings of large families opening directly onto the courtyard or, one story higher, onto an open gallery connecting everything from the outside. Clarisse helped Rachel drag her things and seemed anxious to avoid the superintendent; they bumped into wagons standing in the dark, into tools that lay around everywhere, and into the well, but they arrived undamaged at Rachel's new dwelling. Clarisse had a candle in her pocket and with its aid found a large oil lamp she had remembered to sneak from her parents' attic. It was a tall piece worked in metal, incorporating all the latest advances the petroleum age had made just before it was irrevocably shunted aside by electrical illumina- tion, and it filled the entire room, because it lacked a shade, with moder- ate light. Clarisse was very proud of it, but she had to huny, since she had had the taxi wait at the next corner in order to fetch Moosbrugger.
As soon as she was alone and looked around in her new surroundings, tears filled Rachel's eyes. Except for the dirty walls, the thick white light of the lamp was almost the only thing in the room. But her fright had made Rachel misjudge; on closer inspection she found against one wall a narrow iron bed, on which there was something like bedclothes; in a corner, a pile of blankets was heaped up in disorder, no doubt meant to be the second sleeping place; blankets were also hanging in front of the windows and the door that led outside, and formed before a small and extremely plain table a kind of carpet, on which a roughly finished chair stood. Sighing, Rachel sat down on it and drew out her money in order to count and sort it. But now she again got a fright, this time over the size, indeed the excess, of the amount Clarisse, throwing caution to the winds, had thrust at her in the taxi. She smoothed the banknotes and concealed them in a small purse, which she wore on her breast. If she had known that she was sitting at the table at which Meingast had cre- ated his great work, and that the narrow iron bed had also been his, she might perhaps have understood a little more. But as it was, she simply sighed once more, already made easier about the future, and even dis- covered an old fireplace, a spirit stove, and odds and ends of dishes before Clarisse returned with Moosbrugger.
This moment was like the terrifying moment when one is called in by the dentist, which Rachel had experienced only once, and she stood up obediently as the two entered.
Moosbrugger allowed himself to be led into the room the way a great artist is introduced to a circle of people who have been waiting for him. He pretended not to notice Rachel, and first inspected the new room; only then, after he had found fault with nothing, did he direct his glance at the girl and nod byway of greeting. Clarisse seemed to have no more to say to him; she pushed him, her tiny hand against his gigantic arm,
1692 • THE MAN WITH 0 U T QUALITIES
toward the table and merely smiled, the way a person does who during a risky enterprise has to tense every muscle and is meanwhile trying to smile, so that the delicate facial muscles have to pull themselves to- gether sharply in order to force their way between the pressure of all the other muscles. She maintained this expression while she placed a bag of groceries on the table and explained to the other two that she could not stay a minute longer but had to rush home. She promised to come back the next morning around ten and would then take care of anything else they might need.
So now Rachel was alone with the revered man. She covered the table with a pillowcase, since she could not find a tablecloth, and spread out on a large platter the cold cuts Clarisse had brought. These duties greatly eased her embarrassment. Then, placing the meal on the table, she said in carefully chosen German: "You will most certainly be hun- gry"; she had thought out this sentence ahead of time. Moosbrugger had stood up, and with a gallant gesture of his big paw offered her his place, for it turned out that there was only the one chair. - O h , no thank y o u - Rachel said-I don't want much; I'll sit over there. She took two slices from the platter Moosbrugger offered her and sat down on the bed.
Moosbrugger had taken a horrifying long folding knife from his pocket and used it while eating. In the days of his flight he had eaten irregularly and badly, and had developed a great hunger. Rachel took advantage of the opportunity to study him; more properly, she had to, for as soon as she turned in the direction of the table, this man com- pletely filled her field of vision; more, his appearance overflowed her eyes, spilling over their rims in every direction, and Rachel could not properly let her glance roam around; it was, for instance, quite a long distance across the whole extent of his chest, or from the edge of the table to his thick mustache, and also from his chin to the top of his pow- erful skull, and one could linger in the reddish-blond hairs of his mighty fists as in underbrush. In the meantime, all the ideas and some of the fantasies ofwhich Moosbrugger had once been the object came back to Rachel. Above all, she sought to bring to mind how many women would envy the situation in which she found herself. For her, Moosbrugger was a great and famous man, which corresponded to the truth if one leaves aside the different degrees of public notoriety that are made but are by no means clear or precise. She did not at all overlook the fearfulness of the notoriety, which had been acquired by cruel, indeed even treacher- ous deeds, for she was trembling with fear, although she was also burn- ing with excitement. But like all people, she admired the energy in this cruelty, and like all impulsive people she assumed that in contact with
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1693
her, this herculean strength would not be dangerous but could be turned toward the good, so that her fear seemed to her only a petty ex- ternal habit, while her soul became braver and braver the longer she was together with Moosbrugger. And indeed, whoever lives in the proper relation to criminals lives as securely among them as among other people.
Moosbrugger had not found it proper to be bothered by the girl's glances during such an important an occasion as eating. But when he had finished he leaned back, snapped his knife shut, stroked the crumbs from his mustache, and said: -Well, little Fraulein, now a glass of schnapps wouldn't b e -
Rachel hastened to assure him that there were no alcoholic drinks in the house, adding the lie that Clarisse had charged her not to provide any.
Moosbrugger hadn't meant it that seriously. He was not a drinker, in- deed he himself took care not to drink, out of fear of its unpredictable effects. But he hadn't seen a drop for months, and after the substantial meal had thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to try one on this dull eve- ning. He was angry at her refusal. These women had him really locked up. But he did not show it, and undertook to canyon the conversation in the most civilized manner.
-So here we are, man and wife, in a way, for the time being, little Fraulein, he began. -What should I call you? He used the natural Du of simple people; Rachel did not find this unpleasant, but just as natu- rally she stayed with the formal Sie. -My name is Rachel or R~le, whichever you like.
-Oo-la-la, R~le, my compliments! He pronounced the French name twice over, with pleasure. -And Rachel was the loveliest daughter of Laban. He laughed gallantly.
-T ell me how you beat the masons! Rachel asked. She dared not ask about anything more exciting.
Moosbrugger turned away and rolled a cigarette. He was insulted. In his circles such a question was regarded as an unwarranted intimacy after so short an acquaintance. He smoked several cigarettes in succes- sion. He was bored. Insignificant, importunate women meant nothing to him. He became sleepy. In prison and the asylum he had become accus- tomed to going to bed early.
Rachel was upset that he was smoking so inconsiderately. She also had the feeling of having done something wrong, without knowing what.
Moosbrugger stood up, stretched his legs, and yawned. - D o you want to go to sleep? Rachel asked.
1694 • THE MAN WITHOUT QUALITIES
-W hat else is there to do? Moosbrugger said. He inspected the bed; then, remembering the commandments of chivahy, turned to the comer where the bedding lay.
-Sleep in the bed; you need rest, Rachel said.
-No, you can sleep in the bed. Indolently, he removed his coat. Ra- chel was embarrassed when Moosbrugger took offhis pants. But then he lay down on the blankets as he was, and pulled one of them over himself. Rachel waited awhile, then blew out the lamp and undressed in the dark.
During the night she again grew afraid; she imagined that if she were to fall asleep it might happen that she would never wake up again. But soon she did sleep, and when she awoke, morning was shining into the room. Moosbrugger lay covered up in the comer like a huge mountain. Everything was still quiet in the house. Rachel took advantage of it to fetch water from the well. She also cleaned her shoes and Moosbrug- ger's out in the courtyard. When she softly slipped in the door again, Moosbrugger said good morning to her.
-W ould you like coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? she asked him. Moos- brugger was astonished. He said coffee, but did not find the decision an easy one. Then too, he liked Rachel better in the daylight than he had last evening; there was something delicate and refined in her appear- ance. He took care getting dressed, and turned away from the wall only when he was finished.
- W e r e you angry at me last evening? Rachel asked, noticing his good humor.
-Oh, women always want to know everything, but ifyou like I'll tell you the story about the masons. That will show you what people are like; they're all the same. And what have you been doing up to now?
- I was in a very elegant house, where I was treated like a daughter. -W ell, and what got you turned out? ·
- O h ! said Rachel, not at all resolved to tell the truth. - Y o u know,
the master in this house is a very high diplomat, and there was this busi- ness with a Moorish prince-
- A r e you pregnant? Moosbrugger asked suspiciously.
-For shame! Rachel exclaimed indignantly. -You're taking too many liberties in speaking to me that way! Would the lady have en- trusted you to me?
Moosbrugger definitely liked her. She was something finer, you could see and hear that. When he thought over the females he knew, he had never had anything so fine. -W ell, all right, he said. - I didn't mean to insult you. The story with the masons went like this:
He told it minutely and with dignity, together with all the scheming
From the Posthurrwus Papers · 1695
and corruption that a man like himselfencounters before the court, and because she had mentioned an acquaintance with a Moorish prince, he felt he had to match it, so he also told her about his march to Constanti- nople.
- D o the Turks have more than one wife? Rachel asked.
-Only the rich ones. But that's why the Turks aren't worth anything, he answered with a gallant smile. -Even one wife will ruin a man!
-Have you had bad experiences with women? Rachel asked, her blood twitching in circles like the tail of a cat lying in ambush.
Moosbrugger looked at her inquiringly, and became serious. -A ll my life I've had only bad experiences. If I were to write down my life, a lot of people would be surprised!
