Walter Benjamin

NLB

One-Way Street
and Other Writings

T ranslators

Edmund J ephcott Kingsley Shorter

A ll texts in this v o lu m e are in clu d e d in W a lte r B en jam in , Gesammelte Schriften, B d I - I V , p u b lish e d b y S u h rk a m p V e r la g , F ra n k fu rt 1 9 7 4 -1 9 7 6 , w ith the e x c e p tio n o f Berliner Chronik, p u b lish ed b y S u h rk a m p V e r la g , F ra n k fu rt 1970. S u h rk a m p V e r la g T h e fo llo w in g texts first a p p ea re d in E n glish , w h o lly or in p a rt, in W a lte r B en jam in , Reflections, H a rc o u rt B race J o v a n o v ic h , N e w Y o r k 1978: O n e -W a y S tre e t (selections), O n L a n g u a g e as S u c h a n d on th e L a n g u a g e o f M a n , F ate a n d C h a r a c te r , C ritiq u e o f V io le n c e , T h e o lo g ic o -P o litic a l F ra g m e n t , T h e D e stru ctiv e C h a r a c te r , O n the M im e tic F a c u lty , N a p le s , M o s co w , M a rse ille s , H ash ish in M a rse ille s , S u rrea lism , K a r l K r a u s a n d B erlin C h r o n ic le . H a rc o u rt B ra c e J o v a n o v ic h , 1978 T h is ed itio n first p u b lish ed 1979 N L B , 1979 N L B , 7 C a rlisle S treet, L o n d o n W 1 IS B N 86091 0 1 4 8

Printed in Great Britain by Lowe & Brydone Printers Limited Thetford, Norfolk.

Contents

'

Introduction by Susan Sontag Publisher s Note I One- Way Street II On Language as Such and on the Language o f M an Fate and Character Critique o f Violence N Theologico-Political Fragment The Destructive Character On the Mimetic Faculty III Naples Moscow Marseilles Hashish in Marseilles IV

7 29

45

107 124 132 1 55 157 160

167 177 209 215

N Surrealism A Small History o f Photography ' Karl Kraus

225 240 258

A Berlin Chronicle VI Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian Bibliographical Note Index

Introduction
Susan Sontag

In most o f the p o rtrait ph otographs he is lookin g dow n, his righ t h and to his face. T h e earliest one I know shows him in 1927 he is th irty -fiv e w ith dark cu rly hair over a high forehead, m oustache above a full low er lip: you th fu l, alm ost handsom e. W ith his head low ered , his ja c k e te d shoulders seem to start behind his ears; his thum b leans against his ja w ; the rest o f the hand, cigarette b etw een bent index and third fingers, covers his c h in ; the d ow n w ard look through his glasses the soft, d a y -d rea m e rs gaze o f the m y o p ic seems to float o ff to the low er left o f the ph otograph. In a picture from the late 1930s, the c u rly hair has h a rd ly receded, but there is no trace o f you th or handsom eness; the face has w id en ed and the u p p er torso seems not ju st h igh but blocky, huge. T h e thicker m oustache and the p u d g y folded hand w ith th u m b tucked under cover his m outh. T h e look is op aq u e, or ju st m ore in w a rd : he cou ld be th in k in g or listening. ( H e w ho listens h ard doesnt see, B enjam in w rote in his essay on K a fk a .) T h e re are books behind his head. In a p h otograp h taken in the sum m er o f 1938, on the last o f several visits he m ade to B recht in exile in D en m ark after 1933, he is stan din g in front o f B re ch ts house, an old m an at forty-six, in w h ite shirt, tie, trousers w ith w atch ch ain : a slack, corp u len t figure, lookin g tru cu len tly at the cam era. A n o th e r picture, from 1937, shows B enjam in in the B ib lioth equ e N atio n a le in Paris. T w o m en, neither o f whose faces can be seen, share a table some distance behind him . B enjam in sits in the right

8 foreground, p ro b ab ly taking notes for the book on B au d elaire and n in eteen th-century Paris he had been w riting for a decade. H e is consulting a volu m e he holds open on the table w ith his left h a n d his eyes c a n t be seen looking, as it w ere, into the low er right edge o f the p h otograp h . His close friend G ershom Sch olem has described his first glim pse o f B enjam in in Berlin in 1913, at a jo in t m eeting o f a Zionist youth group and Jew ish m em bers o f the Free G erm an Studen t Association, o f w hich the tw enty-on e-year-old B enjam in was a leader. H e spoke extem pore w ith ou t so m uch as a glan ce at his audience, staring w ith a fixed gaze at a rem ote corner o f the ceiling w hich he h arangu ed w ith m uch intensity, in a style in cid en tally that was, as far as I rem em ber, ready for p rin t. 1

H e was w hat the French call un triste. In his youth he seem ed m arked by a profound sadness , Sch olem w rote. H e thou ght o f him self as a m elancholic, disdaining m odern p sychological labels and in vokin g the traditional astrological one: I cam e into the w orld under the sign o f S a tu rn the star o f the slowest revolu tion , the planet o f detours and delays. . . . 2 His m ajor projects, the book published in 1928 on the G erm an baroque d ram a (the Trauerspiel; literally, sorrow -play) and his never com pleted Paris, Capital o f the Nineteenth Century, can not be fully understood unless one grasps how m uch they rely on a theory o f m elancholy. B enjam in projected him self, his tem peram ent, into all his m ajor subjects, and his tem peram ent determ ined w h at he chose to w rite abou t. It was w hat he saw in subjects, such as the seven

1 Gershom Scholem , W alter B en jam in , in On Jews and Judaism in Crisis (Schocken, 1976). Scholem , five years you n ger than Benjam in, relates that they did not a ctu a lly m eet until 1915, during S ch olem s first term at the U n iversity o f M unich, w hich Benjam in attended after lea vin g the U niversity o f Berlin. Unless otherwise in dicated, the Scholem quotations com e from this essay, w ritten in 1964, or from W alter Benjam in and His A n g e l , w ritten in 1972, in the same volum e. 2 In Agesilaus S an ta n d er , a short text that Benjam in w rote in Ib iza in A u gust l 933, found in his notebooks and first published by Scholem in W alter Benjam in and His A n g e l .

Introduction

teen th -cen tu ry b aroq u e plays (w hich d ram atize different facets o f S atu rn in e a c e d ia ) and the writers a b ou t whose w ork he w rote m ost b rillia n tly B au d elaire, Proust, K a fk a , K a rl K ra u s. H e even found the S atu rn in e elem ent in G o e th e .3 For, despite the p olem ic in his great (still untranslated) essay on G o e th e s Elective Affinities against in terp retin g a w rite rs w ork b y his life, he did m ake selective use o f the life in his deepest m editations on texts: in fo rm a tion th at disclosed the m elan ch olic, the solitary. (T hus, he describes P rou sts loneliness w h ich pulls the w orld d ow n into its v o rte x ; exp lains how K a fk a , like K le e , was essentially so lita ry ; cites R o b ert W a lsers horror o f success in life .) O n e c a n n o t use the life to in terp ret the w ork. B ut one can use the w ork to interpret the life. T w o short books o f rem iniscences o f his B erlin ch ild h o od and student years, w ritten in the early 1930s and un publish ed in his lifetim e, contain B e n ja m in s most exp licit self-portrait. T o the nascent m elan ch olic, in school and on w alks w ith his m other, solitude appeared to me as the only fit state o f m a n . B enjam in does not m ean solitude in a ro o m he was often sick as a c h ild but solitude in the g rea t m etropolis, the busyness o f the idle stroller, free to d ayd ream , observe, ponder, cruise. T h e m ind w h o w as to atta ch m uch o f the n in eteen th c e n tu ry s sensibility to the figure o f the Jl&neur, personified b y that superbly self-aw are m elan ch olic B au d elaire, spun m uch o f his ow n sensibility out o f his phantasm a go rica l, shrew d, subtle relation to cities. T h e street, the passage, the a rcad e, the lab y rin th are recurren t them es in his literary essays and, n otably, in the projected book on n in eteen th -cen tu ry Paris, as w ell as in his travel pieces and rem iniscences. (R o b ert W alser, fo r w hom w a lk in g was the centre o f his reclusive life and m arvellous books, is a w riter to w hom one p a rticu la rly wishes B enjam in had -d evoted a lon ger essay.)4 T h e only book o f a dis
3 T h e lon g G oeth e essay was w ritten in 1922 and appeared in tw o parts in 1924 1925 in the Newe Deutsche Beitrage, a m agazine published in V ien n a and edited by H u go von H ofm annsthal. In 1937 Benjam in excerpted the section abou t G o e th e s Satu rn in e ch aracter and published it in F rench translation in Les Cahiers du Sud as L angoisse mythique chez Goethe. 4 B en jam in s b rie f essay R o b e rt W a lse r was first published in Das Tagebuch in 1929; it is still untranslated.

to

creetly a u to b io gra p h ical nature published in his lifetim e was titled One- Way Street. R em iniscences o f self are rem iniscences o f a place, and how he positions h im self in it, navigates aroun d it. N ot to find on es w a y abou t in a city is o f little in terest, begins his still un tran slated A Berlin Childhood Around the Turn o f the Century. But to lose o n es w a y in a city, as one loses on es w a y in a forest, requires practice. . . . I learned this art late in life: it fulfilled the dream s whose first traces w ere the lab yrin ths on the blotters o f my exercise b ooks. T h is passage also occurs in A Berlin Chronicle, after B enjam in suggests how m uch practice it took to get lost, given an origin al sense o f im poten ce before the c ity . His goal is to be a com petent street-m ap reader w ho knows how to stray. A n d to locate himself, w ith im agin ary m aps. E lsew here in Berlin Chronicle Benjam in relates that for years he had played w ith the idea o f m appin g his life. For this m ap, w h ich he im agined as grey, he had devised a colourful system o f signs that clearly m arked in the houses o f m y friends and girl friends, the assem bly halls o f various collectives, from the d eb atin g ch am b ers o f the Y o u th M o vem en t to the gath erin g places o f the C om m u n ist youth, the hotel and brothel room s that I knew for one n ight, the decisive benches in the T ierga rten , the w ays to d ifferent schools and the graves that I saw filled, the sites o f prestigious cafes whose lon g-forgotten nam es d a ily crossed our lips. O n ce , w a itin g for som eone in the C afe des D eu x M ago ts in Paris, he relates, he m anaged to d raw a d iagram o f his life: it was like a lab y rin th , in w hich each im portan t relationship figures as an en tran ce to the m a ze . . T h e recurrent m etaphors o f m aps and diagram s, m em ories and dream s, lab yrin ths and arcades, vistas and panoram as, evoke a certain vision o f cities as w ell as a certain kind o f life. Paris, Ben ja m in writes, tau gh t me the art o f stra yin g . T h e revelation o f the c ity s true n ature cam e not in Berlin b u t in Paris, w here he stayed frequently th rou gh ou t the W eim a r years, and lived as a refugee from 1933 until his suicide w hile tryin g to escape from F ran ce in 1940 more exactly, the Paris re-im agined in the Surrealist narratives (B reton s Madja, A r a g o n s Le Paysan de Paris). W ith these m etaphors, he is in d icatin g a general problem abou t orien tation,

Introduction

11

and erectin g a stan dard o f d ifficu lty and com plexity. (A lab yrin th is a place w here one gets lost.) H e is also suggesting a notion a b ou t the forbidden, and how to gain access to it: through an act o f the m ind that is the same as a ph ysical act. W h ole netw orks o f streets w ere open ed up u n der the auspices o f p rostitu tion , he w rites in Berlin Chronicle, w h ich begins by in vok in g an A riad n e, the w hore w ho leads this son o f rich parents for the first tim e across the threshold o f class. T h e m etap h or o f the lab y rin th also suggests B en ja m in s idea o f obstacles throw n up by his ow n tem peram en t. T h e influence o f S atu rn m akes people apath etic, indecisive, slow , he writes in The Origin o f German Trauerspiel * Slowness is one ch aracteristic o f the m elan ch olic tem peram ent. B lu n d erin g is another, from n oticin g too m an y possibilities, from not n oticin g on es lack o f p ra ctica l sense. A n d stubbornness, from the lon gin g to be su p erio r on o n es ow n terms. B enjam in recalls his stu b b orn ness d u rin g ch ild h o od w alks w ith his m other, w ho w ou ld turn in sign ifican t item s o f con d u ct into tests o f his aptitu d e for p ractical life, thereby rein forcin g w h at was inept ( m y in a b ility even tod ay to m ake a cu p o f coffee ) and d ream ily recalcitran t in his nature. M y h a b it o f seem ing slower, m ore m alad ro it, m ore stupid than I am , had its origin in such w alks, and has the great a tten d an t d anger o f m akin g m e think m y self q u icker, m ore dexterous, and shrew der than I a m . A n d from this stubbornness com es, ab ove all, a ga ze that appears to see not a third o f w h at it takes in . One-Way Street distills the experiences o f the w riter and lover (it is d ed icated to A sja L acis, w ho cut it through the a u th o r ) ,5
* Der Ursprung des deutschen Trauerspiels (1928). B en jam in s study o f the Baroque Trauerspiel is published in English as The Origin o f German Tragic Drama, trans. Jo h n O sborne, Lo n d o n /N L B , 1977. 5 A sja Lacis and Benjam in m et in C a p ri in the sum m er o f 1924. She was a L a tv ia n com m unist revolu tio n ary and theatre director, assistant to Brecht and to Piscator, w ith w h om B enjam in w rote N aples in 1925 (pp. 16 7 -7 6 below) and for w hom he w rote Program m e for a Proletarian C h ild re n s T h e a tre in 1928 (translated in Performance, N o. 5, M arch /A p ril 1973). It was Lacis w h o got Benjam in an in vitation to M oscow in the w in ter o f 192 6 -19 27 and w h o introduced him to Brecht in 1929. B enjam in hoped to m arry her w hen he and his wife w ere finally divorced in 1930. But she returned to R ig a and later .spent ten years in a Soviet cam p.

12 experiences that can be guessed at in the opening w ords on the w riters situation, w h ich sound the them e o f revo lu tion ary m oralism, and the final T o the P la n eta riu m , a paean to the tech n olo gical w ooin g o f n ature and to sexual ecstasy. B enjam in could w rite abou t him self m ore d irectly w hen he started from m em ories, not con tem porary experiences; w hen he writes about h im self as a child. A t that distance, childhood, he can survey his life as a space that can be m apped. T h e can dour and the surge o f painful feelings in Berlin Childhood and Berlin Chronicle becom e possible precisely because B enjam in has adopted a com pletely digested, an alytical w a y o f relatin g the past. It evokes events for the reactions to the events, places for the em otions one has deposited in the places, other people for the en counter w ith oneself, feelings and b eh aviou r for intim ations o f future passions and failures contained in th em .6 Fantasies o f monsters loose in the large apartm ent w h ile his parents entertain their friends prefigure his revulsion against his cla ss; the dream o f b eing allow ed to sleep as long as he w ants, instead o f h avin g to get up early to go to school, w ill be fulfilled w h e n after his book on the Trauerspiel failed to q u alify him for a university lectu resh ip he realizes that his hopes o f a position and a secure livelihood had alw ays been in v a in ; his w ay o f w alk in g w ith his m other, w ith ped an tic care keeping one step behind her, pre figures his sabotage o f real social existence. B enjam in regards everything he chooses to recall in his past as prophetic o f the future, because the w ork o f m em ory (reading oneself b ack w ard , he called it) collapses tim e. T h ere is no chron o logical ord erin g o f his rem iniscences, for w h ich he disavow s the nam e o f au to b io gra p h y, because time is irrelevant. ( A u to b io grap h y has to do w ith tim e, w ith sequence and w h a t makes up the continuous flow o f life, he w rites in Berlin Chronicle. H ere, I am talkin g o f a space, o f m om ents and discontinuities. ) B enjam in, the translator o f Proust, w rote fragm ents o f an opus that could be

6 For an excellent essay, w ritten in 1961, on Berlin Childhood as a readin g o f the past for omens o f the future, see Peter Szondi, H ope in the Past: W alter B en jam in , translated in Critical Inquiry, V o l. 4, No. 3, Spring 1978.

Introduction

13

called A la recherche des espaces perdues. M e m o ry , the staging o f the past, turns the flow o f events into tableau x. B enjam in is not tryin g to recover his past, but to understand it: to condense it into its sp atial forms, its p rem o n ito ry structures. F or the b aroq ue dram atists, he writes in The Origin of German Trauerspiel, ch ro n ological m ovem en t is grasped and analysed in a sp atial im a g e . T h e book on the Trauerspiel is not only B en jam in s first acco u n t o f w hat it m eans to convert tim e into space; it is w h ere he explains most c le arly w hat feeling underlies this m ove. A w a sh in m elan ch olic aw areness o f the disconsolate chronicle o f w orld histo ry , a process o f incessant d ecay, the b aroq u e d ram atists seek to escape from history and restore the tim eless ness o f paradise. T h e seven teenth-cen tu ry b aroq u e sensibility had a p a n o ra m a tic con cep tion o f history: history m erges into the settin g . In Berlin Childhood and Berlin Chronicle, B enjam in m erges his life into a setting. T h e successor to the b aroqu e stage set is the Surrealist c ity : the m etaphysical lan d scap e in whose d ream lik e spaces people h ave a brief, sh ad ow y existence , like the n in eteen -year-old poet whose suicide, the great sorrow o f B e n ja m in s student years, is condensed in the m em ory o f rooms that the d ea d friend in h ab ited . B en ja m in s recurren t them es are, ch aracteristically, m eans o f sp atia lizin g the w o rld : for exam ple, his notion o f ideas and ex periences as ruins. T o u n derstan d som ething is to understand its to p o g ra p h y , to know how to chart it. A n d to know how to get lost. F or the ch ara cter b o m under the sign o f Satu rn , time is the m ed iu m o f constraint, in a d eq u acy , repetition, m ere fulfilm ent. In tim e, one is only w h at one is : w h at one has alw ays been. In space, one can be another person. B en ja m in s poor sense o f d irection and in a b ility to read a street m ap becom e his love o f travel and his m astery o f the art o f strayin g. T im e does not giv e one m uch le e w a y : it thrusts us forw ard from behind, blows us through the n arrow funnel o f the present into the future. But space is broad, teem ing w ith possibilities, positions, intersections, passages, detours, U turns, d ead ends, o n e-w ay streets. T o o m an y possibilities, indeed. Since the S atu rn in e tem peram en t is slow, prone to indecisiveness,

i4 sometimes one has to cut on es w a y through w ith a knife. Som e times one ends by turnin g the knife against oneself.

T h e m ark o f the Saturn ine tem peram ent is the self-conscious and un forgivin g relation to the self, w h ich can never be taken for granted. T h e self is a te x t it has to be deciphered. (H ence, this is an apt tem peram ent for intellectuals.) T h e self is a project, som ething to be built. (H ence, this is an apt tem peram ent for artists and m artyrs, those w ho court the pu rity and b ea u ty o f a failu re , as B enjam in says o f K a fk a .) A n d the process o f b u ild in g a self and its works is alw ays too slow. O n e is alw ays in arrears to oneself. T h in gs ap p ear at a distance, com e forw ard slow ly. In Berlin Childhood, he speaks o f his propensity for seeing ev eryth in g I care about a p p roach me from far a w a y the w ay, often ill as a child, he im agined the hours a p p ro a ch in g his sickbed. T h is is perhaps the origin o f w h at others call patien ce in me, but w hich in truth does not resem ble an y v irtu e. ( O f course, others did experience it as patience, as a virtue. Scholem has described him as the most patient hum an being I ever cam e to k n o w . )7 But som ething like patience is needed for the m ela n ch o lics labours o f decipherm en t. Proust, as B enjam in notes, was excited by the secret lan gu age o f the salons ; B enjam in was d raw n to m ore com pact codes. H e collected em blem books, liked to m ake up anagram s, played w ith pseudonym s. H is taste for pseudonym s w ell antedates his need as a G erm an -Jew ish refugee, w ho from 1933 to 1936 continued to publish review s in G erm an m agazines u nder the nam e o f D etlev H olz, the nam e he used to sign the last book to

7 Scholem continues: A n d to deal w ith Benjam in one had to h ave the greatest patience oneself. O n ly very patient people could gain deeper con tact w ith h im . Scholem cites the testim ony o f someone w ho was with Benjam in d urin g his intern m ent in a cam p near Paris and in N evers in the autum n o f 1939, that he m ade an indelible im pression on his fellow prisoners b y his infinite and stoic patience, which he dem onstrated w ithout any ostentation w h atever and under the most difficult conditions.

Introduction

15

a p p e ar in his lifetim e, Deutsche Menschen, published in S w itzerlan d in 1936. In the a m a zin g text recen tly published b y Scholem , A gesilaus S a n ta n d e r , B enjam in speaks o f his fantasy o f h avin g a secret n am e; the n am e o f this te x t w h ich turns on the figure in the K le e d ra w in g he ow n ed, A n gelu s N o vu s is, as Scholem has pointed out, an an a gram o f T h e A n g e l Satan (Der Angelus Satanas). H e was an u n ca n n y graphologist, Scholem reports, though later on he tend ed to conceal this gift . (B enjam in discusses h a n d w ritin g in O n the M im e tic F a c u lty .) D issim ulation, secretiveness ap p ear a necessity to the m elan cholic. H e has com p lex, often veiled relations w ith others. T hese feelings o f sup eriority, o f in a d eq u acy , o f baffled feeling, o f not being able to get w h a t one wants, or even nam e it p rop erly (or consis tently) to o n eself these can be, it is felt they ou ght to be, m asked by friendliness, or the m ost scrupulous m an ipu lation . U sin g a w ord th at was also ap p lied to K a fk a by those w ho knew him , Scholem speaks o f the alm ost C hinese cou rtesy that ch ara cterized B en ja m in s relations w ith people. But one is not surprised to learn, o f the m an w ho could ju stify P rou sts invectives against friend sh ip , that B enjam in could also drop friends b ru tally, as he did his com rades from the Y o u th M o vem en t, w hen they no longer inter ested h im .8 N or is one surprised to learn that this fastidious, intransigen t, fiercely serious m an could also flatter people he p ro b a b ly did not think his equals, that he could let him self be b a ite d (his ow n word) and condescended to by B recht on his visits to D en m ark. T h is prince o f the in tellectu al life could also be a courtier. B enjam in an alysed both parts in The Origin o f German Trauerspiel b y the theory o f m elan ch oly. O n e characteristic o f the Saturn ine tem peram ent is slowness: T h e tyran t falls on accou n t o f the

8 See H . W . Belm ore, Som e R ecollection s o f W alter B en jam in , in German Life and Letters, V o lu m e X X V I I I , N o. 2, J a n u a ry 1975. Th is spiteful and u nadm iring portrait o f B enjam in is a docum en t o f the un qu en chab le bitterness about being d ropp ed still felt, sixty years later, by one o f these friends. H erbert Belm ore was a G ym n asiu m classm ate o f B enjam in; the earliest letters (Nos. 1-10 ) in the twovolu m e S u hrkam p edition o f B en jam in s letters are w ritten to him.

16
sluggishness o f his em otions. A n o th e r trait o f the predom in an ce o f S a tu rn , says B enjam in, is faithlessness. This is represented by the ch aracter o f the courtier in b aroqu e dram a, whose m ind is fluctuation itse lf . T h e m anipulativeness o f the cou rtier is p artly a lack o f c h a ra cte r ; p artly it reflects an inconsolable, despon dent surrender to an im penetrable conjunction o f b aleful con stellations [that] seem to have taken on a m assive, alm ost thing-like cast. O n ly som eone id en tifyin g w ith this sense o f historical catastrophe, this degree o f despondency, w ould have explained w hy the courtier is not to be despised. His faithlessness to his fellow men, B enjam in says, corresponds to the deeper, m ore contem plative fa ith he keeps w ith m aterial em blem s. W h a t B enjam in describes could be understood as sim ple p ath o lo gy: the tenden cy o f the m elancholic tem peram ent to project its inner torpor outw ard , as the im m u ta b ility o f m isfortune, w hich is exp erienced as m assive, alm ost th in glik e . But his a rgu m ent is m ore d a rin g : he perceives that the deep transactions betw een the m alan ch o lic and the w orld alw ays take place w ith things (rather than w ith p eop le); and that these are genuine transactions, w hich reveal m eanin g. Precisely because the m elancholy ch aracter is haunted b y death, it is m elancholics w ho best know how to read the w orld. O r, rather, it is the w orld w hich yields itself to the m ela n ch o lics scrutiny, as it does to no one elses. T h e more lifeless things are, the m ore potent and ingenious can be the m ind w hich contem plates them . I f this m elan ch oly tem peram ent is faithless to people, it has good reason to be faithful to things. F id elity lies in accu m u latin g things w hich appear, m ostly, in the form o f fragm ents or ruins. ( It is com m on practice in baroque literatu re to pile up fragm ents inces san tly , B enjam in writes.) Both the baroque and Surrealism , sensibilities w ith w hich B enjam in p rofou n d ly identified, see reality as things. B enjam in describes the b aroq u e as a w orld o f things (emblems, ruins) and spatialized ideas ( allegories are, in the realm o f thought, w h at ruins are in the realm o f thin gs ). T h e genius o f Surrealism was to gen eralize w ith ebullient can d ou r the b aroque cult o f ruins; to perceive that the nihilistic energies o f the

Introduction

ij

m o d em era m ake everyth in g a ruin or fra g m en t and therefore collectible. A w orld whose past has becom e (by definition) obsolete, and whose present churns out instant antiques, invites custodians, decoders, and collectors. As one kind o f collector him self, B enjam in rem ain ed faithful to th in gs as things. A cco rd in g to Scholem , b u ild in g his library, w h ich in clu d ed m an y first editions and rare books, was his most en d urin g personal passion . In ert in the face o f thing-like disaster, the m elan ch oly tem peram en t is ga lva n ized by the passions aroused by p rivileg ed objects. B en ja m in s books w ere not only for use, professional tools; they w ere con tem p lative objects, stim uli for reverie. His lib ra ry evokes m em ories o f the cities in w hich I found so m an y things: R ig a , N aples, M u n ich , D an zig , M oscow , F lorence, Basel, Paris, . . . m em ories o f the rooms w here these books had been housed. . . . B ook-huntin g, like the sexual hunt, adds to the g e o g ra p h y o f p leasu re another reason for strolling a b ou t in the w orld . In collectin g, B enjam in exp erien ced w h at in h im self was clever, successful, shrew d, u n ab ash ed ly passionate. C ollectors are people w ith a ta ctica l instinct like courtiers. A p a r t from first editions and b aroq u e em blem books, B enjam in sp ecialized in ch ild re n s books and books w ritten by the m ad. T h e great works w h ich m eant so m uch to h im , reports Scholem , w ere p laced in b izarre patterns next to the most ou t-of-th e-w ay w ritings and o d d ities. T h e odd arran gem en t o f the lib ra ry is like the strategy o f B en ja m in s w ork, in w hich a Surrealist-inspired eye for the treasures o f m eanin g in the ephem eral, discredited, and n eglected w orked in tandem w ith his lo y alty to the trad itio n al can on o f learn ed taste. H e liked find in g things w here n obod y was looking. H e drew from the obscure, disdained G erm an b aroq u e d ram a elem ents of the m od em (that is to say, his own) sen sibility: the taste for alle g o ry, Surrealist shock effects, discontinuous utterance, the sense o f historical catastrop he. T h ese stones w ere the b read o f m y im a g in a tio n , he w rote a b o u t M arseilles the most recalcitran t o f cities to that im agin ation , even w hen helped by a dose of hashish. M a n y exp ected references are absent in B en ja m in s

i8
w o rk he d id n t like to read w h a t everyb od y was reading. H e preferred the doctrine o f the four tem peram ents as a psychological theory to Freud. H e preferred b ein g a com m unist, or tryin g to be one, w ithout readin g M arx. T h is m an w ho read virtu a lly every thing, and had spent fifteen years sym p ath izin g w ith revo lu tion ary com m unism , had b arely looked into M a rx until the late 1930s. (H e was read in g Capital on his visit to B recht in D en m ark in the sum m er o f 1938.) His sense o f strategy was one o f his points o f id en tification w ith K a fk a , a kindred w ould-be tactician , w ho took precautions against the in terpretation o f his w ritin g . T h e w hole point o f the K a fk a stories, B enjam in argues, is that they have no definite, sym bolic m eaning. A n d he was fascinated by the very different, un-Jewish sense o f ruse practised b y Brecht, the a n ti-K a fk a o f his im agination . (P red ictably, B recht disliked B en jam in s great essay on K a fk a intensely.) B recht, w ith the little w ooden don key near his desk from whose neck hung the sign I, too, must understand it , represented for Benjam in, an ad m irer o f esoteric religious texts, the possibly m ore potent ruse o f reducin g com p lexity, o f m akin g ev eryth in g clear. B en jam in s m asochistic (the w ord is Siegfried K r a c a u e r s) relation to B recht, w h ich most o f his friends deplored, shows the extent to w hich he was fascinated by this possibility. B en jam in s propensity is to go against the usual interpretation . A ll the decisive blows are struck left-h an d ed , as he says in One-Way Street. P recisely because he saw that all hum an know ledge takes the form o f in terp retation ,9 he understood the im portan ce o f being against interpretation w h erever it is obvious. His most com m on strategy is to drain sym bolism out o f some things, like the K a fk a stories or G o e th es Elective Affinities (texts w here everyb od y agrees it is there), and pour it into others, w here n obod y suspects its existence (such as the G erm an b aroq u e plays, w hich he reads as

9 L etter to C hristian Florens R a n g (No. 126 in the Suhrkam p Briefe), Decem ber

9 . I 9 23 -

Introduction

allegories o f historical pessim ism ) ./ 1E ach book is a ta ctic/, he w rote. Th a letter to a friend, he claim ed for his w ritings, only p artly facetiously, forty-nin e levels o f m eanin g. For m oderns as m uch as for cabalists, n oth in g is straightforw ard . E very th in g is at the lea st difficult. A m b ig u ity displaces au th en ticity in all thin gs , he w rote in One-Way Street. W h a t is most foreign to B enjam in is a n y th in g like ingenuousness: the u n clo u d ed , inn ocen t eye has becom e a lie . M u c h o f the o rigin ality o f B en ja m in s argum ents owes to his m icroscogic gaze (as hia friend an d disciple T h eo d o r A d orn o called it), com bin ed w ith his in d efatig ab le com m an d over theoretical perspectives. It was the sm all things that a ttracted him m ost , w rites Sch olem . H e loved old toys, postage stam ps, picture post cards, and such p la yfu l m in iatu rizatio n s o f rea lity as the w inter w orld inside a glass globe th at snows w hen it is shaken. His ow n h a n d w ritin g was alm ost m icroscopic, and his never realized a m bition , Sch olem reports, was to get a hun dred lines on a sheet o f paper. (T h e am bition was realized by R o b ert W alser, w ho used to tran scribe the m anuscripts o f his stories and novels as m icro gram s, in a truly m icroscopic script.) Scholem relates that w hen he visited B enjam in in Paris in A u g u st 1927 (the first tim e the two friends had seen each other since Scholem em igrated to Palestine in 1923), B en jam in d ragged him to an exh ib it o f Jew ish ritual objects at the M usee C lu n y to show him tw o grains o f w heat on w h ich a kind red soul had inscribed the com plete S hem a Isra el .10 T o m in ia tu rize is to m ake p o rta b le the ideal form o f possessing things for a w an d erer, or a refugee. B enjam in, o f course, was both a

ig

10 Scholem tells the story in W alter B en jam in . But see B en jam in s letter to Scholem from Paris (No. 156 in the Briefe) o f M a y 29, 1926, a long letter tow ard the end o f w h ich he w rites: I co u ld n t b u ild a L illip u tian state w ith this, as it were, M arxist letter. But let me tell you th at in the Jew ish section o f the M usee C lu n y I h ave discovered the Book o f Esther w ritten on a page a little m ore than h a lf the size o f this one. T h a t should perhaps speed you r visit to Paris. Scholem argues th at B en jam in s love for the m iniature underlies his taste for b rie f litera ry utterances, eviden t in One-Way Street. Perhaps; but books o f this sort w ere com m on in the 1920s, and it was in a specifically Surrealist m ontage style that

20 w anderer, on the m ove, and a collector, w eighed dow n by things; that is, passions. T o m iniaturize is to conceal. Benjam in was d raw n to the extrem ely sm all as he was to w h atever had to be d e c ip h e re d : em blem s, anagram s, handw riting. T o m iniaturize means to m ake useless. For w h at is so grotesquely red u ced is, in a sense, liberated from its m ea n in g its tininess b eing the outstanding thin g abou t it. It is both a w hole (that is, com plete) and a fragm ent (so tiny, the w rong scale). It becom es an object o f disinterested con tem plation or reverie. L ove o f the sm all is a ch ild s em otion, one colonized by Surrealism . T h e Paris o f the Surrealists is a little w o rld , B enjam in observes; so is the p h otograph , w hich Surrealist taste discovered as an enigm atic, even perverse, rather than a m erely intelligible or beautiful, object, and abou t w hich B enjam in w rote w ith such origin ality. T h e m elan cholic alw ays feels threatened b y the dom inion o f the thing-like, b u t Surrealist taste m ocks these terrors. S urrealism s great gift to sensibility was to m ake m elan ch oly cheerful. T h e only pleasure the m elanch olic perm its himself, and it is a pow erful one, is a lle g o ry , B enjam in w rote in The Origin o f German Trauerspiel. In d eed, he asserted, allegory is the w a y o f read in g the w orld typical o f m elancholies, and cited B au d elaire: E very th in g for me becom es A lle g o r y . T h e process w hich extracts m eanin g from the petrified and insignificant, allegory, is the characteristic m ethod o f the G erm an baroque dram a and o f B audelaire, Ben ja m in s m ajor subjects; and, transm uted into ph ilosophical argum ent and the m icrological analysis o f things, the m ethod B enjam in practised himself. T h e m elancholic sees the w orld itself becom e a thin g: refuge, solace, enchantm ent. Shortly before his death, B enjam in was

these short independent texts were presented. One-Way Street was published by Ernst R ow oh lt in Berlin, in booklet form w ith typograph y intended to evoke advertising shock effects; the cover was a ph otographic m ontage o f aggressive phrases in capital letters from newspaper announcem ents, ads, official and odd signs. T h e opening passage, in w hich Benjam in hails prom pt lan gu age and denounces the pretentious, universal gesture o f the b ook , does not make m uch sense unless one knows w h at kind o f book, physically, One-Way Street was designed to be.

Introduction

21

p lan n in g an essay a b ou t m in iatu rizatio n as a device o f fantasy. It seems to have been a con tin u ation o f an old plan to w rite on G o e th es T h e N ew M e lu sin a (in Wilhelm Meister ) , 11 w hich is abou t a m an w ho falls in love w ith a w om an w ho is a ctu a lly a tiny person, tem p o rarily gra n ted norm al size, and u n kn ow in gly carries around w ith him a b ox co n tain in g the m iniatu re kingdom o f w hich she is the princess. In G o e th e s tale, the w orld is red u ced to a collectible thing, an object, in the m ost literal sense. L ik e the box in G o e th e s tale, a book is not on ly a fragm en t o f the w orld but itself a little w orld. T h e book is a m iniatu rizatio n o f the w orld, w h ich the reader inhabits. In Berlin Chronicle, B enjam in evokes his ch ild h o od rap tu re: Y o u did not read books th rou gh ; you d w elt, a b id ed b etw een their lines. T o readin g, the delirium o f the child, was ev en tu a lly ad d ed w riting, the obsession o f the ad ult. T h e m ost p raisew orth y w a y o f a cq u irin g books is by w riting them , B enjam in rem arks in U n p a ck in g M y L ib r a r y .12 A n d the best w ay to understand them is also to enter their space: one never rea lly understands a book unless one copies it, he says in One-Way Street, as one never understands a lan dscape from an airplane but o n ly by w a lk in g throu gh it. T h e am ou n t o f m eanin g is in exact proportion to the presence o f d eath and the pow er o f d e c a y , B enjam in w rites in the book on the Trauerspiel. T h is is w h at m akes it possible to find m eaning in o n es ow n life, in the dead occurrences o f the past w h ich are eu p h em istically know n as ex p erien ce . O n ly because the past is dead is one able to read it. O n ly because history is fetishized in ph ysical objects can one understand it. O n ly because the book is a w orld can one enter it. T h e book for him was another space in w hich to stroll. For the ch ara cter b o m under the sign o f Saturn, the true im pulse w h en one is b ein g looked at is to cast dow n o n es eyes, look in a corner. B etter, one can low er on es head to o n es notebook. O r put o n es head b ehin d the w a ll o f a book.
11 Cf. B en jam in s letter (No. 326 in the Brie/e) to G retel A dorn o, w ritten in Paris on J a n u a ry 17, 1940. 12 In Illuminations, Lo ndon , 1970, an earlier selection o f B en jam in s writings, edited b y H an n ah A ren d t, w h ich includes the essays on K a fk a and Proust.

22 It is characteristic o f the Saturn ine tem peram ent to b lam e its undertow o f inw ardness on the w ill. C on vin ced that the w ill is w eak, the m elan cholic m ay m ake ex tra va g a n t efforts to develop it. I f these efforts are successful, the resulting h ypertrop hy o f w ill usually takes the form o f a com pulsive devotion to w ork. T h u s B audelaire, w ho suffered constantly from acedia, the m a la d y o f m onks , ended m any letters and his Intimate Journals w ith the most im passioned pledges to w ork m ore, to w ork un in terru pted ly, to do nothing but w ork. (D espair over every defeat o f the w ill B au d elaires phrase a g a in is a characteristic com plaint o f m odern artists and intellectuals, p articu la rly o f those w ho are both.) O n e is condem ned to w o rk ; otherwise one m ight not do a n yth in g at all. E ven the dream iness o f the m elan cholic tem peram ent is harnessed to w ork, and the m elanch olic m ay try to cu ltivate p h an tasm agorical states, like dream s, or seek the access to concen trated states o f attention offered by drugs. Surrealism sim ply puts a positive accen t on w h at B aud elaire experienced so n egatively: it does not deplore the gu tterin g o f volition bu t raises it to an ideal, proposing that dream states m ay be relied on to furnish all the m aterial needed for w ork. Benjam in, alw ays w orking, alw ays tryin g to w ork m ore,

speculated a good deal on the w riters d aily existence. One-Way Street has several sections w hich offer recipes for w ork: the best conditions, tim ing, utensils. P art o f the im petus for the large correspondence he conducted was to chronicle, report on, confirm the existence o f w ork. His instincts as a collector served him w ell. L earn in g was a form o f collecting, as in the quotations and excerpts from daily readin g w hich B enjam in accu m u lated in notebooks that he carried everyw h ere and from w hich he w ou ld read aloud to friends. T h in k in g was also a form o f collecting, at least in its p relim in ary stages. H e conscientiously logged stray ideas; d eve loped mini-essays in letters to friends; rew rote plans for future projects; noted his dream s (several are recounted in One-Way Street); kept num bered lists o f all the books he read. (Scholem recalls seeing, on his second and last visit to B enjam in in Paris, in 1938, a notebook o f current read in g in w hich M a r x s Eighteenth

Introduction Brumaire is listed as N o. 1649.)

23

H o w does the m elan ch olic becom e a hero o f w ill? T h ro u gh the fact th at w ork can b ecom e like a drug, a com pulsion. ( T h in k in g w h ich is an em inent n a rco tic , he w rote in the essay on Surrealism .) In fact, m elancholics m ake the best addicts, for the true ad d ictive exp erien ce is alw ays a solitary one. T h e hashish sessions o f the late 1920s, supervised by a doctor friend, w ere pru d en t stunts, not acts o f self-surrender; m aterial for the w riter, not escape from the exactions o f the w ill. (B enjam in considered the book he w an ted to w rite on hashish one o f his m ost im p ortan t projects.) T h e need to be so lita ry a lo n g w ith bitterness over on es lon e liness is ch aracteristic o f the m elancholic. T o get w ork done, one m ust be so lita ry or, at least, not bound to any perm anent rela tionship. B en ja m in s n egative feelings abou t m arriage are clear in the essay on G o e th e s Elective Affinities. His heroes K ierk eg a a rd , B au d ela ire, Proust, K a fk a , K r a u s never m a rried ; and Scholem reports th at B enjam in cam e to regard his ow n m arriage (he was m a rried in 1917, estranged from his wife after 1921, and d ivorced in 1930) as fatal to h im s e lf . T h e w orld o f nature, and o f natu ral relationships, is perceived by the m elan cholic tem peram ent as less th an seductive. T h e self-portrait in Berlin Childhood and Berlin Chronicle is o f a w h olly alien ated son; as husband and father (he h ad a son, b o m in 1918, w ho em igrated to E n glan d w ith Ben ja m in s ex-w ife in the m id -i9 30 s), he appears to have sim ply not k n ow n w h a t to do w ith these relationships. For the m elancholic, the n atu ra l, in the form o f fam ily ties, introduces the falsely sub je c tiv e , the sen tim en tal; it is a drain on the w ill, on on es in d ep en d en ce ; on on es freedom to con cen trate on w ork. It also presents a ch a llen g e to o n es h u m a n ity to w hich the m elan ch olic knows, in a d va n ce, he w ill be in a d eq u ate. T h e style o f w ork o f the m elan ch olic is im m ersion, total concen tration . E ith er one is im m ersed, or atten tion floats aw ay. As a w riter, B enjam in was c ap ab le o f ex tra o rd in ary concentration. H e w as able to research and w rite The Origin o f German Trauerspiel in tw o y ears; some o f it, he boasts in Berlin Chronicle, was w ritten in lon g evenings at a cafe, sittin g close to a ja z z band. B ut a lth ou gh

24
Benjam in w rote p ro lifica lly in some periods turning out w ork every week for the G erm an literary papers and m a ga zin es it proved im possible for him to w rite a norm al-sized book again. In a letter in 1935, B enjam in speaks o f the Saturnine p a c e o f w ritin g Paris, Capital o f the Nineteenth Century, w hich he had begun in 1927 and thought could be finished in tw o y ea rs.13 His characteristic form rem ained the essay. T h e m ela n ch o lics intensity and exhaus tiveness o f atten tion set n atural lim its to the length at w hich Benjam in could exp licate his ideas. His m ajor essays seem to end ju st in tim e, before they self-destruct. His sentences do not seem to be generated in the usual w a y ; they do not entail. E ach sentence is w ritten as if it w ere the first, or the last. ( A w riter must stop and restart w ith every new sentence , he says in the P rologue to The Origin o f German Trauer spiel.) M en ta l and historical processes are rendered as concep tu al ta b leau x ; ideas are transcribed in extremis and the in tellectu al perspectives are vertiginous. His style o f thinking and w riting, incorrectly called aphoristic, m ight better be called freeze-fram e baroque. T h is style was torture to execute. It was as if each sentence had to say everyth in g, before the in w ard gaze o f total con cen tra tion dissolved the subject before his eyes. B enjam in was p ro b ab ly not ex a gg eratin g w hen he told A d orn o that each idea in his book on B aud elaire and nin eteen th-century Paris had to be w rested a w ay from a realm in w hich m adness lies .14 Som ething like the dread o f b eing stopped prem atu rely lies behind these sentences as saturated w ith ideas as the surface o f a b aroq ue p ain tin g is jam m e d w ith m ovem ent. In a letter to A d orn o,

13 Letter to W ern er K ra ft (No. 259 in the Briefe), w ritten from Paris on M a y 25, 1935. A t his death in 1940, Benjam in left thousands o f pages o f draft m anuscript, only a sm all portion o f w hich has been published. Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era o f High Capitalism (N ew Left Books, 1973) contains translations o f the m aterial from B en jam in s Paris project published in G erm an so far. 14 In a letter from A d orn o to Benjam in, w ritten from N ew Y o rk on N ovem ber 10, 1938, translated in Aesthetics and Politics (N ew Left Books, 1977 )- Benjam in and A dorn o met in 1923 (Adorno was tw enty), and in 1935 Benjam in started to receive a sm all stipend from M a x H orkh eim ers Institut fur Sozialforschung, o f w hich A dorn o was a m em ber.

Introduction

25

B en jam in describes his transports w hen he first read A ra g o n s Le Paysan de Paris, the book that inspired Paris, Capital o f the Nine teenth Century: I w ou ld never read m ore than tw o or three pages in bed o f an even in g becau se the pou nd in g o f m y heart was so loud th at I had to let the book fall from m y hands. W h a t a w a r n in g ! 15 C a rd ia c failure is the m etap horic lim it o f B en jam in s exertions and passions. (H e suffered from a heart ailm ent.) A n d c a rd ia c sufficiency is a m etap h or he offers for the w riters a ch ieve m ent. In the essay in praise o f K a r l K rau s, B enjam in w rites: I f style is the pow er to m ove freely in the len gth and b read th o f lin guistic thin kin g w ith o u t fallin g into b an ality , it is attained chiefly by the card iac strength o f great thoughts, w hich drives the b lood o f lan gu a g e throu gh the capillaries o f syntax into the rem otest lim b s. T h in k in g , w ritin g are u ltim ately a question o f stam ina. T h e m elanch olic, w ho feels he lacks w ill, m ay feel that he needs all the d estructive energies he can m uster. T r u th resists b ein g projected into the realm o f k n ow led g e , B en jam in w rites in The Origin o f German Trauerspiel. His dense prose registers that resistance, and leaves no space for a ttack in g those w h o distribute lies. B enjam in considered polem ic beneath the d ign ity o f a tru ly p h ilosoph ical style, and sought instead w h at he called the fullness o f concen trated p o sitivity the essay on G o e th e s Elective Affinities, w ith its d evastatin g refutation o f the critic and G oeth e b io grap h er F ried rich G u n do lf, b eing the one excep tion to this rule am o n g his m ajor w ritings. But his awareness o f the eth ical utility o f p o lem ic m ade him app reciate that onem an V ien n ese p u b lic institution, K a rl K ra u s, a w riter whose fa cility , stridency, love o f the aphoristic, and in d efatigable polem ic energies m ake him so unlike B en ja m in .16 T h e essay on K ra u s is B en ja m in s most passionate and perverse defence o f the life o f the m ind. T h e perfidious reproach o f being

15 L e tte r to A d orn o (No. 260 in the Briefe ), w ritten from Paris on M a y 31, 1935. 16 B en jam in had his K rau sia n side in reviews. See his L eft-W in g M elanchoLy , w ritten the same year (1931) as the K rau s essay, a w ithering pan o f a volum e o f poem s by E rich K astner, w hich pillories through K a stn e r shallow, philistine m elan ch oly. T ran slated in Screen, V o l. 15, No. 2, S um m er 1974.

26 too in telligen t h aunted him th rou gh ou t his life , A d o rn o has w ritte n .17 B enjam in defended h im self against this philistine defam ation b y b ra ve ly raising the stan dard o f the in h u m a n ity o f the intellect, w h en it is p ro p e rly that is, e th ic a lly em ployed. T h e life o f letters is existence under the aegis o f m ere m ind as prostitution is existence under the aegis o f m ere sex u a lity , he w rote. This is to celeb rate both prostitu tion (as K ra u s did, because mere sexuality was sexuality in a pure state) and the life o f letters, as B enjam in did, using the un likely figu re o f K rau s, because o f the genuine and d em on ic function o f m ere m ind, to be a disturber o f the p e ace. T h e eth ical task o f the m o d e m w riter is to be not a creator but a d estro yer a destroyer o f shallow inw ardness, the consoling notion o f the un iversally hu m an , dilettantish creativity, and em p ty phrases. T h e w riter as scourge and destroyer, p o rtrayed in the figure o f K rau s, he sketched w ith concision and even greater boldness in the allegorical T h e D estru ctive C h a r a c te r , also w ritten in 1931. T h e date is suggestive: Sch olem has w ritten that the first o f several times B enjam in con tem p lated suicide was in the sum m er o f 1931. (T h e second tim e was the follow in g sum m er, w hen he w rote Agesilaus S a n ta n d e r .) T h e A p o llo n ia n scourge w h om B en ja m in calls the destructive ch aracter is alw ays b lith ely at w ork, . . . has few needs, . . . has no interest in b ein g understood, . . . is you n g and cheerful, . . . and feels not that life is w orth livin g but that suicide is not w orth the tro u b le . It is a kind o f con ju ratio n , an attem pt by B en jam in to d raw the d estru ctive elem ents o f his S aturn ine ch ara cter o u tw a r d so that they are not self-destructive. Benjam in is not referrin g ju st to his ow n destructiveness. H e thought that there was a p ecu liarly m o d e m tem ptation to suicide. In T h e Paris o f the Second E m p ire in B au d ela ire , he w rote, T h e resistance w h ich m od ern ity offers to the n atu ral p rod u ctive elan o f a person is out o f p rop ortion to his strength. It is u n der standable if a person grow s tired and takes refuge in death.

17 In A d o rn o s essay A Portrait o f W alte r B en jam in , in Prisms, N L B , forth com ing 1979.

Introduction

2j

M o d e rn ity m ust be un der the sign o f suicide, an act w hich seals a h eroic w ill. . . . It is the a ch ievem en t o f m od ern ity in the realm o f passions . . . . S u icid e is understood as a response o f the heroic w ill to the defeat o f the w ill. T h e only w a y to a vo id suicide, B enjam in suggests, is to be b eyon d heroism , b eyond efforts o f the w ill. T h e d estru ctive ch ara cter can n o t feel trapped, becau se he sees w ays e v e ry w h e re . C h ee rfu lly en gaged in red u cin g w h at exists to ru bb le, he positions h im self at the crossroads . B e n ja m in s p o rtrait o f the destructive ch ara cter w ou ld evoke a kind o f Siegfried o f the m in d a high-spirited, childlike brute u n d er the protection o f the go d s had this a p o ca ly p tic pessimism not been q u alified b y the irony alw ays w ith in the range o f the S atu rn in e tem peram ent. Iro n y is the positive nam e w hich the m ela n ch o lic gives to his solitude, his asocial choices. In One-Way Street B en jam in hailed the iro n y that allow s in d ivid u als to assert the righ t to lead lives in d ep en d en t o f the com m u n ity as the most E u ro p ea n o f all accom p lish m en ts , and observed that it had c o m p letely deserted G erm an y . B en jam in s taste for the ironic and the self-aw are put him o ff most o f recent G erm an c u ltu re : he detested W a gn er, despised H eidegger, and scorned the frenetic v a n g u a rd m ovem ents o f W e im a r G erm an y such as Expressionism . P assionately, but also iro n ically, B enjam in p laced him self at the crossroads. It was im p o rta n t for him to keep his m an y positions o p en : the theological, the Surrealist/aesthetic, the com m unist. O n e position corrects an o th er: he needed them all. D ecisions, o f course, tended to spoil the b alan ce o f these positions, vacillation kept ev eryth in g in place. T h e reason he gave for his d elay in lea v in g F ra n ce, w hen he last saw A d orn o in early 1938, was that there are still positions here to d efen d . B en jam in thought the freelance in tellectu al was a d yin g species a n y w a y , m ade no less obsolete by cap italist society than by revo lu tio n a ry com m u n ism ; indeed he felt that he was livin g in a tim e in w h ich ev eryth in g v a lu a b le was the last o f its kind. H e th o u gh t Surrealism was the last intelligen t m om ent o f the E u rop ean in telligen tsia, an a p p ro p ria tely destructive, n ihilistic kind o f in telli gence. In his essay on K ra u s, B enjam in asks rh eto rically: D oes

28 K rau s stand at the threshold o f a new a ge? A las, by no m eans. H e stands at the L ast J u d g m e n t. B enjam in is thin kin g o f himself. A t the Last Ju d gm en t, the Last In te lle c tu a l that S atu rn in e hero o f m od em culture, w ith his ruins, his defiant visions, his reveries, his un q u en ch ab le gloom , his d ow n cast eyes w ill exp lain that he took m any positions and defended the life o f the m ind to the end, as righteously and in h u m an ly as he could. Susan Sontag 19 7 9

Publishers Note

T h e b ack g ro u n d and o rga n iza tio n o f the m aterials included in this v o lu m e need a few w ords o f exp lanation . A t its head stands B en ja m in s w ork One-Way Street (I), the one other com plete book after The Origin o f German Tragic Drama that he succeeded in p u b lish in g in his life-tim e, and the w ork that marks the m ain w a tersh ed in his in tellectu al and political developm ent. T h ere follow five groups o f shorter texts correspon din g to successive phases in his w ritin g before and after this turnin g-point. These obey a ch ro n o lo g ica l order, w ith some m inor variations. T h e y start w ith a selection o f B en ja m in s m etap hysical w ritings, largely from the e a rly years 1916 to 1921 ( I I ) ; proceed to a series o f tow nscapes w ritten b etw een 1924 and 1928 ( I I I ) ; present a trio o f m ajor aesthetic essays o f the later W eim a r period, d a tin g from 1929 to 1931 ( I V ) ; then m ove to the a u to b io gra p h ical w ritin g o f 1932 that was his closing project before the victo ry o f N azism ( V ) ; and finally c o n clu d e w ith a representative theoretical study from the tim e o f his exile in F ran ce, com posed in 1937 (V I). Som e b rie f rem arks m ay serve to cla rify this sequence. B e n ja m in s ea rly p h ilosoph ical form ation was in the n eo -K a n tia n idealism that d om in ated the G erm an universities in the years before the First W o rld W a r, alth ou gh his ow n ad m iration for K a n t was tem pered by his attraction tow ards the rom an tic aesthetic theories o f S ch legel and N ovalis, constructed in part again st the leg a cy o f K a n t. His deepest convictions at this date,

29

30
how ever, seem to have been religious in th eological affinity closest to Jew ish m ysticism , and in sp ecu lative focus trained p rim arily on lan gu ag e. P olitically, he had broken w ith the elitist and nationalist Jugendbewegung, o f w h ich he had been an active m em ber as a student, w hen its leaders rallied to the im perialist weir effort in 1914. D u rin g the w ar, the last part o f w h ich he spent in neutral S w itzerlan d , he shared the rad ical anarchist sym pathies o f his friend G erh a rd Scholem . T h e g ro u p o f early texts b elow (II) reflects this youthful outlook. B enjam in was 24 w h en he w rote the first. H ig h ly gn om ic and abstract, th ey w ere not as en tirely isolated or id iosyncratic as they m ight ap p ear to a co n tem p o ra ry reader. T h e great m etap hysical interest in lan gu a g e en vin ced in On Language as Such and the Language o f Man and Fate and Character had a counterpart in the con tem porary w ork o f the yo u n g H eid egger, whose quest for origins took by contrast a m ed ieval rath er than b ib lica l direction. T h e m essianic con cep tion o f social revolu tion as the descent o f an eschatological salvation , m arked in Critique of Violence and the Theologico-Political Fragment, was likew ise not confined to B enjam in. His elders Ernst B loch and G eo rg Luk&cs had in d epen d en tly developed a ve ry sim ilar m ystico-political radicalism in the years before the First W o rld W a r. L u k a cs had been attracted b y C h ristian and H assidic doctrines o f red em ption (the latter under the influence o f B u ber), and even H in d u notions o f caste.1 B lo ch s first m ajor w ork, Der Geist der Utopie, pu blished in 1918, was an exalted call for a new terrestrial order and a new church to link it to the su p ern atu ral order above, w h ich saw the Bolshevik R e vo lu tio n as the w ork o f praetorian s en th ron in g C h rist as E m p eror in R ussia.2 B enjam in m et B loch d u rin g their com m on refuge in S w itzerlan d , form ing a close friendship w ith him . Fate and Character was published in B lo ch s expressionist review Die Argonauten, as was B en jam in s first significan t literary essay, on

1 See M ichael L o w y, Georg Lukdcs From Idealism to Bolshevism, Lond on N L B , forthcom ing 1979, C h a p te r II. Luk&css essay o f 1912, Von der Armut am Geist, m ingling appeals to M eister E ckhardt, B rahm inism and Dostoevsky, is a particu larly clear expression o f this outlook. 2 Der Geist der Utopie, Frankfurt 1971 re-edition, pp. 298-299.

Publishers Note

31

D o sto ev sk y s The Idiot (a cen tral book for this g e n e ra tio n ); the Theologico-Political Fragment expressly invokes Der Geist der Utopie. In the post-w ar epoch, all three m en discovered M arxism . L u kacs ab a n d o n ed the universe o f religion altogether, b ecom in g a m ajor theorist and m ilitan t in the ranks o f the T h ird In tern atio n al. B loch fused religious and p o litica l them es into a single m illen arian cosm ology. B en ja m in s en cou n ter w ith M arxism occurred later, and its results w ere m ore cryptic. His d evelop m en t reveals an u n m istak ab le evolution tow ards a m ore coheren t m aterialism . But there was no in w a rd ru p tu re w ith his earlier m ysticism , so that he co u ld w rite short texts in the 1930s d irectly continuous in idiom and p reo ccu p a tio n w ith those o f a d ecade before. The Destructive Character and On the Mimetic Faculty, inclu d ed in this collection, are cases in point - pendants respectively to Fate and Character and On Language as Such and the Language o f M a n ;3 w hile the unpublished Theologico-Political Fragment o f 1920-21 so clearly adum brates them es in Theses on the Philosophy o f History o f 1940 that A d orn o cou ld lon g believe it to h a ve been com posed as late as 1938. O n the oth er hand, w ith very few exceptions - the essay on K a r l K ra u s an d the Theses - B enjam in did not attem p t any syncretism o f the tw o sources o f his beliefs either. H is th o u gh t retained w h at Sch olem has a p tly called a tw o -tra ck cast.4 C h aracteristically, m ystical and m aterialist motifs w ere distilled into separate w ritings, w hose precise in ter-relation sh ip rem ained en igm atic, often exa sp era tin g ly so, to his secular and religious adm irers alike. T h e b alan ce, h ow ever, was to shift q u a lita tiv e ly betw een the two in the trajecto ry o f his w ork. A fter the W a r, B en ja m in s first m ajor p u b lica tio n was a long essay on G o e th e s Elective Affinities, com posed in 1922. A rcan e in style and

3 Sch olem testifies that in discussions o f On the Mimetic Faculty in 1938, Benjam in spoke u n m etap h o rically o f the W ord o f G o d as the foundation o f any theory o f la n gu a ge. See G erh ard Sch olem , Walter Benjamin Die Geschichte einer Freundschaft, F ran k fu rt 1975, p. 260. 4 " Zweigleisigkeit : see Geschichte einer Freundschaft, p. 156.

3^
m etaphysical in register, it fitted no con ven tion al c a teg o ry o f literary criticism , contem poraneous or subsequent. T h e A u stria n poet and p la y w righ t H u go V o n H ofm an nsth al w a rm ly a p p ro v ed the essay and published it in his recen tly founded review Neue Deutsche Beitrdge in 1924-25. H o fm an n sth als cu ltu ra l a u th o rity m ight have seem ed to ensure B en ja m in s n ational d eb u t in G erm an intellectual life; this was, at least, p ro b ab ly B e n ja m in s ow n expectation. In fact, how ever, the Neue Deutsche Beitrdge proved to be a fiasco as a jo u rn a l: the m ixtu re o f con servative nostalgia and religious restorationism that d om in ated its pages consigned it to a virtu a lly private b ack w ater in W eim a r c u ltu re .5 Its circu la tion was so sm all that B en jam in s essay found no resonance in G erm an letters at the time. His first attem p t to establish h im self as a critic drew , in effect, a blank. His second was m ore am bitiou s. From M a rch 1923 to A p ril 1925 he w orked on a p ost-d octoral thesis for the U n iversity o f F ran kfu rt on G erm an b aro q u e d ram a. I f accepted, this w ould afford him a secure acad em ic career. T h e final work was, how ever, too com plex and esoteric for the professors to w hom it was subm itted. F orew arn ed o f rejection, B enjam in w ithd rew the text. E ven tu ally pu blish ed in 1928 as The Origin o f German Tragic Drama, its ultim ate fam e was to be en tirely post hum ous. A t the tim e o f its a p p earan ce, it was greeted w ith silence and incom prehension in G erm an y. T h e dual failure o f his w ork on G oethe and the B aroque to w in even an in itiated p u b lic was to be one o f the m ain precipitants o f the a b ru p t ch an ge o f d irectio n in B en jam in s w ork after 1925. T h ere were two others. In the closing stages o f his w ork on the G erm an Trauerspiel, B enjam in had stayed for some m onths in C a p ri in late 1924, in the com pan y o f B loch. T h e re he m et and fell in love w ith Asja Lacis, a Russian revo lu tio n a ry from R ig a , one o f the most rem arkable w om en I have ever m et .6 H e now d eterm in ed
5 See Bernd W itte, Walter Benjamin Der Intellektuelle als Kritiker, S tu ttg a rt 1976, pp. 100-105. W itte s excellent study is indispensable for an un derstan din g o f B enjam ins early developm ent. 6 Letter o f 7.7.192 4: Briefe, Frankfurt 1966, p. 351.

Publisher s Note 33 to stud y L u k a c ss History and Class Consciousness, o f w hich Bloch had ju st w ritten a review , and the political p ra ctice o f contem porary com m unism . T h e b egin n in g o f his m ovem en t tow ards M arxism thus co in cid ed w ith the com pletion o f The Origin o f German Tragic Drama. In the autum n o f 1925, after the failure o f his thesis at F ra n k fu rt, he visited A sja L acis in R ig a. H e was now, Scholem reports, a ctiv e ly consid erin g w h eth er to jo in the K P D or n o t.7 T h is sh arp p o litical turn, m ean w h ile, was a cc o m p a n ie d perhaps in p a rt p ro m p te d by a tran sform ation in his econom ic situation. B en jam in had hitherto been fin a n cia lly supported by his father, a w e ll-o ff art d ealer in B erlin, w ith a tten d an t tensions betw een the two. T h e onset o f the great inflation o f 1923 struck at his fath ers fortune, lea d in g him to suggest that B enjam in take up em p lo y m ent in a bank. T h e p roject o f the Habilitationsschrift had thus also been an attem p t to escape fam ilial dependence through a university ap p o in tm en t. In the afterm ath o f its failure, B enjam in had to look for altern ative w ays o f earning his livin g. T h e solution he ad o p te d w as to be jo u rn a lism . F rom 1926 onw ards, the ch aracter o f his o u tp u t u n d erw en t a drastic o u tw ard a ltera tio n in a w ord, from herm eticism to pu blicism . H e becam e a prolific bookradio-scriptw riter, forsaking his review er, travel-rep orter and

m ore esoteric diction for an often d isconcertin gly concrete lan gu ag e, m etap h ysical for m ore top ical terrains. One-Way Street, for the m ost part w ritten b etw een A u gu st 1925 and S ep tem b er 1926, represents the staccato ann ou n cem ent o f these changes. Its first lines ( F illin g S ta tio n ) proclaim the end o f the pretentious un iversal gesture o f the b ook , in favou r o f forms a lte rn a tin g betw een action and w riting, leaflets, brochures, articles and p la ca rd s . E lsew here ( A ttested A u d ito r o f Books ) it d eclares: P rin ting, h a v in g found in the book a refuge in w hich to lea d an autonom ous existence, is pitilessly d ragged out onto the street b y advertisem ents and subjected to the b ru tal heteronom ies o f econ om ic chaos. T h is is the hard schooling o f its new form .
7 S ch olem , Geschichte einer Freundschaft, p. 156.

34
Com posed o f a m osaic o f aphoristic p aragraphs, cap tion ed by placards o f urban scenery, One-Way Street is d elib e ra te ly at the antipodes o f the treatise form o f The Origin o f German Tragic Drama. Its debts to surrealism (intercalation o f dream s) and to p h oto m ontage are ob vious: pointers to the profou nd tran sform ation in B en jam in s conception o f con tem p o rary art that was ev en tu a lly to find form ulation in the subversive functionalism o f his essays o f the thirties. Sim ultaneously, One-Way Street set out the pro gram m e o f w hat was to be his critical practice in the W eim a r press: T h e critic is the strategist o f literary stru gg le . T h e p o litical overtones o f the p h rase w h at Sch olem noted as the b ack gro u n d thunder o f M arxist v o ca b u la ry in the passages B en jam in read to him before p u b lica tio n 8 w ere not fortuitous. T h e origin al kernel o f the w ork was, in fact, the section subtitled A T o u r o f G erm an In fla tio n . First sketched in 1923, it condensed B en ja m in s reactions to the econom ic m isery o f the tim e, and the degrad ation o f social and personal exp erience that a cco m p an ied it. T h e m aterial crisis o f the G erm an intelligen tsia evoked here was to be one o f the most constant them es o f his jo u rn a listic in ter ventions, recurring again and again in his book review s o f the later twenties. T h e political conclusions he d rew from it w ere now intransigen tly rad ical. W here he had w ritten w ith co n tem p la tive resignation in the early draft o f 1923: But no-one m ay ever m ake peace w ith p o verty w hen it falls like a gig an tic sh adow u pon his countrym en and his house. T h en he m ust be alert to every h u m ilia tion done to him and so discipline h im self that his sufferin g becom es no longer the d ow n hill road o f hate, but the rising path o f p r a y e r ,9 he now reversed the terms o f the sam e passage, to rea d : so dis cipline him self that his suffering no lon ger becom es the d ow n h ill road o f grief, but the rising path o f re v o lt . T h e ch an ge can stand as the m otto o f his political rad icaliza tio n .

8 Geschichte einer Freundschaft, p. 168. T h e first draft is contained in the m atchless scholarly apparatu s p rovid ed by the con tem porary editors o f B enjam ins C o llected W orks: see Gesammelte Schriften, I V , Bd. 2, p. 931.

Publisher s Note 55 T h e p ivo ta l position o f One-Way Street w ith in B en jam in s w ork, h o w ever, is not due on ly to its com p act register o f the sudden m u ta tio n in his critical, aesthetic and p o litical options in the m id -tw en ties. It ab ove all lies in the fact th at in the same swift m o vem en t w ith w hich B en jam in passed from the banks o f tradition to those o f the a va n t-g ard e, he also discovered the heuristic m eth od that was to be p e cu lia rly his th ereafter the attem p t to estab lish , as he was later to w rite, the im age o f history even in its m ost incon spicuous fixtures o f existence, its rejects .10 T h e kaleid osco p e o f urban objects, w arnings, buildings, am usem ents, signs w as designed to th ro w sudden light on the m o d em epoch. T o H o fm an n sth al, he w ro te: P recisely in its eccen tric elem ents the book is, i f not a troph y, a docu m en t o f an inn er struggle whose o b ject can be resum ed thus: to grasp the a ctu al as the obverse o f the etern al in history and to take an im print o f this hidden side o f the m e d a l. 11 His next w ords usher in the project that was to p re o cc u p y him for the rem ain d er o f his life: F or the rest the book ow es m u ch to Paris, and represents m y first attem p t at confron ta tion w ith it. I continu e it in a second w ork, entitled Parisian A r c a d e s . One-Way Street, in other words, d irectly inau gu rates the second great phase o f B en ja m in s m ajor w o rk his prolon ged stud y o f B a u d ela ires Paris. H e was lu cid ly conscious o f this tu rn in g-p o in t at the tim e, an alysin g his d evelopm ent in a letter to S ch o lem : O n ce I h ave finished . . . the w ork w ith w hich I am at present circu m sp ectly, p rovision ally o c c u p ie d the h igh ly re m a rk a b le and extrem ely precarious essay The Parisian Arcades: a Dialectical Fairyland this w ill close for me a prod u ctive c y c le tha.t o f One-WayStreet rath er in the sense th at the T ra g e d y book closed m y germ anistic cycle. In it the w o rld ly them es o f One-Way SlfeeF w ill m arch past in an infernal in ten sification .12 T h e p red ictio n w as to hold good. T h e m icrocosm ic m iscellany o f the q u o tid ia n w ou ld continu e to provide the sparks for the larger
10 L e tte r o f 9.8.1935: Briefe, pp. 684-685. See also his letter o f 15.3.1929: Briefe, p. 49 1. 11 L e tte r o f 8.2.1928: Briefe, p. 459. 12 L e tte r o f 30 .1.1928: Briefe, p. 455.

36
historical illum inations o f B en jam in s w ork, o f w h ich One-Way Street ends w ith one o f the most m e m o r a b le : perhaps the first and certain ly the finest because most tem perate and r a tio n a l expression o f that rejection o f the notion o f the m astery o f n atu re by technology that was afterw ards to b ecom e a h allm ark o f F ra n k fu rt M arxism . Tow n scap es w ere to be a recu rrin g m o tif in B en ja m in s w ritin g henceforw ard. T h e grou p published in this vo lu m e (III) starts w ith a description o f N aples w ritten in colla b o ratio n w ith Asja Lacis w hile the tw o w ere on C ap ri together in late 1924. It was not published until A u g u st 1925, w hen its a p p e ara n ce as his first contribution to the Frankfurter eitung m arked the real in cep tion o f his jou rn alistic practice. T h e essay on M o sco w likew ise owes its origin to B en jam in s relationship w ith L acis, w hom he visited in the Soviet cap ital from D ecem b er 1926 to F eb ru a ry 1927. First excerpted in L Humanite, it is o f p a rticu la r interest as a vivid report o f B en jam in s personal reactions to w h a t he saw o f the U S S R in the final m onths o f S ta lin s drive to elim in ate the L eft O p p o si tion, whose leaders had been d ep rived o f their posts in the p arty a few weeks before he a rriv e d .13 (His u n pu b lish ed d ia ry o f this period, soon to a p p ear in the Gesammelte Schriften, m ay throw new light on his precise political attitudes tow ards the conflicts in the internation al com m unist m ovem ent o f the tim e. S ch olem recounts that it was d u rin g this stay in M o sco w that B en jam in fin ally decided against jo in in g the K P D .) 14 T h e tw o texts on M arseilles, w ritten in late 1928, are o f a very d ifferen t ch ara cter, reflecting B enjam in s affinity to Surrealism and exp erim en ta tio n w ith induced hallucination s.

13 It m ay be significant that Benjam in later displayed frequent adm iration for the w ork o f Trotsky, w ell after the official denunciations o f the latter, both in his articles and lectures (see, for exam ple, S u rrealism below , p. 238, and T h e A u th or as P rodu cer in Understanding Brecht, N L B 1977), and in his private corres pondence, expressing particu lar enthusiasm for M y Life and the History o f the Russian Revolution: see Gesckichte einer Freundschaft, p. 229. E arlier, he had been very struck by Where Is Britain Going?: ibid., p. 161. 14 Geschichte einer Freundschaft, p. 161.

Publisher s Note 37 T h e aesthetic essays (IV ) w h ich follow all date from the final years o f the W eim a r R e p u b lic . By this tim e B enjam in was an exp er ien ced , a lth ou gh n ever ex a ctly established, con trib u tor to the Frankfurter J^eitung, the liberal d a ily w ith the most respected feuilleton section in G erm an y , and the Literarische Welt, the cu ltu ral w ee k ly created by R o w o h lt V e rla g , the house w hich had published The Origin o f German Tragic Drama and One-Way Street.15 His articles in the latter could be som ew h at m ore can d id p o litica lly than in the form er, a paper u ltim ately controlled by h eavy industry. As A d o rn o was to note in his ob itu a ry o f B enjam in, it w as for his critical articles as a pu b licist in these tw o organs, each o f w h ich en joyed a w id e circu latio n , th at B enjam in was know n in G e rm a n y d u rin g his life-tim e.16 T h e essay on Surrealism , in its d elicate blend o f sym p a th y and severity, represents B en ja m in s m ajo r reflection on the relationship b etw een the aesthetic avantga rd e in W estern E urop e and revo lu tion a ry politics. T h e text on P h o to g ra p h y, whose inn ovations had been eagerly seized upon by the Surrealists, was one o f the first serious treatm ents o f it as a m ed iu m outside the professional m ilieu itself. Its concerns look d ire ctly forw ard to B en ja m in s great study o f The Work o f Art in the Age o f Mechanical Reproduction o f 1936. T h e essay on K rau s is d istin ct in form and inten tion from either o f these two. D ed icated to G u sta v G lu ck , the friend w ho was the real-life m odel for The Destructive Character, it was designed to show K rau s as a n egative hero o f destruction, the last b ou rgeo is , through whose torm ented figu re the positive forces o f history could sweep. L o n g p rem editated and h igh ly w ro u gh t, it is B en ja m in s one sustained attem p t to foun d m ystical and m aterialist them es into a single form . C h a llen g e d by M a x R y ch n e r, the editor o f the Neuer Schweizer Rundschau, as to w here he stood in the irrecon cilable conflict b etw een m ere m aterialist collectivism and the p rim ord iality
15 F or a discussion o f B en jam in s relationship to these papers, see W itte, pp. 1 4 1 -1 4 4 . 16 T h e o d o r A d orn o, Z u Benjam ins G ed ach tn is (1940), in Uber Walter Benjamin, F rankfu rt 1970, p. 9.

3&
o f religion and m etaphysics , B enjam in replied in a lon g letter o f 19 31 that, seen in retrospect, The Origin o f German Tragic Drama , although d ialectical, was certain ly not m a teria list B ut w h a t I did not know at the tim e I was w ritin g it, soon afterw ard s becam e ever clearer to m e : that betw een m y very special point o f view as a philosopher o f lan gu ag e and the outlook o f d ialectica l m aterialism there exists a m ediation, how ever tense and p rob lem atic. W ith the saturation o f bourgeois science, on the oth er hand, there exists none w h a tev er. 17 D eclarin g that he felt m ore in com m on w ith the crude and ru d im en tary analyses o f F ra n z M e h rin g than w ith the most profound periphrases from the am bit o f the ideas p rod u ced by the school o f H eidegger to d a y , he described his ow n position w ith an un w onted lack o f o b liq u ity : I have never b een able to study or think otherwise than in a w a y that I w o u ld define as th eo lo gica l that is, in accord w ith the T a lm u d ic d octrin e o f the forty-nine levels o f m eaning in any every p a rag ra p h o f the T o ra h . W ell: experience has tau gh t me that the shallow est o f com m unist platitudes contains m ore o f a h ierarch y o f m ean in g th an con tem porary bourgeois profundity, w hich is alw ays no m ore than apologetic . . . I can tell you at the sam e tim e that you w ill find a m ore groun d ed reply to your question than that w h ich I can give you expressis verbis, betw een the lines o f m y essay on K a r l K ra u s w hich w ill shortly ap p ear in the Frankfurter eitung . 18 Sch olem , receivin g from B enjam in a copy o f this letter, w rote b ack tren ch an tly that for all his ad m iration o f the essay on K ra u s he felt ob liged to say that B enjam in was d eceivin g him self i f he th o u gh t that a sym pathetic reader could find an y ju stificatio n o f y ou r sym pathies for d ialectica l m aterialism betw een the lines o f this

17 Letter o f 7,3 .19 3 1: Briefe, p. 523. T h e direction w hich a m ore m aterialist version o f The Origin o f German Tragic Drama m ight h ave taken can be surm ised from B enjam ins d eclaration in his review o f a history o f Silesian literatu re: W e need a book that represents baroque tragedy in close connection w ith the form ation o f bureau cracy, d ram atic unity o f time and action w ith the dark offices o f Absolutism , w anton love poetry w ith the inquisitions into pregn an cy o f the em ergent police state, operatic apotheoses with the ju rid ic a l structure o f sovereign ty (Gesammelte Schriften, III, p. 193). 18 Letter o f 7.3 .19 3 1: Briefe, p. 523.

Publisher s Note j g essay . 19 R e p r o a c h in g B enjam in for the fantastic d iscrep an cy b etw een a term in o logy possibly close to com m unist v o ca b u la ry and m etap h ysica l conclusions absolu tely ind epen d en t o f a n y m aterialist m eth o d , he criticized his frien d s recent productions for the im pression they ga v e o f adven turism , am b ig u ity and a cro b a tic s . In rep lyin g, B enjam in defended his political choice to h a n g the red flag ou t o f m y w in d o w ,20 but was in effect u n a b le to dem on strate th at his essay on K ra u s had actu ally a ch ie v ed the synthesis he claim ed . A literary tour de force, its in tellectu al purpose was lost even on those readers to w hom it was m ost addressed. K ra u s him self took characteristic u m b rage at it, d en o u n cin g it for absym al feuilletonism and d eclarin g that a lth o u g h surely w ell-in ten tio n ed , the author seems to know m uch abou t me that was hitherto unknow n to myself, a lth o u g h I even now do not yet clearly ap p reh en d it and can only express the hope that oth er readers have understood it better (perhaps it is p sych o a n a lysis). 21 B enjam in kept a dignified silence at this a ttack . T h ree years later, w hen K rau s rallied to the clerical fascism o f Dollfuss, he noted the cap itu latio n to Austro-fascism , the em b ellish m en t o f the w h ite terror against the V ienn ese workers, the a d m iratio n for the rhetoric o f S ta rh e m b e rg in Die Fackel,22 and asked : Is there anyon e further w ho can fall? A bitter consola tio n b u t on this front w e can suffer no m ore losses w orth m ention ing besides this one. T h e dem on has proved stronger than the m an or the m on ster: he could not be silent and so b etrayin g him self has accom p lish ed the ruin o f the d em o n .23 T h e final years o f the W eim a r period w ere ones o f acute personal crisis for B enjam in, w h o was d ivorced from his wife D ora P oliak

19 Ibid., p. 524. 20 L e tte r o f 3 0 .3.19 31: Briefe, p. 526. 21 L e tte r o f 17.4 .19 3 1: Briefe, p. 532. 22 F o r this episode, see the ju d ic io u s editorial account in Gesammelte Schriften, II, Bd. 3, pp. 10781130. K ra u s com m ents were published in Die Fackelin M ay 1931. 23 L e tte r o f 27.9.1934: Briefe, p. 620. D em o n , m an and m onster refer to the categories o f his essay on K rau s.

40
in 1930, shortly after A sja Lacis retu rned p erm a n en tly to Russia. In A p ril 1932 he sailed to Ib iza, w here he spent the n ext three months in isolation. A p p ro a ch in g the age o f 40, he now set dow n the private au to b io gra p h ical m em oir (V ) that was p u b lish ed long after his death under the title Berlin Chronicle. In J u ly , he m oved to N ice, where he w rote his w ill and decid ed to take his life. T his crisis suddenly past, he spent the rest o f the sum m er in Italy. T h ere he com pleted a entirely rew orked version o f his recollections for p u b lication as a book to be entitled A Berlin Childhood Around igoo. T h e N azi seizure o f pow er a few m onths later ga v e the quietus to this project. T h e later text utilizes only a b ou t two-fifths o f the m aterials in the earlier, and these in rad ically a ltered form . T h e Berlin Chronicle is throughout far m ore d irectly personal than the Berlin Childhood, w here B en ja m in s experience is tran sm uted into a series o f m ore objective notations o f his n ative city. It is also m uch m ore sharp ly political, p ervad ed by B en ja m in s socialist convictions. These virtu a lly d isappear in the m ilder an d m ore con ciliatory lig h tin g 24 o f the version inten ded for p u b lica tio n . T h e Chronicle is the most intim ate d ocu m en t o f B en ja m in s yet to be published. E xile after 1933 cut short B en jam in s jou rn alism . His p u b licistic period was now effectively over. T h e m ain outlet for his w ritin g was henceforw ard the Zeitschriftfur Sozialforschung, prod u ced by the Institute for Social R esearch directed by M a x H o rk h eim er. A fter the N azi v icto ry in G erm an y, the Institute had m oved, first to G en eva, and then to N ew Y o rk . Its review w a s u n like any to w hich B enjam in had hitherto reg u la rly c o n trib u te d an aca d em ic jo u rn a l; but at the same time it was also one w ith a coherent p olitical c o m p lex io n essentially, i f in form ally, M arxist. The tension betw een these two dim ensions o f the Zeitschrift fu r Sozial forschung, rendered m ore acute b y its exposed position in an A m erican en viron m ent th orou gh ly hostile to any form o f socialism , was not w ith out its effects on the editorial relationsh ip o f the
24 Sch olem s phrase: see his afterw ord to Berliner Chronik, F rankfu rt 1970, p. 127.

Publishers Note

41

jo u r n a l to its contributors, am ong them B enjam in. But there can be no d o u b t that for the first tim e in his life, B enjam in found in the later thirties an arena o f collegial pu b lication that by and large un derstood , ap p reciated and supported his w ork. T h e form o f his w ritin g consequently ch an ged in these years. His contributions to the ^eitschrift, alth o u g h on occasion m uted by the tactical apprehensions o f his editors in N ew Y o rk , w ere far m ore d irectly p o litica l and m ore d elib e ra te ly theoretical than an yth in g he had w ritten in the W eim a r period. T h e long essay on E du ard Fuchs (V I) w h ich concludes this volu m e was one o f the most significant fruits o f this in tellectu al collab oration . Its origin lay in H orkh eim e rs ad m iration for the figure o f Fuchs, a veteran m ilitan t o f G e rm a n Social D e m o c ra c y w ho was also a n otable art historian, for w h om he had testified at one o f the num erous trials in w hich F uchs had been prosecuted for his studies o f erotic art. Som e time in 1934, H o rk h eim er ap p ro a ch ed B enjam in to com m ission an essay from him on Fuchs for the ^eitschrift. B enjam in, w ho knew and liked Fuchs, then a fellow -exile in his late sixties in Paris, was relu ctan t to un dertake the w ork, p artly because o f the am ount o f rea d in g it in volved , and p a rtly because o f his lack o f sym pathy w ith the positivist cu ltu re o f w hich Fuchs, representative o f an o ld er gen eration o f G erm an M arxism , partook. C om m itm en t to the project was follow ed by postponem ent and tergiversation. E v e n tu a lly , he resum ed serious study for it in late 1936, and com p leted the w ritin g o f the essay fairly q u ick ly in the first two m onths o f 1937. D espite his com plaints in correspondence abou t the com m ission, he was u n exp ected ly satisfied w ith the final results. L eo L o w en th a l, speaking for the editorial board o f the Zjeitschrift, secured the om ission o f the first p arag rap h as too p ro n o u n ce d ly political in ton e.25 H orkheim er, for his part, respond ed en th usiastically to the essay, w h ich was published in the jo u r n a l in O cto b er 1937. Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian is B e n ja m in s most considered and im portan t statem ent on histori

25 F or the editorial decision to restore this paragraph in the text printed in the C o lle cte d W orks, see Gesammelte Schriften, II, Bd. 3, p. 1355.

42
cal m a terialism to be read together w ith the Theses on the Philosophy o f History, o f w hich it anticipates some o f the them es and even passages, but in a m ore com prehensive and discursive space. T h e dates at the end o f each text in this vo lu m e are those o f their com position (som etim es a p p roxim ate), not p u b lica tio n . A p a r t from A Small History o f Photography and Eduard. Fuchs, Collector and Historian, translated by K in gsley Sh orter, the translations in clu d ed in the volu m e are by E dm u n d J ep h co tt. N LB

One- Way Street

T h is street is nam ed A sja Lacis Street after her w h o as an engineer cu t it through the auth or

F il l in g

S t a t io n

T h e construction o f life is at present in the pow er o f facts far m ore than o f convictions, and o f such facts as have scarcely ever becom e the basis o f convictions. U n d e r these circum stances true literary a ctiv ity can not aspire to take place w ith in a literary fram ew o rk this is, rather, the h a b itu al expression ofits sterility. S ign ifican t literary w ork can on ly com e into b eing in a strict a ltern ation betw een action and w ritin g ; it m ust nurture the inconspicuous forms that better fit its influence in active com m unities than does the pretentious, universal gesture o f the book in leaflets, brochures, articles, and placards. O n ly this prom pt lan gu a g e shows itself a ctiv ely equal to the m om ent. O pinions are to the vast apparatu s o f social existence w hat oil is to m achin es: one does not go up to a turbine and pour m achine oil over it; one applies a little to hidden spindles and joints that one has to know .

B r e a k fa st R oom

A p o p u la r tradition w arns against recou n tin g dream s on an em p ty stom ach. In this state, thou gh aw ake, one rem ains under the sw ay o f the dream . For w ashin g brings only the surface o f the b od y and the visible m otor functions into the light, w h ile in

45

46
the d eeper strata, even d u rin g the m ornin g ablu tion , the grey penum b ra o f dream persists and, indeed, in the solitude o f the first w a kin g hour, consolidates itself. H e w ho shuns con tact w ith the d ay, w hether for fear o f his fellow men or for the sake o f inw ard com posure, is u n w illin g to eat and disdains his b re ak fast. H e thus avoids a rupture betw een the n octu rn al and the d aytim e w o rld s a precau tion ju stified only by the com bustion o f dream in a concen trated m o rn in g s w ork, if not in p rayer, bu t otherwise a source o f confusion betw een vital rhythm s. T h e n arration o f dream s brings cala m ity, because a person still h a lf in league w ith the dream w orld betrays it in his w ords and must incur its revenge. Expressed in m ore m od em te rm s: he betrays himself. H e has outgrow n the protection o f d ream in g n aivete, and in lay in g clum sy hands on his dream visions he surrenders himself. For only from the far bank, from broad d a ylig h t, m ay dream be recalled w ith im p u n ity. T h is further side o f d ream is only a ttain ab le through a clean sing analogous to w ash in g yet totally different. By w ay o f the stom ach. T h e fasting m an tells his dream as if he w ere talkin g in his sleep.

No. 1 13
T h e hours th at hold the figure and the form H av e run their course w ith in the house o f dream .

Cellar . W e have long forgotten the ritual by w h ich the house of our life was erected. But w hen it is u nder assault and en em y bombs are a lread y taking their toll, w hat en ervated , perverse antiquities do they not lay bare in the foundations. W h a t things w ere interred and sacrificed am id m agic incantation s, w h a t hor rible cab in et o f curiosities lies there below , w h ere the deepest shafts are reserved for w hat is m ost com m on place. In a n igh t o f despair I d ream ed I was w ith m y first friend from m y school days, w hom I had not seen for decades and had scarcely ever rem em bered in that tim e, tem pestuously ren ew in g our frien d ship and brotherhood. But w hen I aw oke it b ecam e clear that

One-Way Street w h at d esp air had b ro u g h t to light like a d etonation was the corpse o f th a t boy, w h o had been im m u red as a w a rn in g : that w h o e ver one d a y lives here m a y in no respect resem ble him . Vestibule. A visit to G o e th e s house. I cannot recall h avin g seen rooms in the dream . It was a perspective o f w hitew ashed corri dors like those in a school. T w o eld erly English la d y visitors and a cu ra to r are the d re a m s extras. T h e cu rator requests us to sign the visitors book lyin g open on a desk at the farthest end o f a passage. O n rea ch in g it, I find as I turn the pages m y nam e a lrea d y en tered in big, u n ru ly , childish characters. Dining H a ll . In a dream I saw m yself in G o e th e s study. It bore no resem b lan ce to the one in W eim ar. A b o v e all, it was very sm all and had on ly one w in d o w . T h e side o f the w ritin g desk a b u tte d on the w a ll opposite the w ind ow . Sittin g and w ritin g at it was the poet, in extrem e old age. I was standing to one side w h en he broke o ff to give m e a sm all vase, an urn from a n tiq u ity , as a present. I turned it betw een m y hands. A n im m ense heat filled the room . G oeth e rose to his feet and a cco m p an ied m e to an a d jo in in g cham ber, w here a table was set for m y relatives. It seem ed prep ared , how ever, for m any m ore th an their n um ber. D ou btless there w ere places for m y ancestors, too. A t the end, on the right, I sat dow n beside G oeth e. W h e n the m eal was over, he rose w ith difficulty, and by gestu rin g I sought leave to support him . T o u c h in g his elbow , I b ega n to w eep w ith em otion.

47

F or M en T o co n v in ce is to con q u er w ith o u t conception .

Sta n d a r d

C lo ck

T o great w riters, finished w orks w eigh lighter than those frag ments on w h ich th ey w ork th ro u g h o u t their lives. For only the

48 more feeble and distracted take an inim itab le pleasure in con clusions, feeling them selves th ereb y given b ack to life. F or the genius each caesura, and the h ea vy blows o f fate, fall like gentle sleep itselfin to his w orkshop lab ou r. A b o u t it he draw s a charm ed circle o f fragm ents. G enius is a p p lic a tio n .

C o m e B a c k ! A l l is F o r g i v e n !

L ike som eone perform ing the g ia n t sw ing on the h orizon tal bar, each boy spins for him self the w heel o f fortune from w h ich , sooner or later, the m om entous lot shall fall. For on ly that w hich we knew or practised at fifteen w ill one d ay constitute our a ttraction . A n d one thing, therefore, can never be m ade g o o d : h avin g n eglected to run a w a y from hom e. F rom forty-eigh t hours exposure in those years, as in a caustic solution, the crystal o f lifes happiness forms.

M a n o r ia l l y T en -R oom

F u r n is h e d

A pa r tm en t

T h e furniture style o f the second h a lf o f the nin eteen th cen tu ry has received its only ad eq u a te description, and analysis, in a certain type o f d etective novel at the d yn am ic cen tre o f w h ich stands the horror o f apartm ents. T h e arran gem en t o f the fu rn i ture is at the same tim e the site p lan o f d ead ly traps, and the suite o f rooms prescribes the fleeing v ic tim s path. T h a t this kind o f d etective novel begins w ith P o e at a tim e w h en such accom m odation s h ard ly yet existed is no cou n ter-argu m en t. For w ith ou t exception the g rea t w riters perform their co m b in a tions in a w orld that comes after them , ju st as the Paris streets o f B au d ela ires poems, as w ell as D ostoevskys characters, only existed after 1900. T h e bourgeois interior o f the 1860s to the 1890s, w ith its gigan tic sideboards distended w ith carvin gs, the sunless corners where palm s stand, the b alco n y em b attled

One- Way Street behind its b alu strad e, and the lon g corridors w ith their singing gas flam es, fittin g ly houses o n ly the corpse. O n this sofa the au n t can n o t b ut be m u rd e re d . T h e soulless lu xu riance o f the furnishings becom es true com fort only in the presence o f a dead body. F a r m ore interesting than the O rie n ta l landscapes in d etective novels is that ran k O rie n t in h ab itin g their interiors: the P ersian carp et and the ottom an, the h an g in g lam p and the genuin e C a u c a sia n d agger. B ehind the h eavy, gathered K h ilim tapestries the m aster o f the house has orgies w ith his share certificates, feels h im self the E astern m erch an t, the indolent pasha in the caravan serai o f otiose en chan tm en t, until that d a gger in its silver sling a b o v e the d ivan puts an end, one fine afternoon, to his siesta and him self. T h is ch ara cter o f the b ou r geois a p a rtm e n t, trem ulou sly aw aitin g the nam eless m urderer like a lascivio u s old lad y her gallan t, has been penetrated b y a n u m b er o f authors w ho, as w riters o f d etective stories and perhaps also because in their works part o f the bourgeois p a n d em o n iu m is e x h ib ite d h ave been denied the repu tation they deserve. T h e q u a lity in question has been cap tu red in isolated w ritin gs b y C on an D o y le and in a m ajor prod u ction by A . K . G r e e n ; and w ith The Phantom o f the Opera, one o f the great novels about the n in eteen th century, G aston L ero u x has b ro u g h t the gen re to its apotheosis.

49

C h in e s e C u r io s

T hese are days w h en no one should rely u n d u ly on his com p e ten ce . S tren gth lies in im provisation. A ll the decisive blow s are stru ck left-h an ded . A t the b egin n in g o f the lon g dow n hill lane that leads to the house o f -------, w h om I visited each evening, is a gate. A fter she m oved , the op en in g o f its a rch w a y stood henceforth before me like an ear that has lost the pow er o f hearing. A c h ild in his n ightsh irt can n o t be p revailed upon to greet an

5
arrivin g visitor. T h ose present, in vok in g a higher m oral stan d point, adm onish him in vain to overcom e his pru d ery. A few m inutes later he reappears, now stark naked, before the visitor. In the m ean tim e he has w ashed. T h e po w er o f a cou n try road is differen t w hen one is w a lk in g along it from w h en one is flyin g over it b y airplane. In the sam e w ay, the pow er o f a text is d ifferent w hen it is read from w hen it is copied out. T h e airp lan e passenger sees only how the road pushes th rou gh the lan d scap e, how it unfolds accord in g to the same law s as the terrain surrounding it. O n ly he w ho w alks the road on foot learns o f the po w er it com m ands, and o f how , from the very scenery that for the flier is only the unfurled plain, it calls forth distances, belvederes, clearings, prospects at each o f its turns like a com m an d er d ep lo yin g soldiers at a front. O n ly the copied text thus com m ands the soul o f him w ho is occu pied w ith it, w hereas the m ere reader n ever discovers the new aspects o f his inn er self that are open ed b y the text, that road cut th rou gh the in terior ju n g le forever closing beh ind it: because the reader follows the m ovem en t o f his m ind in the free flight o f d a y d ream in g, w hereas the copier subm its it to com m an d . T h e C hinese p ra ctice o f c o p y in g books was thus an in com p arab le gu aran tee o f literary cu ltu re, and the transcript a key to C h in a s enigm as.

G lo ves

In an aversion to anim als the p red om in an t feeling is fear o f b eing reco gn ized b y them through contact. T h e horror that stirs deep in m an is an obscure aw areness that in him som ething lives so akin to the an im al that it m ight be recogn ized. A ll dis gust is o rig in ally disgust at tou ching. E ven w hen the feeling is m astered, it is on ly by a d rastic gesture that overleaps its m a r k : the nauseous is vio len tly en gulfed, eaten, w h ile the zone o f finest ep id erm al con tact rem ains taboo. O n ly in this w ay is the para-

One-Way Street dox o f the m oral d em and to be m et, exactin g sim ultaneously the o v erco m in g an d the subtlest elaboration o f m a n s sense o f disgust. H e m a y not deny his bestial relationship w ith anim als, the in v o ca tio n o f w hich revolts h im : he must m ake him self its m aster.

57

M e x ic a n

E m bassy

J e ne passe jamais devant un fetiche de bois, un Bouddha doreune idole mexicaine sans me dire: c est peut-etre le vrai dieu. (I never pass by a w oo d en fetish, a gild ed B u d d h a, a M exican idol w ith o ut reflect in g : perh aps it is the true G od .) Charles Baudelaire

I d ream ed I was a m em ber o f an explorin g p a rty in M exico. A fter crossing a high , p rim eval ju n g le , we cam e upon a system o f a b o v e-g ro u n d caves in the m ountains w here an order had survived from the tim e o f the first m issionaries till now , its monks co n tin u in g the w ork o f conversion am ong the natives. In an im m en se cen tral gro tto w ith a G o th ica lly pointed roof, Mass w as celeb ra ted a cco rd in g to the most an cien t rites. W e jo in e d the cerem o n y and w itnessed its clim ax: tow ard a w ooden bust o f G o d the F ath er fixed h igh on a w all o f the cave, a priest raised a M e x ic a n fetish. A t this the divin e head turned thrice in denial from rig h t to left.

To

th e

P u b lic : P le a s e T h e se

P r o te c t a n d P la n tin g s

P r e s e r v e

N e w

W h a t is so lv ed ? D o not a ll the questions o f our lives, as we live, rem ain b eh in d us like foliage obstructing our view ? T o uproot this foliage, even to thin it out, does not occur to us. W e stride on, leave it b ehind , and from a distance it is indeed open to v ie w , b u t indistin ct, sh ad ow y, and all the m ore en ig m a tica lly en ta n g led .

52
C o m m en ta ry and translation stand in the same relatio n to the text as style and mimesis to n atu re: the same p h enom enon considered from different aspects. O n the tree o f the sacred text both are only the etern ally rustling leaves; on that o f the profane, the seasonally fallin g fruits. H e w ho loves is attach ed not only to the fau lts o f the beloved, not only to the w him s and weaknesses o f a w om an. W rinkles in the face, moles, sh ab b y clothes, and a lopsided w alk bind him m ore lastingly and relentlessly than any b ea u ty . T h is has long been know n. A n d w h y ? I f the theory is correct that feeling is not located in the head, that w e sentiently exp erien ce a w indow , a cloud, a tree not in our brains but, rath er, in the place w here we see it, then w e are, in looking at our b eloved , too, outside ourselves. But in a torm ent o f tension and ravish ment. O u r feeling, d azzled , flutters like a flock o f birds in the w o m a n s radiance. A n d as birds seek refuge in the leafy recesses o f a tree, feelings escape into the shaded w rinkles, the a w k w a rd m ovem ents and inconspicuous blem ishes o f the b od y w e love, w here they can lie low in safety. A n d no passer-by w ou ld guess that it is ju st here, in w hat is defective and censurable, th at the fleeting darts o f adoration nestle.

C o n s t r u c t io n

S it e

P edan tic b rood in g over the p rod u ction o f ob jects visu al aids, toys, or b ook s that are supposed to be suitable for ch ild ren is folly. Since the E nlighten m en t this has been one o f the m ustiest speculations o f the pedagogues. T h e ir infatuation w ith p sych o logy keeps them from p erceivin g th at the w orld is full o f the m ost u n rivalled objects for childish atten tion and use. A n d the m ost specific. For children are p a rticu la rly fond o f h au n tin g a n y site w here things are being visibly w orked upon. T h e y are irresistibly draw n by the detritus generated b y bu ild in g, gard en in g, house work, tailoring, or carpentry. In waste products they recogn ize

One-Way Street 53 the face th at the w orld o f things turns d irectly and solely to them . In usin g these things they do not so m uch im itate the works o f adults as b rin g together, in the artefact produced in play, m aterials o f w id ely d ifferin g kinds in a new, intu itive relationship . C h ild re n thus prod u ce their ow n sm all w orld o f things w ith in the greater one. T h e norm s o f this sm all w orld m ust be k ept in m ind if one wishes to create things specially for child ren , rath er than let o n es ad u lt a ctiv ity , through its requisites and instrum ents, find its ow n w a y to them .

M in is t r y

o f

t h e

I n t e r io r

T h e m ore an tagon istic a person is tow ard the traditional order, the m ore in e x o ra b ly he w ill subject his p rivate life to the norm s that he w ishes to elevate as legislators o f a future society. It is as if these law s, n ow here yet realized , placed him under ob ligation to en act them in a d va n ce at least in the confines o f his ow n existence. T h e m an, on the oth er hand, w ho know s him self to be in acco rd w ith the most an cien t heritage o f his class or nation w ill som etim es b rin g his p riva te life into ostentatious contrast to the m axim s that he u n relen tin gly asserts in public, secretly a p p ro v in g his ow n b eh aviou r, w ith ou t the slightest qualm s, as the most con clu sive p ro o f o f the un shakable au th ority o f the p rinciples he puts on d isplay. T h u s are distinguished the types o f the an arch o-so cialist and the conservative politician.

F la g

. . .

H o w m u ch m ore easily the leave-tak er is lo ved ! For the flam e burns m ore p u rely for those van ish in g in the distance, fuelled by the fleetin g scrap o f m aterial w a v in g from the ship or railw ay w in d o w . S ep aratio n penetrates the d isap p earin g person like a p igm en t an d steeps him in gentle rad ian ce.

54
. . . a t H a l f -M ast

I f a person very close to us is d yin g, there is som ething in the months to com e that w e d im ly a p p reh e n d m uch as w e should have liked to share it w ith h im could only happ en th rou gh his absence. W e greet him at the last in a lan gu age that he no lon ger understands.

I m p e r ia l P a n o r a m a

A Tour o f German Inflation i. In the stock o f ph raseology that lays bare the a m a lg a m o f stupidity and cow ard ice constitutin g the m ode o f life o f the G erm an bourgeois, the locu tion referring to im p en d in g catas tro p h e that things c a n t go on like this is p a rticu la rly n otew orthy. T h e helpless fixation on notions o f security and property d erivin g from past decades keeps the a vera ge citizen from p erceivin g the quite rem ark ab le stabilities o f an en tirely new kind that underlie the present situation. B ecause the rela tive stab ilization o f the p rew a r years benefited him , he feels com pelled to regard any state that dispossesses him as unstable. But stable conditions need by no m eans be pleasant conditions, and even before the w ar there w ere strata for w h om stab ilized conditions am ou nted to stabilized w retchedness. T o declin e is no less stable, no more surprising, than to rise. O n ly a vie w that acknow ledges d ow nfall as the sole reason for the present situ a tion can ad van ce beyond en erva tin g am azem ent at w h a t is d a ily repeated, and perceive the ph enom ena o f decline as stab ility itself and rescue alone as extraord in ary, verg in g on the m a r vellous and incom prehensible. P eople in the n ational co m m u n i ties o f C en tra l E urope live like the inhabitants o f an en circled town whose provisions and gu n p o w d er are ru n n in g ou t an d for w hom d eliverance is, by hum an reasoning, scarcely to be ex p ected a case in w hich surrender, perhaps u n con d ition al, should be most seriously considered. But the silent, invisible

One-Way Street 55 pow er th at C e n tra l E urop e feels opposin g it does not negotiate. N oth in g, therefore, rem ains b u t to direct the gaze, in the per petual ex p ecta tio n o f the final on slau ght, on nothin g excep t the ex tra o rd in a ry even t in w hich alone salvation now lies. B ut this necessary state o f intense and u n com p lain in g atten tion could, because w e are in m ysterious co n tact w ith the pow ers besieging us, rea lly call forth a m iracle. C on versely, the assum ption that things can n o t go on like this w ill one d ay find itself apprised o f the fact th a t for the suffering o f ind ivid u als as o f com m unities there is o n ly one lim it b eyon d w h ich things cannot g o : a n n ih ila tion. 2. A curious p a ra d o x : people h ave on ly the narrow est private interest in m ind w hen they act, yet they are at the same time m ore th an ever determ in ed in their b eh aviou r by the instincts o f the mass. A n d m ore than ever mass instincts h ave becom e con fused and estran ged from life. W h ereas the obscure im pulse o f the a n im a l as in n u m erab le anecd otes relate detects, as d an ger a p p roach es, a w a y o f escape th at still seems invisible, this society, each o f whose m em bers cares only for his ow n abject w ell-bein g, falls victim , w ith a n im a l insensibility b u t w ith ou t the insensate in tu ition o f anim als, as a blind mass, to even the most ob viou s d an ger, and the d iversity o f in d iv id u a l goals is im m ateria l in face o f the id en tity o f the d eterm in ing forces. A g a in an d a g a in it has been show n that societys atta ch m en t to its fa m ilia r and lon g-since-forfeited life is so rigid as to nu llify the g e n u in ely h u m a n a p p licatio n o f intellect, foreth ou ght, even in dire peril. So th a t in this society the picture o f im b ecility is co m p le te : u n ce rta in ty, indeed perversion o f vital instincts, and im poten ce, in d eed d ecay o f the intellect. T his is the condition o f the en tire G e rm a n bourgeoisie. 3. A ll close relationships are lit up by an alm ost intolerable, p ie rcin g c la r ity in w hich th ey are scarcely able to survive. For on the one h an d , m on ey stands ru in ou sly at the centre o f every vital interest, b u t on the other, this is the very b arrier before

5^
w hich alm ost all relationships h a lt; so, m ore and m ore, in the n atural as in the m oral sphere, u nreflecting trust, calm , and health are d isappearing. 4. N ot w ithou t reason is it custom ary to speak o f n a k ed w ant. W h a t is most d am ag in g in the display o f it, a p ractice started under the dictates o f necessity and m akin g visible on ly a thousandth part o f the hidden distress, is not the p ity or the eq u ally terrible awareness o f his ow n im pu n ity aw ak en ed in the onlooker, but his sham e. It is im possible to rem ain in a large G erm an city, w here hunger forces the most w retch ed to live on the bank notes w ith w hich passers-by seek to cover an exposure that w ounds them . 5. P overty disgraces no m a n . W ell and good. But they dis grace the poor m an. T h e y do it, and then console him w ith the little adage. It is one o f those that m ay once have held good but have long since d egenerated. T h e case is no differen t w ith the brutal, I f a m an does not w ork, neither shall he e a t. W h en there was w ork that fed a m an, there was also p o verty th at did not disgrace him , if it arose from deform ity or other m isfortune. But this d ep rivation , into w h ich m illions are b o m and hundreds o f thousands are dragged by im poverishm ent, does ind eed dis grace. F ilth and m isery grow up around them like w alls, the work o f invisible hands. A n d ju st as a m an can en dure m u ch in isolation, but feels ju stifiable sham e w hen his w ife sees him bear it or suffers it herself, so he m ay tolerate m uch as long as he is alone, and everyth in g as long as he conceals it. B ut no one m ay ever m ake peace w ith poverty w hen it falls like a g ig an tic shadow upon his cou ntrym en and his house. T h e n he m ust be alert to every hum iliation done to him and so disciplin e h im self that his suffering becom es no longer the d ow n hill road o f grief, but the rising path o f revolt. But o f this there is no hope so lon g as each blackest, most terrible stroke o f fate, d a ily and even hourly discussed by the press, set forth in all its illusory causes and effects, helps no one un cover the dark powers th at h old his life in thrall.

One-Way Street 6. T o the foreigner curso rily a cq u ain ted w ith the pattern o f G erm an life w h o has even b riefly travelled abou t the country, its in h ab ita n ts seem no less b izarre than an exotic race. A w itty F re n ch m a n has said : A G erm a n seldom understands himself. I f he has on ce understood him self, he w ill not say so. I f he says so, he w ill not m ake h im self u n d erstood . T his com fortless dis tance w as increased b y the w ar, b u t not m erely throu gh the real and le g e n d a ry atrocities th at G erm an s are reported to have com m itted . R a th e r, w h at com pletes the isolation o f G erm an y in the eyes o f oth er E urop ean s, w h at really engenders the atti tude th a t th ey are d ea lin g w ith H ottentots in the G erm ans (as it has b een a p tly put), is the vio len ce, incom prehensible to ou t siders and w h o lly im p e rcep tib le to those im prisoned by it, w ith w h ich circum stan ces, squalor, and stu p id ity here subjugate people en tirely to collective forces, as the lives o f savages alone are su b jected to tribal laws. T h e most E u rop ean o f all accom plishm ents, th at m ore or less discernible irony w ith w h ich the life o f the in d iv id u a l asserts the right to run its course ind epen den tly o f the co m m u n ity into w h ich it is cast, has com pletely deserted the G erm an s. 7. T h e freedom o f conversation is being lost. I f it was earlier a m a tter o f course in conversation to take interest in on es p artner, this is now rep la ced by in q u iry into the price o f his shoes or his u m b rella. Irresistib ly in tru d in g on any con vivial exch an ge is the them e o f the conditions o f life, o f m oney. W h a t this them e in volves is not so m u ch the concerns and sorrows o f in d ivid u a ls, in w h ich they m igh t be able to help one another, as the o v erall pictu re. It is as if one w ere trap ped in a theatre and had to fo llo w the events on the stage w hether one w an ted to or not, had to m ake them a ga in and again, w illin gly or u n w illingly, the sub ject o f o n es th o u gh t and speech. 8. A n y o n e w h o does not sim p ly refuse to p erceive decline w ill hasten to claim a special ju stificatio n for his ow n continued presence, his a ctiv ity and in vo lvem en t in this chaos. As there

57

are m any insights into the gen eral failure, so there are m a n y exceptions for on es ow n sphere o f action, place o f residence, and m om ent o f tim e. A blind determ in ation to save the prestige o f personal existence, rather than, through an im p a rtial disdain for its im poten ce and entanglem en t, at least to d etach it from the b ack grou n d o f universal delusion, is triu m p h in g alm ost everyw here. T h a t is w h y the air is so thick w ith life theories and w orld view s, and w hy in this cou n try they cut so presum ptuous a figure, for alm ost alw ays they finally serve to sanction some w holly trivial private situation. For ju st the same reason the air is so full o f phantom s, m irages o f a glorious cu ltu ral future b re ak ing upon us overnigh t in spite o f all, for everyone is com m itted to the op tical illusions o f his isolated standpoint. 9. T h e people cooped up in this cou ntry no lon ger discern the contours o f hum an personality. E very free m an appears to them as an eccentric. L et us im agin e the peaks o f the H ig h A lps silhouetted not against the sky bu t against folds o f d ark d rap ery. T h e m igh ty forms w ou ld show up only dim ly. In ju st this w a y a heavy curtain shuts o ff G e rm a n y s sky, and w e no lon ger see the profiles o f even the greatest m en. 10. W a rm th is ebbin g from things. T h e objects o f d a ily use gently but insistently repel us. D a y by day, in overco m in g the sum o f secret resistances not only the overt ones th at they put in our w ay, w e have an im m ense labour to perform . W e m ust com pensate for their coldness w ith our w arm th if they are not to freeze us to death, and handle their spines w ith infinite d exterity, if w e are not to perish by bleeding. From our fellow m en w e should exp ect no succour. Bus conductors, officials, w orkm en, salesm en they all feel them selves to be the representatives o f a refractory m atter whose m enace they take pains to d em on strate through their ow n surliness. A n d in the degen eration o f things, w ith w hich, em u latin g hu m an d ecay, they punish h u m an ity, the country itself conspires. It gnaw s at us like the things, and the G erm an spring that never comes is only one o f countless

One- Way Street g related p h en o m en a o f d ecom p o sin g G erm an nature. H ere one lives as i f the w eig h t o f the colu m n o f air supported b y every one had sud d en ly, against all laws, becom e in these regions percep tib le. 1 1 . A n y h u m an m ovem en t, w hether it springs from an in tellectu al or even a n atu ral im pulse, is im peded in its unfoldin g b y the boundless resistance o f the outside w orld. S hortage o f houses a n d the risin g cost o f travel are in the process o f ann ih i latin g the e lem e n tary sym bol o f E u rop ean freedom , w hich existed in certain forms even in the M id d le A ges: freedom o f dom icile. A n d if m ed ieval coercion bound m en to n atu ral associations, they are now ch ain ed together in u n n atu ral com m u n ity. F ew things w ill further the om inous spread o f the cult o f ram b lin g as m uch as the stran gu lation o f the freedom o f residence, an d n ever has freedom o f m ovem ent stood in greater d isprop ortion to the a b u n d an ce o f means o f travel. 12. J u st as all things, in a perp etu a l process o f m in glin g and co n tam in atio n , are losing their intrinsic ch ara cter w hile am b ig u ity displaces a u th en ticity , so is the city. G rea t cities whose in c o m p a ra b ly sustaining and reassuring pow er encloses those at w ork w ith in them in the peace o f a fortress and lifts from them , w ith the view o f the horizon , aw areness o f the evervig ila n t elem en tal forces are seen to be breach ed at all points by the in v a d in g countryside. N o t by the lan dscape, but by w hat in u n tra m m elled n ature is m ost b itter: plou gh ed lan d , highw ays, night sky th a t the veil o f v ib ra n t redness no lon ger conceals. T h e in secu rity o f even the busy areas puts the city d w eller in the o p aq u e an d tru ly d read fu l situ ation in w h ich he m ust assim i late, a lo n g w ith isolated m onstrosities from the open country, the abortion s o f u rb a n architecton ics. 13. N o b le in d ifferen ce to the spheres o f w ealth and poverty has q u ite forsaken m a n u fa ctu re d things. E ach stam ps its ow ner, lea vin g him o n ly the choice o f a p p earin g a starvelin g or a

6o

racketeer. For w hile even true lu x u ry can be perm eated b y intellect and con viviality and so forgotten, the lu x u ry goods sw aggerin g before us now p a rad e such brazen solid ity th at all the m in d s shafts break harm lessly on their surface. 14. T h e earliest customs o f peoples seem to send us a w a rn in g

that in a ccep tin g w hat we receive so ab u n d an tly from n ature we should gu ard against a gesture o f avarice. For w e are a b le to m ake M o th er E arth no gift o f our own. It is therefore fittin g to show respect in taking, by retu rn in g a part o f all w e receive before lay in g hands on our share. T h is respect is expressed in the ancient custom o f the libation . Indeed, it is perhaps this im m em orial practice that has survived, transform ed, in the p ro hibition on gath erin g forgotten ears o f co m or fallen grapes, these revertin g to the soil or to the ancestral dispensers o f blessings. A n A th en ian custom forbade the picking up o f crum bs at the table, since they belon ged to the heroes. I f society has so degenerated through necessity and greed that it can now receive the gifts o f nature only rap aciou sly, that it snatches the fruit unripe from the trees in order to sell it most p rofitab ly, and is com pelled to em p ty each dish in its determ in ation to h ave enough, the earth w ill be im poverished and the land yield bad harvests.

U n d e r g r o u n d W orks I saw in a dream barren terrain. It was the m a rk et-p lace at W eim ar. E xcavation s w ere in progress. I too scraped a b o u t in the sand. T h en the tip o f a church steeple cam e to light. D elighted , I thought to m yself: a M exica n shrine from the tim e o f pre-anim ism , from the A n a q u ivitzli. I aw oke lau gh in g. (A n a =&v< 5c; vi = vie; w itz [joke] = M exica n ch u rch [!].)

C o if f e u r f o r F astidious L adies T h ree thousand ladies and gentlem en from the K u rfu rsten dam m are to be arrested in their beds one m ornin g w ith o u t

One-Way Street e x p la n a tio n and d etain ed for tw en ty-fou r hours. A t m id n igh t a q u estion n aire on the d eath p e n a lty is distributed to the cells req u irin g its signatories to in d icate w h ich form o f execution, should the occasion arise, th ey w ou ld prefer. T h is d ocum en t w ou ld h ave to be com p leted to the best o f their k n o w led g e by those w ho h ith erto had m erely offered their unsolicited views in all co n scien ce . B y first ligh t, th at hour held sacred o f old but in this c o u n try d ed icated to the executioner, the question o f cap ital p u n ish m en t w o u ld be resolved.

61

C a u t i o n : Steps W o rk on go od prose has three steps: a m usical stage w hen it is com posed, an a rch itecto n ic one w hen it is built, and a textile one w h en it is w o v en .

A t t e s t e d A u d i t o r of B ooks Ju st as this tim e is the antithesis o f the R enaissance in general, it contrasts in p a rticu la r to the situation in w hich the art o f printin g w as d iscovered . F or w h eth er by coincid en ce or not, its a p p e ara n ce in G e rm a n y cam e at a tim e w hen the book in the most em in en t sense o f the w ord , the book o f books, had through L u th e r s tran slation b ecom e the p e o p les property. N ow ev ery thin g in d icates th at the book in this trad itional form is nearing its end. M a lla r m e , w h o in the crystallin e structure o f his cer tain ly trad itio n a list w ritin g saw the true im age o f w h at was to com e, w as in the Coup de des the first to incorporate the graph ic tensions o f the ad vertisem en t in the printed page. T h e ty p o g ra p h ica l exp erim en ts later u n d ertak en by the D adaists stem m ed, it is true, not from con stru ctive principles bu t from the precise n ervous reactions o f these literati, and w ere therefore far less en d u rin g th an M a lla r m e s, w hich grew out o f the inner nature o f his style. B u t they show up for this very reason the top icality

62
o f w hat M a llarm e, m on ad ically, in his herm etic room , had dis covered through a pre-established harm on y w ith all the derisive events o f our times in econom ics, techn ology, and p u b lic life. Printing, h avin g found in the book a refuge in w h ich to lead an autonom ous existence, is pitilessly d ragged out onto the street by advertisem ents and subjected to the b ru tal heteronom ies ol econom ic chaos. T his is the h ard schooling o f its new form . II centuries ago it began gra d u a lly to lie dow n, passing from the upright inscription to the m anu scrip t resting on slopin g desks before finally takin g to bed in the printed book, it now begins just as slow ly to rise again from the ground. T h e n ew spaper is read more in the vertical than in the horizon tal plane, w h ile film and advertisem ent force the printed w ord en tirely into the d ictatorial p erp en dicu lar. A n d before a child o f our tim e finds his w ay clear to open in g a book, his eyes have been exposed to such a b lizza rd o f chan gin g, colourful, conflicting letters that the chances o f his penetratin g the arch a ic stillness o f the book are slight. L ocu st swarm s o f print, w h ich alread y eclipse the sun o f w h at is taken for intellect for city dw ellers, w ill grow thicker w ith each succeeding year. O th e r dem ands o f business life lead further. T h e card index m arks the conquest o f three-dim en sion al w riting, and so presents an astonishing cou n terpoin t to the three-dim en sion ality o f script in its origin al form as rune or knot notation. (And tod ay the book is alread y, as the present m ode o f scholarly production dem onstrates, an ou tdated m ed iation betw een tw o different filing systems. For ev eryth in g th at m a t ters is to be found in the card b ox o f the researcher w h o w rote it, and the scholar studying it assim ilates it into his ow n card index.) But it is quite beyond dou bt that the d evelopm ent o f w ritin g w ill not in d efin itely be bound b y the claim s to pow er o f a ch ao tic acad em ic and com m ercial a ctiv ity ; rather, q u an tity is a p p ro a ch ing the m om ent o f a q u alita tive leap w hen w ritin g, a d va n cin g ever m ore d eeply into the grap h ic regions o f its new eccen tric figurativeness, w ill take sudden possession o f an ad eq u a te fa ctu al content. In this picture w ritin g, poets, w ho w ill now as in earliest times be first and forem ost experts in w riting, w ill be able to

One- Way Street p a rticip a te o n ly b y m astering the fields in w h ich (quite un ob tru sively) it is b ein g c o n s tru c te d : the statistical and techn ical d iagram . W ith the fou n d atio n o f an in tern ation al m ovin g script they w ill ren ew their a u th o rity in the life o f peoples, and find a role a w a itin g them in com pariso n to w hich all the in n ovative aspirations o f rh eto ric w ill reve al them selves as an tiq u ated d a y dream s.

63

T e a c h i n g A id Principles o f the Weighty Tome, or How to Write Fat Books. I. T h e w h o le com position m ust be perm eated w ith a protracted and w o rd y exp osition o f the in itia l plan. II. T erm s are to be in clu d ed for conceptions that, excep t in this d efin ition , a p p e ar n ow here in the w hole book. I I I . C o n ce p tu a l distinctions lab oriou sly arrived at in the text are to be o b litera ted again in the relevan t notes. IV . F or concep ts treated o n ly in their general significance, exam ples should be g iv e n ; if, for exam ple, m achines are m en tioned, all the d ifferen t kinds o f m achines should be enum erated. V . E v e ry th in g th at is know n a priori abou t an object is to be consolid ated b y an a b u n d an ce o f exam ples. V I . R ela tio n sh ip s that could be represented gra p h ica lly must be ex p o u n d ed in w ords. In stead o f being represented in a gen e a lo g ica l tree, for exam p le, all fam ily relationships are to be en u m erated an d described. V I I . A n u m b er o f opponents all sharing the sam e argum en t should each be refuted in d iv id u a lly . T h e ty p ic a l w o rk o f m odern scholarship is inten ded to be read like a ca ta lo g u e . B ut w h en shall w e a ctu ally w rite books like catalo g u es? I f the d eficien t con ten t w ere thus to determ ine the ou tw a rd form , an excellen t piece o f w ritin g w ou ld result, in w hich the v a lu e o f opinions w o u ld be m arked w ith ou t their b eing th e re b y p u t on sale. T h e ty p e w rite r w ill a lien a te the hand o f the m an o f letters

64
from the pen only w hen the precision o f ty p o g rap h ic forms has d irectly entered the concep tion o f his books. O n e m igh t suppose that new systems w ith m ore v a ria b le typefaces w ou ld then be needed. T h e y w ill replace the p lian cy o f the h and w ith the inn ervation o f com m an d in g fingers. A period that, constructed m etrically, afterw ard has its rhythm upset at a single po in t yields the finest prose sentence im agin ab le. In this w ay a ray o f light falls throu gh a chink in the w all o f the alch em ists cell, to ligh t up gleam in g crystals, spheres, and triangles.

G erm an s, D r in k G er m an B e e r ! T h e m ob, im pelled by a frenetic hatred o f the life o f the m ind, has found a sure w a y to an n ih ilate it in the co u n tin g o f bodies. W hen ever given the slightest op p ortu n ity, they form ranks and ad vance into artillery barrages and price rises in m arch in g order. N o one sees further than the b ack before him , and each is proud to be thus exem p lary for the eyes behind. M en h ave been ad ept at this for centuries in the field, but the m arch-past o f penury, stan din g in line, is the inven tion o f w om en.

P ost N o B ills The Writers Technique in Thirteen Theses. I. A n y o n e inten din g to em b ark on a m ajor w ork should be lenient w ith him self and, h a vin g com pleted a stint, d en y h im self nothing that w ill not preju d ice the next. II. T a lk about w hat you h ave w ritten, by all m eans, bu t do not read from it w hile the w ork is in progress. E very gra tifica tio n procured in this w ay w ill slacken y ou r tem po. I f this regim e is follow ed, the grow in g desire to com m u nicate w ill b ecom e in the end a m otor for com pletion. II I. In your w orking conditions avoid ev eryd a y m ed iocrity.

One- Way $treet Sem i-rela x atio n , to a b ack gro u n d o fin sipid sounds, is d egrading. O n the oth er hand , a cco m p an im en t by an etude or a cacop h on y o f voices can b ecom e as significan t for w ork as the p ercep tible silence o f the night. I f the latter sharpens the inner ear, the form er acts as tou chstone for a diction am ple enough to b u ry even the m ost w a y w a rd sounds. IV . A v o id h a p h a za rd w ritin g m aterials. A p ed an tic adherence to certain papers, pens, inks is beneficial. N o luxury, bu t an a b u n d a n ce o f these utensils is indispensable. V . L et no th o u gh t pass incognito, and keep you r notebook as strictly as the authorities keep their register o f aliens. V I . K e e p y ou r pen a lo o f from inspiration, w hich it w ill then attract w ith m agn etic pow er. T h e m ore circu m spectly you d elay w ritin g d ow n an id ea, the m ore m atu rely developed it w ill

65

be on su rren d erin g itsejrff S p eech conquers thought, but w ritin g j ^ com m an d s it^/ V I I . N ev er stop w ritin g because you have run out o f ideas. L ite ra ry hon our requires th at one break o ff on ly at an appointed m om en t (a m ealtim e, a m eeting) or at the end o f the w ork. V I I I . F ill the lacu n ae o f inspiration by tid ily cop yin g out w hat is a lre a d y w ritten . In tu itio n w ill aw aken in the process. IX . Nulla dies sine linea b u t there m ay w ell be weeks. X . C on sid er no w ork perfect over w hich you have not once sat from even in g to b road d a yligh t. X I . D o not w rite the conclusion o f a w ork in your fam iliar study. Y o u w ou ld not find the necessary cou rage there. X I I . S tages o f com p o sition : id e a sty le w riting. T h e valu e o f the fair cop y is that in p ro d u cin g it you confine attention to ca llig ra p h y . T h e id ea kills inspiration, style fetters the idea, w ritin g pays o ff style. X I I I . T h e w ork is the d eath m ask o f its concep tion . Thirteen Theses Against Snobs. (Snob in the p rivate office o f art criticism . O n the left, a c h ild s d raw in g, on the right a fetish. S n o b : D oesn t this m ake Picasso seem such a waste o f tim e ? )

I. II.

T h e artist makes a w ork. T h e prim itive expresses h im self in docum ents. T h e art-w ork is on ly in c id en tally a d ocum en t. N o docum ent is as such a w ork o f art. T h e docum ent serves to in struct. art-w orks, are artists rem ote Before docum ents, a p u b lic is ed u cated . A ll docum ents com m u n icate through their su bject-m atter. In docum ents the subject

I I I . T h e art-w ork is a m aster piece. IV . O n V. learn their craft. A rt-w orks perfection. V I . In the art-w ork conten t and form are o n e : m ean ing. V II. M e a n in g is the ou tcom e o f experience. V I I I . In the art-w ork subject m atter is a ballast je tt i soned du rin g con tem p la tion. I X . In the art-w ork the for m al law is central. X. T h e art-w ork is synthe tic: an energy-centre. X I . T h e im pact o f an art work increases w ith re peated view ing. X II. T h e virility o f works lies in assault. X III. The artist sets out to con q uer m eanings. from each other in their

m atter is w h o lly d om inan t. S u bject-m atter is the ou t com e o f dream s. T h e m ore one loses on eself in a docum en t, the denser the subject m atter grow s. Form s are m erely dispersed in docum ents. T h e fertility o f the docu m en t d em a n d s: analysis. A docum ent overpow ers only th rou gh surprise. T h e d o cu m en ts inn ocen ce gives it cover. The prim itive m an b arri cades h im self beh ind subjectm atter.

The Critic s Technique in Thirteen Theses. I. T h e critic is the strategist in the literary b attle. II. H e w ho cannot take sides should keep silent.

One- Way Street I I I . T h e critic has nothin g in com m on w ith the interpreter o f past cu ltu ra l epochs. I V . C riticism m ust talk the la n g u a g e o f artists. F or the terms o f the cenacle are slogans. A n d on ly in slogans is the b attle -cry heard. V . O b je c t iv ity m ust alw ays be sacrificed to partisanship, if the cause fough t for merits this. V I . C riticism is a m oral question . I f G oethe m isjudged H olderlin and K le ist, B eethoven and J e a n Paul, his m o rality and not his artistic d iscern m en t w as at fau lt. V I I . For the critic his colleagu es are the higher au th ority. N ot the p u b lic. S till less posterity. V I I I . P osterity forgets or acclaim s. O n ly the critic ju d ges in face o f the a u th or. IX . P olem ics m ean to destroy a book in a few o f its sentences. T h e less it has b een studied the better. O n ly he w h o can destroy can criticize. X . G en u in e polem ics a p p ro a ch a book as lo vin gly as a can nibal spices a b a b y . X I . A rtistic enthusiasm is alien to the critic. In his hand the art-w ork is the shining sw ord in the battle o f m inds. X I I . T h e art o f the critic in a nu tsh ell: to coin slogans w ithout b etray in g ideas. T h e slogans o f an in ad eq u ate criticism peddle ideas to fashion. X I I I . T h e p u b lic must alw ays be proved w rong, yet alw ays feel represented b y the critic.

67

No. 13
T r e iz e f e u s un plaisir cruel de m arreter sur ce nombre. [T h irte e n

stopp in g at this num ber, I felt a cruel pleasure.J

M arcel Proust Le reploiement vierge du livre, encore, prete a un sacrifice dont saigna la tranche rouge des anciens tomes; Vintroduction d une arme, ou coupepapier, pour etablir la prise de possession. [The tight-folded book,

v irg in a l still, aw aitin g the sacrifice that blooded the red edges o f earlier tom es; the insertion o f a w eapon, or paper-knife, to effect the takin g o f possession.]
Mallarme

68
I. Books and harlots can be taken to bed. II. Books and harlots in terw eave tim e. T h e y com m an d n ight as day, and d ay as night. I I I . N either books nor harlots show that m inutes are precious to them. But closer a cq u ain ta n ce shows w hat a h u rry they are in. As our interest becom es absorbed, they too are cou nting. I V . Books and harlots have ever been u n h ap p ily in love w ith each other. V . Books and h arlots both have their type o f m an, w h o both lives o ff and harasses them . In the case o f books, critics. V I . Books and harlots are p u b lic establishm ents for students. V I I . Books and harlots seldom does one w ho has possessed them witness their end. T h e y are apt to vanish before they expire. V I I I . Books and harlots are fond o f recounting, m en d aciou sly, how they becam e w hat they are. In reality they did not often notice it them selves. For years one follows the h ea rt w herever it leads, and one day a corp u len t b od y stands soliciting on the spot w here one had lingered m erely to study life . IX . Books and harlots love to turn their backs w h en p u ttin g them selves on show. X . Books and harlots have a large progeny. X I . Books and harlots O ld b ig o ts you n g w h ores . H o w m any books w ere once notorious that now serve as instruction for youth . X I I . Books and harlots have their quarrels in p u b lic. X I I I . Books and harlots footnotes in one are as banknotes in the stockings o f the other.

O rdnance I had arrived in R ig a to visit a w om an friend. H er house, the town, the lan gu age w ere u n fam iliar to me. N o b o d y was exp ect ing me, no one knew me. F or two hours I w alk ed the streets in solitude. N ever again have I seen them so. F rom every gate a

One- Way Street flam e d a rted , each cornerstone sprayed sparks, and every street car cam e to w a rd me like a fire engine. For she m ight have stepped out o f the ga te w ay , arou n d the corner, been sitting in the streetcar. But o f the two o f us I had to be, at any price, the first to see the other. For had she tou ched me w ith the m atch o f her eyes, I should have gone up like a m agazin e.

69

F i r s t A id A h igh ly em b ro iled q u arter, a netw ork o f streets that I had avoid ed for years, was d isen tan gled at a single stroke w hen one day a person d ear to me m oved there. It was as if a searchlight set up at this person s w in d o w dissected the area w ith pencils o f light.

In t e r io r D eco r a tio n T h e tract is an A ra b ic form . Its exterior is u n differentiated and u n obtrusive, like the facades o f A ra b ia n buildings, the a rticu la tion o f w h ich begins on ly in the cou rtyard . So, too, the a rticu la ted stru ctu re o f the tract is invisible from outside, revealin g itself o n ly from w ithin . I f it is form ed b y chapters, they have not verb al h ead in gs b u t num bers. T h e surface o f its deliberations is not p ic to ria lly en liven ed , b u t covered w ith un broken , pro liferatin g arabesques. In the orn am en tal density o f this presenta tion the d istin ctio n b etw een th em atic and excursive expositions is abolish ed .

Statio n er s Street-plan. I know one w h o is absent-m inded. W hereas the nam es o f m y suppliers, the locatio n o f m y docum ents, the addresses o f m y friends and acq u ain tan ces, the hour o f a rendez-

7o vous are at m y finger-tips, in her political concepts, p a rty slogans, declarations and com m ands are firm ly lodged. She lives in a city o f w atch w ords and inhabits a q u arter o f co n spiratorial and fraternal terms, w here every a lle yw a y shows its colour and every w ord has a passw ord for its echo. List o f wishes. Does not the reed the w o rld W ith sweetness fill M a y no less gracious w o r d F low from m y q u ill! Th is follows Blessed Y e a r n in g like a pearl that has rolled from a freshly-opened oyster-shell. Pocket diary. F ew things are m ore characteristic o f the N ord ic man than that, w hen in love, he must above all and at all costs be alone w ith himself, must first contem plate, enjoy his feeling in solitude, before going to the w om an to declare it. Paper-weight. Place de la C o n co rd e: the O b elisk. W h a t was carved in it four thousand years ago tod ay stands at the centre in the greatest o f city squares. H ad that been foretold to h im w hat a trium ph for the P h a r a o h ! T h e foremost W estern cu ltu ral em pire w ill one day bear at its centre the m em orial o f his rule. H ow does this apotheosis ap p ear in reality? N ot one am ong the tens o f thousands w ho pass b y pauses; not one am on g the tens o f thousands w ho pause can read the inscription. In such m anner does all fam e redeem its pledges, and no oracle can m atch its guile. For the im m ortal stands like this obelisk: regu la tin g the spiritual traffic that surges thunderously abou t him , and the inscription he bears helps no one.

F a n c y G oods T h e in com p arab le lan gu ag e o f the d ea th s h ead : total expres sionlessness the b lack o f the eye-sockets cou pled to the most u n bridled expression the grin n in g rows o f teeth.

One-Way Street S om eon e w ho, feeling h im self aband oned , takes up a book, finds w ith a p an g that the p a g e he is abou t to turn is alread y cut, and th at even here he is not needed. Gifts m ust affect the receiver to the point o f shock. W h en a va lu ed , cultured and elegant friend sent me his new book and I was abou t to open it, I cau gh t m yself in the act o f straigh ten in g m y tie. H e w h o observes etiq uette b u t objects to lyin g is like som eone w ho dresses fashion ab ly bu t w ears no vest. I f the sm oke from the tip o f m y cigarette and the ink from the nib o f m y pen flow ed w ith eq u a l ease, I should be in the A rcad ia o f m y w ritin g . T o be h a p p y is to be able to becom e aw are o f on eself w ith ou t fright.

7/

E nlargem ents Child reading. Y o u are given a book from the school library. In the low er classes they are sim ply handed out. O n ly now and again do you dare to express a wish. O ften, in envy, you see coveted books pass into oth er hands. A t last desire was granted. For a w eek you w ere w h olly given up to the soft drift o f the text, that surround ed you as secretly, densely and un ceasin gly as snow flakes. Y o u entered it w ith lim itless trust. T h e peacefulness o f the book that enticed you further and further! Its contents did not m u ch m atter. For y o u w ere readin g at the tim e w hen you still m ade up stories in bed. T h e child seeks his w ay along the h alf-h id d en paths. R e a d in g , he covers his ears; the book is on a ta b le that is far too h igh , and one hand is alw ays on the page. T o him the h ero s ad ven tu res can still be read in the

72
sw irling letters like figures and messages in d riftin g snowflakes. His breath is part o f the air o f the events n arrated , and all the participan ts breathe w ith his life. H e m ingles w ith the ch ara c ters far more closely than grow n-ups do. H e is un speakably touched by the deeds, the w ords that are exch an ged , and, w hen he gets up, is b lan ched over and over by the snow o f his reading.

Belated child . T h e clock over the school p la ygro u n d seems as if d am aged on his account. T h e hands stand at: L a te . A n d in the corridor, from classroom doors as he passes, com e m urm urs o f conspiracy. T h e teachers and pupils behind them are friends. O r all is silent, as if they w ere w aiting. In a u d ib ly he puts his hand to the doorhandle. T h e spot w here he stands is steeped in sunlight. V io la tin g the peacefu l hour he opens the door. T h e teach ers voice clatters like a m ill-w heel; he stands before the grin d in g stones. T h e voice clatters on w ith ou t a break, bu t the m ill-hands now shake o ff their load to the n ew com er; ten, tw enty h eavy sacks fly tow ards him , that he m ust carry to the bench. E ach thread o f his ja c k e t is flour-w hite. L ike those o f a w retched soul at m idnight, his every step makes uproar, and no one sees. O n ce arrived at his seat, he works q u ietly w ith the rest until the bell sounds. But it avails him nothing.

Pilfering child . T h ro u g h the chink o f the scarcely open larder door his hand advances like a lover through the night. O n ce at hom e in the darkness, it gropes tow ards sugar or alm onds, sul tanas or preserves. A n d as the lover, before kissing her, em braces his girl, his hand enjoys a tactile tryst w ith the com estibles before his m outh savours their sweetness. H ow in v itin g ly honey, heaps o f currants, even rice yield to his hand. H o w passionate this m eeting o f two w ho h ave at last escaped the spoon. G ratefu l and tem pestuous as one w h o has been ab d u cted from the parental hom e, straw berry ja m , u n encu m bered b y b read rolls, abandons itself to his delectation as under the open sky, and even the b utter responds ten d erly to the boldness o f this w ooer

One-Way Street w ho has pen etrated her bou d oir. His hand, the ju v e n ile D on Ju an , has soon in vad ed all the cells and spaces, leavin g behind it ru n n in g layers and stream ing p len ty : m aidenliness renew ing itself w ith o u t com plaint.

73

Child on the roundabout. T h e board carryin g the docile anim als moves close to the groun d. It is at the height w hich, in dream s, is best for flying. M usic starts and the child moves w ith a je rk a w a y from his m other. First he is afraid at lea vin g her. B ut then he notices how d ou gh ty he h im self is. H e is ensconced as the ju st ruler over a w orld that belongs to him . T a n g e n tia l trees and natives line his w ay. T h en , in an O rien t, his m oth er re-appears. N ext, em ergin g from the ju n g le , comes a treetop, exactly as the child saw it thousands o f years a g o ju st now on the rou nd abou t. His beast is d e v o te d : like a m u te A rio n he rides his silent fish, or a w ooden Z eus-bull carries him o ff as an im m acu late E u rop a. T h e etern al recurren ce o f all things has long becom e ch ild s w isdom to him , and life a p rim eval frenzy o f d om ination , w ith the boom in g orchestrion as the crow n jew els at the centre. As the m usic slows, space begins to stam m er and the trees to rub their brows. T h e rou n d a b o u t becom es u n certain ground. A n d his m oth er appears, the m u ch -ram m ed stake a b ou t w hich the lan d in g ch ild winds the rope o f his gaze.

Untidy child . E ach stone he finds, each flow er picked and each b u tterfly cau g h t is a lrea d y the start o f a collection, and every single th in g he owns makes up one great collection. In him this passion shows its true face, the stern In d ian expression w hich lingers on, b ut w ith a d im m ed and m anic glow , in antiquarians, researchers, bibliom aniacs. S ca rce ly has he entered life than he is a hunter. H e hunts the spirits whose trace he scents in th in g s; betw een spirits and things years are passed in w hich his field o f vision rem ains free o f people. His life is like a d r e a m : he knows nothin g lasting; everyth in g seem ingly happens to him by chan ce. H is nom ad-years are hours in the forest o f dream . T o it

74
he drags hom e his booty, to p u rify it, secure it, cast out its spell. His draw ers must becom e arsenal and zoo, crim e m useum and crypt. T o tidy u p w ou ld be to dem olish an edifice full o f prickly chestnuts that are spiky clubs, tinfoil that is hoarded silver, bricks that are coffins, cacti that are totem -poles and copper pennies that are shields. T h e child has long since helped at his m oth ers lin en -cu pb oard , his fath ers bookshelves, w hile in his ow n dom ain he is still a sporadic, w arlike visitor.

Child hiding. H e alread y knows all the h id ing places in the apartm en t and returns to them as to a house w h ere everyth in g is sure to be ju st as it was. His heart pounds, he holds his breath. H ere he is enclosed in the w orld o f m atter. It becom es im m ensely distinct, speechlessly obtrusive. In such m anner does a m an w ho is b eing hanged becom e aw are o f the reality o f rope and w ood. Stan d in g behind the d oo rw a y curtain , the child becom es him self som ething floating and w hite, a ghost. T h e dinin g table under w hich he is crou ch in g turns him into the w ooden idol in a tem ple whose four pillars are the carved legs. A n d behind a door he is him self door, w ears it as his heavy m ask and as a sham an w ill b ew itch all those w ho un suspectingly enter. A t no cost must he be found. W h en he pulls faces, he is told, the clock need on ly strike and he w ill rem ain so. T h e elem ent o f truth in this he finds out in his hiding place. A n yo n e w ho discovers him can petrify him as an idol under the table, w eave him forever as a ghost into the curtain, banish him for life into the h eavy door. A n d so, at the seekers touch he drives out w ith a loud cry the dem on w ho has so transform ed h im indeed, w ith ou t w a it ing for the m om ent o f discovery, he grabs the hunter w ith a shout o f self-deliverance. T h a t is w h y he does not tire o f the struggle w ith the dem on. In this struggle the a p artm en t is the arsenal o f his masks. Y e t once each year, in m ysterious places, in their em p ty eye-sockets, their fixed m ouths, presents lie. M a g ic discovery becom es science. As its engineer the ch ild disenchants the glo om y paren tal ap a rtm en t and looks for E aster eggs.

One-Way Street 75 A n tiq u es Medallion. In everyth in g th at is w ith reason called beautiful, a p p e ara n ce has a p a rad o x ical effect. Prayer-wheel. O n ly im ages in the m ind vitalize the w ill. T h e m ere w ord , by contrast, at m ost inflam es it, to leave it sm oulder ing, blasted. T h ere is no in tact w ill w ith ou t exact p ictorial im agin ation . N o im agin ation w ith ou t inn ervation . N ow b reath ing is the la tte rs most d elicate regulator. T h e sound o f form ulae is a can on o f such breath in g. H ence the p ractice o f m ed itatin g Y o g a , w hich breathes in a cco rd w ith the holy syllables. H ence its om n ipotence. Antique spoon. O n e thin g is reserved to the greatest epic w rite rs: the c a p a c ity to feed their heroes. Old map. In a love affair most seek an eternal hom eland. O thers, but very few, etern al vo ya g in g. These latter are m elan cholics, for w hom con tact w ith m other earth is to be shunned. T h e y seek the person w ho w ill keep far from them the hom e la n d s sadness. T o that person they rem ain faithful. T h e m ed ieval com plexion -books understood the yearn in g o f this hum an type for long jou rn eys. Fan . T h e follow in g exp erien ce w ill be fam iliar: if one is in love, or ju st intensely p reo ccu p ied w ith another, his portrait w ill ap p ear in alm ost every book. M o reover, he appears as both protagonist and antagonist. In stories, novels, and novellas he is en countered in endless m etam orphoses. A n d from this it fol lows th at the facu lty o f im ag in a tio n is the gift o f in terpolatin g into the infin itely sm all, o f in ven tin g, for every intensity, an extensiveness to contain its new , com pressed fullness, in short, o f receivin g each im age as i f it w ere that o f the folded fan, w hich on ly in sp read in g draw s b reath and flourishes, in its new ex panse, the beloved features w ith in it.

76
Relief . O n e is w ith the w om an one loves, speaks w ith her. T h en , weeks or months later, separated from her, one thinks again o f w h at was talked o f then. A n d now the m o tif seems banal, taw d ry, shallow , and one realizes that it was she alone, bendin g low over it w ith love, w ho shaded and sheltered it before us, so that the th o u gh t was alive in all its folds and crevices like a relief. A lon e, as now , w e see it lie flat, bereft o f com fort and shadow , in the ligh t o f our know ledge. Torso. O n ly he w ho can view his own past as an abortion sprung from com pulsion and need can use it to full a d va n ta g e in the present. For w hat one has lived is at best com p a ra b le to a beautiful statue w hich has had all its lim bs knocked o ff in transit, and now yields n oth in g but the precious block out o f w hich the im age o f on es future m ust be hewn.

W atchm aker and J ew eller H e w ho, aw ake and dressed, perhaps w hile hiking, witnesses the sunrise, preserves all d ay before others the serenity o f one in visibly crow n ed , and he w ho sees d a yb reak w hile w orkin g feels at m id d ay as if he has him self placed this crow n upon his head. L ike a clock o f life on w h ich the seconds race, the pagen um ber hangs over the characters in a novel. W h ich reader has not once lifted to it a fleeting, fearful glan ce? I dream t that I was w a lk in g a n ew ly-h atch ed priva te tutor conversing collegially w ith R o eth e, th rough the spacious rooms o f a m useum whose cu rator he was. W h ile he talks in an ad join in g room w ith an em p loyee, I go up to a glass showcase. In it, besides other lesser objects, stands a m etallic or enam elled, d ully shining, alm ost life-size bust o f a w om an, not dissim ilar to L e o n a rd o s F lora in the B erlin M useum . T h e m outh o f this golden head is open, and over the low er teeth je w e lle ry , p a rtly

One-Way Street h an g in g from the m outh, is spread at m easured intervals. I was in no d ou b t that this was a clock. (D ream -m o tifs: blushing [S c h a m -R o e th e ]; Morgenstunde hat Gold im Munde [G erm an sayin g: the m ornin g hour has gold in its m outh, i.e. the early bird catches the w o rm tr .]; La tete, avec I amas de sa criniere sombrejEt de ses bijoux precieuxJSur la table de nuit, comme une renoncule, IRepose . [T h e head, heaped w ith its dark m ane and precious jew els, rests on the n ight-table like a ranunculus.] B au d elaire.)

77

A rc L amp T h e on ly w a y o f k n ow in g a person is to love them w ith ou t hope.

L o g g ia Geranium. T w o people w h o are in love are a ttach ed above all else to their nam es. Carthusian pink . T o the lover the loved one appears alw ays as solitary. Asphodel. B ehind som eone w ho is loved, the abyss o f sexuality closes like that o f the fam ily. Cactus bloom. T h e tru ly lo vin g person delights in finding the beloved , a rgu in g, in the w ron g. Forget-me-not. M em o ry a lw ays sees the loved one sm aller. Foliage plant. Should an obstacle prevent union, at once the fantasy o f a contented, shared old age is at hand.

78
L o s t -P r o p e r t y O f f i c e Articles lost. W h a t makes the very first glim pse o f a village, a town, in the landscape so in co m p arab le and irretrievab le is the rigorous connection betw een foreground and distance. H ab it has not yet done its work. As soon as we begin to find our b ear ings, the lan dscape vanishes at a stroke like the facade o f a house as we enter it. It has not yet gained prep ond erance through a constant exp loration that has becom e habit. O n ce we begin to find our w a y abou t, that earliest pictu re can never be restored. Articles found. T h e blue distance that never gives w a y to fore ground or dissolves at our ap p roach , w hich is not revealed spread-eagle and lon g-w in d ed w hen reached bu t only looms more com p a ct and threaten ing, is the painted distance o f a b ackdrop. It is w hat gives stage sets their in com p arab le atm osphere.

H a l t f o r N o t M o r e t h a n T h r e e C abs I stood for ten m inutes w a itin g for an om nibus. L ln tra n . . . Paris-Soir . . . L a L ib e rte , a n ew spaper vend or called inces santly in an u n va ryin g tone behind me. L ln tra n . . . ParisSoir . . . L a L ib e rte a three-cornered cell in a h ard -lab ou r prison. I saw before me how b leak the corners w ere. I saw in a dream a house o f ill rep u te . A hotel in w h ich an anim al is spoiled. P ra ctica lly everyone drinks only spoiled a n im a l-w a ter. I dream t in these words and at once w oke w ith a start. T h ro u g h excessive fatigue I had throw n m yself on m y bed in m y clothes in the b rig h tly-lit room , and had at once, for a few seconds, fallen asleep. T h ere is in tenem ent blocks a m usic o f such d eathly-sad wantonness that one cannot believe it to be for the p la y e r : it is m usic for the furnished room s w here on Sundays som eone sits

One- Way Street in thoughts that are soon garnished w ith these notes like a bow l o f over-ripe fruit w ith w ith ered leaves.

yg

M onum ent to a W a r r io r Karl AraMi. - N oth in g m ore d esolatin g than his acolytes, nothing m ore god-forsaken than his adversaries. N o nam e that w ou ld be m ore fittin gly honoured b y silence. In ancien t arm our, w rath fully grin n in g, a C hinese idol, brand ishin g d raw n swords in each hand , he dances a w a r-d an ce before the b u rial vau lt o f the G erm an lan gu age. H e, m erely one o f the epigones that live in the old house o f la n g u a g e , has becom e the sealer o f its tom b. In d a y and n ight w atches he endures. N o post was ever m ore lo y ally held, and none ever was m ore hopelessly lost. H ere stands one w h o fetches w ater from the tear-seas o f his contem poraries like a D an a id e , and from w hose hands the rock w hich is to bury his enem ies rolls like that o f Sisyphus. W h a t m ore helpless than his conversion ? W h a t m ore pow erless than his h u m a n ity? W h a t m ore hopeless than his b attle w ith the press? W h a t does he know o f the powers that are his true allies? But w h a t vision o f the new seers bears com parison w ith the listening o f this sham an, whose utterances even a defun ct lan gu age inspires? W h o ever conjured up a spirit as K ra u s did in the F orsaken , as i f Blessed Y e a r n in g had never been com posed? H elpless as only spirits voices are w hen sum m oned up, a m u rm u r from the ch th on ic depths o f lan gu a g e is the source o f his soothsaying. E very sound is in co m p a ra b ly genuine, but they all leave us b ew ild ered like messages from the beyond. B lind like the manes lan gu a g e calls him to ven g ea n ce, as n arrow -m in d ed as spirits that know on ly the voice o f the blood, w ho care not w hat h avoc they w reak in the realm o f the livin g. But he can not err. T h e ir com m ands are infallible. W h o e ve r tries his arm w ith him is cond em ned a lrea d y : in this m outh the a d versa ry s nam e itself becom es a ju d g em e n t. W h e n his lips part, the colourless flam e o f w it darts forth. A n d none w ho w alks the paths o f life w ould

8o
com e upon him . O n an arch a ic field o f honour, a gigan tic b a ttle ground o f b lo od y labour, he rages before a deserted sepulchre. T h e honours at his death w ill be im m easurable, and the last that are bestow ed.

F ir e A l a r m T h e notion o f the class w ar can be m isleading. It does not refer to a trial o f strength to decide the question W h o shall w in, w ho be d efeated ? , or to a struggle the outcom e o f w hich is good for the victor and bad for the van qu ished . T o think in this w a y is to rom an ticize and obscure the facts. For w hether the bourgeoisie wins or loses the fight, it rem ains doom ed by the inner con tra dictions that in the course o f d evelopm ent w ill becom e d ead ly. T h e on ly question is w hether its d ow nfall w ill com e through itself or through the p roletariat. T h e continu ance or the end o f three thousand years o f cu ltu ral d evelopm ent w ill be decided by the answer. H istory knows n othin g o f the evil in fin ity contained in the im age o f the two wrestlers locked in eternal com bat. T h e true p o litician reckons on ly in dates. A n d if the abolition o f the bourgeoisie is not com pleted b y an alm ost calcu lab le m om ent in econom ic and techn ical d evelopm ent (a m om ent signalled by inflation and poison-gas w arfare), all is lost. Before the spark reaches the d ynam ite, the ligh ted fuse must be cut. T h e inter ventions, dangers, and tem pi o f politicians are te ch n ica l not chivalrous.

T r a v e l S ou venir s

Atrani. T h e gently rising, cu rved baroque staircase lead in g to the church. T h e railing behind the church. T h e litanies o f the old w om en at the A v e M a r ia : prep arin g to die first-class. I f you turn around, the church verges like G od H im se lf on the sea. E ach m ornin g the C hristian E ra crum bles the rock, but betw een

One-Way Street the w alls below , the n ight falls alw ays into the four old R o m an quarters. A lley w a ys like air shafts. A w ell in the m arket-p lace. In the late afternoon w om en a b o u t it. T h en , in solitude: archaic plashing. Navy. T h e b ea u ty o f the tall sailing ships is unique. N ot only has their outline rem ained u n ch an ged for centuries, b u t also they a p p e ar in the most im m u tab le lan d scap e: at sea, sil houetted against the horizon. Versailles Facade. It is as i f this chateau had been forgotten w here hundreds o f years ago it was p laced Par Ordre du Roi for on ly two hours as the m ovab le scenery for a Jeerie. O f its splendour it keeps none for itself, giv in g it u n d iv id ed to that royal condition w hich it concludes. Before this b a ck d ro p it becom es a stage on w hich the trag ed y o f absolute m on arch y was perform ed as an alle gorical ballet. Y e t tod ay it is on ly the w all in the shade o f w hich one seeks to enjoy the prospect into blue distance created by L e N otre. Heidelberg Castle. R uins ju ttin g into the sky can ap p ear d ou b ly b eautiful on clear days w hen, in their w indow s or above their contours, the ga ze meets passing clouds. T h ro u g h the transient spectacle it opens in the sky, destruction reaffirm s the eternity o f these fallen stones. Seville, Alcazar. A n arch itectu re that follows fan tasys first im pulse. It is un deflected b y p ractical considerations. These rooms p rovide only for dream s and festivities, their consum m a tion. H ere d ance and silence becom e the leitmotifs, since all hum an m ovem en t is absorbed by the soundless tum ult o f the ornam en t. Marseilles, Cathedral. O n the least frequented, sunniest square stands the cathed ral. T h is place is deserted, despite the p roxi m ity at its feet o f L a Joliette, the harbou r, to the south, and a

81

82
p roletarian district to the north. As a reload in g point for in tan gib le, un fath om able goods, the bleak b u ild in g stands betw een q u a y and w arehouse. N ea rly forty years w ere spent on it. But w hen all was com plete, in 1893, place and tim e had con spired victoriou sly in this m on um en t against its architects and sponsors, and the w ealth o f the clergy had given rise to a gigan tic railw ay station that cou ld never be opened to traffic. T h e facade gives an ind ication o f the w a itin g rooms w ithin , w here passengers o f the first to fourth classes (though before G od they are all eq u al), w edged am on g their spiritual possessions as betw een cases, sit readin g hym nbooks that, w ith their con cordances and cross references, look very m uch like internation al tim etables. E xtracts from the railw ay traffic regulation s in the form o f pastoral letters h an g on the w alls, tariffs for the discount on special trips in S a ta n s lu x u ry train are consulted, and cabinets w here the lon g-distance traveller can discreetly wash are kept in readiness as confessionals. T h is is the M arseilles religion station. Sleeping cars to eternity d ep art from here at M ass times. Freiburg Minster . T h e special sense o f a town is form ed in part for its in h ab ita n ts and perhaps even in the m em ory o f the traveller w ho has stayed th e re by the tim bre and intervals w ith w hich its tow er-clocks begin to chim e. Moscow, St Basil s . W h a t the B yzan tine m adonn a carries on her arm is only a life-size w ood en doll. H er expression o f pain before a C hrist whose ch ild h o od rem ains only suggested, repre sented, is m ore intense than any she could display w ith a realistic im age o f a boy. Boscotrecase. T h e distinction o f the stone-pine forest: its ro o f is form ed w ith ou t interlacem ents. Naples, Museo Nazionale . A rc h a ic statues offer in their smiles the consciousness o f their bodies to the onlooker, as a child holds

One- Way Street out to us freshly picked flowers untied and u n arran g ed ; later art laces its expressions m ore tigh tly, like the a d u lt w ho binds the lastin g b ou q u et w ith cu ttin g grasses. Florence, Baptistry. O n the portal the Spes by A n d rea de Pisano. S ittin g, she helplessly stretches her arms for a fruit that rem ains beyon d her reach. A n d yet she is w inged . N o th in g is m ore true. Sky . As I stepped from a house in a dream the night sky m et m y eyes. It shed intense rad ia n ce. For in this plenitude o f stars the im ages o f the constellations stood sensuously present. A L ion , a M a id en , a Scale and m a n y others shone livid ly dow n, dense clusters o f stars, upon the earth. N o m oon was to be seen.

83

O ptician In sum m er fat people are conspicuous, in w inter thin. In spring atten tion is cau gh t, in brigh t sunshine, by the you n g foliage, in cold rain by the still leafless branches. H ow a con vivial even ing has passed can be seen by som eone rem ain in g behind from the disposition o f plates and cups, glasses and food, at a glance. First p rin cip le o f w o o in g: to m ake oneself sevenfold; to place on eself sevenfold abou t the w om an w ho is desired. In the eyes we see people to the lees.

T oys Cut-out models. Booths have pu t in like rockin g craft to both sides o f the stone je tty on w h ich the people jostle. T h ere are

84
sailing vessels w ith high masts from w hich hang pennants, steam ers w ith smoke rising from their funnels, barges that keep their cargoes long stowed. A m o n g them are ships into w hich one vanishes; only men are ad m itted , but throu gh hatchw ays you can see w om en s arm s, veils, peacock-feathers. Elsew here exotic people stand on the deck ap p aren tly tryin g to frighten the p u b lic a w ay w ith eccen tric music. But w ith w h at in difference is it not received. Y o u clim b up h esitantly, w ith a broad rollin g gait as on ships stairw ays, and as lon g as you are aloft you realize that the w hole is cut o ff from the shore. Those w ho re-em erge from below , tacitu rn and ben u m b ed , have seen, on red scales w here d yed alcohol rises and falls, their ow n m arriage com e into b eing and cease to be; the y ello w m an w ho began w ooin g at the foot o f this scale, at the top o f it deserted his blue wife. In m irrors they have seen the floor m elt a w a y beneath their feet like w ater, and stum bled into the open on rollin g stairw ays. Into the q u arter the fleet has b rou gh t unrest: the w om en and girls on board have brazen airs, and everyth in g edible has been taken aboard in the land o f idle lu xu ry. O n e is so totally cut o ff by the ocean that ev eryth in g is encountered here as if at once for the first and the last tim e. Sea-lions, dwarfs and dogs are preserved as in an ark. Even the railw a y has been b rou gh t in once and for all, and circulates endlessly through a tunnel. For a few days the q u arter has becom e the port o f a south-sea island, its in h ab itan ts savages sw ooning in covetous w on d erm en t before the things that E urope tosses at their feet. Targets. T h e landscapes o f shooting-ranges in fairgroun d booths ought to be described co llectively as a corpus. T h ere is, for exam ple, a polar w aste against w hich are set bundles o f w hite clay-pipes, the targets, rad ia tin g like spokes. B ehind this, and before an u n articu lated strip o f w ood land , tw o foresters are painted, w hile right at the front, in the m anner o f m ovable scenery, are two sirens w ith provocative breasts in oil colours. Elsew here pipes bristle from the hair o f w om en w ho are seldom painted w ith skirts, usually in tights. O r they protru d e from a

One- Way Street fan they spread in their hands. M o v in g pipes revolve slow ly in the furth er regions o f the clay-p igeon booths. O th e r stands present th eatricals directed b y the spectator w ith his rifle. I f he hits the b u ll s-eye the p erform ance starts. O n one occasion there w ere thirty-six such boxes and above the stage o f each was w ritten w h a t th ey held in store: Jeanne dArc en prison , L hospitalite , Les rues de Paris . O n another booth : Execution capitale . In front o f the closed gate a gu illotine, a ju d g e in a b lack robe and a priest h o ld in g a crucifix. I f the shot hits the m ark the gate opens and a b oard is extended on w h ich the m iscreant stands betw een tw o policem en. H e places his neck a u to m a tica lly under the b lad e and is d ecapitated . In the same w a y : Les delices du manage . A penurious interior opens. T h e father is seen in the m iddle o f the room holding a child on his knee and w ith his free hand rockin g a cradle con tain in g another. L Enfer w hen its gates part a devil is seen torm en ting a w retch ed soul. N ex t to him an oth er is d ra g gin g a priest tow ards a cau ld ron in w h ich the d am n ed m ust stew. Le bagne [ clin k ] a door w ith a gaoler in front o f it. W hen the target is hit he pulls a b ell-cord. T h e bell rings, the door opens. T w o convicts are seen m a n h a n d lin g a b ig w heel. T h e y seem to have to turn it. Y e t an oth er constellation: a fiddler w ith his d a n cin g bear. W h en you shoot successfully the bow moves.. T h e bear beats a drum w ith his p a w and lifts one leg. O n e thinks o f the fairy-tale o f the b ra ve little tailor, and cou ld also im agine Sleep ing B eauty aw ak en ed w ith a shot, S n o w W h ite freed o f the ap p le by a shot or L ittle R e d R id in g -H o o d released by a shot. T h e shot breaks in m a g ic a lly upon the existences o f the puppets w ith that cu rative pow er that hews the heads from m onsters and reveals them to be princesses. As is the case w ith the great door w ith ou t an inscrip tion : if you have hit the m ark it opens and before red plush curtain s stands a M o o r w ho seems to b ow slightly. H e holds in front o f him a golden bow l. O n it lie three fruit. T h e first opens and a tiny person stands inside it and bows. In the second tw o e q u a lly d im in u tive puppets revolve in a dance. (T h e third did not open.) Below , in front o f the table on w h ich the

85

86
rem ain ing scenery stands, a sm all horsem an w ith the inscrip tion: Route minee . I f you hit the b u lls-eye there is a b an g and the rider somersaults w ith his horse, but stays needless to sa y in the saddle. Stereoscope. R iga. T h e d a ily m arket, a h u d d lin g city o f low w ooden booths, stretches a lo n g the jetty, a b road , d irty stone em b ankm en t w ithou t w areh ou se buildings, by the w aters o f the D vin a. Sm all steamers, often show ing no m ore than their funnels above the q u ay w all, have put in at the blackish dw arftown. (T h e larger ships are m oored dow nstream .) G rim y boards are the clay-grey foundation on w hich, glo w in g in the cold air, sparse colours m elt. A t some corners there stand all the year round, alongside huts for fish, m eat, boots and clothes, pettybourgeois w om en w ith the coloured paper rods that penetrate as far as the W est only at C hristm as-tim e. L ik e being scolded by the m ost-loved v o ice such are these rods. For a few coppers m ulti-coloured chastising switches. A t the end o f the je tty , fenced o ff and only thirty paces from the w ater, are the red-andw hite m ounds o f the apple-m arket. T h e apples on sale are packed in straw , those sold lie w ith ou t straw in the housew ives baskets. A dark-red ch urch rises beyond, outshone in the fresh N ovem ber air by the cheeks o f the ap p les. S everal shops for b oatin g-tack le in sm all houses near the jetty. R opes are painted on them . E veryw h ere you see w ares depicted on signboards or on house-w alls. O n e shop in the tow n has cases and belts larger than life on its bare brick w alls. A low corner-house w ith a shop for corsets and m illin ery is d ecorated w ith ladies faces com plete w ith finery, and severe bodices painted on a yellow -ochre ground. P rotru d in g from it at an angle is a lan tern w ith sim ilar pictures on its glass panes. T h e w hole is like the facade o f a fantasy-broth el. A n oth er house, likewise not far from the h ar bour, has sugar-sacks and coal in grey and b lack relief on a grey w all. Som ew here else shoes rain from horns o f plenty. Iro n m on gery is painted in detail, ham m ers, cogs, pliers and the tiniest screws on one board that looks like a page from an ou t

One-Way Street m oded c h ild s pain tin g-b oo k. W ith such pictures the tow n is perm eated . B etw een them , how ever, rise tall, fortress-like desolate buildin gs evokin g all the terrors o f T sarism . Not for sale. A m ech an ical cab in et at the fair at L u cca . T h e exh ib ition is a ccom m od ated in a long sym m etrically-d ivid ed tent. A few steps lead up to it. T h e signboard shows a table w ith a few m otionless puppets. Y o u enter the tent by the right-hand op en in g and leave it by the left. In the brigh t interior two tables extend tow ards the back. T h e y touch w ith their inner edges so that on ly a n arrow space is left to w alk round them . Both tables are low and glass-covered. O n them stand the puppets (tw enty to tw en ty-five centim etres high on average), w hile in their low er con cealed part the clo ck w ork that drives them ticks au d ib ly. A n arrow raised board for child ren runs along the sides o f the tables. T h e re are distorting m irrors on the w a lls. N ext to the en tran ce prin cely personages are to be seen. E ach o f them m akes a p a rticu la r ge stu re : one a spacious, in vitin g m ovem ent w ith the righ t or left arm , an oth er a sw ivellin g o f his glassy e y e s; some roll their eyes and m ove their arms at the sam e tim e. F ran z J oseph stands there, Pius I X , enthroned and flanked by two card inals, Q u ee n E len a o f Italy , the Sultaness, W ilh elm I on horseback, a sm all N ap oleon II I and an even sm aller V icto r E m m an u el as C ro w n P rince. B ib lical figurines follow , then the Passion. H ero d orders the slau gh ter o f the infants w ith m anifold m ovem ents o f the head. H e opens his m outh w ide w hile nodding, extends and lets fall his arm . T w o executioners stand before him , one free-w heeling w ith a cu ttin g sword, a d ecap itated child u nder his arm , the other, on the point o f stab bin g, stands m otionless but for his rollin g eyes. A n d two m others are there: one endlessly and gently shakin g her head like a depressive, the other raisin g her arms slow ly, b esee ch in gly . T h e nailing to the cross. It lies on the groun d. T h e hirelings h am m er in the nails. C hrist n o d s. C hrist crucified , slaked by the sponge o f vin egar, w hich a soldier offers him in slow jerks and then instan tly w ith draws. E ach tim e the S av io u r slightly raises his chin. From

87

behind an angel bends over the cross w ith a ch alice for blood, holds it in front o f the b od y and then, as if it w ere filled, rem oves it. T h e other table shows genre pictures. G a rg a n tu a w ith d um plings. In front o f a plate he shovels them into his m outh w ith both hands, altern ately lifting his left arm and his right. E ach hand holds a fork on w h ich a d u m pling is im p a le d . A n A lp in e m aiden sp in n in g. T w o m onkeys p la yin g vio lin s. A m agician has two barrel-like containers in front o f him . T h e one on the right opens, and the top h a lf o f a la d y s b od y em erges. T h e one on the left o p en s: from it rises half-length a m a n s body. A g ain the right-hand contain er opens and now a ram s skull appears w ith the la d y s face betw een its horns. T h e n on the left a m on key presents itself instead o f the man. T h e n it all starts again from the b eg in n in g . A n o th e r m agician : he has a table in front o f him on w hich he holds beakers upside-dow n in each hand. U n d e r them , as he altern a tely lifts one then the other, appears now a lo a f or an apple, now a flow er or a d ie . T h e m agic w ell: a farm -boy stands head-shaking at a w ell. A girl draws w ater and the u n falterin g thick stream o f glass runs from the w e ll-m o u th . T h e en ch an ted lovers: a golden bush or a golden flam e parts in tw o w ings. W ith in are seen two puppets. T h e y turn their faces tow ards each other and then aw ay, as i f looking at each other in confused aston ishm en t. B elow each figure a sm all label. T h e w hole d a tin g b ack to 1862.

T h e auth or lays his idea on the m arble table o f the cafe. L e n g th y m editation, for he makes use o f the tim e before the arrival o f his glass, the lens through w h ich he exam ines the patien t. T h e n , d eliberately, he unpacks his instrum ents: fountain pens, pencil, and pipe. T h e num erous clientele, arran ged as in an a m p h i theatre, m ake up his clin ical au d ience. Coffee, carefu lly poured and consum ed, puts the idea under chloroform . W h a t this idea m ay be has no m ore connection w ith the m atter at h and than

One- Way Street 89 the dream o f an anaesthetized patien t w ith the surgical inter vention. W ith the cautious lineam ents o f h a n d w ritin g the operator m akes incisions, displaces interned accents, cauterizes proliferations o f w ords, inserts a foreign term as a silver rib. A t last the w h ole is fin ely stitched together with p u n ctu ation , and he pays the w a iter, his assistant, in cash.

T h is S p a c e f o r R e n t

r>k Ca a '

Foojs lam en t the d ecay o f criticism . For its d ay is lon g past. C riticism is a m a tter o f correct distancing. It was at hom e in a w orld w h ere perspectives and prospects counted and w here it was still possible to take a stan dp oint. N ow things press too closely on h u m an society. T h e u n clo u d ed , in n o cen t eye has becom e a lie, perhaps the w hole n aive m ode o f expression sheer in com p eten ce. T o d a y the m ost real, the m ercan tile g a ze ^ into the heart o f things is the advertisem ent. It abolishes the ^ space w h ere con tem plation m oved and all but hits us b etw een the eyes w ith things as a car, gro w in g to gigan tic proportions, careens at us out o f a film screen. A n d ju st as the film does not present fu rn itu re and facades in com pleted forms for critical inspection, their insistent, je r k y nearness alone b ein g sensa tional, the gen u in e advertisem ent hurtles things at us w ith the tem po o f a good film . T h e re b y m atter-of-factness is finally d ispatched , and in face o f the hu ge im ages across the w alls o f houses, w h ere toothpaste and cosm etics lie h a n d y for giants, sen tim en tality is restored to h ealth and liberated in A m erican style, ju st as people w hom n o th in g m oves or touches any longer are tau gh t to cry again by film s. F or the m an in the street, h o w ever, it is m on ey that affects him in this w ay, brings him into perceived co n tact w ith things. A n d the paid critic, m an ip u la tin g paintings in the d ea lers exh ib ition room , knows m ore im por tant if not b etter things abou t them than the art lover view in g them in the show room w in d o w . T h e w arm th o f the subject is com m u n icated to him , stirs sentient springs. W h a t, in the end, /f i <' ^ ^ /

9
makes advertisem ents so superior to criticism ? N ot w h at the m oving red neon sign says but the fiery pool reflecting it in the asphalt. t O f f i c e Equipm en t

c\ _ rp

T h e bosss room bristles w ith w eapons. T h e a p p aren t com fort that disarm s those entering is in reality a hidden arsenal. A telephone on the desk shrills at every m om ent. It interrupts you at the m ost im portant point and gives your op pon en t tim e to contrive an answer. M e an w h ile snatches o f conversation show how m an y m atters are dealt w ith here that are m ore im portant than the one under discussion. Y o u think this to yourself, and slow ly start to retreat from y ou r position. Y o u begin to w on d er w ho it is they are talkin g abou t, and hear w ith a fright that you r interlocu tor is leavin g tom orrow for B razil; soon you are so m uch at one w ith the firm th at you regret the m igrain e he com plains o f on the telephone as a disturbance o f business (rather than w elcom in g it as an op portu n ity). Sum m oned or un sum m oned the secretary enters. She is very pretty. A n d if her em ployer is either p ro o f against her charm s or else has long clarified his position as her ad m irer, the n ew com er w ill glan ce over at her more than on ce; and she knows how to turn this to a d va n ta ge w ith her boss. His personnel are in m otion p rod u cin g card-indexes in w hich the visitor knows h im self to be entered under various rubrics. H e starts to tire. T h e other, w ith the light behind him , reads this o ff the d a zzlin g ly illu m in ated face w ith satisfaction. T h e arm ch air too does its w ork; you sit in it tilted as far b ack as at the den tists, and so finally accep t this dis com fiting procedure as the legitim ate state o f affairs. T h is treatm ent, too, is follow ed sooner or later by a liqu id ation .

M ixed C a r g o : C a r r ia g e a n d P a c k in g In the early m ornin g I drove through M arseilles to the station, and as I passed fam iliar places on m y w ay, and then new , un-

One-Way Street fam iliar ones or others that I rem em bered only va g u ely, the city b ecam e a book in m y hands, into w h ich I h u rried ly glan ced a few last tim es before it passed from m y sight for w ho know s how lon g into a w areh ouse crate.

gi

C losed fo r A l te r a tio n s In a d ream I took m y life w ith a gun. W h en it w ent o ff I did not w ake up but saw m y self for a w hile lyin g. O n ly then did I w ake.

A ugeas Se l f -Ser v ice R estau ran t T his is the w eightiest ob jection to the m ode o f life o f the confirm ed b ach elo r: he eats b y him self. T a k in g food alone tends to m ake one h ard and coarse. T hose accustom ed to it must lead a S p a rtan life i f they are not to go dow n hill. H erm its have obser ved, i f for o n ly this reason, a fru gal diet. For it is only in co m p a n y that ea tin g is done ju stic e ; food m ust be d ivid ed and d istributed if it is to be w ell received. N o m atter by w h om : form erly a b eggar at the tab le en riched each b an qu et. T h e splitting up and giv in g are all-im p o rta n t, not sociable conversation. W h a t is sur prising, on the oth er hand, is that w ith ou t food c o n v ivia lity grows p recarious. P la y in g host levels differences, binds to gether. T h e C o u n t o f S ain t-G erm ain fasted before loaded tables, and b y this alone d om in ated conversation. W hen all abstain, how ever, rivalries and conflict ensue. '

Stam p Shop T o som eone lookin g th rou gh piles o f old letters a stam p that has long b een out o f c ircu latio n on a to m envelope often says m ore than a rea d in g o f dozens o f pages. Som etim es you com e across them on postcards and are unsure w hether you should d etach

92
them or keep the card as it is, like a page by an old m aster that has different but eq u ally precious draw ings on both sides. T h ere are also, in the glass-cases o f cafes, letters w ith a charge on them , pilloried before all eyes. O r h ave they been deported, and have to w ait in this case for years, lan guish in g on a glass Salas y G om ez? Letters that rem ain lon g unopened take on a b ru tal look; they are disinherited, and m align an tly plot revenge for long days o f suffering. M a n y o f them later figure in the w indow s o f stam p dealers, as entires b ran d ed over and over w ith post marks. As is know n, there are collectors w ho concern them selves only w ith post-m arked stamps, and it w ould not be difficult to believe them the only ones w ho have penetrated the secret. T h e y confine them selves to the o ccu lt part o f the stam p: the post m ark. For the postm ark is the dark side o f stamps. T h ere are cerem onious ones that place a halo abou t the head o f Q u een V icto ria , and prophetic ones that give H u m b ert a m a rty rs crown. But no sadistic fantasy can equal the b lack practice that covers faces w ith weals, and cleaves the land o f entire continents like an earthquake. A n d the perverse pleasure in contrasting this vio lated stam p-body w ith its w hite lace-garnish ed tulle dress: the serrated border. T h e pursuer o f postm arks m ust possess like a detective inform ation on the most notorious post offices, like an archaeologist the art o f reconstructing the torsos of the most foreign place-nam es, and like a cab b alist an in ven tory o f dates for an entire cen tu ry. Stam ps bristle w ith tiny num bers, m inute letters, d im in u tive leaves and eyes. T h e y are graph ic cellu lar tissue. A ll this swarm s abou t and, like low er anim als, lives on even w h en m utilated. T h is is w h y such pow erful pictures can be m ade o f pieces o f stam p stuck together. But in them life bears alw ays a hint o f corruption to signify that it is com posed o f dead m atter. T h e ir portraits and obscene groups are littered w ith bones and riddled w ith w orm s. D o the colour sequences o f the long sets perhaps refract the light o f a strange sun? D id the postal ministries o f the V a tic a n or

One- Way Street 93 E cu a d o r cap ture rays unknow n to us? A n d w h y are w e not shown the stam ps o f the superior planets? T h e thousand grad ation s o f fire-red that are in circu latio n on V en u s, and the four great grey shades o f M ars and the u n nu m b ered stam ps o f S a tu rn ? C oun tries and oceans on stam ps are only the provinces, kings on ly the hirelings o f num bers that steep them in their colours at w ill. Stam p -alb u m s are m agic reference-books, the num bers o f m onarchs and palaces, o f anim als and allegories and states are record ed in them . Postal traffic depends on their h arm on y as the m otions o f the planets depend on the h arm on y o f the celestial num bers. O ld Groschen-stam ps show ing only one or two large figures in an oval. T h e y look like those first photos from w hich, in blacklacq u ered fram es, relations w e never knew look dow n on us: figure-shaped great-aunts or forefathers. T h u m and T a x is too has the big figures on its stam ps; there they are like the b ew itch ed num bers o f taxim eters. O n e w ou ld not be surprised, one evening, to see the light o f a can d le shining throu gh them from behind. But then there are sm all stam ps w ith o u t perforations, w ith ou t in d ication o f cu rren cy or country. In a tigh tly-w o ven sp id ers w eb they bear on ly a num ber. T hese are perhaps fa tes true lo ttery tickets. S crip t on T u rkish piastre-stam ps is like the slanted, altogether too dand yish, too gleam in g breast-pin in the tie o f a sly, only h a lf-E u ro p ean ized m erch an t from C on stantin ople. T h e y n u m ber am on g the postal parvenus, the large, b ad ly perforated, garish form ats o f N ica ra g u a or C o lo m b ia , w hich deck them selves out like ban kn otes. E xtra-p ostage stam ps are the spirits am ong stam ps. T h e y are u n alterin g. T h e changes o f m onarchs and forms o f go vern m ent pass over them w ith o u t trace, as over phantom s.

T h e child looks tow ards fa r-o ff L ib eria through an inverted opera-glass: there it lies beh ind its little strip o f sea w ith its palm s, ju st as the stamps show it. W ith V asco da G a m a he sails around a trian gle as isoscelean as hope and whose colours chan ge w ith the w eather. A travel brochure for the C a p e o f G ood H ope. W hen he sees the swan on A u stralian stam ps, it is alw ays, even on the blue, green and brow n issues, the b lack swan that is found on ly in A u stra lia and here glides on the w aters o f a pool as on the most pacific ocean. Stam ps are the visiting-cards that the great states leave in a c h ild s room . L ike G u lliv er the child travels am ong the lands and peoples o f his postage stamps. T h e g e o g ra p h y and history o f the L illi putians, the w hole science o f the little nation w ith all its figures and nam es, is instilled in him in sleep. H e takes part in their transactions, attends their pu rple assemblies, w atches the lau n ch in g o f their little ships and celebrates w ith their crow n ed heads, enthroned behind hedges, ju bilees. T h ere is, it is know n, a stam p-lan gu age that is to flowerlan gu age w hat the morse a lp h a b et is to the w ritten one. But for how long w ill the flowers continue to bloom betw een the telegrap h poles? A re not the great artistic stam ps o f the post w ar years, w ith their full colours, a lread y the a u tu m n al asters and dahlias o f this flora? S tep han, a G erm an and not b y chance a con tem porary o f J ean P aul, planted this seed in the sum m ery m iddle o f the nineteenth cen tu ry. It w ill not survive the tw entieth.

Si P a r l a

I t a l ia n o

I sat at night in violent pain on a bench. O pp osite me on another tw o girls sat dow n. T h e y seemed to w a n t to discuss

One- Way Street g j som ething in confidence and b egan to w hisper. N o b o d y except me was n ea rb y and I should not have understood their Italian how ever loud it had been. But now I could not resist the feeling, in face o f this u n m otivated w hisp erin g in a lan gu age inaccessible to me, th at a cool dressing was b ein g applied to the painfu l place.

T e c h n i c a l A id N oth in g is poorer than a truth expressed as it was thought. C o m m itted to w ritin g in such a case, it is not even a bad ph oto graph. A n d the truth refuses (like a child or a w om an w ho does not love us), facin g the lens o f w ritin g w hile w e crouch under the black cloth, to keep still and look am iable. T ru th w ants to be startled a b ru p tly , at one stroke, from her self-im m ersion, w h ether b y uproar, m usic or cries for help. W h o could count the alarm signals w ith w h ich the inner w orld o f the true w riter is eq u ip p ed ? A n d to w rite is n othin g other than to set them ja n g lin g . T h e n the sweet odalisque rises w ith a start, snatches w h a tev er first comes to hand in the melee o f her b oudoir, our cranium , w raps it aroun d her and flees us, alm ost u n recogn iz able, to oth er people. But how w ell-constituted she m ust be, how h ea lth ily built, to step in such m anner am ong them , con torted, rattled , and yet victoriou s, cap tivatin g.

H ardw are Q u o tatio n s in m y w ork are like w ayside robbers w ho leap out arm ed and relieve the stroller o f his conviction. T h e killin g o f a crim inal can be m o ra l but never its leg iti m ation. T h e provid er for all dep uty. m ankind is G od, and the state His

9$
I T h e expressions o f people m ovin g abou t a p ictu re-ga llery show I ill-con cealed disappoin tm ent that only pictures hang there.

T a x A d vice B eyond d ou b t: a secret conn ection exists betw een the m easure o f goods and the m easure o f life, w hich is to say, betw een m oney and time. T h e m ore trivial the content o f a lifetim e, the m ore fragm ented, m ultifarious, and disparate are its m om ents, w hile the gran d period characterizes a superior existence. V e r y aptly, L ich ten b erg suggests that tim e w hiled a w ay should be seen as m ade sm aller, rather than shorter, and he also observes: a few dozen m illion m inutes m ake up a life o f forty-five years, and som ething m o re. W hen a cu rren cy is in use a few m illion units o f w hich are insignificant, life w ill have to be counted in seconds, rather than years, if it is to ap p ear a respectable sum. A n d it w ill be frittered a w a y like a b u n d le o f bank n otes: A u stria cannot b reak the h abit o f thin kin g in florins.

M o n ey and rain b elon g together. T h e w eath er itself is an index o f the state o f this w orld. Bliss is cloudless, knows no w eather. T h ere also comes a cloudless realm o f perfect goods, on w hich no m oney falls.

A descriptive analysis o f b an k notes is needed. T h e unlim ited satirical force o f such a book w ou ld be eq u alled only by its ob jectivity. For now here m ore n aively than in these docum ents does capitalism display itself in solem n earnest. T h e innocent cupids frolicking abou t num bers, the goddesses h old in g tablets o f the law , the stalw art heroes sheathing their swords before m on etary units, are a w orld o f their ow n: orn am en tin g the facade o f hell. I f L ich ten b erg had found paper m on ey in circu la tion, the plan o f this w ork w ou ld not have escaped him .

One-Way Street
L
egal

97

P r o te c tio n

for th e

eedy

Publisher:

M y exp ectations have been most ru dely disappoin

ted. Y o u r w ork m akes no im pression on the p u b lic; you do not have the slightest pu llin g pow er. A n d I have not spared exp en ses. I h a ve incurred ad vertisin g costs. Y o u know how h igh ly I think o f you , despite all this. B ut you cannot hold it against me if even I now have to listen to m y com m ercial conscience. I f there is an yon e w h o does w h a t he can for authors, I am he. But, after all, I also have a w ife and children to look after. I do not m ean, o f course, that I hold you a ccou n tab le for the losses o f the past years. But a b itter feelin g o f d isappoin tm ent w ill rem ain. I regret th at I am at present absolu tely u n ab le to support you further. Author: Sir, w h y did you becom e a publish er? W e shall have

the answ er by return m ail. B ut perm it me to say one thin g in a d va n ce. I figure in y ou r arch ive as n u m ber 27. Y o u h ave p u b lish ed five o f m y b o o k s; in other words, you have put you r m on ey five times on n u m ber 27. I am sorry that num ber 27 did not p rove a w inner. In cid e n ta lly, you only took coupled bets. O n ly b ecause I com e n ext to you r lu ck y n u m ber 28. N ow you know w h y you b ecam e a publisher. Y o u m ight ju st as w ell h ave entered an honest profession, like you r esteem ed father. But never a th o u gh t for the m o rro w such is you th . C on tin u e to in d ulge y o u r habits. B ut a vo id posing as an honest businessm an. D o not feign in n ocen ce w h en you have ga m b led ev eryth in g a w a y ; do not talk abou t y o u r eight-hour w orkin g day, or the n ight w h en you h a rd ly get a n y rest, either. T ru th and fid elity before all else, m y c h ild . A n d d o n t start m akin g scenes w ith you r n u m bers! O th erw ise y o u w ill be bou nced .

D o c t o r s N i g h t -B e l l Sexual fulfilm ent delivers the m an from his secret, w hich does not consist in sexuality b u t w h ich in its fulfilm ent, and perhaps

9#
in it alone, is severed not solved. T h is secret is com p a ra b le to the fetter that binds him to life. T h e w om an cuts it, the m an is free to die, because his life has lost its secret. T h e re b y he attains rebirth, and as his beloved frees him from the m o th ers spell, the w om an literally detaches him from M o th er E a r th a m idw ife w ho cuts that um b ilical cord w h ich is w oven o f n a tu re s m ystery.

M adame A r ia n e S eco nd C o u r t y a r d on t h e L eft He w h o asks fortune-tellers the future u n w ittin gly forfeits an inner in tim ation o f com ing events that is a thousand times m ore exact than a n yth in g they m ay say. H e is im pelled by inertia, rather than curiosity, and n othin g is m ore unlike the subm issive ap a th y w ith w hich he hears his fate revealed than the alert d exterity w ith w hich the m an o f courage lays hands on the future. For presence o f m ind is an extract o f the future, and precise aw areness o f the present m om ent m ore decisive than foreknow ledge o f the most distant events. O m en s, presenti ments, signals pass d ay and n ight through our organism like w ave im pulses. T o interpret them or to use them , that is the question. T h e two are irrecon cilable. C ow a rd ice and a p a th y counsel the form er, lu cid ity and freedom the latter. For before such prop h ecy or w arn in g has been m ediated by w ord or im age it has lost its vitality, the po w er to strike at our centre and force us, we scarcely know how, to act accord in gly. I f w e neglect to do so, and only then, the m essage is deciphered. W e read it. But it is now too late. H ence, w hen you are taken unaw ares b y an outbreak o f fire or the news o f a death, there is in the first m ute shock a feeling o f guilt, the indistinct reproach : did you really not know o f this? D id not the dead persons nam e, the last tim e you uttered it, sound differen tly in you r m outh? D o you not see in the flam es a sign from yesterd ay evening, in a lan gu ag e you only now understand? A n d if an object dear to you has been lost, was there not, hours, days before, an aura o f m ockery or

One-Way Street gg m ou rn in g a b ou t it that gave the secret a w ay ? L ike u ltraviolet rays m em ory shows to each m an in the book o f life a script that invisibly and p ro p h etically glosses the text. But it is not w ith im p u n ity that these intentions are exchanged , that un lived life is h an d ed over to cards, spirits, stars, to be in an instant squan dered, m isused, and returned to us disfigured; w e do not go unpunished for ch eatin g the b od y o f its pow er to m eet the fates on its ow n grou n d and triu m ph. T h e m om ent is the C au d in e Y o k e b en eath w hich fate m ust b ow to the body. T o turn the th rea ten in g future into a fulfilled now, the on ly desirable tele path ic m iracle, is a w ork o f b o d ily presence o f m ind. P rim itive epochs, w h en such d em ean ou r was part o f m a n s d aily hus b an d ry, p rovid ed him , in the naked body, w ith the most reliable instrum ent o f d ivin ation . E ven the ancients knew o f this true practice, and S cipio, stum b ling as he set foot on C arth a gin ian soil, cried out, spread ing his arm s w ide as he fell, the w atch w ord o f v icto ry , Teneo te, terra Africana ! W h a t w ou ld h ave becom e a portent o f disaster he binds b o d ily to the m om ent, m aking him self the factotu m o f his b od y. In ju st such m astery the ancient ascetic exercises o f fasting, chastity, and vigil h ave for all tim e celeb ra ted their greatest victories. E ach m ornin g the d ay lies like a fresh shirt on our b ed ; this in co m p arab ly fine, in com p a ra b ly tig h tly w oven tissue o f pure prediction fits us perfectly. T h e happiness o f the next tw en ty-fou r hours depends on our ability, on w akin g, to pick it up.

C ostume W a r d r o b e A bearer o f news o f d eath appears to him self as very im portant. His fe e lin g even against all reason makes him a m essenger from the realm o f the dead. F o r the com m u n ity o f all the dead is so im m ense that even he w h o only reports death is aw are o f it. Ad plures ire was the L atin s expression for dying. A t B ellin zo n a I noticed three priests in the station w aitin g room . T h e y w ere sitting on a bench d iag o n ally opposite m ine.

100

In rap t attention I observed the gestures o f the one seated in the m iddle, w ho was distinguished from his brothers by a red skull cap. W h ile he speaks to them , his hands are folded in his lap, and on ly now and then is one or the other very slightly raised and m oved. I think to m yself: his right hand m ust alw ays know w hat the left is doing. Is there anyone w ho has not once been stunned, em erging from the M e tro into the open air, to step into b rillia n t sunlight? A n d yet the sun shone a few m inutes earlier, w hen he w en t dow n, ju st as brigh tly. So q u ick ly has he forgotten the w eather o f the upp er w orld. A n d as q u ick ly the w orld in its turn w ill forget him . For w ho can say m ore o f his ow n existence than that it has passed through the lives o f two or three others as gently and closely as the w eather? A g a in and again, in Shakespeare, in C ald eron , battles fill the last act, and kings, princes, attendants and follow ers enter, fleein g . T h e m om ent in w h ich they becom e visible to spectators brings them to a standstill. T h e flight o f the dramatis personae is arrested by the stage. T h e ir en try into the visual field o f non p a rticip atin g and truly im p a rtial persons allow s the harassed to d raw b reath , bathes them in new air. T h e ap p earan ce on stage o f those w ho enter fleein g takes from this its hidden m eaning. O u r readin g o f this form ula is im bued w ith exp ectation o f a place, a light, a footlight glare, in w hich our flight through life m ay be likewise sheltered in the presence o fo n lo o k in g strangers.

B e t t in g O ffice Bourgeois existence is the regim e o f private affairs. T h e m ore im portan t the nature and im plications o f a m ode o f behaviour, the further rem oved it is from observation here. P olitical con viction, finan cial situation, relig io n all these seek hideouts, and the fam ily is the rotten, dism al edifice in whose closets and

One-Way Street crannies the most ignom inious instincts are deposited. M u n d an e life proclaim s the total sub ju gation o f eroticism to p rivacy. So w ooin g becom es a silent, dead-serious transaction betw een two persons alone, and this th o rou g h ly private w ooin g, severed from all responsibility, is w h a t is really new in flirtin g . In contrast, the proletarian and the feudal type o f m en resem ble each oth er in that in w ooin g it is m uch less the w om an than their com petitors that they overcom e. In this they respect the w om an far m ore d eep ly than in her freedom , being at her com m and w ith ou t cross-exam in ing her. T h e shift o f erotic em phasis to the pu b lic sphere is both feudal an d proletarian . T o be seen w ith a w om an on such-and-such an occasion can m ean m ore than to sleep w ith her. T h u s in m arriag e, too, valu e does not lie in the sterile h a rm o n y o f the partn ers: it is as the eccen tric offshoot o f their struggles and rivalries en acted elsew here that, like the child, the spiritual force o f m arriage is m anifest.

101

Sta n d - U p Beer H a ll Sailors seldom com e a sh o re; service on the high seas is a holid ay by com parison w ith the lab o u r in harbours, w here load in g and u n lo ad in g m ust often be done d a y and night. W h en a ga n g is then g iv en a few hours shore-leave it is a lread y dark. A t best the ca th ed ra l looms like a d ark prom on tory on the w a y to the tavern. T h e ale-house is the key to every tow n ; to know w here G erm an beer can be drunk is ge o g ra p h y and ethnology enough. T h e G erm a n seam en s b ar unrolls the n octurn al plan o f the c it y : to find the w a y from there to the brothel, to the other bars is not difficult. T h e ir nam es h ave criss-crossed the m ealtim e conversations for days. For w h en a h arb ou r has been left behind, one sailor after another hoists like little pennants the nicknam es o f bars and d ance-halls, b eau tifu l w om en and n ational dishes from the next. B ut w ho know s w heth er he w ill go ashore this tim e? F or this reason, no sooner is the ship declared and m oored than tradesm en com e aboard w ith souvenirs: chains and picture-

102

postcards, oil-paintings, knives and little m arble figures. T h e city sights are not seen bu t b ou gh t. In the sailors chests the leather belt from H on g K o n g is ju xtap osed to a p a n ora m a o f Palerm o and a g irls photo from Stettin. A n d their real h ab itat is exa ctly the same. T h e y know nothin g o f the h a zy distances in w hich, for the bourgeois, foreign lands are enshrouded. W h a t first asserts itself in every city is, first, service on board , and then G erm an beer, English shaving-soap and D u tch tob acco. Im b u ed to the m arrow w ith the in tern ation al norm o f industry, th ey are not the dupes o f palm s and icebergs. T h e seam an is sated w ith close-ups, and only the m ost exact nuances speak to him . H e can distinguish countries better b y the prep aration o f their fish than by their building-styles or landscapes. H e is so m uch at hom e in detail that the ocean routes w here he cuts close to other ships (greeting those o f his ow n firm w ith howls from the siren) b e com e noisy thoroughfares w here you have to give w a y to traffic. H e lives on the open sea in a city w here, on the M arseilles C an nebiere, a Port Said bar stands d iagon ally opposite a H a m burg brothel, and the N eap olitan C astel del O v o is to be found on B arce lo n a s P laza C ata lu n a . For officers their n ative tow n still holds pride o f place. But for the o rd in ary sailor, or the stoker, the people whose transported lab ou r-p ow er m ain tains contact w ith the com m odities in the hull o f the ship, the inter laced harbours are no longer even a hom eland, bu t a cradle. A n d listening to them one realizes w hat m en d acity resides in tourism .

No

V agran ts! A ll religions have honoured the beggar. For he proves th at in a m atter at the same time as prosaic and holy, b an al and regen era ting as the givin g o f alms, in tellect and m orality, consistency and principles are m iserably in ad eq u ate. W e deplore the beggars in the South, forgettin g that their persistence in front o f our noses is as justified as a sch olars before

One-Way Street a d ifficult text. N o shad ow o f hesitation, no slightest w ish or d elib era tio n in our faces escapes their notice. T h e telep ath y o f the co a ch m a n w ho, b y accostin g us, m akes know n to us our p reviou sly unsuspected in clin ation to board his vehicle, and o f the sh opkeep er w h o extracts from his ju n k the single chain or cam eo th a t cou ld d eligh t us, is o f the sam e order.

103

To

t h e P la n eta riu m

I f one h a d to exp ou n d the d octrin e o f a n tiq u ity w ith utm ost b re vity w h ile stan d in g on one leg, as did H illel that o f the Jew s, it cou ld o n ly be in this sentence: T h e y alone shall possess the earth w h o live from the pow ers o f the cosm os. N o th in g dis tinguishes the an cien t from the m o d em m an so m uch as the form ers absorp tion in a cosm ic exp erience scarcely k now n to later periods. Its w a n in g is m arked by the flow ering o f astro nom y at the b egin n in g o f the m o d em age. K ep ler, C opern icu s, and T y c h o B rahe w ere c ertain ly not driven by scientific im pulses alon e. A ll the sam e, the exclu sive em phasis on an op tical co n n ectio n to the universe, to w h ich astronom y very q u ick ly led, c o n tain ed a p o rten t o f w h at was to com e. T h e ancien ts in tercourse w ith the cosmos had been d ifferen t: the ecstatic trance. F o r it is in this exp erien ce alone that w e gain certain k n ow led g e o f w h a t is nearest to us and w h at is rem otest to us, and n ever o f one w ith o u t the other. T h is means, how ever, that m an can be in ecstatic con tact w ith the cosmos only com m u n ally. It is the dangerous error o f m o d em m en to regard this exp erien ce as u n im p o rtan t and avoid a b le, and to consign it to the in d iv id u a l as the p o etic rap tu re o f starry nights. It is n ot; its hour strikes again and again , and then neither nations nor generation s can escape it, as was m ade terrib ly clear by the last w ar, w h ich was an attem p t at new and u n preced en ted com m in g lin g w ith the cosm ic pow ers. H u m a n m ultitudes, gases, electrica l forces w ere hu rled into the open country, highfreq u en cy currents coursed throu gh the lan dscape, new con-

stellations rose in the sky, aerial space and ocean depths thundered w ith propellers, and everyw h ere sacrificial shafts were d ug in M o th er E arth. T h is im m ense w ooing o f the cosmos was en acted for the first tim e on a p lan etary scale, that is, in the spirit o f techn ology. But because the lust for profit o f the ruling class sought satisfaction throu gh it, techn ology betrayed m an and turned the bridal bed into a bloodbath. T h e m astery o f nature, so the im perialists teach, is the purpose o f all technology. But w ho w ould trust a cane w ield er w ho proclaim ed the m astery o f children by adults to be the purpose o f ed u cation ? Is not ed ucation above all the indispensable ordering o f the relatio n ship betw een generations and therefore m astery, if w e are to use this term , o f that relationship and not o f ch ildren ? A n d likewise techn ology is not the m astery o f nature but o f the relation betw een nature and m an. M en as a species com pleted their d evelopm ent thousands o f years a go; but m ankind as a species is ju st begin n in g his. In tech n ology a physis is b ein g organized through w hich m an k in d s con tact w ith the cosmos takes a new and d ifferent form from that w hich it had in nations and fam ilies. O n e need recall on ly the experience o f velocities by virtue o f w hich m ankind is now prep aring to em bark on in calcu lab le jou rn eys into the interior o f time, to encounter there rhythm s from w hich the sick shall draw strength as they did earlier on high m ountains or at Southern seas. T h e L u n a p a rk s are a prefiguration o f sanatoria. T h e paroxysm o f genuine cosm ic experience is not tied to that tin y fragm ent o f n ature that w e are accustom ed to call N a tu re . In the nights o f ann ih ilation o f the last w ar the fram e o f m ankind was shaken by a feeling that resem bled the bliss o f the epileptic. A n d the revolts th at fol low ed it w ere the first attem p t o f m ankind to brin g the new body under its control. T h e pow er o f the proletariat is the m easure o f its convalescence. I f it is not gripp ed to the very m arrow b y the discipline o f this pow er, no pacifist polem ics w ill save it. L iv in g substance conquers the frenzy o f destruction only in the ecstasy o f procreation.
19 2 5 -2 6

II

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

E v e ry expression o f h u m an m ental life can be understood as a kind o f lan gu a g e, and this understanding, in the m anner o f a true m eth od , everyw h ere raises new questions. It is possible to talk abou t a lan g u a g e o f m usic and o f sculpture, abou t a lan gu age o f ju stice th at has n othin g d ire ctly to do w ith those in w hich G erm an or E n glish legal ju d gm en ts are couched, a b ou t a lan gu age o f tech n o lo gy that is not the sp ecialized lan gu age o f technicians. Lan gu age^ in such contexts m eans the tenden cy inh erent in the subjects c o n c e rn e d tech n ology, art, ju stice, or relig io n tow ard the c o m m u n ica tio n o f m en tal m eanings. T o sum u p: all com m unica-" tion o f m en tal m eanings is lan gu age, com m u n ication in words b ein g on ly a p a rticu la r case o f hum an lan gu a g e and o f the ju stice, p o etry, or w h a tev er u n d e rly in g it or founded on it. T h e existence J o f la n g u a g e, how ever, is not on ly coextensive w ith all the areas o f hu m a n m en tal expression in w h ich lan gu age is alw ays in one sense or an oth er inherent, b u t w ith absolu tely everyth ing. T h ere is no even t or th in g in eith er anim ate or in an im ate nature that does not in som e w a y partak e o f lan gu age, for it is in the nature o f all to com m u n icate their m en tal m eanings. T h is use o f the w ord la n g u a g e is in no w a y m etap h orical. For to think that we can not im ag in e a n yth in g that does not com m u nicate its m ental nature in its expression is en tirely m ean in gfu l; the greater or lesser degree o f consciousness that is a p p a ren tly (or really) involved in such co m m u n ica tio n can not alter the fact that w e cannot im agine a total absence o f lan gu a g e in anyth in g. A n existence entirely
IOJ

io8
w ithout relationship to lan gu age is an id ea ; bu t this id ea can bear no fruit even w ith in that realm o f Ideas whose circu m feren ce defines the idea o f G od. A ll that is asserted here is that all expression, insofar as it is a com m unication o f m ental m eaning, is to be classed as lan gu age. A n d expression, by its w hole innerm ost nature, is c ertain ly to be understood only as language; on the other hand, to un derstan d a linguistic en tity it is alw ays necessary to ask o f w h ich m en tal en tity it is the direct expression. T h a t is to s a y : the G erm an lan g u a g e, for exam ple, is by no means the expression o f everyth in g that w e could th eo retically express through it, but is the direct expression o f that w hich com m unicates itself in it. T h is itse lf is a m ental entity. I f is therefore obvious at once that the m en tal en tity that com m unicates itself in lan gu ag e is not lan gu a g e itself b u t som ething to be distinguished from it. T h e view that the m en tal essence o f a thing consists precisely in its la n g u a g e this view , taken as a hypothesis, is the great abyss into w h ich all lin gu istic theory threatens to fall,* and to survive suspended precisely over this abyss is its task. T h e distinction b etw een a m en tal en tity and the linguistic en tity in w hich it com m unicates is the first stage o f any study o f linguistic theory, and this distinction seems so u n qu es tionable that it is, rather, the freq u en tly asserted id en tity b etw een m ental and linguistic being that constitutes a deep and in co m p re hensible p arad ox, the expression o f w hich is found in the a m b ig u ity o f the w ord logos. N evertheless, this p a rad o x has a place, as a solution, at the centre o f linguistic theory, b u t rem ains a parad ox, and insoluble, if p laced at the b egin n in g. W h a t does lan gu ag e com m u n icate? It com m u nicates the m ental being corresponding to it. It is fu n d am en tal that this m en tal being ^com m unicates itself in lan gu age and not through lan gu ag e. L an guages therefore have no speaker, if this m eans som eone w ho com m unicates through these lan gu ages. M e n ta l b ein g com m u nicates itself in, not through, a lan gu a g e, w h ich m eans: it is not

* O r is it, rather, the tem ptation to place at the outset a hypothesis th at constitutes an abyss for all philosophizing?

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

109

o u tw a rd ly id en tical w ith linguistic being. M e n ta l is iden tical w ith lin guistic being on ly insofar as it is c ap ab le o f com m u nication. W h a t is com m u n icable in a m en tal entity is its linguistic entity. L a n g u a g e therefore com m u nicates the p a rticu la r linguistic b eing o f things, b ut their m en tal b ein g only insofar as this is d irectly in clu d ed in their linguistic being, insofar as it is cap ab le o f b eing co m m u n ica ted . L a n g u a g e com m unicates the linguistic b eing o f things. T h e clearest m anifestation o f this being, how ever, is lan gu age itself. T h e answ er to the question What does lan gu ag e co m m u n ica te? 1 is therefore A ll lan gu ag e com m unicates itself. T h e lan guage o f this lam p , for exam ple, does not com m u n icate the lam p (for the m en tal b ein g o f the lam p , insofar as it is communicable, is by no m eans the lam p itself), b u t: the lan gu age-lam p , the lam p in co m m u n ica tio n , the lam p in expression. For in lan gu age the situ ation is this: the linguistic being o f all things is their language. T h e u n d erstan d in g o f lingu istic theory depends on giv in g this proposi tion a c la rity that annihilates even the ap p eara n ce o f tautology. T h is proposition is u n tau to lo gica l, for it m eans: that w hich in a m en tal en tity is co m m u n ica b le is its lan gu age. O n this is (eq u iva len t to is im m e d ia te ly ) everyth in g depends. N ot that w h ich appears most c le arly in its lan gu age is com m u n icable in a m en tal en tity, as was ju st said by w ay o f transition, but this capacity for com m u n ication is lan gu a g e itself. O r : the lan gu age o f a m en ta l en tity is d irectly that w h ich is com m u n icab le in it. W h a t is co m m u n ica b le o f a m en tal entity, in this it com m unicates itself. W h ic h signifies: all lan gu a g e com m unicates itself. O r more p re cisely: all lan gu a g e com m u nicates itself in itself; it is in the purest sense the m ed iu m o f the com m u nication. M ed ia tio n , w hich is the im m ed ia cy o f all m en tal com m u nication, is the fu n dam en tal p ro b lem o f linguistic th eory, and if one chooses to call this im m ed ia cy m agic, then the p rim a ry problem o f lan gu a g e is its m agic. A t the sam e tim e, the notion o f the m agic o f lan gu age points to som eth in g else: its infiniteness. T h is is conditional on its im m ed iacy. For ju s t because n othin g is com m u n icated through lan gu age, w h at is c o m m u n ica ted in lan gu a g e cannot be ex tern ally lim ited or

1 10

m easured, and therefore all lan gu a g e contains its ow n in co m m ensurable, u n iq u ely constituted infin ity. Its linguistic being, not its verbal m eanings, defines its frontier. T h e linguistic b eing o f things is their la n g u a g e ; this proposition, applied to m an, m ea n s: the linguistic b eing o f m an is his lan gu a g e. W h ich signifies: m an com m unicates his ow n m ental b eing in his lan guage. H ow ever, the lan gu age o f m an speaks in w ords. M a n therefore com m unicates his ow n m en tal b eing (insofar as it is com m unicable) by naming all other things. But do w e know any other languages that nam e things? It should not be a ccep ted that we know o f no languages other than that o f m an, for this is untrue. W e only know o f no naming lan gu a g e oth er than that o f m a n ; to iden tify nam in g lan gu ag e w ith lan gu a g e as such is to rob lingu istic theory o f its deepest insights. It is therefore the linguistic being o f man to name things. W h y nam e them ? T o w hom does m an com m u n icate him self? But is this question, as applied to m an, other than as ap p lied to other com m unications (lan guages)? T o w hom does the lam p com m unicate itself? T h e m ou n tain ? T h e fox? B ut here the answ er is : to man. T h is is not anthropom orphism . T h e truth o f this answ er is shown in know ledge and perhaps also in art. F u rth erm ore, if the lam p and the m ountain and the fox did not com m u n icate them selves to m an, how should he be able to nam e them ? A n d he nam es them ; he com m unicates h im self by n am in g them. T o w h om does he com m unicate him self? Before this question can be answ ered w e must again in q u ire : how does m an com m u nicate him self? A profou nd distin ction is to be m ade, a choice presented, in face o f w hich an in trin sically false un derstan ding o f lan gu age is certain to give itself aw ay. Does m an com m unicate his m ental being by the nam es th at he gives things? O r in them ? In the p a rad o x ical n ature o f these questions lies their answer. A n y o n e w ho believes th at m an com m unicates his m ental being by nam es can not also assum e that it is his m ental b eing that he com m unicates, for this does not happen through the nam es o f things, that is, through the w ords by w hich he denotes a thing. A n d, eq u ally, the ad vo cate o f such a

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

view can on ly assume th at m an is com m u n icatin g factual subject m a tter to oth er m en, for that does happ en through the w ord by w h ich he denotes a thing. T h is view is the bourgeois conception o f la n g u a g e, the in v alid ity and em ptiness o f w hich w ill becom e in crea sin g ly clear in w h a t follows. It holds that the means o f co m m u n ica tio n is the w ord , its object factu al, its addressee a hu m a n being. T h e other conception o f lan gu ag e, in contrast, know s no m eans, no ob ject, and no addressee o f com m unication. It m ean s: in naming the mental being o f man communicates itself to God. N a m in g , in the realm o f lan gu a g e, has as its sole purpose and its in c o m p a ra b ly high m ean in g that it is the innerm ost nature o f la n g u a g e itself. N a m in g is that by w hich n othin g beyond it is c o m m u n ica ted , and in w h ich lan gu ag e itself com m unicates itself a b so lu tely. In n am in g the m en tal en tity th at com m unicates itself is language. W h ere m en tal b eing in its com m u n ication is lan gu age itse lf in its absolute w holeness, only there is the nam e, and on ly the n am e is there. N am e as the heritage o f hu m an lan gu age there fore vouch es for the fact that language as such is the m ental being o f m a n ; an d on ly for this reason is the m ental b eing o f m an, alone a m o n g all m en tal entities, com m u n icable w ith ou t residue. O n this is foun d ed the differen ce betw een h u m an lan gu age and the la n g u a g e o f things. B ut because the m en tal b eing o f m an is la n g u a g e itself, he can n o t com m u n icate h im self by it but only in it. T h e quintessence o f this intensive totality o f lan gu a g e as the m en tal b ein g o f m an is n am in g. M a n is the nam er, b y this we recognize th at th rou gh him pure lan gu a g e speaks. A ll nature, insofar as it com m u n icates itself, com m u nicates itself in lan gu age, and so finally in m an . H en ce he is the lord o f n ature and can give nam es to things. O n ly th ro u g h the lingu istic b eing o f things can he gain know ledge o f them from w ithin h im self in nam e. G o d s creation is com pleted w h en things receive their nam es from m an, from w hom in nam e la n g u a g e alon e speaks. M a n can call nam e the lan gu age o f la n g u a g e (if the genitive refers to the relationship not o f a means but o f a m edium ) and in this sense certain ly, because he speaks in n am e, m an is the speaker o f lan gu age, and for this very reason its o n ly speaker. In term in g m an the speaker (w hich, how ever,

112 accord in g to the Bible, for exam ple, cle a rly m eans the n am e g iv e r : As m an should nam e all kinds o f livin g creatures, so should they be called'' ), m an y languages im ply this m etap h ysical truth. N am e, how ever, is not only the last u tteran ce o f la n g u a g e but also the true call o f it. T h u s in nam e appears the essential law o f lan guage, acco rd in g to w hich to express on eself and to address everyth in g else am ounts to the sam e. L a n g u a g e and in it a m ental e n tity on ly expresses itself p u rely w here it speaks in nam e, that is, in its universal nam ing. So in nam e cu lm in ate both the intensive totality o f lan gu age, as the absolu tely c o m m u n ica b le m ental entity, and the extensive totality o f lan gu a g e, as the u niversally com m u n icatin g (nam ing) entity. By virtu e o f its com m u n icatin g nature, its un iversality, lan gu a g e is in com p lete w here the m en tal en tity that speaks from it is not in its w hole structure linguistic, that is, com m u n icable. Man alone has a language that is complete both in its universality and in its intensiveness. In the light o f this, a question m ay now be asked w ith o u t the risk o f confusion, a question that, though o f the highest m eta physical im portance, can be cle arly posed first o f all as one o f ter m inology. It is w hether m ental b e in g not on ly o f m an (for that is necessary) but also o f things, and thus m en tal b eing as su c h can from the point o f view o f linguistic theory be described as o f linguistic nature. I f m ental being is id en tical w ith lingu istic, then a thing, by virtue o f its m ental being, is a m edium o f co m m u n ica tion, and w h at is com m u nicated in it is in accord an ce w ith its m ediating relatio n sh ip precisely this m edium (lan gu age) itself. L an gu a ge is thus the m ental b eing o f things. M e n ta l b ein g is therefore postulated at the outset as com m u n icab le, or, rath er, is situated within the com m u n icable, and the thesis that the lingu istic b eing o f things is id en tical w ith the m ental, insofar as the latter is com m unicable, becom es in its insofar a tau tology. There is no such thing as a meaning o f language; as communication, language com municates a mental entity, i.e., something communicable per se. T h e differences betw een languages are those o f m edia that are dis tinguished as it w ere by their density, that is, g ra d u a lly ; and this w ith regard to the density both o f the com m u n icatin g (nam ing)

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

1 13

and o f the co m m u n ica b le (nam e) aspects o f com m u nication. T h ese tw o spheres, w h ich are clearly distinguished yet united only in the n am e lan gu a g e o f m an, are n atu ra lly constan tly interrelated. F or the m etaphysics o f lan gu ag e the eq u ation o f m ental w ith lin gu istic being, w h ich know s only grad u al differences, produces a g ra d u a tio n o f all m en tal b eing in degrees. T h is grad u ation, w h ich takes p la ce w ith in m en tal b eing itself, can no longer be em b raced b y a n y h igh er catego ry and so leads to the grad u atio n o f all being, b oth m en tal and lingu istic, by degrees o f existence or being, such as w as a lre a d y fam iliar to scholasticism w ith regard to m en tal being. H o w ever, the eq u ation o f m ental and linguistic being is o f g rea t m etap h ysical m om en t to linguistic theory because it leads to the co n cep t that has a ga in and again, as i f o f its ow n accord , elev a ted itself to the centre o f linguistic philosophy and constituted its m ost in tim ate conn ection w ith the ph ilosophy o f religion. T h is is the con cep t o f revelation . W ith in all linguistic form ation a con flict is w aged b etw een w h at is expressed and expressible and w h a t is inexpressible and unexpressed. O n considering this conflict one sees, in the p ersp ective o f the inexpressible, at the same tim e the last m en tal entity. N ow it is clear that in the eq u ation o f m ental and lin gu istic b eing the notion o f an inverse p rop ortion ality betw een the tw o is disputed. For this latter thesis runs: the deeper, i.e., the m ore existent and real the m ind, the m ore it is inexpressible and unexpressed, w hereas it is consistent w ith the equation proposed a b o v e to m ake the relation b etw een m ind and lan gu age th o rou gh ly u n am b igu ou s, so that the expression that is lin gu istically m ost existent (i.e., most fixed) is lin gu istically the m ost rounded and d efin itive; in a w ord, the most expressed is at the same tim e the p u re ly m en tal. E x a c tly this, how ever, is m eant by the concep t o f revela tio n , if it takes the in v io la b ility o f the w ord as the only and sufficient cond ition and ch aracteristic o f the d ivin ity o f the m en tal b ein g th at is expressed in it. T h e highest m en tal region o f religion is (in the con cep t o f revelation ) at the same tim e the on ly one that does not know the inexpressible. For it is addressed in nam e and expresses itself as revelation . In this, h ow ever, notice is given that o n ly the highest m en tal being, as it appears in religion, rests solely

ii4
on m an and on the lan gu age in him , w hereas all art, not ex clu d in g poetry, does not rest on the ultim ate essence o f lan gu age-m in d , but on lan guage-m in d confined to things, even if in consu m m ate beauty. Language, the mother o f reason and revelation, its a lp h a and o m ega , says H am an n . L a n gu a ge itself is not perfectly expressed in things them selves. This proposition has a double m ean in g in its m etap h orical and literal senses: the lan guages o f things are im perfect, and they are dum b. T h in gs are denied the pure form al principle o f la n g u a g e sound. T h e y can only com m u nicate to one another th rough a m ore or less m aterial com m unity. T h is com m u n ity is im m ed iate and infinite, like every linguistic com m u n ica tion ; it is m a gical (for there is also a m agic o f m atter). T h e in com p arab le featu re o f hum an lan gu age is that its m agical com m u n ity w ith things is im m aterial and p u rely m ental, and the sym bol o f this is sound. T h e Bible expresses this sym bolic fact w hen it says that G o d breathes his breath into m an : this is at once life and m ind and lan gu ag e. I f in w hat follows the nature o f lan gu age is considered on the basis o f the first ch ap ter o f Genesis, the object is n either b ib lica l interpretation, nor subjection o f the B ible to objective consid era tion as revealed truth, but the discovery o f w hat em erges o f itself from the b ib lica l text w ith regard to the nature o f la n g u a g e ; and the B ible is on ly initially indispensable for this purpose because the present argu m en t b road ly follows it in presupposing lan gu a g e as an ultim ate reality, perceptible only in its m anifestation, in exp licab le and m ystical. T h e Bible, in regard in g itself as a reve la tion, must necessarily evolve the fu n dam en tal linguistic facts. T h e second version o f the story o f the C reatio n , w hich tells o f the b reathin g o f G o d s breath into m an, also reports that m an was m ade from earth. This is, in the w hole story o f the C re atio n , the only reference to the m aterial in w h ich the C reato r expresses his w ill, w hich is doubtless otherwise thou ght o f as creation w ith ou t m ediation. In this second story o f the C reatio n the m akin g o f m an did not take place through the w o rd : G od spoke and there w a s but this m an, w ho is not created from the w ord, is now invested w ith the gift o f lan gu ag e and is elevated above nature.

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

1 15

T h is curious revolution in the act o f creation, w here it concerns m an, is no less c le arly recorded, how ever, in the first story o f the C re a tio n , and in an en tirely d ifferent context it vouches, w ith the sam e certain ty , for a special relationship betw een m an and la n g u a g e resulting from the act o f creation. T h e m anifold rh ythm o f the act o f creation in the first chap ter establishes a kind o f basic form from w h ich the act th at creates m an diverges significantly. A d m itte d ly this passage n ow here expressly refers to a relationship eith er o f m an or o f n atu re to the m aterial from w hich they w ere cre a te d ; and the question w h eth er the w ords H e m a d e envisages a creatio n out o f m aterial m ust here be left open, but the rhyth m b y w h ich the creation o f n atu re (in Genesis 1) is accom plished is: L et there b e H e m ade (c re a te d ) H e nam ed. In in d ivid u al acts o f creatio n ( 1 :3 ; 1 : 1 1 ) on ly the w ords L et there b e occur. In this L e t there b e and in the w ords H e n a m e d at the b egin nin g and end o f the act, the deep and clear relation o f the creative act to la n g u a g e appears each tim e. W ith the creative om nipotence o f la n g u a g e it begins, and at the end lan gu ag e as it w ere assim ilates the created , nam es it. L a n g u a g e is therefore both creative and the" finished creation, it is w ord and nam e. In G o d nam e is creative; b ecause it is w ord , and G o d s w ord is co gn izan t because it is nam e. A n d he saw that it was g o o d ; that is: H e had cogn ized it through n am e. T h e absolute relation o f nam e to kn ow ledge exists only in G o d , o n ly there is nam e, because it is in w a rd ly iden tical w ith the c re ativ e w ord , the pure m ed iu m o f know ledge. T h a t m ean s: G od m ad e things k n ow ab le in their nam es. M an , how ever, names them a cc o rd in g to k n ow ledge. In the creation o f m an the threefold rhyth m o f the creation o f n atu re has g iv en w a y to an en tirely differen t order. In it, therefore, la n g u a g e has a d ifferen t m ean in g: the trin ity o f the act is here preserved, b ut in this ve ry parallelism the d ivergence is all the m ore strik in g: in the threefold H e created o f 1 \2]. G od did not create m an from the w ord , and he did not nam e him . H e did not wish to subject him to lan gu ag e, but in m an G od set lan gu age, w h ich had served Him as m edium o f creation, free. G od rested w h en he had left his creative pow er to itself in m an. Th is creativity,

ii

relieved o f its divin e actu ality, becam e know ledge. M a n is the know er in the same lan gu age in w hich G o d is creator. G o d created him in his im age, he created the k now er in the im age o f the creator. Therefore the proposition that the m en tal b eing o f m an is lan g u a g e needs exp lanation . His m ental b eing is the lan gu ag e in w hich creation took place. In the w ord creation took place, and G o d s linguistic being is the w ord. A ll hum an lan gu age is on ly reflection o f the w ord in nam e. N am e is no closer to the w ord than kn ow ledge to creation. T h e infinity o f all hum an lan gu age alw ays rem ains lim ited and a n a lytica l in nature in com parison to the a bso lu tely unlim ited and creative infinity o f the divin e w ord. T h e deepest im ages o f this d ivin e w ord and the point w here hum an lan gu age participates most in tim ately in the d ivin e infin ity o f the pure w ord, the point at w h ich it can not becom e finite w ord and know ledge, are the hum an nam e. T h e theory o f prop er nam es is the theory o f the frontier betw een finite and infinite lan g u a g e. O f all beings m an is the only one w ho h im self nam es his ow n kind, as he is the only one w hom G od did not nam e. It is perhaps bold, but scarcely im possible, to m ention the second part o f 2:2 0 in this context: that m an nam ed all beings, but for m an there w as not found a helper fit for h im . A cco rd in g ly , A d a m nam es his w ife as soon as he receives her (w om an in the second chap ter, E ve in the third). By giv in g nam es, parents d ed icate their children to G o d ; the names they give do not corresp on d in a m etap h ysical, not etym o logical sense to any know ledge, for they nam e n ew born child ren . In a strict sense, no nam e ought (in its etym o lo gical m eanin g) to correspond to any person, for the p rop er nam e is the w ord o f G od in hum an sounds. By it each m an is gu aran teed his creatio n by G od, and in this sense he is h im self creative, as is expressed by m ythological w isdom in the idea (w hich doubtless not in freq u en tly comes true) that a m a n s nam e is his fate. T h e proper n am e is the com m union o f m an w ith the creative w ord o f G od . (N ot the on ly one, how ever; m an knows a further linguistic com m u nion w ith G o d s w ord.) T h ro u g h the w ord m an is b ou n d to the lan gu ag e o f things. T h e hum an w ord is the nam e o f things. H ence it is no lon ger conceivable, as the bourgeois view o f lan gu age m aintains, that

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

n j

the w o rd has an a ccid en tal relation to its object, that it is a sign for things (or know ledge o f them ) agreed b y some convention. L a n g u a g e n ever gives mere signs. H o w ever, the rejection o f bour geois b y m ystical linguistic th eory eq u ally rests on a m isunder stan din g. F o r a cco rd in g to m ystical theory the w ord is sim ply the essence o f the thing. T h a t is incorrect, because the thin g in itself has no w ord , b ein g created from G o d s w ord and know n in its n am e b y a hum an w ord. T h is know ledge o f the thing, how ever, is not spontaneous creation, it does not em erge from lan gu ag e in the a b so lu tely u n lim ited and infinite m anner o f creatio n ; rather, the n am e th at m an gives to lan gu ag e depends on how lan gu age is c o m m u n ica ted to him . In nam e the w ord o f G o d has not rem ained cre a tiv e; it has becom e in one part receptive, even i f receptive to lan g u a g e. T h u s fertilized, it aim s to give birth to the lan gu age o f things them selves, from w h ich in turn, soundlessly, in the m ute m a gic o f n ature, the w ord o f G o d shines forth. F o r con cep tion and sp ontan eity together, w hich are found in this u n iq u e union only in the lingu istic realm , lan gu age has its ow n w ord , and this w ord applies also to that concep tion w hich is en acted by the nameless in nam es. It is the translation o f the la n g u a g e o f things into that o f m an. It is necessary to found the co n cep t o f tran slation at the deepest level o f linguistic theory, for it is m uch too far-reach in g and pow erfu l to be treated in an y w a y as an afterth ou gh t, as has happ en ed occasion ally. T ran slatio n attains its full m ean in g in the realization that every evolved la n g u a g e (w ith the excep tion o f the w ord o f G od) can be considered as a tran slation o f all the others. By the relation, m entioned earlier, o f lan gu a g es as b etw een m ed ia o f v a ryin g densities, the translata b ility o f lan guages into one another is established. T ran slatio n is rem oval from one lan gu a g e into another through a continu u m o f transform ations. T ran slatio n passes through continu a o f trans form ation , not abstract areas o f id en tity and sim ilarity. T h e tran slation o f the lan gu a g e o f things into that o f m an is 1 not o n ly a tran slation o f the m ute into the sonic; it is also the tran slation o f the nam eless into nam e. It is therefore the translation o f an im p erfect lan gu ag e into a m ore perfect one, and cannot b u t 1

u8
add som ething to it, n am ely know ledge. T h e o b jectivity o f this translation is, how ever, gu aran teed by G od . For G o d created things; the creative w ord in them is the germ o f the co gn izin g nam e, ju st as G od, too, finally nam ed each thin g after it was created . B ut obviously this n am in g is only an expression o f the id en tity o f the creative w ord and the cogn izing nam e in G od , not the p rior solu tion o f the task that G o d expressly assigns to m an him self: th at o f n am in g things. In receivin g the unspoken nameless lan gu a g e o f things and con vertin g it by nam e into sounds, m an perform s this task. It w ould be insoluble w ere not the n am e-lan gu age o f m an and the nameless one o f things related in G o d and released from the same creative w ord, w hich in things becam e the com m u n ication o f m atter in m agic com m union, and in m an the lan gu a g e o f know ledge and nam e in blissful m ind. H am an n says: E v ery th in g that m an heard in the begin nin g, saw w ith his eyes, and felt w ith his hands was the livin g w ord ; for G o d was the w ord. W ith this w ord in his m outh and in his heart, the origin o f lan gu a g e was as n atural, as close, and as easy as a c h ild s gam e. . . . F ried rich M uller, in his poem A d a m s A w a k en in g and First Blissful N ig h ts , has G od sum m on m an to n am e-givin g in these w ords: M a n o f the earth step near, in g a zin g grow m ore perfect, m ore perfect throu gh the w o rd . By this com bin ation o f con tem p lation and n am in g is im plied the com m u n icatin g m uteness o f things (anim als) tow ard the w ord lan gu ag e o f m an, w hich receives them in nam e. In the same chap ter o f the poem , the poet expresses the realization that on ly the w ord from w hich things are created perm its m an to nam e them , by com m u n icatin g itself in the m anifold lan guages o f an i mals, even i f m utely, in the im a g e : G o d gives each beast in turn a sign, w hereup on they step before m an to be nam ed. In an alm ost sublim e w a y the linguistic com m u n ity o f m ute creation w ith G od is thus conveyed in the im age o f the sign. As the unspoken w ord in the existence o f things falls in fin itely short o f the nam in g w ord in the know ledge o f m an, and as the latter in turn must fall short o f the creative w ord o f G od , there is reason for the m u ltip licity o f hum an lan guages. T h e lan gu age o f things can pass into the lan gu age o f know ledge and nam e on ly th rou gh

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

1 19

tra n sla tio n as m a n y translations, so m any la n g u a g e s once m an has fallen from the p a rad isia c state that knew only one lan gu age. (A c c o rd in g to the B ible, this consequence o f the expulsion from parad ise a d m itted ly cam e a b ou t on ly later.) T h e parad isiac la n g u a g e o f m an m ust h a ve been one o f perfect k n ow led ge; w hereas later all k n ow led ge is again infin itely differen tiated in the m u ltip lic ity o f lan gu a g e, was indeed forced to differentiate itself on a lo w er level as creatio n in nam e. F or th at the lan gu age o f pa rad ise was fully co gn izan t, even the existence o f the tree o f k n o w led g e can not con ceal. Its apples w ere supposed to im part k n o w led g e o f good and evil. But on the seventh day, G od had a lre a d y cogn ized w ith the w ords o f creation. A n d G od saw that it w as good. T h e k n ow led g e to w h ich the snake seduces, that o f go od an d evil, is nam eless. It is vain in the deepest sense, and this ve ry k n o w led g e is itself the on ly evil know n to the paradisiac state. K n o w le d g e o f good and evil abandons nam e, it is a know ledge from outside, the u n created im itation o f the creative w ord. N am e steps outside itself in this k n ow led ge: the F a ll m arks the birth o f the human word, in w h ich n am e no lon ger lives in tact, and w h ich has stepp ed out o f nam e lan gu a g e, the lan gu a g e o f know ledge, from w h a t w e m a y call its ow n im m an en t m agic, in order to becom e expressly, as it w ere ex tern ally , m agic. T h e w ord m ust com m u ni cate something (other th an itself). T h a t is really the F all o fla n g u a g e m ind. T h e w ord as som ething extern ally com m u n icatin g, as it w ere a p a ro d y b y the expressly m ediate w ord o f the expressly im m ed iate, the creative w o rd o f G od , and the d ecay o f the blissful, A d a m ite lan g u a g e-m in d th at stand betw een them . For in rea lity there exists a fu n d a m en ta l id en tity betw een the w ord that, after the p rom ise o f the snake, know s good and evil, and the extern ally c o m m u n ic a tin g w ord. T h e know ledge o f things resides in nam e, w h ereas th at o f good and evil is, in the profou nd sense in w hich K ie r k e g a a rd uses the w ord , p ra ttle , and know s only one pu rifica tion an d elevation , to w h ich the p ra ttlin g m an, the sinner, was therefore su b m itted : ju d g m e n t. A d m itted ly, the ju d g in g w ord has d irect k n ow led g e o f good and evil. Its m agic is different from that o f n am e, but eq u a lly m a gical. T h is ju d g in g w ord expels the first

120 hum an beings from paradise; they them selves have aroused it in accord an ce w ith the im m u table law by w hich this ju d g in g w ord punishes and exp ects its ow n a w ak en in g as the pnly, the deepest guilt. In the F all, since the eternal pu rity o f nam es was vio lated , the sterner p u rity o f the ju d g in g w ord arose. For the essential com position o f lan gu age the F all has a threefold significan ce (w ithout m en tion ing its other m eanings). In stepping outside the purer lan gu age o f nam e, m an makes lan gu a g e a m eans (that is, a know ledge in ap p ro p riate to him ), and therefore also, in one part at any rate, a mere sign; and this later results in the p lu rality o f languages. T h e second m eaning is that from the Fall, in exch an ge for the im m ed iacy o f nam e d am aged by it, a new im m ed iacy arises, the m agic o f ju d g m e n t, w hich no longer rests blissfully in itself. T h e third m eanin g that can perhaps be ten tatively ven tu red is that the origin o f abstraction, too, as a facu lty o f lan gu age-m in d , is to be sought in the Fall. For good and evil, b eing u n n am ab le, nameless, stand outside the lan gu ag e o f names, w hich m an leaves behind precisely in the abyss opened by this question. N am e, how ever, w ith regard to existing lan gu age, offers only the grou n d in w hich its concrete elem ents are rooted. But the abstract ele ments o f la n g u a g e we m ay perhaps surm ise are rooted in the word o f ju d g m en t. T h e im m ed iacy (w hich, how ever, is the linguistic root) o f the com m u n icab ility o f abstraction resides in ju d gm en t. T h is im m ed iacy in the com m u nication o f abstraction cam e into b eing as ju d gm en t, w hen, in the F all, m an a b a n d o n ed im m ed iacy in the com m u nication o f the concrete, nam e, and fell into the abyss o f the m ediateness o f all com m u nication, o f the w ord i as means, o f the em p ty w ord, into the abyss o f prattle. F o r it i must be said a g a in the question as to good and evil in the w orld | after creation was em pty prattle. T h e tree o f know ledge did not stand in the gard en o f G od in order to dispense in fo rm ation on good and evil, but as an em blem o f ju d g m e n t over the questioner. This im m ense iro n y marks the m yth ical origin o f law . A fter the F all, w hich, in m akin g lan gu age m ediate, laid the foundation for its m ultiplicity, it could be on ly a step to lingu istic confusion. Since m en had injured the pu rity o f nam e, the tu rn in g

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

121

a w a y from th a t co n tem p la tio n o f things in w h ich their lan gu age passes into m an n eeded o n ly to be com pleted in order to deprive m en o f the com m on fou n d atio n o f an a lrea d y shaken lan gu agem ind. Signs m ust b ecom e confused w here things are entangled. T h e en slavem en t o f la n g u a g e in p rattle is jo in e d by the en slave m ent o f things in folly alm ost as its in evita b le consequence. In this tu rn in g a w a y from things, w h ich was enslavem ent, the plan for the tow er o f B abel cam e into being, and linguistic confusion w ith it. T h e life o f m an in pu re lan gu age-m in d was blissful. N atu re, h ow ever, is m ute. T ru e, it can be clearly felt in the second ch ap ter o f G enesis how this m uteness, nam ed by m an, itself becam e bliss, on ly o f lo w er degree. F rie d rich M u ller has A d a m say to the anim als that lea ve him after he has n am ed them , A n d saw by the n ob ility w ith w h ich they leaped a w a y from me that the m an had given them a n a m e . A fter the F all, h ow ever, w hen G o d s w ord curses the gro u n d , the a p p e ara n ce o f n ature is d eeply ch an ged . N ow begins its oth er m uteness, w h ich w e m ean by the deep sadness o f nature. It is a m etap h ysical truth th at all nature w ou ld begin to lam ent i f it w ere en d ow ed w ith lan gu age. (T h o u g h to endow w ith la n g u a g e is m ore than to m ake able to sp eak .) T his proposition has a d o u b le m eanin g. It m eans, first: she w ou ld lam ent lan gu age itself. Speechlessness: that is the great sorrow o f nature (and for the sake o f her red em p tion the life and lan gu a g e o f man not only, as is supposed, o f the p o e t are in nature). T h is proposition m eans, seco n d ly: she w ou ld lam ent. L am en t, how ever, is the m ost u n d ifferen tia ted , im p oten t expression o f la n g u a g e; it contains scarcely m ore than the sensuous b reath ; and even w here there is on ly a rustlin g o f plants, in it there is alw ays a lam ent. Because she is m ute, n atu re m ourns. Y e t the inversion o f this proposition leads even fu rth er into the essence o f n atu re; the sadness o f nature m akes her m ute. In all m ou rn in g there is the deepest inclination to speechlessness, w h ich is in fin itely m ore than in a b ility or disincli n ation to com m u n icate. T h a t w hich m ourns feels itself thorou ghly k n ow n b y the un kn ow able. T o be n a m ed even w hen the nam er is G o d lik e and blissful perhaps alw ays rem ains an intim ation o f m ou rn in g. B ut how m uch m ore m elan ch oly to be nam ed not from

122 > the one blessed, paradisiac lan gu ag e o f nam es, but from the hun dred languages o f m an, in w hich nam e has a lread y w ithered , I yet w hich, accord in g to G o d s pron oun cem ent, have know ledge o f things. T h in gs have no proper nam es except in G od . For in his creative w ord, G o d called them into being, calling them by their proper names. In the lan gu age o f m en, how ever, they are over nam ed. T h ere is, in the relation o f h um an languages to that o f things, som ething that can be ap p ro x im ately described as over n am in g : over-n am in g as the deepest linguistic reason for all ; m elancholy and (from the point o f view o f the thing) o f all d eli ' berate muteness. O v ern a m in g as the linguistic being o f m elan ch oly points to another curious relation o f la n g u a g e : the overprecision that obtains in the tragic relationship betw een the lan gu ages o f hum an speakers. T h ere is a lan gu age o f sculpture, o f painting, o f poetry. Just as the lan gu age o f poetry is partly, if not solely, founded on the nam e lan gu age o f m an, it is very con ceivab le that the lan gu age o f sculp ture or p ain tin g is founded on certain kinds o f thin g languages, that in them w e find a translation o f the lan gu age o f things into an infinitely higher lan guage, w hich m ay still be o f the same sphere. W e are concerned here w ith nam eless, nonacoustic languages, languages issuing from m atter; here w e should recall the m aterial com m unity o f things in their com m u n ication . M oreover, the com m u nication o f things is certain ly com m u nal in a w ay that grasps the w orld as such as an un divided w hole. F or an un derstan ding o f artistic forms it is o f value to attem p t to grasp them all as languages and to seek their connection w ith n atural languages. A n exam ple that is approp riate because it is derived from the acoustic sphere is the kinship betw een song and the lan gu age o f birds. O n the oth er hand, it is certain that the lan guage o f art can be understood only in the deepest relationship to the doctrine o f signs. W ith o u t the latter any linguistic philosophy rem ains entirely fragm en tary, because the relationship betw een lan guage and sign (of w hich that betw een hum an lan gu age and w ritin g offers only a very p articu lar exam ple) is origin al and fun dam en tal.

On Language as Such and on the Language o f Man

123

T h is provides an op p o rtu n ity to describe another antithesis that perm eates the w hole sphere o f lan gu age and has im portant relations to the antithesis a lrea d y m entioned betw een lan gu age in a n arro w er sense and signs, w ith w hich , o f course, lan gu age by no m eans necessarily coincides. For lan gu age is in every case not only co m m u n ica tio n o f the com m u n icab le but also, at the same tim e, a sym bol o f the n on com m u n icable. T his sym bolic side o f lan gu age is con n ected to its relation to signs, but extends m ore w idely, for exam p le, in certain respects, to nam e and ju d g m e n t. These have not on ly a co m m u n ica tin g function, but m ost p ro b ab ly also a closely conn ected sym bolic function, to w h ich , at least exp licitly, no reference has here been m ade. T h ese considerations therefore leave us a purified concept o f lan g u a g e, even though it m ay still be an im perfect one. T h e lan gu a g e o f an en tity is the m edium in w h ich its m ental being is com m u n ica ted . T h e u n in terru pted flow o f this com m u nication runs th ro u g h the w hole o f nature from the low est forms o f existence to m an and from m an to G od . M a n com m unicates him self to G od th rou gh nam e, w hich he gives to nature and (in proper names) to his ow n kind, and to n ature he gives nam es accord in g to the co m m u n ica tio n that he receives from her, for the w hole o f nature, too, is im bu ed w ith a nam eless, unspoken lan gu age, the residue o f the creative w ord o f G o d , w hich is preserved in m an as the co gn izin g nam e and ab ove m an as the ju d g m e n t suspended over him . T h e lan gu ag e o f n atu re is com p arab le to a secret password that each sentry passes to the next in his ow n lan gu age, but the m ea n in g o f the passw ord is the sen trys lan gu a g e itself. A ll higher la n g u a g e is a translation o f those low er, until in ultim ate cla rity the w o rd o f G o d unfolds, w h ich is the unity o f this m ovem ent m ade up o f lan gu a g e. 19 16

Fate and Character

F ate and ch aracter are com m on ly regarded as cau sally con nected, ch aracter b eing the cause o f fate. T h e idea u n d erlyin g this is the follow ing: if, on the one hand, the ch aracter o f a person, the w a y in w hich he reacts, w ere know n in all its details, and if, on the other, all the events in the areas entered by that ch aracter w ere know n, both w hat w ould happ en to him and w h at he w ou ld accom plish could be ex a ctly predicted. T h a t is, his fate w ou ld be known. C o n tem p o ra ry ideas do not perm it im m ediate logical access to the idea o f fate, and therefore m od em men accep t the idea o f readin g ch aracter from, for exam ple, the physical features o f a person, finding know ledge o f ch ara cter as such som ehow gen erally present w ithin them selves, w hereas the notion of analogously read in g a persons fate from the lines in his hand seems un acceptab le. T h is appears as im possible as to predict the fu tu re ; for under this catego ry the foretellin g o f fate is un cerem oniously subsum ed, w hile ch aracter appears as som ething existing in the present and the past and therefore as perceptible. It is, how ever, precisely the contention o f those w ho profess to pred ict m en s fate from no m atter w h at signs, that for those able to perceive it (who find an im m ed iate know ledge o f fate as such in them selves) it is in some w ay present, or m ore cautio u sly stated, accessible. T h e supposition that some accessib ility o f future fate contradicts neither that concep t itself nor the hum an powers o f percep tion pred ictin g it is not, as can be shown, nonsensical. L ike character, fate, too, can be apprehend ed only through signs, not in itself, for

Fate and Character

125

even if this or that ch ara cter trait, this or that link o f fate, is d irectly in view , it is nevertheless a relationship that is m eant by these concepts, never accessible except through signs because it is situated above the im m ed iately visible level. T h e system o f c h a ra ctero lo gical signs is gen era lly confined to the body, if we disregard the ch a ra ctero lo gical significance o f those signs in vestigated b y the horoscope, w hereas in the trad ition al view all the ph enom ena o f extern al life, in ad dition to b o d ily ones, can becom e signs o f fate. H ow ever, the connection b etw een the sign and the signified constitutes in both spheres an eq u a lly herm etic and difficult problem , though d ifferent in other respects, because despite all the superficial observation and false hypostasizing o f the signs, they do not in eith er system signify ch aracter or fate on the basis o f causal connections. A nexus o f m ean in g can never be foun ded causally, even tho u gh in the present case the existence o f the signs m ay have been p rod u ced cau sally by fate and ch aracter. T h e in q u iry that follows is not concerned w ith w h at such a system o f signs for ch ara cter and fate is like, but m erely w ith w h at it signifies. It em erges that the trad ition al conception o f the nature and the relationship o f ch aracter and fate not only rem ains prob lem atic insofar as it is in ca p a b le o f m akin g the possibility o f a pred iction o f fate ratio n a lly com prehensible, but that it is false, because the distinction on w hich it rests is th eoretically un ten able. For it is im possible to form an u n co n trad icto ry concep t o f the exterior o f an active hum an being the core o f w hom is taken to be ch aracter. N o d efinition o f the extern al w orld can disregard the limits set by the con cep t o f the active m an. B etw een the active m an and the extern al w orld all is interaction , their spheres o f action interpen etrate; no m atter how d ifferent their conceptions m ay be, their concepts are inseparable. N ot only is it im possible to determ ine in a single case w h at finally is to be considered a function o f ch aracter and w h a t a function o f fate in a hum an life (this w ou ld m ake no d ifferen ce here if the two on ly m erged in e x p e rie n c e ); the extern al w orld that the a ctive m an encounters can also in principle be red uced , to any desired degree, to his inner w orld, and his inner

126

w orld sim ilarly to his outer w orld, indeed regarded in principle as one and the same thing. C on sidered in this w ay ch aracter and fate, far from b eing theoretically distinct, coincide. Such is the case w hen N ietzsche says, I f a m an has ch aracter, he has an experience that constantly recurs. T h a t m eans: if a m an has ch ara cter his fate is essentially constant. A d m itted ly, it also m eans: he has no fa te a conclusion d raw n by the Stoics. I f a concep t o f fate is to be attain ed , therefore, it must be clearly distinguished from that o f character, w h ich in turn can not be achieved until the latter has been m ore exactly defined. O n the basis o f this definition the two concepts w ill becom e w h olly d ivergen t; w here there is ch aracter there w ill, w ith certain ty, not be fate, and in the area o f fate ch ara cter w ill not be found. In ad dition care m ust be taken to assign both concepts to spheres in w hich they do not, as happens in com m on speech, usurp the rank o f higher spheres and concepts. For ch aracter is usually placed in an ethical, fate in a religious context. W e must banish them from both regions by revealin g the error by w h ich they w ere p laced there. T h is error is caused, as regards the con cep t o f fate, through associa tion w ith that o f guilt. T hus, to m ention a typical case, fateim posed m isfortune is seen as the response o f G od or the gods to a religious offence. D oubts con cern in g this are aroused, how ever, by the absence o f any corresponding relation o f the concep t o f fate to the concept that necessarily accom p an ies that o f gu ilt in the ethical sphere, n am ely that o f innocence. In the G reek classical d evelopm ent o f the idea o f fate, the happiness granted to a m an is by no means understood as confirm ation o f an innocent cond u ct o f life, but as a tem ptation to the m ost grievous offence, hubris. T h ere is, therefore, no relation o f fate to innocence. A n d this question strikes even d eep er has fate any reference to good fortune, to happiness? Is happiness, as m isfortune doubtless is, an intrinsic catego ry o f fate? H appiness is, rather, w hat releases the fortunate m an from the em broilm ent o f the Fates and from the net o f his own fate. H old erlin does not for nothing call the blissful gods fateless . H appiness and bliss are therefore no m ore part o f the sphere o f fate than is innocence. But an order the sole intrinsic

Fate and Character

127

concepts o f w hich are m isfortune and gu ilt, and w ithin w h ich there is no co n ceiv ab le p ath o f liberation (for insofar as som ething is fate, it is m isfortune and g u ilt) such an order can not be religious, no m atter how the m isunderstood concept o f g u ilt appears to suggest the con trary. A n oth er sphere must therefore be sought in w hich m isfortune and gu ilt alone c arry w eight, a b alan ce on w hich bliss and in n ocen ce are found too light and float u pw ard. T h is b alan ce is the scale o f law . T h e law s o f fa te m isfortune and g u ilt are elevated by law to m easures o f the person; it w ould be false to assum e that on ly gu ilt is present in a legal con text; it is d em on strable that all legal gu ilt is n othin g oth er than m isfortune. M istak en ly, through confusing itself w ith the realm o f ju stice, the order o f law , w hich is on ly a residue o f the dem onic stage o f hu m a n existence w hen legal statutes d eterm in ed not only m en s relationships b ut also their relation to the gods, has preserved itself lon g past the tim e o f the victo ry over the dem ons. It was not in law but in trag ed y that the h ead o f genius lifted itself for the first tim e from the mist o f gu ilt, for in trag ed y d em on ic fate is b reached . But not b y h avin g the endless p agan chain o f gu ilt and aton em en t superseded by the p u rity o f m an w ho has exp iated and is w ith the pure god . R a th er, in trag ed y pagan m an becom es aw are that he is b etter than his god, bu t the realization robs him o f speech, rem ain s unspoken. W ith o u t d eclarin g itse lf it seeks secretly to ga th e r its forces. G u ilt an d aton em en t it does not m easure ju stly in the b alan ce, but m ixes ind iscrim in ately. T h ere is no question o f the m oral w orld o rd er b eing restored; instead, the m oral hero, still d u m b , not yet o f a g e as such he is called a h ero wishes to raise h im self b y shakin g th at torm ented w orld. T h e p a rad ox o f the birth o f genius in m oral speechlessness, m oral infan tility, is the su b lim ity o f traged y. It is p ro b ab ly the basis o f all sublim ity, in w h ich genius, rath er than G od , appears. F ate shows itself, there fore, in the view o f life, as condem ned, as havin g, at bottom , first b een condem ned and then becom e gu ilty. G oeth e sum m arizes both phrases in the w ords T h e poor m an you let becom e g u ilty . L a w condem ns, not to punishm ent but to gu ilt. Fate is the gu ilt con text o f the livin g. It corresponds to the n atural cond ition

128 o f the living, that illusion not yet w h olly dispelled from w hich m an is so far rem oved that, under its rule, he was never w h olly im m ersed in it, but only invisible in his best part. It is not therefore really m an w ho has a fate; rath er, the subject o f fate is in d eterm in able. T h e ju d g e can perceive fate w herever he pleases; w ith every ju d g m en t he must b lin d ly dictate fate. It is never m an but only the life in him that it strikes the part in volved in n atural guilt and m isfortune by virtue o f illusion. In the m anner o f fate, this life can be coupled to cards as to planets, and the clairvoyan te makes use o f the sim ple techn iqu e o f p lacin g it in the context o f gu ilt by means o f the first calcu lab le, definite things that com e to hand (things un chastely p regn an t w ith certain ty). T h e re b y she discovers in signs som ething a b ou t a n atu ral life in m an that she seeks to substitute for the head o f genius m entioned earlier; as, on his side, the m an w ho visits her gives w a y to the gu ilty life w ithin himself. T h e gu ilt context is tem poral in a totally inau th entic w ay, very different in its kind and m easure from the tim e o f red em p tion, or o f m usic, or o f truth. O n d eterm in in g the p a rticu la r nature o f tim e in fate depends the com plete elu cid ation o f these m atters. T h e fortune-teller w ho uses cards and the palm ist teach us at least that time can at every m om ent be m ade sim ultaneous w ith another (not present). It is not an autonom ous tim e, but is parasitically dependent on the tim e o f a high er, less n atu ral life. It has no present, for fateful m om ents exist only in b ad novels, and past and future it knows only in curious variation s. T h ere is therefore a concept o f fa te and it is the genuine concept, the only one that em braces eq u a lly fate in traged y and the intentions o f the fortu n e-teller that is com pletely indepen den t o f that o f ch aracter, h avin g its foun dation in an en tirely different sphere. T h e concep t o f ch aracter m ust be d eveloped to a sim ilar level. It is no a ccid en t that both orders are connected w ith inter pretative practices and that in ch irom an cy ch ara cter and fate coincide a u th en tically. Both concern the n atural m a n or, better, the nature o f m an, the very b ein g that makes its ap p eara n ce in signs that either occu r spontaneously or are exp erim en tally produced. T h e foundation o f the concept o f ch aracter w ill there-

Fate and Character

129

fore n eed likew ise to be related to a n atural sphere and to have no m ore to do w ith ethics or m orality than fate has w ith religion. O n the oth er h an d , the con cep t o f ch aracter w ill have to be divested o f those features that constitute its erroneous connection to that o f fate. T h is con n ection is effected by the idea o f a netw ork that can be tigh ten ed b y kn ow ledge at w ill into a dense fabric, for this is how ch a ra cte r appears to su p erficial observation. A lo n g w ith the broad u n d e rly in g traits, the train ed eye o f the connoisseur o f m en is supposed to perceive finer and closer connections, until w h at looked like a net is tigh ten ed into cloth. In the threads o f this w eft a w ea k un d erstan d in g believes it possesses the m oral nature o f the ch a ra cte r concern ed and can distinguish its go od and bad qualities. But, as m oral ph ilosophy is ob liged to dem onstrate, only actions and n ever qualities can be o f m oral im portan ce. A p p earan ces are a d m itte d ly to the co n tra ry . N ot ju st th ievish , e x tra v a g a n t , co u ra g eo u s seem to im p ly m oral valu ation s (even leavin g aside the a p p a ren t m oral coloration o f the concepts), but above all w ords like self-sacrificin g , m aliciou s , ve n g efu l , en viou s seem to in d icate ch ara cte r traits that can not be abstracted from m oral va lu a tio n . N evertheless, such abstraction is in all cases not on ly possible but necessary in order to grasp the m eaning o f the concep t. T h is abstraction m ust be such th at valu ation itself is fu lly p reserved ; only its m oral accen t is w ith d raw n , to give w a y to such co n d itio n a l evalu ation s, in either a positive or a negative sense, as are expressed by the m orally in d ifferen t descriptions o f q u alities o f the intellect (such as cle ve r or stu p id ). T h e true sphere to w h ich these pseudo-m oral ch aracter descrip tions are to be consigned is show n by com ed y. A t its centre, as the m ain protagon ist in a c o m ed y o f character, stands often enough a person w hom , i f w e w ere confron ted by his actions in life instead o f by his person on the stage, w e w ou ld call a scoundrel. O n the com ic stage, h ow ever, his actions take on only the interest shed w ith the ligh t o f ch aracter, and the latter is, in classical exam ples, the subject not o f m oral con d em n ation but o f high am usem ent. It is never in them selves, n ever m orally, that the actions o f the com ic hero a ffect his p u b lic; his deeds are interesting on ly insofar as they

130 reflect the light o f ch aracter. M o reo ver, one notes th at the great com ic p la y w rig h t for exam ple, M o lie r e does not seek to define his creations b y the m u ltip licity o f their ch ara cter traits. O n the contrary, psych ological analysis is d en ied an y access to his w ork. It has nothing to do w ith the concerns o f p sych ology if miserliness or hypochond ria, in L avare or Le malade imaginaire, are hypostasized as the foun dation o f all action. A b o u t h y p o ch o n d ria and m iser liness these dram as teach n oth in g; far from m akin g them com prehensible, they d ep ict them w ith an intensifying crassness; if the object o f p sych ology is the inner life o f m an understood em p irically, M o lie re s characters are o f no use to it even as m eans o f dem onstration. C h a ra cter is u nfolded in them like a sun, in the b rillian ce o f its single trait, w h ich allow s no other to rem ain visible in its p roxim ity. T h e su b lim ity o f ch ara cte r com ed y rests on this a n on ym ity o f m an and his m o rality, alongside the utm ost d evelopm ent o f in d iv id u a lity th rou gh its exclusive ch ara cter trait. W hile fate unfolds the im m ense com p lexity o f the gu ilty person, the com plications and bonds o f his gu ilt, ch ara cte r gives this m ystical enslavem ent o f the person to the gu ilt con text the answer o f genius. C o m p licatio n becom es sim plicity, fate freedom . For the ch aracter o f the com ic figure is not the scarecrow o f the determ inist; it is the beacon in whose beam s the freedom o f his actions becom es visible. T o the d ogm a o f the n atu ral gu ilt o f hum an life, o f origin al guilt, the irred eem ab le n ature o f w h ich constitutes the doctrine, and its occasional red em p tion the cult, o f p agan ism , genius opposes a vision o f the n atu ra l inn ocen ce o f m an. T his vision rem ains for its part likew ise in the realm o f nature, yet m oral insights are still at a p roxim ity to its essence that is a ttain ed by the opposed idea only in the form o f traged y, w h ich is not its only form. T h e vision o f ch aracter, on the other hand , is lib era tin g in all its form s: it is linked to freedom , as can not be show n here, b y w ay o f its affinity to logic. T h e ch ara cte r trait is not therefore the knot in the net. It is the sun o f in d iv id u a lity in the colourless (anonym ous) sky o f m an, w hich casts the shadow o f the com ic action. (This places C o h e n s profou nd d ictu m that every tragic action, how ever sublim ely it strides upon its cothurnus, casts a

Fate and Character com ic sh ad ow , in its most ap p ro p ria te context.)

13 1

P h ysio gn o m ic signs, like other m antic sym bols, serve for the ancients p rim arily the ex p lo ration o f fate, in accord an ce w ith the d o m in a n ce o f the p a g an b e lie f in gu ilt. T h e stu d y o f ph ysiognom y, like co m ed y, was a m anifestation o f the new age o f genius. M odern ph ysiogn om ies reveals its con n ection w ith the old art o f d ivin atio n in the un fruitful, m orally ev alu a tive accen t o f its concepts, as also in the strivin g for a n a lytica l com plexity. In precisely this respect the an cien t and m ed ieval physiognom ists saw things m ore clearly, in reco gn izin g that ch ara cter can on ly be grasped through a sm all n u m b er o f m orally in d ifferen t basic concepts, like those, for ex a m p le, that the d octrin e o f tem peram ents tried to identify.

1919

Critique o f Violence

T h e task o f a critiqu e o f violence can be sum m arized as that o f exp oundin g its relation to law and justice. For a cause, how ever effective, becom es violent, in the precise sense o f the w ord, only w hen it bears on m oral issues. T h e sphere o f these issues is defined by the concepts o f law and ju stice. W ith regard to the first o f these, it is clear that the most elem en tary relationship w ith in any legal system is that o f ends to means, and, further, that violence can first be sought only in the realm o f m eans, not o f ends. T hese observa tions provide a critiqu e o f vio len ce w ith m ore and certain ly d ifferen t prem ises than perhaps appears. For if violence is a means, a criterion for criticizin g it m ight seem im m ed iately availab le. It imposes itself in the question w hether violence, in a given case, is a means to a ju st or an unjust end. A critiqu e o f it w ould then be im plied in a system o f ju st ends. T h is, how ever, is not so. For w h at such a system, assum ing it to be secure against all doubt, w ou ld contain is not a criterion for violence itself as a principle, but, rather, the criterion for cases o f its use. T h e question w ould rem ain open w hether violence, as a principle, could be a m oral means even to ju st ends. T o resolve this question a m ore exact criterion is needed, w hich w ou ld discrim inate w ithin the sphere o f m eans them selves, w ith o u t regard for the ends they serve. T h e exclusion o f this m ore precise critical a p p roach is perhaps the p red om in an t feature o f a m ain curren t o f legal philosophy: n atural law . It perceives in the use o f violent m eans to ju st ends no
13 2

Critique o f Violence

133

greater problem than a m an sees in his rig h t to m ove his body in the direction o f a desired goal. A c c o rd in g to this view (for w h ich the terrorism in the F rench R e vo lu tio n p rovided an ideo log ical foun d atio n ), violence is a p rod u ct o f nature, as it w ere a raw m aterial, the use o f w hich is in no w a y p rob lem atical, unless force is misused for unjust ends. If, accord in g to the theory o f state o f n atu ral law , people give up all their violence for the sake o f the state, this is done on the assum ption (w hich S pin oza, for exam ple, states ex p licitly in his Tractatus Theologico-Politicus) that the in d ivid u a l, before the conclusion o f this rational contract, has de jure the right to use at w ill the violence that is de facto at his disposal. Perhaps these view s have been recently rekindled by D a r w in s b io logy, w hich, in a th o rou gh ly d ogm atic m anner, regards violen ce as the only origin al m eans, besides n atu ral selec tion, a p p rop riate to all the vital ends o f nature. P op u lar D arw in is tic ph ilosophy has often shown how short a step it is from this d ogm a o f n atural history to the still cru d er one o f legal philosophy, w hich holds that the violence that is, alm ost alone, app rop riate to n atu ral ends is th ereb y also legal. T h is thesis o f n atu ral law that regards violence as a n atural d atu m is d iam e trica lly opposed to that o f positive law , w hich sees violence as a p ro d u ct o f history. I f n atural law can ju d g e all existing law only in criticizin g its ends, so positive law can ju d g e all evolvin g law on ly in criticizin g its means. I f ju stice is the criterion o f ends, leg ality is that o f m eans. N otw ith stan d in g this antithesis, h ow ever, both schools m eet in their com m on basic d o g m a: ju st ends can be attain ed by ju stified m eans, ju stified m eans used for ju st ends. N atu ra l law attem pts, by the justness o f the ends, to ju s tify the means, positive law to g u a ra n te e the justness o f the ends through the ju stificatio n o f the m eans. Th is a n tin om y w ou ld prove insoluble if the com m on d ogm atic assum p tion w ere false, i f ju stified m eans on the one hand and ju st ends on the other w ere in irrecon cilab le conflict. N o insight into this prob lem could be gain ed , how ever, until the circu lar argu m en t had been broken, and m u tu a lly in d epen d en t criteria both o f ju st ends and o f justified m eans w ere established.

134
T h e realm o f ends, and therefore also the question o f a criterion o f justness, is exclu ded for the tim e being from this study. Instead, the central place is given to the question o f the ju stificatio n o f certain m eans that constitute violence. Principles o f n atu ral law cannot decide this question, but can only lead to bottom less casuistry. For i f positive law is blind to the absoluteness o f ends, natural law is eq u ally so to the con tin gen cy o f means. O n the other hand, the positive theory o f law is accep table as a h yp o th etical basis at the outset o f this study, because it undertakes a fu n dam en tal distinction betw een kinds o f violence ind epen d en tly o f cases o f their application. T h is distinction is b etw een historically ack n o w led ged , so-called sanctioned violence, and unsanctioned violence. I f the follow ing considerations proceed from this it cannot, o f course, m ean that given forms o f violence are classified in terms o f w hether they are sanctioned or not. For in a critiqu e o f violence, a criterion for the latter in positive law can not concern its uses bu t only its evaluation . T h e question that concerns us is, w hat light is throw n on the n ature o f violence b y the fact that such a criterion or distinction can be a pplied to it at all, or, in other words, w h at is the m eaning o f this distinction? T h a t this distinction supplied by positive law is m eaningful, based on the nature o f violence, and irrep laceable b y an y other, w ill soon enough be shown, but at the same time light w ill be shed on the sphere in w h ich alone such a distinction can be m ade. T o sum u p : if the criterion established by positive law to assess the leg ality o f violence can be analysed w ith regard to its m eanin g, then the sphere o f its ap p licatio n m ust be criticized w ith regard to its valu e. For this critiqu e a standpoint outside positive legal philosophy bu t also outside n atu ral law must be found. T h e extent to w hich it can on ly be furnished by a historico-philosophical view o f la w w ill em erge. T h e m ean in g o f the distinction betw een legitim ate and illegiti m ate violence is not im m ed iately obvious. T h e m isunderstanding in n atural law by w hich a distinction is d raw n betw een violence used for ju st and unjust ends m ust be em p h atica lly rejected. R ath er, it has a lrea d y been in d icated that positive law dem ands o f all violence a p ro o f o f its historical origin, w h ich under certain

Critique o f Violence

135

conditions is d eclared legal, sanctioned. Since the ack n ow led gm en t o f legal vio len ce is m ost ta n g ib ly evid en t in a d eliberate subm ission to its ends, a h yp o th etica l distinction betw een kinds o f violence m ust be based on the presence or absence o f a general historical a ck n ow led gem en t ofits ends. Ends that lack such ackn ow led gem en t m a y be called n atu ral ends, the other legal ends. T h e differing function o f vio len ce, dep en din g on w hether it serves n atural or legal ends, can be m ost clearly traced against a back grou n d o f specific legal conditions. For the sake o f sim plicity, the follow ing discussion w ill relate to con tem p o rary E u rop ean conditions. C h ara cteristic o f these, as far as the in d ivid u al as legal subject is concern ed, is the ten d en cy not to ad m it the n atu ral ends o f such in d ivid uals in all those cases in w hich such ends could, in a given situation, be usefully pursued b y violence. T h is m eans: this legal system tries to erect, in all areas w here in d ivid u a l ends could be usefully pursued b y violence, legal ends that can only be realized by legal pow er. In d eed , it strives to lim it by legal ends even those areas in w h ich n atu ral ends are ad m itted in prin ciple w ithin w ide boundaries, like that o f ed u cation, as soon as these n atural ends are pursued w ith an excessive m easure o f violence, as in the laws relatin g to the lim its o f ed u cation al a u th ority to punish. It can be form ulated as a general m axim o f present-day E u rop ean legisla tion that all the n atu ral ends o f in d ivid u als m ust collide w ith legal ends i f pursued w ith a greater or lesser degree o f violence. (T h e con trad ictio n b etw een this and the right o f self-defence w ill be resolved in w h at follow s.) From this m axim it follows that law sees violence in the hands o f ind ivid u als as a d anger u n derm in in g the legal system. As a d anger n u llifyin g legal ends and the legal ex ecu tiv e? C e rta in ly not; for then violence as such w ou ld not be cond em ned , but on ly that directed to illegal ends. It w ill be argued that a system o f legal ends can not be m ain tained i f n atu ral ends are an yw h ere still pursued vio len tly. In the first place, how ever, this is a m ere d ogm a. T o counter it one m ight perhaps consider the surprising possibility that the la w s interest in a m on opoly o f vio len ce vis-a-vis in d ivid u als is not exp lained by the intention o f preserving legal ends but, rather, by that o f preserving the law

136
itself; that violence, w hen not in the hands o f the law , threatens it not by the ends that it m ay pursue but by its m ere existence outside the law . T h e sam e m ay be m ore d ra stica lly suggested if one reflects how often the figure o f the g rea t crim inal, how ever repellent his ends m ay have been, has aroused the secret ad m iration o f the public. This can not result from his deed, but only from the violence to w h ich it bears witness. In this case, therefore, the violence o f w hich present-day law is seeking in all areas o f a ctiv ity to dep rive the in d iv id u a l appears rea lly threatening, and arouses even in defeat the sym path y o f the mass against law . By w h at function violence can w ith reason seem so threaten ing to law , and be so feared b y it, must be especially evid en t w here its ap p licatio n , even in the present legal system, is still perm issible. T h is is above all the case in the class struggle, in the form o f the w orkers gu aran teed right to strike. O rg a n iz e d lab ou r is, ap art from the state, p ro b a b ly today the on ly legal subject entitled to exercise violence. A g ain st this view there is certain ly the objection that an omission o f actions, a n on-action, w hich a strike rea lly is, cannot be described as violence. S u ch a consideration doubtless m ade it easier for a state pow er to con ceive the right to strike, once this was no lon ger avoid ab le. But its truth is not u n con d ition al, and therefore not unrestricted. It is true that the omission o f an action, or service, w here it am ounts sim ply to a severing o f relations , can be an en tirely non-violent, pure means. A n d as in the view o f the state, or the law , the right to strike conceded to lab ou r is certain ly not a righ t to exercise violen ce but, rather, to escape from a violence in d irectly exercised by the em ployer, strikes conform ing to this m ay u n d o u bted ly occu r from tim e to tim e and involve on ly a w ith d ra w a l or estran gem en t from the em ployer. T h e m om ent o f violence, how ever, is necessarily introd u ced , in the form o f extortion, into such an omission, if it takes place in the context o f a conscious readiness to resum e the suspended action under certain circum stances that either have nothing w h atever to do w ith this action or only superficially m odify it. U n derstood in this w a y, the right to strike constitutes in the view o f labour, w hich is opposed to that o f the state, the right to use force

Critique o f Violence

13J

in a tta in in g certain ends. T h e antithesis b etw een the two con ceptions em erges in all its bitterness in face o f a revo lu tion ary gen era l strike. In this, lab o u r w ill alw ays ap p eal to its right to strike, and the state w ill call this appeal an abuse, since the right to strike was not so in ten d e d , and take em ergen cy m easures. F or the state retains the righ t to declare that a sim ultaneous use o f strike in all industries is illega l, since the specific reasons for strike a d m itted by legislation can n o t be p revalen t in every workshop. In this differen ce o f in terp retation is expressed the ob jective con tra d ictio n in the legal situation, w h ereb y the state acknow ledges a vio len ce whose ends, as n atu ral ends, it som etim es regards w ith in d ifferen ce, but in a crisis (the revo lu tion ary general strike) confronts in im ically. For, how ever p a rad o x ical this m ay ap p ear at first sight, even con d u ct in v o lvin g the exercise o f a right can nevertheless, under certain circum stances, be described as violent. M o re sp ecifically, such con d u ct, w hen active, m ay be called vio len t i f it exercises a righ t in order to overth row the legal system th at has conferred it; w h en passive, it is nevertheless to be so describ ed i f it constitutes extortion in the sense explained above. It therefore reveals an o b jective con trad iction in the legal situation, but not a log ical con tra d ictio n in the law , if u nder certain circu m stances the law meets the strikers, as perpetrators o f violence, w ith vio len ce. For in a strike the state fears above all else that function w h ich it is the object o f this study to id en tify as the only secure fou n d atio n o f its critiq u e. For if violence w ere, as first appears, m erely the m eans to secure d ire ctly w h atever happens to be sought, it cou ld fulfill its end as p red atory violence. It w ou ld be entirely u n su itab le as a basis for, or a m odification to, relatively stable conditions. T h e strike shows, how ever, that it can be so, that it is able to found and m od ify legal conditions, h ow ever offended the sense o f ju stice m ay find itse lf thereby. It w ill be objected that such a fun ction o f violence is fortuitous and isolated. T his can be reb u tted by a consideration o f m ilitary violence. T h e possibility o f m ilitary law rests on ex a ctly the same objective c o n tra d ictio n in the leg al situation as does that o f strike law , that is to say, on the fact th at legal subjects sanction violence whose

13 s
ends rem ain for the sanctioners n atu ral ends, and can therefore in a crisis com e into conflict w ith their ow n legal or n atu ral ends. A d m itted ly, m ilitary violence is in the first place used quite d irectly, as pred a to ry violence, tow ard its ends. Y e t it is very striking that ev en or, rather, precisely in prim itive conditions that know h ard ly the beginnings o f constitutional relations, and even in cases w here the victor has established him self in in vu ln er able possession, a peace cerem ony is entirely necessary. In d eed , the w ord p e a c e , in the sense in w h ich it is the correlative to the w ord w a r (for there is also a qu ite different m eaning, sim ilarly u n m etaph orical and political, the one used by K a n t in talkin g o f E ternal P ea ce ), denotes this a priori, necessary sanctioning, regardless o f all other legal conditions, o f every victory. T his sanction consists precisely in recogn izin g the new conditions as a new la w , quite regardless o f w hether they need de facto any guaran tee o f their continuation. If, therefore, conclusions can be draw n from m ilitary violence, as being prim ordial and p a ra d ig m atic o f all violen ce used for n atu ral ends, there is inherent in all such violence a law -m akin g character. W e shall return later to the im plications o f this insight. It explains the above-m en tion ed tendency o f m od em law to divest the ind ivid u al, at least as a legal subject, o f all violence, even that directed only to n atu ral ends. In the great crim inal this violence confronts the law w ith the threat o f d eclarin g a new law , a threat that even today, despite its im potence, in im portant instances horrifies the pu blic as it did in prim eval times. T h e state, how ever, fears this violen ce sim ply for its law -m akin g character, being ob liged to ackn ow led ge it as law -m akin g w hen ever external powers force it to concede them the right to con d u ct w arfare, and classes the right to strike. I f in the last w ar the critique o f m ilitary violence was the starting point for a passionate critique o f violence in g e n e ra l w hich taught at least one thing, that violence is no longer exercised and tolerated n a iv e ly nevertheless, violence was not on ly subject to criticism for its law -m akin g ch aracter, but was also ju d g ed , perhaps m ore ann ihilatin gly, for another o f its functions. F or a d u ality in the function o f violence is characteristic o f m ilitarism ,

Critique o f Violence

139

w h ich could only com e into being through general conscription. M ilita rism is the com pu lsory, universal use o f violence as a m eans to the ends o f the state. T h is com pulsory use o f violence has recen tly b een scrutin ized as closely as, or still m ore closely than, the use o f v io le n ce itself. In it vio len ce shows itself in a fu n ction quite differen t from its sim ple app licatio n for natural ends. It consists in the use o f vio len ce as a means o f legal ends. For the subordination o f citizens to la w s in the present case, to the law o f general con sc rip tio n is a legal end. I f that first function o f violence is called the law -m a k in g fun ction, this second w ill be called the law preservin g function. S ince conscription is a case o f law -p reserving vio le n ce th at is not in p rin cip le distinguished from others, a rea lly effective critiq u e o f it is far less easy than the declam ations o f pacifists and activists suggest. R ather, such a critique coincides w ith the critiq ue o f all leg al vio le n ce that is, w ith the critiq u e o f leg al or execu tive fo r c e and cannot be perform ed by any lesser pro g ra m m e. N or, o f co u rse unless one is prep ared to proclaim a q u ite childish a n a rch ism is it achieved by refusing to ack n o w led ge an y constraint to w a rd persons and d eclarin g W h at pleases is p e rm itte d . Such a m axim m erely excludes reflection on the m oral and historical spheres, and thereby on any m eanin g in actio n , an d b eyond this on an y m eaning in rea lity itself, w h ich can n o t be constituted i f actiori is rem oved from its sphere. M o re im p o rta n t is the fact that even the appeal, so freq u en tly attem p ted , to the catego rical im p era tive, w ith its doubtless incontestable m in im u m p ro g ra m m e act in such a w a y that at all times you use h u m a n ity both in you r person and in the person o f all others as an end, and never m erely as a m eans is in itself in ad eq u ate for such a critiq u e.* For positive law , if conscious o f its roots, w ill c ertain ly claim to a ck n o w led ge and prom ote the interest o f m an kind in the person o f each ind ivid u al. It sees this interest in the representation and preservation o f an order im posed by fate. W h ile this view , w h ich claim s to preserve law in its very basis,
* O n e m ight, rather, d oubt w h eth er this famous d em and does not contain too little, that is, w h eth er it is perm issible to use, or allow to be used, oneself or anoth er in a n y respect as a means. V e r y good grounds for such d o u bt could be adduced.

I^o
cannot escape criticism , nevertheless all attacks that are m ade m erely in the nam e o f a formless freed om w ith ou t b eing a b le to specify this higher order o f freedom , rem ain im poten t against it. A n d most im potent o f all w hen, instead o f atta ck in g the legal system root and branch, they in p u gn p a rticu la r laws or leg al practices that the law , o f course, takes u nder the protection o f its pow er, w hich resides in the fact that there is only one fate and that w hat exists, and in p articu lar w h at threatens, belongs in v io la b ly to its order. For law -preserving violence is a threaten ing vio len ce. A n d its threat is not intended as the d eterren t that un in form ed liberal theorists interpret it to be. A deterrent in the exact sense w ould require a certain ty that contradicts the n ature o f a th reat and is not attained by any law , since there is alw ays hope o f e lu d in g its arm . This makes it all the m ore threaten ing, like fate, on w h ich depends w hether the crim inal is app reh en d ed . The deepest purpose o f the un certain ty o f the legal th reat w ill em erge from the later consideration o f the sphere o f fate in w hich it origin ates. T h ere is a useful pointer to it in the sphere o f punishm ents. A m o n g them , since the va lid ity o f positive law has been called into question, cap ital punishm ent has provoked m ore criticism than all others. H o w ever superficial the argum ents m ay in m ost cases have been, their m otives w ere and are rooted in p rinciple. T h e opponent o f these critics felt, perhaps w ith ou t k n ow in g w h y and p ro b ab ly in volu n tarily, that an a tta ck on cap ital p u n ishm en t assails, not legal m easure, not laws, b u t law itself in its origin . F or if violence, violence crow ned by fate, is the origin o f law , then it m ay be readily supposed that w here the highest violence, th at over life and death, occurs in the legal system , the origins o f la w ju t m anifestly and fearsom ely into existence. In agreem ent w ith this is the fact that the death penalty in prim itive legal system s is im posed even for such crimes as offenses against p rop erty, to w hich it seems quite out o f p ro p o rtio n . Its purpose is not to punish the infringem ent o f law bu t to establish new law . F or in the exercise o f violence over life and d eath m ore than in a n y oth er legal act, law reaffirm s itself. But in this very violence som ething rotten in law is revealed, above all to a finer sensibility, becau se the

Critique o f Violence

141

latter knows itself to be infin itely rem ote from conditions in w h ich fate m ight im periously h ave shown itself in such a sentence. R easo n m ust, h ow ever, a ttem p t to a p p roach such conditions all the m ore resolutely, if it is to b rin g to a conclusion its critiq u e o f both la w m a k in g and law -p reservin g violence. In a far m ore u n n a tu ral com bin ation than in the death p en a lty, in a kind o f spectral m ixture, these tw o forms o f violence are present in another institu tion o f the m odern state, the police. T ru e , this is violence for legal ends (in the right o f disposition), but w ith the sim ultaneous a u th o rity to decide these ends itself w ith in w id e lim its (in the right o f d ecree). T h e ign om in y o f such an a u th o rity , w h ich is felt by few sim ply because its ordinances suffice on ly seldom for the crudest acts, but are therefore allow ed to ram p ag e all the m ore b lin d ly in the most vu ln erab le areas and again st thinkers, from w hom the state is not protected by la w this ig n o m in y lies in the fact that in this a u th ority the separation o f la w m a k in g and law -p reservin g violence is suspended. I f the first is req u ired to prove its w orth in victory, the second is subject to the restriction that it m a y not set itself new ends. P olice vio len ce is em a n cip a te d from both conditions. It is law -m akin g, for its ch ara cteristic function is not the p rom u lgation o f laws bu t the assertion o f legal claim s for an y decree, and law -p reserving, becau se it is at the disposal o f these ends. T h e assertion that the ends o f p o lice violen ce are alw ays iden tical or even connected to those o f gen era l law is en tirely untrue. R ath er, the la w o f the p o lice re a lly m arks the point at w h ich the state, w h eth er from im p oten ce or because o f the im m an en t connections w ith in any legal system , can no lon ger g u aran tee through the legal system the em p irical ends that it desires at an y price to attain. T h erefo re the police in terven e for security reasons in countless cases w here no clear le g a l situation exists, w h en they are not m erely, w ith ou t the slightest relation to legal ends, a cco m p an yin g the citizen as a b ru ta l en cu m b ran ce throu gh a life regu lated by ordinances, or sim p ly supervising him . U n lik e law , w hich ackn ow ledges in the d ecision determ in ed b y place and tim e a m etap hysical categ o ry th a t gives it a claim to critical evalu ation , a consideration o f the

14 2

police institution encounters n oth in g essential at all. Its pow er is formless, like its n ow here tangible, all-p ervasive, gh ostly presence in the life o f civilized states. A n d tho u gh the police m ay, in particulars, everyw h ere appear the sam e, it can n o t fin ally be denied that their spirit is less d evastatin g w h ere they represent, in absolute m on archy, the pow er o f a ruler in w hich legislative and executive sup rem acy are united, than in dem ocracies w h ere their existence, elevated by no such relation , bears witness to the greatest con ceivab le d egen eration o f vio len ce. A ll violence as a m eans is either law -m a k in g or law -p reservin g. I f it lays claim to n either o f these pred icates, it forfeits all va lid ity. It follows, how ever, that all violence as a m eans, even in the most favourable case, is im p licated in the p ro b lem a tic n ature o f law itself. A n d if the im portan ce o f these problem s can n o t be assessed w ith certain ty at this stage o f the in vestigation , law nevertheless appears, from w h at has been said, in so am bigu ou s a m oral light that the question poses itself w hether there are no other than vio len t means for regu la tin g conflicting h um an interests. W e are a b o v e all ob ligated to note that a totally n on -violen t resolution o f conflicts can never lead to a legal contract. For the latter, h ow ever peace fully it m ay have been entered into b y the parties, leads fin ally to possible violence. It confers on both parties the right to take recourse to violence in some form against the other, should he b reak the agreem ent. N ot only th at; like the ou tcom e, the origin o f every contract also points tow ard vio len ce. It need not be d irectly present in it as law -m akin g violence, but is represented in it insofar as the pow er that gu arantees a leg al con tract is in turn o f violent origin even if violence is not in tro d u ced into the con tract itself. W hen the consciousness o f the laten t presence o f violen ce in a legal institution disappears, the institution falls into d ecay. In our time, parliam en ts provide an exam p le o f this. T h e y offer the fam iliar, woeful spectacle because they h ave not rem ain ed conscious o f the revo lu tion ary forces to w h ich they ow e their existence. A cco rd in g ly , in G erm an y in p a rticu la r, the last m an i festation o f such forces bore no fruit for parliam en ts. T h e y lack the sense that a law -m akin g violence is represented by them selves;

Critique o f Violence

143

no w on d er th at they can not achieve decrees w o rth y o f this violence, b u t cu ltivate in com prom ise a supposedly non-violent m anner o f d ea lin g w ith po litical affairs. T h is rem ains, h ow ever, a product situated w ith in the m en tality o f violence, no m atter how it m ay disdain all open vio len ce, because the effort tow ard com prom ise is m otivated not in tern a lly but from outside, by the opposing effort, because no com prom ise, how ever freely accep ted , is con ceivab le w ith o u t a com pu lsive ch aracter. It w ou ld be better oth erw ise is the u n d erlyin g feeling in every com prom ise. * S ign ifican tly, the d e c a y o f p arliam en ts has perhaps alien ated as m an y m inds from the ideal o f a n on-violent resolution o f political conflicts as w ere attracted to it b y the w ar. T h e pacifists are confronted by the Bolsheviks and Syndicalists. T hese h ave effected an an n ih ilatin g and on the w hole apt critiq u e o f present-day parliam ents. N ev er theless, h ow ever desirable and g ra tify in g a flourishing parliam en t m ight be by com parison, a discussion o f means o f political agree m ent that are in prin cip le n on-violent cannot be concern ed w ith p a rliam en tarian ism . For w h at p arliam en t achieves in vital affairs can on ly be those legal decrees that in their origin and outcom e are a tten d ed by vio len ce. Is any n on -violen t resolution o f conflict possible? W ith o u t d oub t. T h e relationships o f private persons are full o f exam ples o f this. N on -violen t agreem en t is possible w h erever a civilized outlook allow s the use o f u n allo yed m eans o f agreem ent. L eg a l and illegal m eans o f every kind that are all the same violent m ay be confronted w ith n on-violent ones as u n alloyed means. C ou rtesy, sym pathy, peaceableness, trust, and w h atever else m ight here be m entioned, are their sub jective preconditions. T h e ir ob jective m anifestation, how ever, is d eterm in ed by the law (the enorm ous scope o f w hich can n o t be discussed here) that u n alloyed means are never those o f direct, but alw ays those o f in d irect solutions. T h e y therefore never a p p ly d irectly to the resolution o f conflict betw een m an and m an, b ut on ly to m atters con cern in g objects. T h e sphere o f non-violent m eans opens up in the realm o f h u m an conflicts relatin g to goods. F or this reason techn iqu e in the broadest sense o f the w ord is their
* U n ge r, Politik und Metaphysik, Berlin 1921, p. 8.

144
most p articu lar area. Its profou ndest exam ple is perhaps the conference, considered as a techn iqu e o f civil agreem ent. For in it not only is n onviolen t agreem ent possible, but also the exclusion o f violence in prin ciple is quite ex p licitly d em on strab le by one significant factor: there is no sanction for lying. P ro b a b ly no legislation on earth origin ally stip u lated such a sanction. Th is makes clear that there is a sphere o f hum an a greem en t that is nonviolent to the extent that it is w h o lly inaccessible to vio len ce: the proper sphere o f u n d erstan d in g , lan gu ag e. O n ly late and in a peculiar process o f d ecay has it been pen etrated by legal violence in the p en alty placed on fraud. F or w hereas the legal system at its origin, trusting to its victorious pow er, is conten t to defeat law breaking w h erever it happens to show itself, and d ecep tion , h avin g itself no trace o f pow er abou t it, was, on the prin cip le ins civile vigilantibus scriptum est, exem pt from punishm ent in R o m a n and ancient G erm an ic law , the law o f a later period, lack in g confidence in its own violence, no longer felt itself a m atch for that o f all others. R a th er, fear o f the latter and m istrust o f itself in d icate its declining vitality. It begins to set itself ends, w ith the inten tion o f sparing law -p reserving violence m ore taxin g m anifestations. It turns to fraud, therefore, not out o f m oral considerations, b u t for fear o f the violence that it m ight unleash in the d efrau d ed party. Since such fear conflicts w ith the violen t n ature o f law d erived from its origins, such ends are in a p p ro p ria te to the ju stified means o f law . T h e y reflect not only the d eca y o f its ow n sphere, bu t also a dim inution o f pure means. For, in p ro h ib itin g fraud, law restricts the use o f w h olly n onviolent m eans because they cou ld prod u ce reactive violence. T h is tenden cy o f law has also p la yed a p a rt in the concession o f the right to strike, w hich contradicts the interests o f the state. It grants this right because it forestalls vio len t actions the state is afraid to oppose. D id not w orkers p reviou sly resort at once to sabotage and set fire to factories? T o induce m en to recon cile their interests peacefu lly w ith ou t in v o lvin g the legal system, there is, in the end, ap art from all virtues, one effective m otive that often puts into the most relu ctan t hands pure instead o f violent m eans; it is the fear o f m utual disadvan tages that th reaten to

Critique o f Violence

145

arise from violen t confron tation , w h atever the outcom e m ight be. S u ch m otives are clearly visible in countless cases o f conflict o f interests b etw een priva te persons. It is d ifferent w hen classes and nations are in conflict, since the higher orders that threaten to o v erw h elm eq u a lly v ic to r and van quished are hidden from the feelings o f most, and from the intelligen ce o f alm ost all. S p a ce does not here perm it me to trace such higher orders and the com m on interests corresp on d in g to them , w hich constitute the most en d u rin g m otive for a p o licy o f pure m eans.* W e can therefore on ly p o in t to pure m eans in politics as analogous to those w hich govern p eacefu l intercourse b etw een private persons. A s regards class struggles, in them strike must under certain cond itions be seen as a pure means. T w o essentially different kinds o f strike, the possibilities o f w hich have a lrea d y been considered, m ust now be m ore fu lly ch aracterized . Sorel has the cre d it from p o litica l, rath er than p u rely theoretical, consid eration s o f h a vin g first distinguished them . H e contrasts them as the political and the p ro letarian general strike. T h e y are also an tith etical in their rela tion to violence. O f the partisans o f the form er he says: T h e stren gth en in g o f state po w er is the basis o f their conceptions; in their present organ ization s the politicians (viz. the m oderate socialists) are a lrea d y p rep arin g the ground for a strong cen tralized and discip lin ed pow er that w ill be im pervious to criticism from the opposition, cap ab le o f im posin g silence, and o f issuing its m en d a cious d ecrees. f T h e po litical general strike dem onstrates how the state w ill lose none o f its strength, how po w er is transferred from the p rivileg ed to the privileged , how the mass o f producers w ill ch an ge their m asters. In contrast to this political general strike (w h ich in cid en ta lly seems to have been sum m ed up by the a b ortive G erm a n revo lu tion ), the p roletarian general strike sets itself the sole task o f destroyin g state pow er. It nullifies all the id eological consequences o f every possible social p o licy ; its partisans see even the m ost p o p u lar reform s as b ou rgeo is. T h is general strike clearly ann oun ces its ind ifferen ce tow ard m aterial gain through conquest
* B u t see U n ger, pp. 18 ff. t Sorel, Reflexions sur la violence, 5th ed., Paris 1919, p. 250.

146
by d eclarin g its intention to abolish the state; the state was r e a lly . . . the basis o f the existence o f the ru lin g grou p , w ho in all their enterprising benefit from the burdens borne by the p u b lic . W h ile the first form o f in terrup tion o f w ork is violen t since it causes only an external m od ification o f lab ou r conditions, the second, as a pure means, is nonviolent. For it takes place not in readiness to resum e w ork follow ing extern al concessions and this or that m odification to w orkin g conditions, bu t in the d eterm in atio n to resume only a w h olly transform ed w ork, no lon ger en forced by the state, an u p h eaval that this kind o f strike not so m uch causes as consum m ates. F or this reason, the first o f these un dertakings is la w m aking but the second anarchistic. T a k in g up occasion al state ments by M a rx, Sorel rejects every kind o f program m e, o f u to p ia in a word, o f la w -m a k in g for the revo lu tio n a ry m ovem en t: W ith the general strike all these fine things d isa p p ear; the revolution appears as a clear, sim ple revolt, and no place is reserved either for the sociologists or for the elegan t am ateurs o f social reforms or for the intellectu als w ho have m ade it their profession to think for the p ro leta ria t. A g ain st this deep, m oral, and genu in ely revo lu tion ary concep tion , no ob jection can stand that seeks, on grounds o f its possibly catastrop h ic consequences, to brand such a general strike as violent. E ven if it can rig h tly be said that the m odern econom y, seen as a w hole, resem bles m uch less a m achine that stands idle w hen a b an d o n ed by its stoker than a beast that goes beserk as soon as its tam er turns his back, n ever theless the violence o f an action can be assessed no m ore from its effects than from its ends, but on ly from the law o f its means. State pow er, o f course, w hich has eyes on ly for effects, opposes precisely this kind o f strike for its alleged violence, as distinct from partial strikes w hich are for the m ost part a ctu a lly extortionate. T h e extent to w hich such a rigorous con cep tion o f the general strike as such is cap ab le o f dim inishin g the in cid en ce o f actu al violence in revolutions, Sorel has exp lain ed w ith h igh ly ingenious argum ents. By contrast, an ou tstan d in g exam p le o f violent omission, more im m oral and cru d er than the p o litica l general strike, akin to a blockad e, is the strike b y doctors, such as several

Critique o f Violence

i^y

G erm a n cities h ave seen. In this is revealed at its most repellent an un scrupulous use o f vio len ce that is p ositively d ep raved in a professional class that for years, w ith ou t the slightest attem pts at resistance, secured d eath its p re y , and then at the first op p ortu n ity a b a n d o n ed life o f its ow n free w ill. M o re c le arly than in recent class struggles, the m eans o f n on-violent agreem ent have d eveloped in thousands o f years o f the history o f states. O n ly occasion ally does the task o f diplom ats in their transactions consist o f m odifications to leg al systems. F u n d a m e n ta lly they have, en tirely on the an alogy o f a greem en t betw een priva te persons, to resolve conflicts case by case, in the nam es o f their states, peacefu lly and w ith ou t contracts. A d elicate task that is m ore robustly perform ed by referees, but a m ethod o f solution that in prin ciple is above that o f the referee b ecause it is b eyon d all legal systems, and therefore b eyond violence. A c c o rd in g ly , like the intercourse o f private persons, that o f d iplo m ats has en gend ered its ow n form s and virtues, w hich w ere not a lw ays m ere form alities, even though they have becom e so. A m o n g all the forms o f violen ce perm itted by both natural law an d positive law there is not one that is free o f the gravely p ro b lem a tic nature, a lrea d y ind icated , o f all legal violence. Since, how ever, every co n ceiv ab le solution to hum an problem s, not to speak o f d eliveran ce from the confines o f all the w orldhistorical conditions o f existence ob tain in g hitherto, rem ains im possible if violence is to tally exclu ded in p rin ciple, the question n ecessarily arises as to oth er kinds o f violence than all those en visaged by legal theory. It is at the same tim e the question o f the truth o f the basic d ogm a com m on to both theories: just ends can be a tta in ed by ju stified m eans, justified means used for ju st ends. H o w w o u ld it be, therefore, if all the violen ce im posed by fate, using ju stified m eans, w ere o f itself in irrecon cilab le conflict w ith ju st ends, and if at the sam e tim e a different kind o f violence cam e into vie w that certain ly cou ld be either the ju stified or the unjusti fied m eans to those ends, b u t was not related to them as means at all b u t in som e different w a y ? T h is w ou ld throw light on the curious and at first d iscou ragin g d iscovery o f the u ltim ate insolubility o f all legal problem s (w hich in its hopelessness is perhaps com

148 parab le only to the possibility o f conclusive pron ou n cem ents on rig h t and w ro n g in evolvin g lan gu ages). For it is n ever reason that decides on the ju stificatio n o f m eans and the justness o f ends, but fate-im posed violen ce on the form er and G o d on the latter. A n insight that is un com m on only because o f the stubborn p rev ailin g h abit o f con ceivin g those ju st ends as ends o f a possible law , that is, not only as gen era lly valid (w hich follow s a n a ly tic a lly from the nature o f ju stice), but also as cap ab le o f gen era lizatio n , w h ich , as could be shown, contradicts the n atu re o f ju stice. For ends that for one situation are just, u n iversally a ccep ta b le, and valid , are so for no other situation, no m atter how sim ilar it m a y be in other respects. T h e non-m ediate function o f violence at issue here is illustrated by ev eryd a y experience. As regards m an, he is im p elled by anger, for exam ple, to the most visible outbursts o f a violence that is not related as a means to a p recon ceived end. It is not a means but a m anifestation. M o reover, this violen ce has th o rou gh ly objective m anifestations in w hich it can be su bjected to criticism . These are to be found, m ost significan tly, above all in m yth. M y th ica l violence in its a rch etyp al form is a m ere m anifestation o f the gods. N ot a m eans to their ends, scarcely a m anifestation o f their w ill, but first o f all a m anifestation o f their existence. T h e legend o f N iobe contains an ou tstan d in g exam ple o f this. T ru e , it m ight appear that the action o f A p o llo and A rtem is is on ly a punishm ent. But their violence establishes a law far m ore than it punishes for the infringem ent o f one a lrea d y existing. N io b e s arrogan ce calls dow n fate upon itself not because her arrogan ce offends against the law but because it ch allen ges fa te to a fight in w hich fate must trium ph, and can b rin g to ligh t a law on ly in its trium ph. H ow little such divine vio len ce was to the ancients the law -preserving violence o f pun ishm en t is shown by the heroic legends in w h ich the h ero for exam p le, P ro m eth eu s challen ges fate w ith dign ified courage, fights it w ith v a ryin g fortunes, and is not left by the legend w ith ou t hope o f one d a y b rin gin g a new law to men. It is rea lly this hero and the legal violen ce o f the m yth native to him that the pu blic tries to pictu re even now in ad m irin g the m iscreant. V io len ce therefore bursts upon N io b e from the

Critique o f Violence

149

u n certain , am biguous sphere o f fate. It is not a ctu a lly destructive. A lth o u g h it brings a cruel d eath to N io b e s children , it stops short o f the life o f their m other, w hom it leaves behind, m ore gu ilty than before th rou gh the d eath o f the children, both as an etern ally m ute b earer o f gu ilt and as a bou n d ary stone on the frontier b etw een m en and gods. I f this im m ediate violen ce in m yth ical m anifestations proves closely related, indeed id en tical to la w m a k in g vio len ce, it reflects a prob lem atic ligh t on law -m akin g vio len ce, insofar as the latter was ch aracterized above, in the a cco u n t o f m ilitary violence, as m erely a m ed iate violence. A t the sam e tim e this conn ection prom ises further to illu m in ate fate, w h ich in all cases underlies legal violence, and to conclude in b ro a d outlin e the critiq ue o f the latter. For the function o f violence in law -m a k in g is tw ofold, in the sense that law -m a kin g pursues as its end, w ith violen ce as the m eans, what is to be established as law , b u t at the m om ent o f instatem en t does not dismiss violence; rath er, at this very m om en t o f law -m akin g, it sp ecifically estab lishes as law not an end u n allo yed by violence, but one necessarily and in tim a te ly bound to it, under the title o f pow er. L aw -m a k in g is p o w er-m ak in g, and, to th at extent, an im m ed iate m anifestation o f vio len ce. Ju stice is the p rin cip le o f all divine en d-m aking, pow er the p rin cip le o f all m yth ical law -m akin g. A n a p p lica tio n o f the latter that has im m ense consequences is to be found in constitu tion al law . For in this sphere the estab lishing o f frontiers, the task o f p e ace after all the wars o f the m y th ical age, is the prim al ph enom enon o f all law -m a k in g violence. H ere w e see m ost clearly th at pow er, m ore than the most ex tra v a gan t ga in in prop erty, is w h a t is gu aran teed by all law -m akin g vio len ce. W h ere frontiers are d ecid ed the ad versary is not sim ply a n n ih ila te d ; indeed, he is acco rd ed rights even w hen the v ic to rs su p erio rity in pow er is com plete. A n d these are, in a d em on ically a m b igu ou s w a y, e q u a l rights: for both parties to the treaty it is the sam e line that m ay not be crossed. H ere appears, in a terribly p rim itive form , the sam e m y th ica l a m b ig u ity o f laws that m ay not be in frin g e d to w hich A n a to le F ran ce refers satirically w hen he says, P oor and rich are eq u a lly forbidden to spend the night

15 under the b rid ges. It also appears that Sorel touches not m erely on a cultural-historical but also on a m etaphysical truth in sur m ising that in the begin nin g all right was the prerogative o f the kings or the n obles in short, o f the m ig h ty; and that, mutatis mutandis, it w ill rem ain so as long as it exists. For from the point o f view o f violence, w hich alone can gu aran tee law , there is no eq uality, but at the most eq u a lly great violence. T h e act o f fixing frontiers, how ever, is also significant for an u n derstan ding o f law in another respect. L aw s and u n m arked frontiers rem ain, at least in prim eval times, unw ritten laws. A m an can u n w ittin g ly infringe upon them and thus incur retribution. For each interven tion o f law that is provoked by an offence against the un w ritten and unknow n law is called, in con trad istin ction to punishm ent, retribution. But how ever u n lu ck ily it m ay befall its unsuspecting victim , its occurren ce is, in the u n derstan ding o f the law , not chance, but fate show ing itself once again in its d eliberate am biguity. H erm an n C ohen , in a b rie f reflection on the ancients conception o f fate, has spoken o f the inescapable rea liza tio n that it is fa tes orders them selves that seem to cause and brin g about this infringem ent, this offen ce .* T o this spirit o f law even the m odern principle that ign oran ce o f a law is not protection against punishm ent testifies, ju st as the struggle over w ritten law in the early period o f the ancient G reek com m unities is to be u n der stood as a rebellion against the spirit o f m ythical statutes. F ar from in a u g u ra tin g a purer sphere, the m yth ical m anifesta tion o f im m ed iate violence shows itself fu n d am en tally identical w ith all legal violence, and turns suspicion concern in g the latter into certain ty o f the perniciousness o f its historical function, the destruction o f w hich thus becom es ob ligatory. T his very task o f destruction poses again, in the last resort, the question o f a pure im m ediate violence that m ight be able to call a halt to m ythical violence. Just as in all spheres G o d opposes m yth, m yth ical violence is confronted by the divine. A n d the latter constitutes its antithesis in all respects. I f m yth ical violence is law -m akin g, divine violence is law -d estroyin g; i f the form er sets boundaries, the
* H erm ann Cohen , Ethik des reinen Willetts, 2nd ed., Berlin 1907, p. 362.

Critique o f Violence

15 1

latter bound lessly destroys them ; if m ythical violence brings at once gu ilt and retribu tio n , divin e pow er on ly expiates; if the form er threaten s, the latter strikes; if the form er is bloody, the latter is leth al w ith ou t spilling blood. T h e legend o f N iobe m ay be confron ted , as an exam ple o f this violence, w ith G o d s ju d g m en t on the c o m p a n y o f K o ra h . It strikes p rivileged Levites, strikes them w ith o u t w arn in g , w ith o u t threat, and does not stop short o f an n ih ilation . B ut in a n n ih ila tin g it also expiates, and a deep con n ection b etw een the lack o f bloodshed and the exp iato ry c h a ra cte r o f this violence is un m istakable. For blood is the sym bol o f m ere life. T h e dissolution o f legal violence stems, as cannot be shown in d etail here, from the gu ilt o f m ore n atu ral life, w h ich consigns the livin g, inn ocen t and u n h ap py, to a retribution that ex p ia te s the gu ilt o f m ere life and doubtless also purifies the gu ilty, not o f guilt, h ow ever, but o f law. F or w ith mere life the rule o f law over the livin g ceases. M y th ica l violence is blood y pow er over m ere life for its ow n sake, divine violence pure pow er over all life for the sake o f the living. T h e first dem ands sacrifice, the second accepts it. T h is d ivin e pow er is attested not only by religious tradition but is also found in present-d ay life in at least one sanctioned m anifestation. T h e ed u ca tive pow er, w hich in its perfected form stands outside the law , is one o f its m anifestations. These are defined, therefore, not b y m iracles d irectly perform ed by G od , but by the ex p ia tin g m om en t in them that strikes w ith ou t bloodshed and, finally, b y the absence o f all law -m akin g. T o this extent it is ju stifia b le to call this violence, too, a n n ih ila tin g; but it is so only relativ ely, w ith regard to goods, right, life, and suchlike, never absolutely, w ith regard to the soul o f the livin g. T h e prem ise o f such an extension o f pu re or divin e pow er is sure to provoke, p a rticu la rly tod ay, the m ost violen t reactions, and to be countered by the a rg u m en t that taken to its logical conclusion it confers on men even leth a l po w er against one another. T h is, how ever, cannot be con ced ed . F or the question M a y I k ill? m eets its irred u cible answ er in the com m an d m en t T h o u shalt not k ill . T his com m an d m en t precedes the deed, ju st as G od was p rev en tin g the

*52
deed. But just as it m ay not be fear o f pun ish m en t that enforces obedience, the injun ction becom es in a p p lica b le , in com m en su rab le once the deed is accom plished. N o ju d g m e n t o f the deed can be derived from the com m an dm en t. A n d so n either the divin e ju d gm en t, nor the grounds for this ju d g m e n t, can be know n in advance. Those w ho base a con d em n ation o f all vio len t killin g o f one person by another on the com m an d m en t are therefore m istaken. It exists not as a criterion o f ju d g m e n t, but as a gu id elin e for the actions o f persons or com m unities w ho have to w restle w ith it in solitude and, in excep tional cases, to take on them selves the responsibility o f ign oring it. T h u s it was understood by J udaism , w h ich expressly rejected the con d em n ation o f k illin g in self-defence. But those thinkers w ho take the opposed view refer to a more distant theorem , on w hich they possibly propose to base even the com m an d m en t itself. T his is the d octrin e o f the sanctity o f life, w hich they either apply to all an im al or even vegetab le life, or lim it to hum an life. T h e ir arg u m en tatio n , exem p lified in an extrem e case by the revo lu tion ary killin g o f the oppressor, runs as follows: I f I do not kill I shall never establish the w orld dom inion o f ju stice . . . that is the a rgu m en t o f the in telligen t terrorist. . . . W e, how ever, profess that higher even than the happiness and ju stice o f existence stands existence itself. * As certain ly as this last proposition is false, ind eed ign ob le, it shows the necessity o f seeking the reason for the com m an d m en t no longer in w hat the deed does to the victim , but in w h at it does to G o d and the doer. T h e proposition that existence stands high er than a just existence is false and ignom inious, if existence is to m ean nothin g other than mere life and it has this m ean in g in the argu m en t referred to. It contains a m igh ty truth, h ow ever, if existence, or, better, life (words whose a m b ig u ity is rea d ily dispelled, a n a lo gously to that o f freedom , w hen they are referred to two distinct spheres), means the irred u cible, toted cond ition that is m a n ; if the proposition is inten ded to m ean th at the nonexistence o f m an is som ething more terrible than the (ad m itted ly subordinate) notyet-attained condition o f the ju st m an. T o this a m b ig u ity the
* K u rt H iller in a yearbook o f Das iel.

Critique o f Violence

15 5

prop osition qu oted above owes its p lau sibility. M a n cannot, at an y price, be said to coincid e w ith the m ere life in him , no m ore than w ith an y oth er o f his conditions and qualities, not even w ith the uniqueness o f his b od ily person. H o w ever sacred m an is (or that life in him that is id en tica lly present in earth ly life, death, and afterlife), there is no sacredness in his condition, in his bod ily life vu ln erab le to in ju ry b y his fellow men. W h at, then, dis tinguishes it essentially from the life o f anim als and plants? A n d even if these w ere sacred, th ey could not be so by virtue only o f b eing alive, o f b eing in life. It m ight be w ell w orth w hile to track d ow n the origin o f the d ogm a o f the sacredness o f life. Perhaps, ind eed p ro b a b ly , it is relativ ely recent, the last m istaken attem pt o f the w eak en ed W estern trad ition to seek the saint it has lost in cosm ological im p en etra b ility. (T h e a n tiq u ity o f all religious com m an d m en ts against m u rder is no cou nter-argu m en t, because these are based on other ideas than the m od em theorem .) F in ally, this id ea o f m a n s sacredness gives grounds for reflection that w hat is here pron oun ced sacred was accord in g to ancient m ythical th o u gh t the m arked bearer o f g u ilt: life itself. T h e critiq u e o f vio len ce is the philosophy o f its histo ry the p h ilo so p h y o f this history, because only the idea o f its d evelop m ent m akes possible a critical, discrim inatin g, and decisive a p p roach to its tem poral d ata. A gaze directed on ly at w hat is close at h a n d can at most p erceive a d ialectica l rising and falling in the la w -m a k in g and law -p reservin g form ations o f violence. T h e law g o v e rn in g their oscillation rests on the circu m stance that all law p reservin g vio len ce, in its d u ration , in d irectly w eakens the la w m a k in g vio len ce represented by it, through the suppression o f hostile coun ter-violen ce. (V ariou s sym ptom s o f this have been referred to in the course o f this study.) T h is lasts until either new forces or those earlier suppressed trium ph over the hitherto law -m a k in g violen ce and thus found a new law , destined in its turn to d ecay. O n the b reak in g o f this cycle m ain tain ed by m ythical forms o f law , on the suspension o f law w ith all the forces on w h ich it depen ds as they d epend on it, finally therefore on the abolition o f state pow er, a new historical epoch is founded. I f the rule o f

*54
m yth is broken occasion ally in the present age, the com in g age is not so u n im a gin a b ly rem ote that an attack on law is altogeth er futile. But if the existence o f violence outside the law , as pure im m ediate violence, is assured, this furnishes the p r o o f that revolution ary violence, the highest m anifestation o f u n allo y ed violence by m an, is possible, and by w h at means. Less possible and also less urgent for hum ankind, how ever, is to d ecid e w hen unalloyed violence has been realized in p a rticu la r cases. F or only m ythical violence, not divine, w ill be recogn izab le as such w ith certainty, unless it be in in co m p arab le effects, becau se the exp iatory pow er o f violence is not visible to men. O n ce again all the eternal forms are open to pure d ivin e violence, w h ich m yth bastardized w ith law. It m ay m anifest itself in a true w a r ex a ctly as in the divine ju d g m en t o f the m u ltitu d e on a crim in al. B ut all m ythical, law -m a kin g violence, w h ich we m ay call execu tive, is pernicious. Pernicious, too, is the law -p reserving, ad m in istrative violence that serves it. D ivin e violence, w hich is the sign and seal but never the means o f sacred execution, m ay be called sovereign violence.

1921

Theologico-Political Fragment

O n ly the M essiah h im self consum m ates all history, in the sense that he alone redeem s, com pletes, creates its relation to the M essian ic. For this reason n othin g historical can relate itself on its ow n acco u n t to a n y th in g M essianic. T h erefo re the K in gd o m o f G o d is not the telos o f the historical d y n a m ic ; it cannot be set as a goal. F rom the stan dp oint o f history it is not the goal, but the end. T h erefo re the order o f the profane cannot be b u ilt up on the idea o f the D ivin e K in g d o m , and therefore th eocracy has no political, b u t o n ly a religious m eanin g. T o have rep u d iated w ith utm ost veh em en ce the p o litica l significan ce o f th eocracy is the card in al m erit o f B lo ch s Spirit o f Utopia. T h e order o f the profan e should be erected on the idea o f h a p p i ness. T h e relation o f this order to the M essianic is one o f the essential teachings o f the p h ilosoph y o f history. It is the precondition o f a m ystical con cep tion o f history, co n tain in g a problem that can be represented figu ra tively. I f one arrow points to the goal tow ard w h ich the profane d y n a m ic acts, and another m arks the d irection o f M essian ic intensity, then certain ly the quest o f free hu m anity for happiness runs counter to the M essianic d irectio n ; but ju st as a force can, through a ctin g, increase another that is actin g in the opposite d irection, so the order o f the profane assists, through b eing profan e, the com in g o f the M essianic K in g d o m . T h e profane, therefore, a lth ou gh not itself a catego ry o f this K in gd o m , is a d ecisive categ o ry o f its quietest ap p roach . For in happiness all th at is e a rth ly seeks its d ow n fall, and only in good fortune is its dow nfall

r55

156 destined to find it. W hereas, ad m itted ly, the im m ediate M essianic intensity o f the heart, o f the inner m an in isolation, passes throu gh m isfortune, as suffering. T o the spiritual restitutio in integrum, w hich introduces im m ortality, corresponds a w orld ly restitution that leads to the etern ity o f dow n fall, and the rhythm o f this etern ally transient w orld ly existence, transient in its to tality, in its spatial but also in its tem poral totality, the rh ythm o f M essianic nature, is happiness. For nature is M essianic by reason o f its eternal and total passing aw ay. T o strive after such passing, even for those stages o f m an th at are nature, is the task o f w orld politics, whose m ethod must be called nihilism .
19 2 0 21

The Destructive Character

It co u ld happ en to som eone looking b ack over his life that he rea lized th at alm ost all the d eeper obligation s he had endured in its course origin ated in people on whose d estru ctive ch a ra cte r everyo n e was agreed. H e w ou ld stum ble on this fact one day, p erh ap s b y chan ce, and the heavier the b lo w it deals him , the b etter are his chances o f p ictu rin g the d estructive character. T h e d estructive ch ara cte r knows only one w a tch w o rd : m ake ro o m ; o n ly one a c tiv ity : clearin g aw ay. H is need for fresh air and op en space is stronger than any h atred. T h e d estructive ch ara cte r is you n g and cheerful. For destroying reju ven ates in clearin g a w a y the traces o f our ow n age; it cheers b ecause ev eryth in g cleared a w a y m eans to the destroyer a com plete red u ction , indeed erad ication , o f his ow n condition. But w h at con trib u tes most o f all to this A p o llo n ia n im age o f the destroyer is the rea liza tio n o f how im m en sely the w orld is sim plified w hen tested for its worthiness o f destruction. T h is is the great bond em b ra cin g and un ifyin g all that exists. It is a sight that affords the d estru ctive ch ara cte r a sp ectacle o f deepest harm on y. T h e d estru ctive ch ara cte r is alw ays b lith ely at w ork. It is n ature th at dictates his tem po, in d irectly at least, for he must forestall her. O th e rw ise she w ill take over the destruction herself. N o vision inspires the d estru ctive ch aracter. H e has few needs, and the least o f them is to know w hat w ill replace w hat has been d estroyed . First o f all, for a m om ent at least, em pty space, the

157

i 58
place w here the th in g stood or the victim lived. Som eone is sure to be found w ho needs this space w ith ou t its being filled. T h e destructive ch ara cter does his w ork, the only w ork he avoids is b eing creative. Just as the creator seeks solitude, the destroyer must be constan tly surrounded by people, witnesses to his efficacy. T h e destructive ch aracter is a signal. Just as a trigonom etric sign is exposed on all sides to the w ind , so is he to rum our. T o protect him from it is pointless. T h e destructive ch aracter has no interest in being understood. A ttem pts in this direction he regards as superficial. B eing mis understood can not harm him . O n the con trary he provokes it, ju st as oracles, those destructive institutions o f the state, provoked it. T h e most petty bourgeois o f all ph enom ena, gossip, comes abou t only because people do not wish to be m isunderstood. T h e destructive ch ara cter tolerates m isu n derstan d ing; he does not prom ote gossip. T h e destructive character is the en em y o f the etui-m an. T h e etui-m an looks for com fort, and the case is its quintessence. T h e inside o f the case is the velvet-lin ed track that he has im printed on the w orld. T h e destructive ch aracter obliterates even the traces o f destruction. T h e destructive ch aracter stands in the front line o f the trad i tionalists. Som e pass things dow n to posterity, by m akin g them un touchab le and thus conserving them , others pass on situations, b y m aking them p ra ctica b le and thus liq u id a tin g them . T h e latter are called the destructive. T h e destructive ch aracter has the consciousness o f historical m an, whose deepest em otion is an insuperable m istrust o f the course o f things and a readiness at all times to recognize that everyth in g can go w rong. T herefore the destructive ch aracter is reliab ility itself. T h e d estructive ch aracter sees n othin g perm anent. But for this very reason he sees w ays everyw h ere. W here others encounter w alls or m ountains, there, too, he sees a w ay. But because he sees a w ay everyw h ere, he has to clear things from it everyw h ere. N ot alw ays b y brute force; som etim es b y the most refined.

The Destructive Character

159

B ecause he sees w ays everyw h ere, he alw ays positions him self at crossroads. N o m om ent can know w h at the next w ill bring. W h a t exists he reduces to rubb le, not for the sake o f the rubble, bu t for that o f the w a y lead in g th rou gh it. T h e d estructive ch ara cter lives from the feeling, not that life is w orth livin g, but that suicide is not w orth the trouble.

!93 !

On the Mimetic Faculty

^Nature creates sim ilarities. O n e need only think o f m im icry. T h e highest cap acity for prod u cing sim ilarities, how ever, is m a n s. His gift o f seeing resem blances is n oth in g other than a ru dim en t o f the pow erful com pulsion in form er tim es to becom e and beh ave like som ething else. Perhaps there is none o f his higher functions in w hich his m im etic faculty does not p la y a decisive role. This facu lty has a history, h ow ever, in both the p h ylogen etic and the on togen etic sense. As regards the latter, p lay is for m any its school. C h ild re n s p lay is everyw h ere perm eated by m im etic modes o f b eh aviour, and its realm is by no means lim ited to w hat one person can im itate in a n oth er./T h e child plays at being not only a shopkeeper or teacher b u t also a w indm ill and a train. O f w hat use to him is this schooling o f his m im etic fa cu lty ? / T h e answ er presupposes an u n derstan d ing o f the p h ylogen etic significance o f the m im etic facu lty. H ere it is not enough to think o f w hat we understand today b y the concept o f sim ilarity. As is know n, the sphere o f life that form erly seemed to be govern ed by the law o f sim ilarity was com prehensive; it ruled both m icrocosm and m acrocosm . But these n atu ral correspondences are given their true im portance only if seen as stim u latin g and aw ak en in g the m im etic facu lty in man. It m ust be borne in m ind that neither m im etic powers nor m im etic objects rem ain the same in the course o f thousands o f years. R ath er, w e must suppose that the gift o f prod ucing sim ilarities for exam ple, in dances, whose oldest function this w a s and therefore also the gift o f recogn izin g them ,

On the Mimetic Faculty have ch an ged w ith historical d evelopm ent. /

161

T h e direction o f this ch an ge seems definable as the increasing d eca y o f the m im etic facu lty^ F o r clearly the observable world o f m odern m an contains on ly m inim al residues o f the m agical correspondences and analogies that w ere fam iliar to ancient peoples. T h e question is w h eth er w e are concern ed w ith the d ecay o f this fa cu lty or w ith its transform ation. O f the d irection in w h ich the latter m ight lie some indications m ay be derived, even i f in d irectly, from astrology. W e m ust assume in prin cip le that in the rem ote past the processes considered im itable in clu d ed those in the sky. In dance, on other cultic occasions, such im itation could be prod u ced , such sim ilarity m an ip u lated . But i f the m im etic genius was rea lly a life-determ ining force for the ancients, it is not difficult to im agin e that the new born child w as thought to be in full possession o f this gift, and in p a r ti- . cu lar to be perfectly m ou ld ed on the structure o f cosm ic being. // A llu sion to the astrological sphere m ay su p ply a first reference point for an u n derstan d ing o f the concep t o f non-sensuous sim ilarity. T ru e, our existence no lon ger includes w hat once m ade it possible to speak o f this kind o f sim ilarity: above all, the a b ility to produce it/N ev erth eless we, too, possess a canon acco rd in g to w hich the/ m ean in g o f non-sensuous sim ilarity can be at least p a rtly clarified/! A n d this can on is language^/ F rom tim e im m em orial the m im etic fa cu lty has been conceded some influence on lan gu age. Y e t this was done w ith ou t fo u n d a tio n : w ith ou t consideration o f a fu rther m eaning, still less a history, o f the m im etic faculty. But ab ove all such notions rem ained closely tied to the com m on place, sensuous area o f sim ilarity. A ll the same, im itative b eh aviou r in lan gu a g e form ation w as ackn ow led ged under the nam e o f on om atopoeia. N ow if lan gu a g e, as is evident, is not an agreed system o f signs, w e shall be constan tly obliged to have recourse to the kind o f thoughts that ap p ear in their most prim itive form as the on om atopo eic m ode o f exp lanation . T h e question is w h eth er this can be d eveloped and a d ap ted to im proved u n derstan d ing. E very w o rd and the w h ole o f la n g u a g e , it has been asserted,

162
is on om atop o eic . It is d ifficult to conceive in any detail the program m e that m ight be im plied b y this proposition. H ow ever, the concept o f non-sensuous sim ilarity is o f some relevan ce. For if w ords m eanin g the sam e thin g in d ifferent languages are arran ged about that thin g as their centre, we have to inquire how they a ll w hile often possessing not the slightest sim ilarity to one another are sim ilar to w h at they signify at their centre. Y e t this kind o f sim ilarity m ay be explained not on ly b y the relationships betw een words m eanin g the same thing in d ifferent languages, ju st as, in general, our reflections cannot be restricted to the spoken w ord. T h e y are eq u a lly concerned w ith the w ritten w ord. A n d here it is notew orthy that the la tte r in some cases perhaps m ore viv id ly than the spoken w o r d illum inates, by the relation o f its w ritten form to w h at it signifies, the n ature o f non-sensuous sim ilarity. In brief, it is non-sensuous sim ilarity that establishes the ties not only betw een the spoken and the signified but also betw een the w ritten and the signified, and eq u ally b etw een the spoken and the w ritten. G rap h o lo gy has taught us to recogn ize in h an d w ritin g im ages that the unconscious o f the w riter conceals in it. It m ay be supposed that the m im etic process that expresses itself in this w a y in the a ctivity o f the w riter was, in the very distant times in w h ich script originated, o f utm ost im portan ce for w riting. S crip t has thus becom e, like lan guage, an archive o f non-sensuous sim ilarities, o f non-sensuous correspondences. T his aspect o f lan gu age as script, how ever, does not d evelop in isolation from its other, sem iotic aspect. R a th er, the m im etic elem ent in lan gu a g e can, like a flam e, m anifest itself only through a kind o f bearer. T h is bearer is the sem iotic elem ent. T h u s the coherence o f words or sentences is the bearer through w hich, like a flash, sim ilarity appears. For its p rod u ction by m an like its perception by h im is in m any cases, and p a rticu la rly the most im portant, lim ited to flashes. It flits past. It is not im p rob ab le that the rap id ity o f w ritin g and read in g heightens the fusion o f the sem iotic and the m im etic in the sphere o f lan gu age. T o read w h at was never w ritte n . Such readin g is the most ancien t: readin g before all languages, from the entrails, the stars,

On the Mimetic Faculty

163

or dances. L a te r the m ed iatin g link o f a new kind o f readin g, o f runes and hieroglyphs, cam e into use. It seems fair to suppose that these w ere the stages b y w h ich the m im etic gift, w hich was once the foun d ation /Of occu lt practices, gain ed ad m ittan ce to w ritin g and la n g u a g e In this w a y lan gu a g e m ay be seen as the highest level o f m im etic b eh a vio u r and the most com plete archive o f non-sensuous sim ilarity: a m edium into w hich the earlier powers o f m im etic prod uction and com prehension h ave passed w ith o u t residue, to the point w h ere they have liq u id a ted those o f m a g ic ./

1933

Naples
( W a l t e r B e n j a m in a n d A sja L a c is )

Som e years ago a priest was d raw n on a cart through the streets o f N ap les for in d ecent offences. H e was follow ed by a crow d h u rlin g m aledictions. A t a corn er a w ed d in g procession appeared . T h e priest stands up and m akes the sign o f a blessing, and the c a r ts pursuers fall on their knees. So absolutely, in this city, does C ath o licism strive to reassert itself in every situation. S hou ld it d isa p p ear from the face o f the earth, its last foothold w ou ld p er haps not be R o m e, but N aples. N o w h ere can this people live out its rich barbarism , w hich has its source in the heart o f the city itself, m ore securely than in the lap o f the C h u rch . It needs C atholicism , for even its excesses are then leg alized b y a legend, the feast d ay o f a m artyr. H ere Alfonso de L ig u o ri was born, the saint w ho m ade the p ractice o f the C a th o lic C h u rch supple en ou gh to accom m od ate the trade o f the sw in dler and the w hore, in order to control it w ith m ore or less rigorous penances in the confessional, for w h ich he w rote a threevo lu m e com pen d ium . Confession alone, not the police, is a m atch for the self-adm in istration o f the crim inal w orld, the camorra. So it does not occu r to an inju red party to call the police if he is anxious to seek redress. T h ro u g h civic or clerical m ediators, i f not perso n ally, he approaches a camorrista. T h ro u g h him he agrees on a ransom . F rom N aples to C astellam are, the length o f the p ro le ta ria n suburbs, run the h ead qu arters o f the m ain lan d camorra. For these crim inals avoid quarters in w hich they w ould be at the disposal o f the police. T h e y are dispersed over the city and the 167

1 68 suburbs. T h a t makes them dangerous. T h e travellin g citizen w ho gropes his w a y as far as R om e from one w ork o f art to the next, as along a stockade, loses his nerve in N aples. N o more grotesque dem onstration o f this could be p ro v id ed than in the con vocation o f an in tern ation al congress o f ph iloso phers. It disintegrated w ith out trace in the fiery haze o f this city, w hile the seventh-centennial celeb ration o f the university, part o f whose tin ny halo it was intended to be, u nfolded am id the uproar o f a popular festival. C o m p la in in g guests, w ho had been instantly relieved o f their m oney and id en tification papers, appeared at the secretariat. But the b an al tourist fares no better. E ven B aedeker cannot propitiate him . H ere the churches can n o t be found, the starred sculpture alw ays stands in the locked w in g o f the m useum, and the w ord m an n erism w arns against the w ork o f the native painters. N othin g is en joyable except the fam ous drinking w ater. P o ve rty and misery seem as contagious as they are pictu red to be to ch ild ren , and the foolish fear o f being cheated is only a scanty ra tio n a liza tio n for this feeling. It if is true, as P elad an said, that the nin eteen th cen tury inverted the m edieval, the n atu ral order o f the v ita l needs o f the poor, m akin g shelter and clo th in g o b ligatory at the expense o f food, such conventions have here been abolished. A b eg g a r lies in the road prop ped against the sidew alk, w a v in g his em p ty hat like a leave-taker at a station. H ere p o verty leads d o w n w ard , as two thousand years ago it led dow n to the c ry p t: even to d a y the w ay to the catacom bs passes throu gh a garden o f a g o n y ; in it, even today, the disinherited are the leaders. A t the hospital San G en naro dei P overi the en tran ce is through a w hite com p lex o f buildings that one passes via tw o cou rtyard s. O n eith er side o f the road stand the benches for the invalids, w h o follow those go in g out w ith glances that do not reveal w h eth er they are c lin gin g to their garm ents to be liberated or to satisfy u n im a gin a b le desires. In the second cou rtyard the d oorw ays o f the cham bers h ave gratings; behind them cripples put their deform ities on show, and the shock given to d ay-d ream in g passers-by is their jo y . O n e o f the old men leads and holds the lan tern close to a

Naples

i6 g

fragm en t o f early C h ristian fresco. N ow he utters the centuries-old m a gic w ord P o m p e ii . E very th in g that the foreigner desires, adm ires, and pays for is P o m p e ii . P o m p e ii makes the plaster im ita tio n o f the tem ple ruins, the lava n ecklace, and the louserid d en person o f the gu id e irresistible. T his fetish is all the m ore m iracu lo u s as only a sm all m in o rity o f those w hom it sustains h ave ever seen it. It is un d erstan d ab le that the m iracle-w ork in g M a d o n na en th ron ed there is receivin g a brand-n ew , expensive church for pilgrim s. In this b u ild in g and not in that o f the V ettii, Pom peii lives for the N eapolitans. A n d to it, again and again, sw indling and w retchedness finally com e hom e. F an ta stic reports by travellers have tou ched up the city. In rea lity it is g rey : a grey-red or ochre, a grey-w hite. A n d en tirely g rey against sky and sea. It is this, not least, that disheartens the tourist. F or anyon e w h o is blind to forms sees little here. T h e city is cra g g y . Seen from a h eight not reached by the cries from below , from the C astell San M a rtin o , it lies deserted in the dusk, grow n into the rock. O n ly a strip o f shore runs level; behind it buildings rise in tiers. T en em en t blocks o f six or seven stories, w ith staircases c lim b in g their foundations, ap p ear against the villas as sky scrapers. A t the base o f the c liff itself, w here it touches the shore, caves h a ve been hew n. As in the herm it pictures o f the Trecento, a d oor is seen here and there in the rock. I f it is open one can see into large cellars, w hich are at the same tim e sleeping places and storehouses. F arth er on steps lead dow n to the sea, to fisherm ens taverns installed in n atu ra l grottoes. D im ligh t and thin m usic com e up from them in the even ing. ^ A s pprpus as this stone is the architecture. B u ild in g and action in terp en etra te in the cou rtyard s, arcades, and stairw ays. In ev ery th in g they preserve the scope to becom e a theatre o f new , unforseen constellations. T h e stam p o f the defin itive is avoided. N o situ ation appears in ten ded forever, no figure asserts its thus and not oth er w iseT^This is how architectu re, the most b in d in g p art o f the com m un al rh yth m , comes into b ein g here: civilized , p riva te, and ordered on ly in the great hotel and w arehouse

iy o

buildings on the q u ays; an arch ical, em broiled, village-lik e in the centre, into w hich large networks o f streets w ere h acked on ly forty years ago. A n d only in these streets is the house, in the N o rd ic sense, the cell o f the c ity s architectu re. In contrast, w ith in the tenem ent blocks, it seems held togeth er at the corners, as if by iron clam ps, by the m urals o f the M a d o n n a . I N one orients him self by house num bers. Shops, wells, and churches are the reference points and not alw ays sim ple ones. For the typical N eapolitan church does ostentatiously o ccu p y a vast square, visible from afar, w ith transepts, gallery, and dom eT) ItTs hidden, b u ilt in; high domes are often to be seen on ly from a few places, and even then it is not easy to find on es w a y to them , im possihleJp distinguish the mass o f the church from that o f the neighbouring secular buildings. T h e stranger passes it by. T h e inconspicuous door, often only a curtain , is the secret gate for the initiate. A single step takes him from the hu m ble o f d irty cou rtyard s into the pure solitude o f a tall, w h itew ash ed chu rch interior. His private existence is the baroque op en in g o f a heightened p u b lic sphere. For here his private self is not taken up by the four w alls, am ong wife and children, but b y d evotion or by despair. Side alleys give glim pses o f dirty stairs lea d in g dow n to taverns, w here three or four m en, at intervals, h id d en behind barrels as i f behind church pillars, sit drinking. In such corners one can scarcely discern w here b u ild in g is still in progress and w here d ilap id ation has a lread y set in. For n othin g is included. ^Porosity^ results not.xm lv from the indolence., o f the S outhern artisan, but also, a b o y 6 ^ ^ ' from ih e passion for^ im provisation, w hich dem ands that space and o p p ortu n ity be at a n y prlce preservecL Buildings are used as a p o p u lar stage. T h e y are ajl_ d ivided into inn um erable, sim ultaneously a n im ated theatres^J B alcony, cou rtyard , w indow , ga te w ay , staircase, ro o f are at the same time stage and boxes. E ven the most w retch ed p au p er is sovereign in the dim , dual aw areness o f p a rticip atin g, in all his destitution, in one o f the pictures o f N ea p o lita n street life that w ill never return, and o f enjoying in all his p o verty the leisure to follow the great pan oram a. W h a t is en acted on the staircases is a high

Naples

ij i

school o f stage m an agem en t. T h e stairs, n ever entirely exposed, but still less enclosed in the glo om y box o f the N ord ic house, eru pt fra g m en ta rily from the buildin gs, m ake an a n gu lar turn, and d isap p ear, on ly to burst ou t again. In th eir m aterials, too, the street d ecorations are clo sely related to those o f the theatre. P ap er plays the main_part. R ed, blue, and y ello w fly-catchers, altars o f coloured glossy paper on the w alls, p a p er rosettes on the raw chunks o f m eat. T h en the virtuosity o f the v a rie ty show. Som eone kneels on the asphalt, a little box beside him , and it is one o f the busiest streets. W ith coloured chalk he d raw s the figure o f C h rist on the stone, b elow it perhaps the head o f the M a d o n n a . M e a n w h ile a circle has form ed around him , the artist gets up, and w hile he w aits beside his w ork for fifteen m inutes or h a lf an hour, sparse, cou n ted -ou t coins fall from the onlookers on to the lim bs, head, and trunk o f his portrait. U n til he gathers them up, everyon e disperses, and in a few m om ents the pictu re is erased by feet. N o t the least exam p le o f such virtu osity is the art o f eatin g m a ca ro n i w ith the hands. T h is is dem on strated to foreigners for rem u n eration . O th e r things are paid for a cco rd in g to tariffs. V en d o rs give a fixed price for the cigarette butts that, after a cafe closes, are cu lled from the chinks in the floor. (E arlier they w ere w ere sought b y can d lelig h t.) A lon gsid e the leavings from res tauran ts, b oiled cat skulls, and fish shells, th ey are sold at stalls in the h a rb o u r district. M u sic parades a b o u t: not m ournful m usic for the courtyard s, b u t b rillia n t sounds for the street. T h e broad cart, a kind o f x ylo p h on e, is colou rfu lly h u n g w ith song texts. H ere th ey can be bou gh t. O n e o f the m usicians turns the organ w h ile the other, beside it, appears w ith his plate before anyon e w h o stops d ream ily to listen. So everyth in g jo y fu l is m ob ile: m usic, toys, ice cream circu la te through the streets. T h is m usic is both a residue o f the last and a prelude to the next feast d ay. Irresistibly the festival penetrates each and every w orkin g d ay. P orosity is the in exh au stib le law o f the life o f this city, re a p p e a rin g everyw h ere. A grain o f S u n d a y is hidden in each

1J2
w eekd ay, and how m uch w eekd ay in this S u n d a y ! N evertheless no city can fade, in the few hours o f S u n d a y rest, more rapidly than N aples. It is cram m ed full o f festal motifs nestling in the most inconspicuous places. W hen the blinds are taken down before a w indow , it is sim ilar to flags b ein g raised elsewhere. B rightly dressed boys fish in d eep-blu e stream s and look up at rouged church steeples. H ig h above the streets, w ashlines run, w ith garm ents suspended on them like rows o f pennants. Faint suns shine from glass vats o f iced drinks. D ay and n igh t the pavilions glow w ith the pale, arom atic juices that teach eveiL th e tongue what_poros ity_c an be. I f politics or the calen d ar offers the slightest pretext, h ow ever, this secret, scattered w orld condenses into a noisy feast. A n d regularly it is crow n ed w ith a fireworks display over the sea. From J u ly to Septem ber, an unbroken ban d o f fire runs, in the evenings, along the coast betw een N aples and Salerno. N ow over Sorrento, now over M in ori or Praiano, but a lw ays over N aples, stand fiery balls. H ere fire is substance and shadow . It is subject to fashion and artifice. E ach parish has to outdo the festival o f its n eigh b ou r w ith new ligh tin g effects. In these festivals the oldest elem ent o f their C hinese origin, w eather m agic in the form o f the rockets that spread like kites, proves far superior to terrestrial splendours: the earth b o u n d suns and the crucifix surrounded by the glo w o f Sain t E lm o s fire. A t the beach the stone pines o f the G ia rd in o P u b b lico form a cloister. R id in g under them on a festival night, you see a rain o f fire in every treetop. But here, too, n othin g is dream y. O n ly explosions w in an apotheosis popu lar favour. A t P ied igrotta, the N ea p o lita n s m ain holiday, this childish jo y in tu m u lt puts on a w ild face. D u rin g the n ight o f Septem ber 7, bands o f m en, up to a hu n d red strong, roam through every street. T h e y blow on g ig an tic paper cornets, the orifice disguised w ith grotesque masks. V io le n tly if necessary, one is encircled, and from countless pipes the h ollow sound clam ours in the ears. W h o le trades are based on the spectacle. N ew sp ap er boys d rag out the nam es o f their w ares, Roma and the Corriere di Napoli, as th ou gh they were sticks o f gu m .

Naples T h e ir tru m p etin g is part o f u rban m anu factu re.

173

T r a d e , d eeply rooted in N aples, borders on a gam e o f chan ce and adheres closely to the holid ay. T h e w ell-kn ow n list o f the seven d e a d ly sins located pride in G en oa, avarice in Florence (the old G erm an s w ere o f a d ifferen t opinion and called w h at is know n as G reek lo ve Florenzen), voluptousness in V en ic e, anger in B ologna, greed in M ila n , en vy in R o m e, and in d o le n ce in N aples. L otto , ^ a llu rin g and consum ing as now here else in Italy, rem ains the a rc h ety p e o f business life. E very S atu rd a y at four o clock, crow ds form in front o f the house w here the num bers are draw n. N aples is one o f the few cities w ith its ow n draw . W ith the p aw nshop and lotto the state holds the p roletariat in a v ic e : w hat it advances to them in one it takes b ack in the other. T h e m ore discreet and lib eral in to x ica tio n o f H a za rd , in w hich the w hole fam ily takes p art, replaces th at o f alcoh o l. ' I jo ( *s it . A n d business life is assim ilated to it. A m an stands in an un harnessed carriage on a street corner. People crow d around him . T h e lid o f the c o a ch m a n s box is open, and from it the ven d or takes som ething, sin ging its praises all the w hile. It disappears before one has cau g h t sight o f it into a piece o f pink or green paper. W h en it is thus w rap p ed , he holds it aloft, and in a trice it is sold for a few soldi. W ith the sam e m ysterious gesture he disposes o f one a rticle after another. A re there lots in this p ap er? Cakes w ith a coin in every tenth one? W h a t makes the people so covetous and the V , m an as in scru table as M o g ra b y ? H e is sealing toothpaste. A priceless exam ple o f such business m anners is the au ction. W h e n , at eight in the m ornin g, the street ven d or has begun un p a c k in g his go o d s um brellas, shirt m aterial, sh aw ls presenting each item singly to his p u b lic, m istrustfully, as if he had first to test it him self; w hen, gro w in g heated, he asks fantastic prices, and, w h ile serenely folding up the large cloth that he has spread out for five h u n d red lire, drops the price at every fold, and finally, w hen it lies dim inished on his arm , is read y to part w ith it for fifty, he has been true to the m ost an cien t fairgroun d practices. T h ere jire d elig h tfu l stories o f the N e a p o lita n s^.playful love o f trade. In a ' Iv vr.J c |> *

174
busy p ia zza a fat la d y drops her fan. She looks around helplessly; she is too unshapely to pick it up herself. A cavalier appears and is prepared to perform his service for fifty lire. T h e y negotiate, and the lad y receives her fan for ten. Blissful confusion in the storehouses! For here they are still one with the ve n d o rs stalls: they are bazaars. T h e long ga n g w a y is favoured. In a glass-roofed one there is a toyshop (in w h ich perfum e and liqueur glasses are also on sale) that w ou ld hold its ow n beside fairy-tale galleries. L ik e a gallery, too, is the m ain street o f N aples, the T oled o. Its traffic is am ong the busiest on earth. O n either side o f this n arrow alley all that has com e together in the harb our city lies insolently, cru d ely, seductively d isplayed. O n ly in fairy tales are lanes so long that one must pass through w ithout looking to left or right if one is not to fall prey to the devil. T h ere is a dep artm en t store, in other cities the rich, m agn etic centre o f purchasing. H ere it is devoid o f charm , outdone by the tightly packed m ultiplicity. But w ith a tiny offsh oot r u b b e r ^ balls, soap, ch ocolates it re-em erges som ew here else am ong the sm all traders stalls. ------

Sim ilarly dispersed, porous, and com m ingled is private life. W h a t distinguishes N aples from other large cities is som ething it has in com m on w ith the A frican k ra a l; each private attitu d e or act is p erm eated by streams o f com m u nal life. T o exist, for the N orthern E u rop ean the most private o f affairs, is here, as in the kraal, a collective m atter. So the house is far less the refuge into w hich people retreat than the inexhaustible reservoir from w h ich they flood out. Life bursts not only from doors, not only into front yards, w here people on chairs do their w ork (for they h ave the facu lty o f m akin g their bodies tables). H ousekeeping utensils hang from balconies like potted plants. From the w indow s o f the top floors com e baskets on ropes for m ail, fruit, and cab b ag e. Just as the livin g room reappears on the street, w ith chairs, hearth, and altar, so, only m uch m ore lou d ly, the street m igrates into the livin g room . E ven the poorest one is as full o f w a x candles,

v n '

'

Naples

175

b iscuit saints, sheaves o f photos on the w all, and iron bedsteads, as the street is o f carts, people, and lights. Poverty, has brought a b ou t a stretchin g o f frontiers that m irrors the m ost rad iant freedom o f thought. T h ere is no hour, often no place, for sleeping and eating. T h e poorer the q u arter, the m ore num erous the eating houses. F rom stoves in the open street, those w ho can do so fetch w h at they need. T h e same foods taste different at each stall; things are not done ran d om ly but by proven recipes. In the w a y that, in the w in d o w o f the sm allest trattoria, fish and m eat lie heaped up for inspection, there is a n u an ce that goes beyon d the requirem ents o f the connoisseur. In the fish m arket this seafaring people has created a m arine san ctu ary as grandiose as those o f the N etherlands. Starfish, crayfish, cuttlefish from the g u lf w aters, w hich teem w ith creatures, cover the benches and are often d evou red raw w ith a little lem on. E ven the b an al beasts o f dry lan d becom e fantastic. In the fourth or fifth stories o f these tenem ent blocks cows are kept. T h e anim als never w alk on the street, and their hoofs have becom e so lon g that they can no lon ger stand. H o w could anyone sleep in such room s? T o be sure, there are beds, as m an y as the room w ill hold. But even if there are six or seven, there are often m ore than tw ice as m an y occupants. For this reason one sees child ren late at n ig h t at tw elve, even at tw o still in the streets. A t m id d ay they then lie sleeping behind a shop counter or on a stairw ay. Th is sleep, w hich m en and w om en also snatch in shady corners, is therefore n o t the protected N orthern sleep. H ere, too, there is interpen etration o f d ay and night, noise an d peace, outer light and inner darkness, street and h o m e ., T h is extends even into toys. W ith the pale, w atery colours o f the M u n ich Kindi, the M a d o n n a stands on the w alls o f the houses. T h e ch ild that she holds a w a y from her like a sceptre is to be found, ju st as stiff, w rap p ed and w ith ou t arms or legs, as a w ooden doll in the poorest shops o f S an ta L u cia. W ith these toys the urchins can hit w h a tev er they like. A sceptre and a m agic w and even in their fists; the B yzan tin e saviour still asserts him self today. Bare w ood at the b ack ; on ly the front is painted. A blue garm ent, w h ite spots, red hem , and red cheeks.

iy 6 But the dem on o f p rofligacy has entered some o f these dolls that lie beneath cheap notepaper, clothespins, and tin sheep. In the overpop ulated quarters children are also q u ickly acq u ain ted w ith sex. But if their increase becom es d evastatin g, if the father o f a fam ily dies or the m other wastes a w ay , close or distant relatives are not needed. A n eighb ou r takes a child to her table for a shorter or longer period, and thus fam ilies interpen etrate in relationships that can resem ble adoption. T ru e laboratories o f this great process o f interm in glin g are the cafes. Life is u n ab le to sit dow n and stagnate in them . T h e y are sober, open room s resem bling the political P eop les C afe, and the opposite o f ev eryth in g V ienn ese, o f the confined bourgeois, literary w orld. N eap olitan cafes are b lu n tly to the point. A prolonged stay is scarcely possible. A cup o f exces sively hot caffe espresso in hot drinks this city is as u n rivalled as in sherbets, spum oni, and ice c re a m ushers the visitor out. T h e tables have a copp ery shine, they are sm all and round, and a com panion w ho is less than stalw art turns hesitan tly on his heel in the d oorw ay. O n ly a few people sit dow n briefly here. T h ree q uick m ovem ents o f the hand, and they have placed their order. T h e lan gu age o f gestures goes further here than an yw here else in Italy. T h e conversation is im pen etrable to anyon e from outside. Ears, nose, eyes, breast, and shoulders are signallin g stations a ctivated by the fingers. T h ese configurations return in their fastidiously specialized eroticism . H elpin g gestures and through a im patien t touches attract the stran gers attention

regu larity that excludes chance. Yes, here his cause w ou ld be hopelessly lost, but the N eap olitan b en evo len tly sends him aw ay, sends him a few kilom etres farth er on to M o ri. Vedere MapoJie pm M ori , he says, repeatin g an old pun. See N aples and d ie , says the foreigner after him . , /

1924

M oscow

, ,

M o re q u ick ly than M o sco w itself, one gets to know Berlin through M oscow . For som eone retu rn in g hom e from R ussia the city seems freshly w ashed. T h ere is no dirt, bu t no snow, either. T h e streets seem in rea lity as d esolately clean and sw ept as in the draw ings o f G rosz. A n d how true-to-life his types are has b ecom e m ore obvious. W h a t is true o f the im age o f the city and its people applies also to the in tellectu al situation : a new perspective o f this is the m ost u n d o u b ted gain from a stay in Russia. H o w ever little one m ay know R ussia, w h at one learns is to observe and ju d g e E urope w ith the conscious kn ow ledge o f w h a t is going on in Russia. T h is is the first b enefit to the intelligen t E u rop ean in Russia. But, equ ally, this is , w h y the stay is so ex a ct a touchstone for foreigners._It .obliges ev eryo n e to choose his stan dpoint. A d m itted ly, the only real g u aran tee o f a correct un derstan d ing is to h ave chosen you r posi tion before you cam e. In R ussia above all, you can only see i f you h ave a lrea d y decided. A t the turnin g point in historical events that is in d icated , i f not constituted, by the fact o f S oviet R u ssia , the q u estion at issue is not w h ich reality is better, or w hich has greater po ten tial. It is o n ly: w h ich reality is in w a rd ly convergent w ith tru th ? W h ic h truth is in w a rd ly prep arin g itself to converge w ith the real? O n ly he w ho cle arly answers these questions is o b jectiv e . N ot tow ard his contem poraries (w hich is u n im p ortan t) but tow ard events (w hich is decisive). O n ly he w ho, by decision, has m ade his d ialectica l peace w ith the w orld can grasp the concrete. But som e one w h o wishes to d ecid e on the basis o f facts w ill find no basis in 177

i 78
the facts. R e tu rn in g hom e, he w ill discover above all that Berlin is a deserted city. People and groups m oving in its streets have solitude abou t them . B erlin s lu x u ry seems unspeakable. A n d it ^ begins on the asphalt, for the b read th o f the pavem ents is prin cely. T h e y m ake o f the poorest w retch a grand seigneur p rom en ad in g on the terrace o f his m ansion. P rin cely solitude, p rin cely desolation hang over the streets o f Berlin. N o t only in the W est E nd. In M oscow there are three or four places w here it is possible to m ake h ead w ay w ith ou t that strategy o f shoving and w ea vin g that one learns in the first w eek (at the sam e tim e, therefore, as the tech n iqu e o f ach ievin g locom otion on sheet ice). S tep p in g onto the Stolechnikov one breathes again : here at last one m ay stop w ith ou t com pun ction in front o f shopw indow s and go on on es w a y w ith ou t partakin g in the loitering, serpentine gait to w hich the n arrow pavem ents have accustom ed m ost people. But w h at fullness has this street that overflow s not only w ith people, and how deserted and em p ty is B erlin ! In M o sco w goods burst everyw h ere ffom the houses, they h an g on fences, lean against railings, lie on pavem ents. E very fifty steps stand w om en w ith cigarettes, w om en w ith fruit, wom en w ith sweets. T h e y have their wares in a lau n d ry basket next to them , som etim es a little sleigh as w ell. A b rig h tly coloured w oollen cloth protects apples or oranges from the cold, w ith two prize exam ples ly in g on top. N ext to them are sugar figures, nuts, can d y. O n e thinks: before leavin g her house a gran d m oth er must have looked aroun d to see w h at she could take to surprise her grand children . N ow she had stopped on the w ay to have a short rest in the street. Berlin streets know no such places w ith sleighs, sacks, little carts, and baskets. C o m p a red to those o f M oscow , they are like a freshly swept, em p ty racecourse on w hich a field o f six-day cyclists hastens com fortlessly on.
2

'

T h e city seems to d eliver itself at the outset, at the station. K iosks, arc lam ps, buildings crystallize into figures that are never to return. Y e t this is dispelled as soon as I seek w ords. I must be on m y w a y .. . . A t first there is n othin g to be seen but snow, the d irty snow that

Moscow

iy g

has a lre a d y installed itself, and the clean snow m ovin g up behind. T h e instan t one arrives, the ch ild hood stage begins. O n the thick sheet ice o f the streets w a lk in g has to be relearned. T h e ju n g le o f houses is so im p en etrab le th at on ly b rillian ce strikes the eye. A tran sp a ren cy w ith the inscription Kefir glows in the evening. I notice it as i f the T v e rsk a ia , the old road to T v e r on w hich I now am , w ere rea lly still the open road, w ith n oth in g to be seen far and w id e ex cep t the plain. Before I discovered M o sco w s real landscape, its real river, found its real heights, each th orou gh fare becam e for me a contested river, each house n um ber a trigon om etric signal, and ea ch o f its g ig an tic squares a lake. For every step one takes here is on n am ed groun d. A n d w h ere one o f these nam es is heard, in a flash im ag in a tio n builds a w hole q u arter a b ou t the sound. T h is w ill lon g defy the later rea lity and rem ain b rittly em bedded in it like glass m asonry. In the first phase the city still has barriers at a h u n d red frontiers. Y e t one d ay the gate, the ch u rch that w ere the b o u n d a ry o f a district becom e w ith ou t w a rn in g its centre. N ow the city turns into a la b y rin th for the new com er. Streets that he had lo cated far ap a rt are yoked together by a corner like a pair o f horses in a co a ch m a n s fist. T h e w hole excitin g sequence o f s to p o g ra p h ic a l d um m ies th a t deceives him cou ld only be sjjawn by a film : the city is on its gu ard against h in v masks itself^ flees^intrigues, lures him to w a n d er its circles to the po in t o f exhaustion. (T his cou ld be a p p ro a ch ed in a ve ry p ractical w a y ; d u rin g the tourist season in great cities, orien tation film s w ou ld run for foreigners.) B ut in the end, m aps and plans are victoriou s: in bed at night, im a g in a tio n ju gg les w ith real buildings, parks, and streets.

3
M o sco w in w inter is a q u iet city. T h e im m ense bustle on the streets takes p lace softly. T h is is because o f the snow, b u t also because o f the back w ard n ess o f the traffic. C a r horns d om in ate the orchestra o f cities. B ut in M o sco w there are only a few cars. T h e y are used only ' 1 for w e d d in g s a n d funerals and for accelerated, go vern m en t. T ru e , i in the even in g they sw itch on brighter lights than are perm itted in a n y oth er great city. A n d the cones o f light they project are so

d a zzlin g that anyon e cau ght in them stands helplessly rooted to the spot. In the b lin d in g light before the K re m lin gate the gu ard s stand in their brazen ochre furs. A b o v e them shines the red signal that regulates the traffic passing throu gh the gate. A ll the colours o f M oscow converge p rism atically here, at the centre o f R ussian pow er. Beams o f excessive b rillian ce from the car h ead lights race through the darkness. T h e horses o f the cav alry, w ho h a ve a large drill ground in the K rem lin , shy in their light. P edestrians force their w ay betw een cars and u n ru ly horses. L o n g rows o f sleighs transport snow aw ay. Single horsem en. Silent sw arm s o f ravens have settled in the snow. T h e eye is in fin itely busier than the ear. T h e colours do their utm ost against the w hite. T h e sm allest coloured rag glows out o f doors. P ictu re books lie in the snow ; Chinese sell artfu lly m ade paper fans, and still m ore frequ en tly, paper kites in the form o f exotic deep-sea fish. D a y in, d a y out, ch ild ren s festivals are provided for. T h e re are m en w ith baskets full o f w ooden toys, carts and spades; the carts are y ello w and red, yellow or red the ch ild ren s shovels. A ll these carved w ooden utensils are m ore sim ply and solidly m ade than in G erm a n y , their peasant origin b ein g clearly visible. O n e m orning, at the side o f the road stand tin y houses that have n ever been seen before, each w ith shining w indow s and a fence arou n d the front ga rd en : w ood en toys from the V la d im ir governm ent. T h a t is to say, a new consign m ent o f goods has arrived. Serious, sober utensils becom e au d aciou s in street tradin g. A basket seller w ith all kinds o f b rig h tly colou red w ares, such as can be b ou gh t everyw h ere in C ap ri, tw o-h an dled baskets w ith plain square patterns, carries at the end o f his pole g lazed -p ap er cages w ith g la zed -p a p e r birds inside them . But a real parrot, too, a w hite ara can som etim es be seen. In the M iasn itskaia stands a w om an w ith linen goods, the bird p erch in g on her tray or shoulder. A picturesque b ack gro u n d for such anim als m ust be sought elsew here, at the p h o to g ra p h e rs stand. U n d e r the bare trees o f the b oulevards are screens show in g palm s, m arb le stair cases, and southern seas. A n d som ething else, too, rem inds one o f the South. It is the w ild variety o f the street trade. Shoe polish and w ritin g m aterials, handkerchiefs, d olls sleighs, swings for

Moscow

18 1

ch ild ren , lad ies u n d erw ear, stuffed birds, clothes-h an gers all this spraw ls on the open street^as if it w ere not tw enty-five degrees b elow zero b ut high N e a p o lita n sum m er. I w as for a loftg--Time ' m ystified by a m a n w ho had m front o f him a densely lettered b oard . I w a n ted to see a soothsayer in him . A t last I succeeded in w a tch in g him at w o rk : I saw him sell two o f his letters and fix them as initials to his cu stom ers galoshes. T h e n the w ide sleighs w ith three com partm en ts for peanuts, hazelnuts, an d ,semitchky (sun ! flow er seeds, w h ich now , a cco rd in g to a ru lin g o f the Soviet, m ay no lo n ger be chew ed in p u b lic places). C ooksh op owners gath er in the n eigh b o u rh o o d o f the lab o u r exchange. T h e y have hot cakes to sell, and sausage fried in slices. But all this goes on silen tly; calls like those o f every trad er in the South are unknow n. R a th e r, the p eop le address the passer-by w ith w ords, m easured if not w h isp ered words, in w h ich there is som ething o f the hu m ility o f b eggars. O n ly one caste parad es noisily throu gh the streets here, the rag -an d -b o n e m en w ith sacks on their b acks; their m elan ch oly cry rings one or m ore tim es a w eek in every q u arter. Street trad in g is in p a rt ille ga l and therefore avoids a ttractin g attention. W om en, each w ith a piece o f m eat, a chicken, or a leg o f pork resting on a layer o f straw in her open hand , stand offerin g it to passers-by. T h e s e are vendors w ith o u t perm its. T h e y are too poor to p ay the |d u ty for a stall and have no tim e to stand in line m an y hours at an ioffice for a w eekly concession. W hen a m em ber o f the m ilitia 'ap p ro ach es, th ey sim ply run aw ay. T h e street trade culm inates in the large m arkets, on the Sm olenskaia and the A rb a t. A n d on the \ S u ch arev sk a ia . T his, the m ost fam ous o f all, is situated at the foot o f a c h u rch th at rises w ith b lu e dom es above the booths. First one passes the q u arter o f the scrap-iron dealers. T h e people sim ply h a ve their wares lyin g in the snow. O n e finds old locks, m etre rulers, h an d tools, kitch en utensils, electrical goods. R epairs are carried out on the spot; I saw som eone soldering over a pointed flam e. T h e r e are no seats an yw h ere, everyone stands up, gossiping or trad in g. A t this m arket the a rch itecto n ic function o f w ares is p e rc e p tib le : cloth and fabric; form buttresses and colum ns; shoes, valenki, h a n g in g th read ed on strings across the counters, becom e

182
the ro o f o f the b ooth ; large garmoshkas (accordions) form sounding w alls, therefore in a sense M em nos walls. W h ether, at the few stalls w ith pictures o f saints, one can still secretly b u y those strange icons that it w as a lrea d y pu n ishable u n der tsarism to sellj l do not know. T h ere was the M other o f G o d w ith three hands. She is h a lf naked. F rom her n avel rises a strong, w ell-form ed hand. A t right and left the tw o others spread in the gesture o f blessing. T h is threesom e o f hands is deem ed a sym bol o f the H o ly T rin ity . T h ere was another d evotion al picture o f the M o th er o f G od that shows ^ her w ith open b elly; clouds com e from it instead o f en trails; in their midst dances the C hrist child h old in g a violin in his hand. Since the sale o f icons is considered a b ran ch o f the paper and picture trade, these booths w ith pictures o f saints stand next to those w ith paper goods, so that th ey are alw ays flanked by por< ! traits o f Len in , like a prisoner b etw een tw o policem en. T h e street life does not cease entirely even at night. In dark ga tew ays you stum ble against furs built like houses. N igh t w atch m en huddle inside on chairs, from time to tim e bestirring them selves ponderously. ' i
j

\ In the street scene o f any proletarian q u arter the children are ; ^ \im portant. T h e y are m ore num erous there than in other districts, \ \ V (and m ove m ore purposefully and busily. M o sco w swarm s w ith I (children everyw h ere. E ven am ong them there is a C om m u n ist hierarchy. T h e K om so m oltsy , as the eldest, are at the top. T h e y have their clubs in every town and are rea lly train ed as the next generation o f the P arty. T h e you n ger ch ildren b eco m e at six Pioneers . T h e y , too, are united in clubs, and w ear a red tie as a proud distinction. Oktiabr ( O cto b rists ), la stly or W o lv es is the nam e given to little babies from the m om ent they are able to point to the picture o f L en in . B ut even now one also comes across the derelict, u n speakab ly m elan ch oly besprizornye, w ar orphans. By d a y they are usually seen alo n e; each one on his own w arp ath . But in the even ing they jo in up before the lu rid facades o f m ovie houses to form gangs, and foreigners are w arn ed against

f5

Moscow

183

m eeting such bands alone w h en w alk in g hom e. T h e on ly w a y for the ed u ca to r to un derstan d these th o rou gh ly savage, m istrustful, em b ittered people was to go out on the street him self. In each o f M o sco w s districts, ch ild re n s centres have been installed for years a lrea d y . T h e y are supervised b y a fem ale state em ployee w h o seldom has m ore than one assistant. H er task is, in one w a y or another, to m ake con tact w ith the children o f her district. Food is d istributed , gam es are p layed . T o begin w ith, tw enty or thirty child ren com e to the centre, but i f a superin ten den t does her w ork p rop erly, it m ay be filled w ith hundreds o f ch ild ren after two weeks. N eedless to say, trad itio n al p ed agogical m ethods never m ade m uch im pression on these infan tile masses. T o get through to them at all, to be heard, one has to relate as d irectly and clearly as possible to the catchw ord s o f the street itself, o f the w hole collective life. P olitics, in the o rg a n iza tio n o f crow ds o f such children, is not tendentious, but as n atu ra l a subject, as obvious a visual aid, as the toy shop or doll-house for m iddle-class children . I f one also bears in m ind that a sup erin ten d en t has to look after the children, to o c c u p y and feed them , and in ad dition to keep a record o f all expenses for m ilk, b read , and m aterials, th at she is responsible for all this, it m ust becom e d rastically clear how m uch room such w ork leaves for the p rivate life o f the person perform ing it. But am id all the im ages o f ch ild h o o d destitution that is still far from h a vin g been overcom e, an atten tive observer w ill perceive one th in g: how the liberated prid e o f the p roletariat is m atch ed by the em a n cip a ted bearin g o f the children. N o th in g is m ore pleasantly surprising on a visit to M o sco w s m useum s th an to see how, singly or in groups, som etim es arou n d a gu ide, ch ild ren and workers m ove easily through these rooms. N o th in g is to be seen o f the forlornness o f the few p roletarian s w ho d are to show them selves to the oth er visitors in our m useum s. In R ussia the proletariat has rea lly b egun to take possession o f bourgeois cu ltu re, w hereas on such occasions in our co u n try th ey have the ap p eara n ce o f p la n n in g a b u rg la ry. A d m itte d ly , there are collections in M oscow in w h ich w orkers and children can q u ick ly feel them selves at hom e. T h ere is the P o lytech n ic M useu m , w ith its m any thousands o f experim ents,

184 pieces o f apparatu s, docum ents, and m odels relatin g to the history o f p rim ary prod u ction and m a n u fa ctu rin g industry. T h e re is the a d m irab ly run toy m useum , w hich u n der its director, B artram , has brought together a precious, instru ctive collection o f Russian toys, and serves the scholar as m uch as the children w h o w alk abou t for hours in these rooms (abou t m id d ay there is also a big, free puppet show, as fine as any in the L u xem b o u rg ). T h ere is the fam ous T re tia k o v G a lle ry in w h ich one understands for the first tim e w hat genre p ain tin g means and how especially a p p rop riate it is to the Russians. H ere the p ro letarian finds subjects fm m the history o f his m ovem en t: A Conspirator Surprised by the Police, The Return from Exile in Siberia, The Poor Governess Enters Service in a Rich Merchants House. A n d the fact th at such scenes are still pain ted 1 en tirely in the spirit o f bourgeois art not only does no h a rm it I actu ally brings them closer to this p u b lic. Forr .education in_ari \ (as Proust explains very w ell from tim e to tim e) is not best pro m oted by the con tem plation o f m asterpieces . R a th er, the child or the proletarian w ho is ed u catin g h im self righ tly ackn ow ledges very different w orks as m asterpieces from those selected by the collector. Such pictures have for him a very transitory but solid m eaning, and a strict criterion is necessary only w ith regard to the topical works th at relate to him , his w ork, and his class.

B egging is not aggressive as in the South, w h ere the im p ortu n ity o f the ragam uffin still betrays some rem nan t o f vitality. H ere it is a corporation o f the dying. T h e street corners o f some quarters are covered w ith bundles o f rag s beds in the vast open-air hospital called M oscow . L o n g , beseeching speeches are addressed to people. T h ere is one b egg a r w ho alw ays begins, at the a p p roach o f a prom isin g-looking passer-by, to em it a soft, d raw n -o u t h ow lin g; this is directed at foreigners w ho can n o t speak Russian. A n o th er has the exact posture o f the pau per for w hom Sain t M a rtin , in old pictures, cuts his cloak in two w ith his sw o rd : he kneels w ith both arm s outstretched. S h ortly before C hristm as, two children sat d ay after d a y in the snow against the w all o f the M u seu m o f the

Moscow

185

R e vo lu tio n , covered w ith a scrap o f m aterial, and w him perin g. (But outside the E nglish C lu b , the most genteel in M oscow , to w hich this b u ild in g earlier belon ged, even th a t w ould not have been possible.) O n e o u gh t to know M o sco w as such b eggar ch ild ren know it. T h e y know o f a corner beside the door o f a certain shop w here, at a p a rticu la r tim e, they are allow ed to w arm them selves for ten m inutes, they know w here one d ay each w eek at a certain hour they can fetch them selves crusts, and w here a sleeping place am on g stacked sew age pipes is free. T h e y have d evelop ed b egg in g to a h igh art w ith a hu n d red schem atism s and variations. T h e y w atch the custom ers o f a pastry-cook on a busy street corner, approach one, and accom p an y him , w hin in g and plead in g, until he has relinqu ished to them a piece o f his hot pie. O th ers keep station at a streetcar term inus, b o ard a vehicle, sing a song, an d collect kopecks. A n d there are places, ad m itted ly on ly a few, w here even street trad in g has the a p p e ara n ce o f begging. A few M on gols stand against the w a ll o f K ita i G orod . O n e stands no m ore than five paces from the next, selling leather briefcases, each w ith ex a ctly the sam e article as his n eigh b ou r. T h ere m ust be som e agreem ent b eh in d this, for they can n o t seriously intend such hopeless com petition . P ro b a b ly in their h om elan d the w inter is no less harsh and their ragged furs are no w orse than those o f the natives. N evertheless they are the on ly people in M oscow w hom one pities on accoun t o f the clim ate. E ven priests w ho go b egg in g for their churches are still to be seen. But one very seldom sees an yon e give. B eggin g has lost its strongest fou n d ation, the bad social conscience, w hich opens purses so m uch w ider than does pity. B eyon d this it appears as an expression o f the u n ch an gin g w retchedness o f these b egg a rs; perhaps, too, it is only the result o f ju d icio u s o rga n iza tio n that, o f all the institutions o f M oscow , they alone are d ep en d ab le, rem ain in g u n ch an ged in their place w hile ev eryth in g aroun d them shifts.

6
E ach th o ugh t, each d a y, each life lies here as on a lab o rato ry table. A n d as i f it w ere a m etal from w hich an u n kn ow n substance

1 86
is by every m eans to be extracted, it m ust endure exp erim en tation to the point o f exhaustion. N o organism , no organ ization , can escape this process. E m ployees in their factories, offices in buildin gs, pieces o f furniture in the apartm ents are rearran ged, transferred, "\ o N\ f and shoved about. N ew cerem onies for christening and m arriage are presented in the clubs as at research institutes. R egu lation s are chan ged from d a y to d a y, but streetcar stops m igrate, too, shops turn into restaurants and a few w eeks later into offices. T his astonishing e x p e r im e n ta tio j^ it is here called remonte affects not on ly M oscow , it is Russian. In this ru lin g passion there is as fnuch n aive desire for im provem en t as there is boundless curiosity and playfulness. F ew things are sh apin g Russia m ore p o w erfu lly today. T h e cou n try is m obilized d a y and night, most o f all, o f course, the P arty. In d eed , w h at distinguished the B olshevik, the Russian C om m unist, from his W estern com rad e is this u n con d i tional readiness for m obilization. T h e m aterial basis o f his existence is so slender that he is prepared, y ea r in, y ear out, to d ecam p . H e w ou ld not otherw ise be a m atch for this life. W h ere else is it conceivab le that a distinguished m ilitary lead er should one d ay be m ade director o f a great state th eatre? T h e present director o f the T h ea tre o f the R evolu tion is a form er general. T r u e : he was a m an o f letters before he b ecam e a victorious com m an d er. O r in w hich other cou n try can one hear stories like those told me b y the com m issionaire o f m y hotel? U n til 1924 he was em p loyed in in the K rem lin . T h e n one day he w as afflicted by severe sciatica. T h e P arty had him treated by their best doctors, sent him to the C rim ea, had him take m ud baths and try rad iation treatm ent. W h en all proved in vain he was told, Y o u need a jo b in w h ich you can look after yourself, keep w arm , and not m o v e ! T h e next d ay he was a hotel porter. W hen he is cured he w ill go b ack to the K rem lin . U ltim a tely , even the h ealth o f com rades is a prized possession o f the P arty, w hich , against the persons wishes if necescary, takes such m easures as are n eeded to conserve it. So it is presented, at a n y rate, in an excellen t novella by Boris P ilniak. A gain st his w ill a high official undergoes an operation that has a fatal outcom e. (A very fam ous nam e is m entioned here am ong the

frit* -C 'k {
-y

A O

<5 c ' H t-ic -j

Moscow

1 87

dead o f the last few years.) T h ere is no know ledge and no f&culty that are not som ehow a p p ro p ria te d by collectiye.life_Aad m ade to serve it. T h e specialist is a sp earh ead o f this in creasin gly p ractical a p p ro a ch and the on ly citizen w ho, outside the polftical sphere, has a n y status. A t times the respect for this type verges on fetishism. T h u s the red M ilita ry A c a d e m y em ployed as a teacher a general w ho is notorious for his part in the civil w ar. H e had every cap tu red B olshevik u n cerem oniou sly hanged. For E uropeans such a point o f view , w h ich in tran sigen tly subordinates the prestige o f id eology to p ra ctica l dem ands, is b arely com prehensible. But this incid en t is also characteristic o f the opposing side. F or it is not on ly the m ilita ry o f the tsarist em p ire w ho, as is know n, placed them selves at the service o f the Bolsheviks. In tellectu als, too, return in tim e as specialists to the posts they sabotaged d u rin g the civil w ar. O p p ositio n , as we should like to im agine it in the W est in tellec tuals h o ld in g them selves a lo o f and lan gu ish in g under the y o k e does not exist, or, better, no longer exists. It h a s w ith w h a tev er reservation s accep ted the truce w ith the Bolsheviks, or it has been an n ih ilated. T h ere is in R u ssia p a rticu la rly outside the P a r ty on ly the most lo yal opposition. For this new life w eighs on no one m ore h ea v ily than on the outsider observing from a distance. T o endure this existence in idleness is im possible because, in each sm allest detail, it becom es beau tifu l and com prehensible o n ly through w ork. T o the integration o f personal thoughts w ith the pre-existing field o f forces, w ith the m and ate, how ever virtu al, for o rga n ized , gu aran teed con tact w ith co m ra d es to this, life here is so tigh tly b ound that anyon e w ho abstains or cannot ach ieve it d egenerates in tellectu ally as if through years o f solitary confin e m ent.

7
B olshevism has abolished private life. T h e b u reau cra cy, political a ctiv ity , the press a re so po w erfu l that no tim e rem ains for interests that do not converge w ith them . N or any space. A p artm en ts that earlier accom m od ated single fam ilies in their five to eight room s now often lodge eight. T h ro u g h the hall door one steps into a

i88 little town. M o re often still, an arm y cam p. E ven in the lo b b y one can encounter beds. Indoors one on ly cam ps, and u sually the scanty inven tory is only a residue o f petty-bourgeois possessions that have a far m ore depressing effect because the room is so sparsely furnished. A n essential feature o f the petty-bourgeois interior, how ever, was com pleteness: pictures must cover the w alls, cushions the sofa, covers the cushions, ornam ents fill the m antelpiece, coloured glass the w indow s. (Such petty-bourgeois rooms are battlefieldsxtvr .which the attack o f com m odity..capital
hasadvanced victoriously ;nothinghum ancaniioijnil.thE again,)

O f all that, on ly a part here or there has been in d iscrim in ately preserved. W eekly the furniture in the bare rooms is rea rra n g e d that is the only lu x u ry ind u lged in w ith them , and at the same tim e a rad ical m eans o f exp ellin g cosiness , along w ith the m elan ch oly w ith w hich it is paid for, from the house. People can bear to exist in it because they are estranged from it by their w ay o f life. T h e ir dw elling place is the office, the club, the street. O f the m obile arm y o f officials on ly the b a g g a g e train is to be found here. C u rtain s and partitions, often only h a lf the height o f the walls, h ave had to m ultiply the n u m ber o f rooms. For each citizen is entitled b y law 7 ^ ; / to o n ly thirteen squaxfi.naetres o f livin g space. For his accom m od a tions he pays acco rd in g to his incom e. T h e sta te all house ow n er ship is n atio n a lize d charges the u n em ployed one ruble m on thly for the same area for w hich the b ette r-o ff p ay sixty or m ore. A n yo n e w ho lays claim to m ore than this prescribed area must, if he can not ju stify his claim professionally, m ake m anifold am ends. E very step a w ay from the preord ain ed p ath m eets w ith an im m easu rable b u reau cratic apparatu s and w ith im possible costs. T h e m em ber o f a trade union w ho produces a certificate o f illness and goes through the prescribed channels can be adm itted to the most m odern sanatorium , sent to health resorts in the C rim ea , can enjoy expensive rad iation treatm ent, w ith o u t p ayin g a penn y for it. T h e outsider can go beggin g and sink into penu ry if he is not in a position, as a m em ber o f the new bourgeoisie, to buy all this for thousands o f rubles. A n y th in g that can not be based on the collec tive fram ew ork dem ands a disprop ortionate expenditure o f effort.

Moscow

i8g

F or this reason there is no hom eliness . But nor are there any cafes. F ree trade and the free intellect have been abolished. T h e cafes are th ereb y d ep rived o f their public. T h e re rem ain, therefore, even for p rivate affairs, on ly the office and the clu b . H ere, h ow ever, transactions are under the aegis o f the new byt the new en viron m ent for w hich n othin g counts excep t the function o f the prod u cer in the collective. T h e new Russians call milieu, the only reliable ed ucator.

8
For each citizen o f M o sco w the days are full to the brim . M eetings, com m ittees are fixed at all hours in offices, clubs, factories, and often h ave no site o f their own, being held in corners o f noisy ed itorial rooms, at the cleared table o f a canteen. T h ere is a kind o f n atu ral selection and a struggle for existence betw een these m eetings. S ociety projects them to some extent, plans them , they are conven ed. But how often m ust this be repeated until fin ally one o f the m an y is successful, proves viab le, is ad ap ted , takes place. T h a t n othin g turns out as was intended and ex p e c te d this b an al expression o f the rea lity o f life here asserts itself in each in d ivid u al case so in v io lab ly and inten sely that R ussian fatalism becom es com prehensible. I f civ ilizin g calcu latio n slow ly establishes itself in the collective, this w ill, in the first place, only co m plicate m atters. (O n e is better provided for in a house that has only candles than w here electric light is installed but the supply o f current is in ter ru p ted hourly.) A feeling for the valu e o f tim e, n otw ith stan d in g all ra tio n a liza tio n , is not m et w ith even in the cap ital o f Russia. T r u d , the trade-u nion institute for the study o f w ork, under its d irector, G astiev, lau n ch ed a poster cam p aig n for p u n ctu ality. From earliest times a large num ber o f clockm akers have been settled in M oscow . T h e y are crow ded, in the m anner o f m ed ieval guilds, in p a rticu la r streets, on the K u zn etsk y B ridge, on U litsa G ertsena. O n e w onders w ho a ctu ally needs them . T im e is m o n ey for this astonishing statem ent posters claim the a u th ority o f L en in , so alien is the id ea to the Russians. T h e y fritter everyth in g a w ay . (O n e is tem pted to say that m inutes are a cheap liqu or o f

igo
w hich they can never get enough, that they are tipsy w ith tim e.) I f on the street a scene is being shot for a film , they forget w here they are go in g and w hy, and follow the cam era for hours, a rrivin g at the office distraught. In his use o f tim e, therefore, the Russian w ill rem ain A sia tic longest o f all. O n ce I needed to be w akened at seven in the m orn in g: Please knock tom orrow at seven . T h is elicited from the hotel porter the follow in g Shakespearean m ono logue: I f we think o f it we shall w ake you, but if w e do not think o f it we shall not w ake you. A c tu a lly w e usually do think o f it, and then we w ake people. But to be sure, w e also forget som etim es w hen w e do not think o f it. T h e n w e do not w ake people. W e are under no ob ligation , o f course, but if it crosses our m ind, w e do it. W hen do you w a n t to be w aken ed? A t seven? T h en w e shall w rite that dow n. Y o u see, I am pu tting the message there w h ere he w ill find it. O f course, if he does not find it, then he w ill not w ake you. But usually w e do w ake peop le. T h e real unit o f tim e is the seichas. T h a t m eans at o n ce . Y o u can hear it ten, tw enty, th irty times, and w a it hours, days, or weeks until the prom ise is carried out. Just as you seldom hear the answ er n o . N eg ativ e replies are left to tim e. T im e catastrophes, tim e collisions are therefore as m uch the order o f the d ay as the remonte. T h e y m ake each hour superabundant, each d ay exhausting, each life a m om ent.

9
T ra v e l by streetcar in M oscow is above all a tactical experience. H ere the new com er learns perhaps m ost q u ick ly o f all to a d ap t him self to the curious tem po o f this city and to the rh yth m o f its peasant population. A n d the com plete interpen etration o f techno logical and prim itive modes o f life, this w orld-historical exp erim ent in the new R ussia, is illustrated in m iniatu re by a streetcar ride. T h e conductresses stand fu r-w rapped at their places like Sam oyed w om en on a sleigh. A tenacious shoving and b argin g d u rin g the b oard in g o f a vehicle usually overlo ad ed to the point o f bursting takes place w ith ou t a sound and w ith great cord iality. (I have never heard an an g ry w ord on these occasions.) O n ce everyone is inside, the m igration begins in earnest. T h ro u g h the ice-covered

Moscow

ig i

w indow s you can never m ake out w here the veh icle has ju st stopped. I f you do find out, it is o f little avail. T h e w ay to the exit is blocked by a h u m an w edge. Since you m ust board at the rear but aligh t at the front, you have to thread you r w ay through this mass. H o w ever, con veyan ce usu ally occurs in b atch es; at im portant stops the vehicle is alm ost com pletely em ptied. T h u s even the traffic in M o sco w is to a large extent a mass phenom enon. So one can en counter w hole caravan s o f sleighs b lo ck in g the streets on a lon g row because loads th at require a truck are b eing stacked on five or six large sleighs. T h e sleighs here take the horse into consideration first and then the passenger. T h e y do not know the slightest superfluity. A feed in g sack for the nags, a blanket for the p assenger and that is all. T h ere is room for not m ore than two on the n arro w bench, and as it has no b ack (unless you are w illin g so to describe a low rail), you m ust keep a good b alan ce on sharp corners. E very th in g is based on the assum ption o f the highest ve lo city ; long jou rn eys in the cold are hard to bear and distances in this g ig an tic village im m easu rable. T h e izvozsh.ch.ik, drives his veh icle close to the sidew alk. T h e passenger is not enthroned high up; he looks out on the sam e level as everyone else and brushes the passers-by w ith his sleeve. E ven this is an in co m p arab le experience for the sense o f touch. W h e re E uropeans, on their rapid jou rn eys, en joy superiority, d om in an ce over the masses, the M u scovite in the little sleigh is closely m in gled w ith people and things. I f he has a box, a child , or a basket to take w ith h im for all this the sleigh is the cheapest m eans o f tran sp o rt he is tru ly w ed ged into the street bustle. N o con d escen d in g'gaze: a tender, swift brushing along stones, people, and horses. Y o u feel like a child g lid in g through the house on its little chair. 10 C hristm as is a feast o f the R ussian forest. W ith pines, candles, tree decorations, it settles for m an y weeks in the streets, for the ad ven t o f G reek O rth o d o x Christians overlaps the Christm as o f those Russians w ho celeb rate the feast by the W estern, that is the new, official calen d ar. N ow h ere does one see C hristm as trees

IQ2 m ore b eau tifu lly decorated. L ittle boats, birds, fishes, houses, and fruit crow d the street stalls and shops, and every year abou t this tim e the K u sta rn y M useum for R egio n al A rt holds a kind o f trade fair for all this. A t a crossroads I found a w om an selling tree decorations. T h e glass balls, yellow and red, glinted in the sun; it was like an en chan ted apple basket in w h ich red and yellow w ere divid ed am on g different fruit. Pines are draw n through the streets on slow sleighs. T h e sm aller ones are trim m ed only w ith silk b o w s; little pines w ith blue, pink, and green ribbons stand on the corners. But to the children the Christm as toys, even w ithou t a S an ta Claus, tell how they com e from deep in the forests o f Russia. It is as if only under Russian hands does w ood put forth such lu xu rian t greenness. It turns g ree n and then reddens and puts on a coat o f gold, flares sky-blue and petrifies black. R e d and b ea u tifu l are in [old] R ussian one w ord. C erta in ly the glo w in g logs in the stove are the most m agical m etam orphosis o f the R ussian forest. N ow here does the hearth seem to glow w ith such splendour as here. But radiance is cap tu red in all the w ood that the peasant carves and paints. A n d w hen varnished, it is fire frozen in all colours. Y e llo w and red on the b alalaik a, b lack and green on the little garmoshka for children, and every shade in the thirty-six eggs that fit one inside another. But forest night, too, lives in the w ood. T h ere are the h eavy little boxes w ith scarlet interiors: on the outside, on a gleam in g-b lack backgrou nd , a picture. U n der the tsars this industry was on the point o f extinction. N ow , besides new m iniatures, the old, gold-em bellished im ages are again em erging from peasant life. A troika w ith its three horses races through the night, or a girl in a sea-blue dress stands at night beside green flaring bushes, w a itin g for her lover. N o night o f terror is as dark as this d urab le lacq u er night in whose w om b all that appears in it is enfolded. I saw a box w ith a picture o f a seated w om an selling cigarettes. Beside her stands a child w ho w ants to take one. P itch -b lack night here, too. But on the right a stone and on the left a leafless tree are discernible. O n the w o m a n s apron is the w ord Mosselprom. She is the Soviet M a d o n n a w ith the C ig a re ttes .

Moscow 11

i Q3

G reen is the suprem e lu x u ry o f the M oscow w inter. But it shines from the shop in the P etro vk a not h a lf as b eau tifu lly as the paper bunches o f artificial carnations, roses, lilies on the street. In m arkets they are the on ly wares to h ave no fixed stall and appear now am on g groceries, now am on g textile goods and crockery stalls. But they outshine everyth in g, raw m eat, colou red wool, and gle a m in g dishes. O th e r bouquets are seen at N ew Y e a r s. O n the S trasn aia S q u a re I saw as I passed long twigs w ith red, w hite, blue, green bloom s stuck to them , each stalk o f a differen t colour. W h en talkin g o f M o sco w flowers one m ust not forget the heroic C hristm as roses, nor the g ig a n tic a lly tall h ollyh ock m ade o f lam pshades that the trad er carries throu gh the streets. O r the glass cases full o f flow ers w ith the heads o f saints looking out am on g them . N or w h at the frost here inspires, the peasant cloths w ith patterns, em b ro id ered in blue w ool, im ita tin g ice ferns on w indow s. F inally, the glisten in g can d y-icin g flow er beds on cakes. T h e Pastry C ook from ch ild re n s fairy tales seems to have survived on ly in M oscow . O n ly here are there structures m ade o f nothing bu t spun sugar, sweet icicles w ith w hich the ton gue indem nifies itse lf against the b itter cold. M ost in tim ately o f all, snow and flowers are united in can d y icin g; there at last the m a rzip a n flora seems to have fulfilled en tirely M o sco w s dream , to bloom out o f whiteness. 12 U n d e r cap italism po w er an d m on ey have becom e com m ensurable qualities. A n y given a m ou n t o f m oney m ay be converted into a specific pow er, and the m arket va lu e o f all pow er can be calcu lated . So things stand on a large scale. W e can only speak o f corruption w here the process is h an d led too hastily. It has in the sm ooth in terp la y o f press, boards, and trusts a sw itch gear w ithin the lim its o f w hich it rem ains en tirely legal. T h e Soviet state has severed this com m u n ication betw een m oney an d pow er. It reserves pow er for the Party, and leaves m oney to the N E P m an. In the eyes o f a n y P a rty fu n ctio n ary, even the highest, to put som ething

194
aside, to secure the fu tu re , even if only for the ch ild ren , is quite unthinkable. T o its mem bers the C om m unist P arty gu arantees the bare m inim um for m aterial existen ce it does so p ra ctica lly, w ithout actu al obligation . O n the other hand, it controls their further earnings and sets an upper lim it o f two hundred and fifty rubles on their m on thly incom e. T h is can be increased solely through literary activity alongside on es profession. T o such discipline the life o f the ruling class is subjected. H o w ever, the pow er o f the ru lin g authorities is by no means iden tical w ith their possessions. Russia is today not on ly a class but also a caste state. C aste sta te that means that the social status o f a citizen is determ ined not b y the visible exterior o f his existence his clothes or livin g p la ce but exclusively by his relations to the P arty. T his is also decisive for those w ho do not d irectly b elong to it. T o them , too, jobs are open to the extent that they do not overtly repudiate the regim e. B etw een them , too, the most precise distinctions are m ade. But how ever ex a g g era te d or obsolete the E u rop ean conception o f the official suppression o f nonconform ists in Russia m ay on the one hand be, on the other, no one livin g abro a d has any idea o f the terrible social ostracism to w hich the N E P m an is here subjected. T h e silence, the mistrust, perceptible not only betw een strangers, could not otherw ise be explained. I f you ask a superficial acq u ain tan ce here abou t his impressions o f how ever un im p ortan t a play, how ever trivial a film, you m ay exp ect stock phrases in rep ly: W e say here . . . or T h e conviction is p revalent here . . A ju d g m en t is w eighed inn u m erab le times before being uttered to m ore distant contacts. For at any tim e the P arty can casually, un obtrusively change its line in Pravda, and no one likes to see him self disavow ed. Because a reliable political outlook, if not the only good, is for most people the only gu aran tee o f other goods, everyone uses his nam e and his voice so cautiously that the citizen w ith a d em ocratic turn o f m ind cannot understand him . T w o close acq uain tan ces are h avin g a conversation. In the course o f it one o f them says: T h a t fellow M ik h a ilo vich was in m y office yesterday lookin g for a job . H e said he knew y o u . H e is an excellent com rade, pun ctual and h a rd -w o rk in g. T h e y chan ge the

Moscow

195

subject. But as they p a rt the first says, W o u ld you be kind en ough to give me a few w ords on that M ik h a ilo vich in w ritin g ? C lass rule had ad op ted sym bols that serve to ch aracterize the op posin g class. A n d o f them ja z z is perhaps the m ost popular. T h a t people also enjoy listen ing to it in Russia is not surprising. But d a n cin g to it is forbid d en . It is kept behind glass, as it were, like a L rig h tly coloured , poisonous reptile, and so appears as an a ttra c tion in revues. Y e t alw ays a sym bol o f the b ou rgeois . It is one o f the crud e stage sets w ith the aid o f w hich, for p rop agan d a p u r poses, a grotesque im age o f the bourgeois type is constructed. In rea lity the im age is often m erely ridiculous, the discipline and com p eten ce o f the a d versary b eing overlooked. In this distorted view o f the bourgeois a n ation alistic m om ent is present. R ussia was the possession o f the tsar (indeed, anyon e w alk in g past the endlessly piled -up valu ab les in the K rem lin collections is tem pted to say, a possession ). T h e people, how ever, h ave becom e over n igh t his im m easu rab ly w e a lth y heirs. T h e y now set abou t d ra w ing u p a gra n d in ven tory o f their hum an and territorial w ealth . A n d th ey un dertake this w ork in the consciousness o f h avin g alread y perfo rm ed u n im a g in a b ly difficult tasks, and b u ilt up, against the hostility o f h a lf the w orld, the new system o f pow er. In ad m iration for this n atio n al a ch ievem en t all Russians are united. It is this reversal o f the pow er stru ctu re that makes life here so h eavy w ith conten t. It is as com plete in itself and rich in events, as poor, and in the sam e breath as full o f prospects, as a gold d ig g ers life on the K lo n d ik e. F rom early till late people dig for pow er. A ll the com b in ation s o f our lea d in g figures are m eagre in com parison to the countless constellations that here confront the in d ivid u al in the course o f a m onth. T ru e , a certain in toxication can result, so that a life w ith o u t m eetings and com m ittees, debates, resolutions, and votes (and all these are w ars or at least m anoeuvres o f the w ill to pow er) can no lon ger be im agin ed . W h a t does it m a tter R u ssias n ext gen eration w ill be adjusted to this existence. Its health, how ever, is subject to one indispensable con d ition : that never (as one d a y h a p p en ed even to the C h u rch ) should a b la ck m arket o f pow er be op en ed . S h ou ld the E u rop ean correlation o f pow er and m oney

ig6
penetrate Russia, too, then perhaps not the country, perhaps not even the P arty, but C om m unism in Russia w ould be lost. People here have not yet developed E u rop ean consum er concepts and consum er needs. T h e reasons for this are above all econom ic. Y e t it is possible that in addition an astute P arty stratagem is in volved : to equal the level o f consum ption in W estern Europe, the trial by fire o f the Bolshevik b u reau cra cy, at a freely chosen m om ent, steeled and w ith the absolute certain ty o f victory.

!3
In the R ed A rm y C lu b at the K rem lin , a m ap o f E urope hangs on the w all. Beside it is a handle. W h en this handle is turned, the follow ing is seen: one after the other, at all the places throu gh w hich L enin passed in the course o f his life, little electric lights flash. A t Sim birsk, w here he was born, at K a z a n , Petersburg, G en eva, Paris, C ra co w , Z urich , M oscow , up to the place o f his death, G orki. O th e r towns are not m arked. T h e contours o f this w ooden relief m ap are rectilinear, angu lar, schem atic. O n it L e n in s life resembles a cam p aign o f colonial conquest across E urope. Russia is begin nin g to take shape for the m an o f the people. O n the street, the snow, lie maps o f the S F S R * , piled up by street vendors w ho offer them for sale. M eyerh o ld uses a m ap in D .E . (Here with Europe! ) on it the W est is a com plicated system o f little Russian peninsulas. T h e m ap is alm ost as close to becom ing the centre o f the new Russian iconic cult as L e n in s portrait. Q u ite certain ly the strong n ational feeling that Bolshevism has given all Russians w ithout distinction has conferred a new reality on the m ap o f E urope. T h e y w ant to m easure, com pare, and perhaps enjoy that intoxication w ith gran d eu r w h ich is induced by the m ere sight o f R ussia; citizens can only be u rgen tly advised to look at their country on the m ap o f n eighb ou ring states, to study G erm an y on a m ap o f P olan d , France, or even D en m ark ; but all Europeans ought to see, on a m ap o f Russia, their little land as a frayed, ner vous territory far out to the west.
* Soviet F ederated Socialist R epu b lic [N L B ].

Moscow

ig y

14
W h a t figure does the m an o f letters cut in a cou n try w here his em p lo yer is the p ro letariat? T h e theoreticians o f Bolshevism stress how w id ely the situation o f the proletariat in Russia after this successful revolution differs from that o f the bourgeoisie in 1789. A t th a t tim e the victorious class, before it attain ed pow er, had secured for itself in struggles lasting decades the control o f the c u ltu ra l apparatu s. In tellectu a l organization , ed u cation, had lon g been p e rv ad e d by the ideas o f the third estate, and the m ental struggle for em an cip ation was fought out before the political. In p resen t-d ay Russia it is q u ite different. For m illions upon m illions o f illiterates, the foundations o f a general ed u cation have yet to be laid. T h is is a n ational, R ussian task. P re-revolu tion ary ed u cation in R ussia was, h ow ever, en tirely unspecific, E urop ean. T h e E u ro pean m om en t in h igh er ed u cation , and the n ational on the ele m en ta ry level, are in R ussia seeking an accom m od ation . T h a t is one side o f the ed u cation al question. O n the other the victory o f the R e v o lu tio n has in m a n y areas accelerated the process o f E u ro p ea n iza tio n . T h ere are w riters like P iln iak w ho see in B olshevism the crow n in g o f the w ork o f Peter the G reat. In the tech n ical area this tend en cy, despite all the adventures o f its earliest years, is presu m ab ly sure o f victo ry sooner or later. N ot so in the in tellectu al and scientific areas. It is now ap p aren t in Russia that E u ro p ea n values are b ein g po p u larized in ju st the distorted, d eso latin g form that they ow e fin ally to im perialism . T h e second a ca d em ic th e a tre a state-supported in stitu tion is pu tting on a p erform an ce o f the Oresteia in w hich a dusty an tiq u ity struts a b o u t the stage as u n tru th fu lly as in a G erm an C o u rt theatre. A n d as the m a rb le-stiff gesture is not on ly corru pt in itself, but also a copy o f C o u rt actin g in revo lu tio n a ry M oscow , it has a still m ore m ela n ch o ly effect than in S tu ttga rt or A n h a lt. T h e Russian A c a d e m y o f Science has for its part m ade a m an like W a lz e l an a vera ge specim en o f the m o d em acad em ic bel esprit a m em ber. P ro b a b ly the only cu ltu ra l conditions in the W est for w hich R ussia has a lively en ou gh u n derstan d ing for disagreem ent w ith it to be profitable, are those o f A m erica. In contrast, cu ltu ral

ig8
rapprochement as such (w ithout the fou n d ation o f the m ost concrete econom ic and political com m unity) is an interest o f the pacifist variety o f im perialism , benefits only gossiping busy-bodies, and is for Russia a sym ptom o f restoration. T h e cou ntry is isolated from the W est less by frontiers and censorship than by the intensity o f an existence that is beyond all com parison w ith the E u rop ean. Stated more precisely: contact w ith the outside w orld is through the P arty and p rim arily concerns p o litical questions. T h e old bourgeoisie has been an n ih ilated ; the new is neither m a teria lly nor in tellectually in a position to establish extern al relations. U n d oubted ly Russians know far less a b ou t the outside w orld than foreigners (w ith the possible excep tion o f the R o m a n tic countries) know about Russia. I f an influential R ussian m entions Proust and Bronnen in the same breath as authors w ho take their subject m atter from the area o f sexual problem s, this shows cle a rly the foreshortened perspective in w h ich E u rop ean m atters a p p e ar from here. But if one o f R u ssias lea d in g authors, in conversation, quotes Shakespeare as one o f the great poets w ho w rote before the invention o f printin g, such a lack o f train in g can on ly be understood from the com p letely changed conditions affectin g R u ssian w ritin g as a w hole. Theses and dogm as th at in E u ro p e a d m itted ly only for the last tw o cen tu ries have been regarded as alien to art and beneath discussion by men o f letters are decisive in literary criti^ cism and prod uction in the new R ussia. M essage and subject m atter are d eclared o f p rim ary im portan ce. F orm al controversies still played a not inconsiderable part at the time o f the civil w ar. N ow they h ave fallen silent. T o d a y it is official d octrin e th at subject m atter, not form , decides the revo lu tio n a ry or co u n ter-revo lu tion ary attitud e o f a w ork. Such doctrines cut the grou n d from under the w riters feet ju st as irrev o cab ly as the econ om y has done on the m aterial plane. In this R ussia is ahead o f W estern d evelop m ents but not as far ahead as is believed . For sooner or later, w ith the m iddle classes w ho are b ein g grou n d to pieces by the struggle b etw een cap ital and lab ou r, the freelan ce w riter must also disappear. In Russia the process is com p lete: the in tellectu al is above all a fun ctionary, w orkin g in the dep artm en ts o f censor-

Moscow

ig g

ship, ju stice, finance, and, if he survives, p a rticip atin g in w o rk w h ich , h ow ever, in R ussia m eans pow er. H e is a m em ber o f the ru lin g class. O f his various organ ization s the most prom inent is the gen era l association o f p roletarian w riters in R ussia. It supports the notion o f d ictatorsh ip even in the field o f in tellectu al creation. In this it takes accou n t o f R ussian reality. T h e transfer o f the m en tal m eans o f prod uction into p u b lic ow nership can be distinguished on ly fictitiou sly from that o f the m aterial m eans. T o begin w ith, the p roletarian can be train ed in the use o f both only under the p rotection o f d ictatorsh ip .

*5
N o w and again one com es across streetcars painted all over w ith pictures o f factories, mass m eetings, red regim ents, C om m u nist agitators. T h ese are gifts from the personnel o f a factory to the M o sco w Soviet. T h ese vehicles carry the only political posters still to be seen in M oscow , but they are by far the most interesting. For n ow h ere are m ore n aive com m ercial posters to be seen than here. T h e w retch ed level o f pictorial ad vertisin g is the on ly sim ilarity b etw een Paris and M oscow . C ountless w alls aroun d churches and m onasteries offer on all sides the finest surfaces for posters. B ut the constructivists, suprem atists, abstractivists w ho u n d er w a rtim e C om m u n ism pu t their g ra p h ic p ro p ag an d a at the service o f the R e vo lu tio n h ave lon g since been dismissed. T o d a y on ly b an al cla rity is d em an d ed. M ost o f these posters repel the W esterner. B ut M oscow shops are in vitin g ; they have som ething o f the tavern abou t them . T h e shop signs point at right angles into the street, as otherw ise on ly old inn signs do, or golden b arbers basins, or a top hat before a h a tte rs. Also, the last ch arm ing, un spoiled m otifi that rem ain are most likely to be found here. Shoes fa llin g out o f a basket; a P om eran ian ru n n in g aw ay w ith a sand al in his m outh. P end ants before the en tran ce o f a T u rkish k itch en : gentlem en , each w ith a fez ad orn in g his head and each at his ow n little table. C a te rin g to a prim itive taste, advertising is still tied to n arrative, exam ple, or anecdote. In contrast, the W estern ad vertisem ent convinces first and forem ost by the expense

200 o f w hich it shows the firm cap ab le. H ere alm ost every ad also specifies the com m od ity in question. T h e gran d , show y d evice is alien to com m erce. T h e city, so in ven tive in ab b reviation s o f all kinds, does not yet possess the sim plest brand nam es. O ften M o sco w s even in g sky glows in frightenin g b lu e : one has u n w ittin g ly looked at it through one o f the gig an tic pairs o f blue spectacles that project from op ticians shops like signposts. F rom the gatew ays, on the frames o f front doors, in black, blue, yellow , and red letters o f v a ryin g sizes as an arrow , a pictu re o f boots or freshlyironed w ashing, a w orn step or a solid staircase a silently determ ined, contentious life accosts the passer-by. O n e m ust ride through the streets on the streetcar to perceive how this struggle is continued up w ard through the various stories, fin ally to reach its decisive phase on the roof. T h a t h eight only the strongest, youngest slogans and signs attain. O n ly from an airplan e does one have a view o f the industrial elite o f the city, the film and au to m obile industries. M ostly, how ever, the roofs o f M oscow are a life less w asteland, h avin g neither the d a zzlin g electric signs o f B erlin, nor the forest o f chim neys o f Paris, nor the sunny solitude o f the rooftops o f great cities in the South. 16 A n yon e en tering a Russian classroom for the first tim e w ill stop short in surprise. T h e w alls are cram m ed w ith pictures, d raw ings, and pasteboard m odels. T h e y are tem ple w alls to w hich the child ren d aily donate their ow n w ork as gifts to the collective. R e d pre dom inates; they are pervad ed by S oviet em blem s and heads o f Lenin. S om ething sim ilar is to be seen in m an y clubs. W a ll newspapers are for grow nups sch em ata o f the same collective form o f expression. T h e y cam e into b eing under the pressure o f the civil w ar, w hen in m any places neither n ew spaper nor p rin tin g ink was availab le. T o d a y they are an o b liga to ry part o f the p u b lic life o f factories. E very L enin niche has its w all n ew spaper, w h ich varies its style am ong factories and authors. T h e only th in g com m on to all is the n aive cheerfulness: colourful pictures interspersed w ith prose and verses. T h e new spaper is the chronicle o f the collective.

Moscow

201

It gives statistical reports bu t also jo c u la r criticism o f com rades m in g led w ith suggestions for im p rovin g the factory or appeals for co m m u n a l aid. N otices, w arn in g signs, and d id actic pictures co ver the w alls o f the L en in niche elsew here, too. E ven inside a fa ctory ev eryo n e is as i f surrounded by coloured posters all exor cising the terrors o f the m ach in e. O n e w orker is portrayed w ith his arm forced b etw een the spokes o f a d rivin g w heel, another, drunk, cau sin g an explosion w ith a short circuit, a third w ith his knee c a u g h t b etw een tw o pistons. In the len din g room o f the R ed A rm y bookshop hangs a notice, its short text clarified by m any ch arm in g d raw in gs, show in g how m an y w ays there are o f ru in ing a book. In h un d red s o f thousands o f copies a poster in trod u cin g the w eights and m easures norm al in E u rop e is dissem inated th rou ghou t the w h ole o f R ussia. M etres, litres, kilogram m es, etc., must be stuck up in every pub. In the read in g room o f the peasant club on T r u b n a ia S qu are the w alls are covered w ith visual aids. T h e villa g e ch ro n icle, a g ricu ltu ra l d evelopm ent, p rod u ction technique, c u ltu ra l institutions are g ra p h ic a lly recorded in lines o f d evelop m ent, a lo n g w ith com ponen ts o f tools, m achin e parts, retorts co n tain in g chem icals d isp layed everyw h ere on the walls. O u t o f cu riosity I w en t up to a sh e lf from w hich tw o N egro faces grim aced at m e. B ut as I cam e nearer, they turned out to be gas masks. E arlier, the b u ild in g occu p ied by this club was one o f the lead in g restauran ts in M oscow . T h e erstw hile separees are tod ay bedroom s for the peasants o f both sexes w ho have received a komandirovka to visit the city. T h ere they are cond u cted th rou gh collections and b arracks, and attend courses and ed u cation al evenings. From tim e to tim e there is also p ed ag o g ica l theatre in the form o f legal p ro cee d in gs . A b o u t three h u n d red people, sitting and standing, fill the red -d rap ed room to its farthest corners. In a niche a bust o f L en in . T h e proceedin gs take place on a stage in front o f w h ich , on the righ t and the left, pain ted proletarian ty p e s a peasan t and an ind ustrial w o rk e r sym bolize the smychka, the clasp in g togeth er o f tow n and co u n try. T h e hearin g o f evidence has ju st finished, an exp ert is called on to speak. H e and his assistant have one tab le, opposite him is the table o f the defence, both facin g

202 sidew ays to the public. In the b ack grou n d , fron tally, the ju d g e s table. Before it, dressed in black, w ith a thick branch in her hand, sits the defendant, a peasant w om an . She is accused o f m ed ical incom petence w ith fatal results. T h ro u g h incorrect treatm en t she caused the d eath o f a w om an in ch ild b irth . T h e arg u m en tatio n now circles aroun d this case in m onotonous, sim ple trains o f thought. T h e exp ert gives his repo rt: to b lam e for the m o th ers death was the incorrect treatm ent. T h e defence counsel, how ever, pleads against harshness; in the cou n try there is a lack o f sanitary aid and h ygen ic instruction. T h e final w ord o f the d efen d an t: nichevo, people have alw ays died in child b irth. T h e prosecution dem ands the death penalty. T h en the presiding ju d g e turns to the assem bly: A re there any questions? B ut on ly a K om so m ol appears on the stage, to d em and severe punishm ent. T h e cou rt retires to deliberate. A fter a short pause com es the ju d gm en t, for w h ich everyone stands up: tw o years im prisonm ent w ith recogn ition o f m itigatin g circum stances. S olitary confinem ent is thus ru led out. In conclusion, the president points to the necessity o f establishing centres o f hygiene and instruction in ru ral areas. Such d em on stra tions are carefully prep ared ; there can be no question o f im provisation. For m ob ilizin g the p u b lic on questions o f B olshevik m orality in accord an ce w ith P arty wishes there can be no m ore effective means. O n one occasion, alcoholism w ill be disposed o f in this w ay, on others fraud, prostitution, hooliganism . T h e austere forms o f such ed u cation al w ork are en tirely a p p rop riate to S oviet life, being precipitates o f an existence th at requires that a stand be taken a hundred times each day.

n In the streets o f M oscow there is a curious state o f affairs: the Russian village is p la yin g hide-and-seek in them . I f you step through one o f the high g a te w a y s they often have w rou gh tiron gates, b ut I never found them clo sed you stand on the threshold o f a spacious settlem ent. O p e n in g before you , broad and expansive, is a farm yard or a village, the ground is u n even, children ride a b ou t in sleighs, sheds for w ood and tools fill the

Moscow

203

corners, trees stand here and there, w ooden staircases give the backs o f houses, w h ich look like city b u ild in gs from the front, the a p p e a ra n ce o f R ussian farm houses. F re q u e n tly churches stand in these yards, ju st as on a large v illa ge green. So the street is a u gm en ted by the dim ension o f landscape. N or is there any W estern city that, in its vast squares, looks so ru ra lly formless and p erp etu ally sodden from bad w eath er, th aw in g snow or rain. Scarcely one o f these broad spaces bears a m onum ent. (In contrast, there is h a rd ly one in E u rop e w hose secret structure was not profaned and destroyed b y a m on u m en t in the nineteenth cen tu ry.) L ike every oth er city, M o sco w builds up w ith nam es a little w orld w ithin itself. T h e re is a casino called A lc a za r, a hotel nam ed L iverp oo l, a T ir o l b oard in ghouse. F rom there it still takes h a lf an hour to reach the centres o f urban w in ter sport. T ru e , skaters and skiers are en cou n tered th rou gh ou t the city, but the toboggan track is closer to the centre. T h e r e sleighs o f the m ost diverse construction are used: from a b oard that runs at the front on sleigh rails and at the b ack drags in the snow , to the most com fortable bobsleds. N o w h ere does M o sco w look like the city itself; at the most it resem bles its outskirts. T h e w et ground, the w ooden booths, lon g con voys carry in g raw m aterials, cattle b ein g driven to the slaugh terh ouse, and in d ig en t taverns are found in the busiest parts. T h e c ity is still interspersed w ith little w ooden buildings in e x a ctly the sam e S lav o n ic style as those found everyw h ere in the su rround ings o f B erlin. W h a t looks so desolate in B ran d en b u rg stone a ttracts here w ith the lo vely colours o f w arm w ood. In the su b u rb a n streets lea d in g o ff the broad avenues, peasant huts a ltern a te w ith art nouveau villas or w ith the sober facades o f eightstory blocks. S now lies deep, and if all o f a sudden silence falls, one can b elieve on eself in a villa ge in m idw inter, deep in the R ussian in terio r. N ostalgia for M o sco w is en gendered not on ly by the snow, w ith its starry lustre b y n igh t and its flow erlike crystals by day, bu t also b y the sky. F or b etw een low roofs the horizon o f the broad plains is con stan tly en terin g the city. O n ly tow ard evening does it b ecom e invisible. B u t then the shortage o f housing in M o sco w prod u ces its most astonishing effect. I f you w an d er the streets in

204
the dusk you see in the large and sm all houses alm ost every w in d o w b righ tly lit. I f the ligh t com ing from them w ere not so unsteady, you w ould believe you had a festive illu m in ation before y ou r eyes. 18 T h e churches are alm ost m ute. T h e city is as good as free o f the chim es that on S undays spread such deep m elan ch oly over our cities. But there is still perhaps not a single spot in M o sco w from w hich at least one church is not visible. M o re e x a c tly : at w h ich one is not w atch ed by at least one church. T h e subject o f the tsars was surrounded in this city by more than four hun dred chapels and churches, w hich is to say by two thousand dom es, w hich hide in the corners everyw h ere, cover one another, spy over w alls. A n architectural okhrana was around him . A ll these churches preserve their incognito. N ow h ere do high tow ers ju t into the sky. O n ly w ith tim e does one becom e accustom ed to pu ttin g together the long walls and crow ds o f low dom es into com plexes o f m onastery churches. It then also becom es clear w h y in m any places M o sco w looks as tightly sealed as a fortress. T h e m onasteries still b ear traces today o f their old defensive purpose. H ere B yza n tiu m w ith its thousand dom es is not the w on d er that the E u rop ean dream s it to be. M ost o f the churches are b u ilt on an insipid, sickly-sw eet p a tte rn : their blue, green, and golden dom es are a can d ied O rien t. I f you enter one o f these churches you first find a spacious an te room w ith a few sparse portraits o f saints. It is gloom y, the half light lending itself to conspiracy. In such room s one can discuss the most dubious business, even pogrom s if the occasion dem ands. A d jo in in g the anteroom is the only room for w orship. In the b a c k ground it had a few sm all steps lead in g to a n arrow , low platform along w hich one advances past pictures o f saints to the iconostasis. A t short intervals, a ltar succeeds altar, a glim m erin g red light denoting each. T h e side w alls are occu pied b y large pictures o f saints. A ll parts o f the w all that are not thus covered w ith pictures are lined w ith shining gold-coloured tin plate. From the trashily painted ceiling hangs a crystal chan d elier. N evertheless the room is alw ays lit on ly b y candles, a d ra w in g room w ith sanctified

Moscow

205

w alls again st w hich the cerem on y unrolls. T h e large pictures are g reeted b y m akin g the sign o f the cross and kneeling dow n to tou ch the grou n d w ith the fo re h e a d ; then, w ith renew ed signs o f the cross, the w orshipp er, p ra yin g or doing penance, goes on to the next. Before sm all, glass-covered pictures ly in g in rows or singly on desks the gen uflection is om itted. O n e bends over them and kisses the glass. O n such desks, beside the m ost precious old icons, series o f the gaudiest oil paintings are displayed. M a n y pictures o f saints h ave taken up positions outside on the facade and look d ow n from the highest cornices under the tin ny eaves like birds sh elterin g there. F rom their inclined, retort-shaped heads afflic tion speaks. B yza n tiu m seems to have no ch u rch -w in d ow form o f its ow n . A m agical b u t u n ca n n y im pression: the profane, d rab w in d o w s lookin g out onto the street from the assem bly rooms and tow ers o f the ch u rch as i f from a livin g room . Behind them the O r th o d o x priest is ensconced like the B uddhist m onk in his p agod a. T h e lo w er part o f the Basilius C a th ed ra l m ight be the ground floor o f a fine b o y a r house. H o w ever, i f you enter R e d S qu are from the w est, its dom es g ra d u a lly rise into the sky like a pack o f fiery suns. T h is b u ild in g alw ays holds som ething back, and could on ly be surprised b y a gaze co m in g from an airp lan e, against w hich the b u ild ers forgot to take precautions. T h e inside has been not ju st e m p tied b ut eviscerated like a shot deer. (A n d it cou ld hard ly h ave tu rn ed out d ifferen tly, for even in 1920 people still prayed here w ith fa n a tic a l fervour.) W ith the rem oval o f all the furniture, the co lo u rfu l vegetal con volu tion s that proliferate as m urals in all the corridors and vau lts are hopelessly exposed, distorting w ith a sad rococo playfulness the m uch older d ecoration that sp aringly preserves in the in terior the m em ory o f the colourful spirals o f the d om es. T h e va u lted passagew ays are n arrow , sudden ly b road en in g in to a lta r niches or circ u la r chapels into w h ich so little light falls from the high w indow s above that isolated d evotion al objects th a t have been left stan d in g are scarcely discernible. M a n y ch urch es rem ain as u n ten d ed and as em pty. B ut the glow that now shines on ly occasion ally from the altars into the snow has been w ell preserved in the w ood en cities o f booths. In their snow -covered,

206 n arrow alleyw ays it is quiet. O n e hears on ly the soft ja rg o n o f the Jew ish clothiers in their stalls next to the ju n k o f the paper dealer, w ho, enthroned in concealm en t b eh in d silver chains, has d raw n tinsel and cotton-w ool-tufted F ath er Christm ases across her face like an oriental veil.

19
E ven the m ost laborious M oscow w eekd ay has tw o coordinates that define each o f its m om ents sensuously as exp ectation and fulfilm ent. O n e is the vertical coordin ate o f m ealtim es, crossed by the evening h orizon tal o f the theatre. O n e is never very far from either. M oscow is cram m ed w ith pubs and theatres. Sentries w ith sweets patrol the street, m an y o f the large grocery stores do not close until abou t eleven at night, and on the corners tearoom s and beerhouses open. Chainaia, pivnaia but usually both are painted on a b ack grou n d w here a dull green from the u p p er edge gra d u ally and sullenly merges into a d irty yellow . Beer is served w ith curious condim ents: tiny pieces o f dried w hite and b lack bread baked over w ith a salt crust, and dried peas in salt w ater. In certain taverns one can dine in this w a y and enjoy in ad d itio n a prim itive intsenirovka. This is the term for an epic or ly rical subject that has been a d ap ted for the theatre. It is often a folk song cru d ely d ivided for a choir. In the orchestra o f such folk m usic, alongside accordions and violins, abacuses used as instrum ents are som e times to be heard. (T h ey can be found in every shop and office. T h e smallest calculatio n is u n th in k able w ithou t them .) The in toxicatin g w arm th that overcom es the guest on en terin g these taverns, on drin kin g the hot tea and en joyin g the sharp zakuska, is M o sco w s m ost secret w inter lust. T h erefo re no one know s the city w ho has not know n it in snow. O r each district m ust be visited durin g the season in w hich its clim atic extrem e falls, for to this it is p rim arily ad ap ted , and it can be understood on ly throu gh this ad aptation. In M oscow , life in w inter is richer by a dim ension. Space literally changes accord in g to w h eth er it is hot or cold. People live on the street as if in a frosty ch am b er o f m irrors, each pause to think is u n b elieva b ly difficult. It needs h a lf a d a y s

Moscow

207

resolution even to m ail an a lrea d y addressed letter, and despite the severe cold it is a feat o f w ill pow er to go into a shop and b u y som ething. Y e t w h en yo u have finally found a restaurant, no m a tter w h a t is put on the ta b le vo d ka (w hich is here spiced w ith herbs), cakes, or a cu p o f te a w arm th m akes the passing time itse lf an in toxican t. It flows into the w ea ry guest like honey. 20 O n the an n iversary o f L e n in s death m an y w ea r b lack arm bands. F or a t least three days, flags throu ghou t the city are at half-m ast. M a n y o f the b la ck -v eiled pennants, h ow ever, once hanging, are left o u t for a few weeks. R u ssia s m ou rnin g for a dead lead er is c e rta in ly not c o m p a ra b le to the attitudes ad op ted by other peoples on such days. T h e gen era tio n that was active in the civil w ars is g ro w in g old in v ita lity i f not in years. It is as i f stabilization had a d m itted to their lives the calm , som etim es even the apathy, that is u su a lly b ro u g h t on ly b y old age. T h e halt the P arty one d ay called to w a rtim e C om m u n ism w ith the N E P h ad a terrible backlash, w h ich felled m an y o f the m o v em en ts fighters. A t that tim e m any retu rn ed their m em b ersh ip books to the P arty. Cases are know n o f such total d em o ra liza tio n that trusty pillars o f the P arty becam e d efraud ers w ith in a few weeks. T h e m ou rn in g for L enin is, for Bolsheviks, also m ou rn in g for heroic C om m u nism . T h e few years since its passing are for R u ssian consciousness a long time. L e n in s a c tiv ity so a ccelerated the course o f events in his era that he recedes sw iftly into the past, his im age grow s q u ick ly rem ote. N evertheless, in the op tic o f h isto ry opposite in this to that o f sp a c e m ovem en t in the distance means en largem ent. T o d a y oth er orders are in force than those o f L e n in s tim e, a d m itted ly slogans that he h im self suggested. N ow it is m ade clear to every C o m m u n ist th at the revo lu tio n a ry w ork o f this hour is not conflict, not c iv il w ar, but can al construction , electrification , and factory b u ild in g . T h e revo lu tio n a ry n ature o f true techn ology is em p h asized ever m ore clearly. L ike everyth in g else, this (w ith reason) is done in L e n in s nam e. His nam e grow s and grows. It is sign ifican t th at the report o f the E nglish trad e-u n ion delegation, a

208 sober docum ent sparing w ith prognoses, thought it w orth m en tioning the possibility that, w h en the m em ory o f L en in has found its place in history, this great R ussian revo lu tio n a ry reform er w ill even be pronounced a sa in t. E ven tod ay the cult o f his picture has assum ed im m easu rab le proportions. It hangs in the vestibule o f the arm oury in the K rem lin , as in form erly godless places the cross was erected b y converted heathens. It is also gra d u ally establishing its can on ical form s. T h e w ell-kn ow n pictu re o f the orator is the most com m on, yet another speaks perhaps m ore intensely and d ire ctly : L enin at a table bent over a co p y o f Pravda. W hen he is thu im m ersed in an ephem eral n ew spaper, the d ialectical tension o f his nature appears: his gaze turned, certain ly, to the far horizon, but the tireless care o f his heart to the m om ent. 1927

M arseilles

T h e street . . . the only valid field o f experience. A n dre Breton

Marseilles the yellow -stu d d ed m aw o f a seal w ith salt w a ter ru n n in g out b etw een the teeth. W h en this gu llet opens to catch the b la ck and brow n p roletarian bodies th row n to it by sh ip s com p an ies acco rd in g to their tim etables, it exhales a stink o f oil, urine, and p rin ters ink. T h is com es from the tartar baking hard on the m assive ja w s: n ew spaper kiosks, lavatories, and oyster stalls. T h e h arb ou r people are a bacillus cu ltu re, the porters and w hores prod ucts o f d ecom position w ith a resem blan ce to hu m an beings. B ut the p alate itself is pink, w hich is the colour o f sham e here, o f p o verty. H u n ch b a ck s w ear it, and beggarw om en . A n d the d iscoloured w om en o f rue B outerie are given their only tint by the sole pieces o f clo th in g they w ea r: pink shifts. Les bricks , the red -lig h t district is called, after the barges m oored a hun d red paces a w a y at the je tty o f the old harbour. A vast agg lo m era tion o f steps, arches, bridges, turrets, and cellars. It seems to be still a w a itin g its designated use, but it alread y has it. F or this dep ot o f w orn -ou t a lleyw ays is the prostitutes q u arter. In visib le lines d ivid e the area up into sharp, a n gu lar territories like A frica n colonies. T h e w hores are strateg ically placed, ready at a sign to en circle hesitant visitors, and to bounce the relu ctan t guest like a ball from one side o f the street to the other. I f he forfeits n oth in g else in this gam e, it is his hat. H as anyone yet pro b ed d eep ly enough into this refuse heap o f houses to reach the inn erm ost place in the gy n ae ce u m , the ch am b er w here the trophies 209

210 o f m an h oo d boaters, bowlers, hu n tin g hats, trilbies, jo c k e y caps hang in rows on consoles or in layers on racks? From the in teriors o f taverns the eye meets the sea. T h u s the a lle y w a y passes betw een rows o f inn ocen t houses as i f shielded by a bashful hand from the harbour. O n this bashful, d rip pin g hand, how ever, shines a signet ring on a fishw ifes h ard finger, the old H o tel de V ille. H ere, two hundred years ago, stood p atrician s houses. T h e high-breasted nym phs, the snake-ringed M e d u sa s heads over their w eather-beaten doorfram es have only now becom e u n am b igu ou sly the signs o f a professional guild. U nless, that is, signboards w ere hun g over them as the m idw ife B ian ch am ori has hung hers, on w hich, leanin g against a pillar, she turns a defiant face to all the brothel keepers o f the quarter, and points unruffled to a sturdy b ab y in the act o f em ergin g from an egg. Noises. H igh in the em p ty streets o f the harb ou r district they are as densely and loosely clustered as butterflies on a hot flow er bed. E very step stirs a song, a q uarrel, a flap p in g o f w et linen, a rattlin g o f boards, a b a b y s b aw lin g, a clatter o f buckets. O n ly you h ave to have strayed up here alone, if you are to pursue them w ith a net as they flutter a w a y unsteadily into the stillness. For in these deserted corners all sounds and things still have their ow n silences, just as, at m id d ay in the m ountains, there is a silence o f hens, o f the axe o f the cicadas. But the chase is dangerous, and the net is finally torn w hen, like a gigan tic hornet, a grindstone im pales it from behind w ith its w h izzin g sting. Notre Dame de la Garde. T h e hill from w hich she looks dow n is the starry garm ent o f the M o th er o f G od, into w hich the houses o f the C ite C hab as snuggle. A t night, the lam ps in its velvet lin in g form constellations that have not yet been nam ed. It has a zip p er: the cabin at the foot o f the steel band o f the rack railw ay is a je w e l, from the coloured b u lls-eyes o f w hich the w orld shines back. A disused fortress is her holy footstool, and abou t her neck is an oval o f w axen, glazed votive w reaths that look like relief profiles o f her forebears. L ittle chains o f stream ers and sails are her earrings, and

Marseilles

211

from the shad y lips o f the cryp t issues je w e lle ry o f ruby-red and golden spheres on w hich sw arm s o f pilgrim s h an g like flies. Cathedral. O n the least frequ ented , sunniest square stands the cath ed ra l. T h is place is deserted, despite the proxim ity at its feet o f L a J o liette, the harb ou r, to the south, and a p roletarian district to the north. As a relo a d in g point for in tan gib le, u n fath om ab le goods, the b leak b u ild in g stands betw een q u a y and w arehouse. N e a rly forty years w ere spent on it. But w hen all was com plete, in 1893, p lace and tim e had conspired victoriou sly in this m onum ent against its architects and sponsors, and the w ealth o f the clergy had g iv en rise to a g ig a n tic railw a y station that could never be open ed to traffic, T h e facad e gives an in d ication o f the w a itin g room s w ith in , w here passengers o f the first to fourth classes (though before G od they are all equ al), w ed ged am ong their sp iritu al possessions as b etw een cases, sit readin g hym n-books that, w ith their concord an ces and cross-references, look very m uch like in tern a tio n al tim etables. E xtracts from the railw a y traffic regu lations in the form o f pastoral letters hang on the w alls, tariffs for the d iscoun t on special trips in S a ta n s lu x u ry train are consulted, and cab in ets w here the lon g-d istance traveller can discreetly w ash are kept in readiness as confessionals. T h is is the M arseilles religion station. S leep in g cars to eternity d ep art from here at M ass tim es. The light from greengroceries that is in the paintings o f M o n ticelli com es from the inner streets o f his city, the m onotonous residential quarters o f the lon g-stan d in g inh abitants, w ho know som ething o f the sadness o f M arseilles. F or childhood is the d ivin in g rod o f m ela n ch o ly, and to know the m ou rnin g o f such rad iant, glorious cities one must have been a child in them . T h e grey houses o f the B o u leva rd de L on gch am p s, the barred w indow s o f the C ours P uget, an d the trees o f the A llee de M eilh an give n othin g a w ay to the trav eller if chan ce does not lead him to the cu bicu lu m o f the city, the Passage de L orette, the n arrow yard w here, in the sleepy presence o f a few w om en an d m en, the w hole w orld shrinks to a

212 single S u n d ay afternoon. A real-estate com pan y has carved its nam e on the gatew ay. Does not this interior correspond e x a ctly to the w hite m ystery ship m oored in the harbou r, Mautique, w hich never puts to sea, but d aily feeds foreigners at w h ite tables w ith dishes that are m uch too clean and as if su rgically rinsed? Shellfish and oyster stalls. U n fath om ab le wetness that swills from the upper tier, in a dirty, cleansing flood over d irty planks and w a rty m ountains o f pink shellfish, bubbles betw een the thighs and bellies o f glazed B uddhas, past yellow dom es o f lem ons, into the m arshland o f cresses and through the woods o f F rench pennants, fin ally to irrigate the p alate as the best sauce for the q u iverin g creatures. Oursins de I Estaque, Portugaises, Maremmes, Clovisses, Monies marinieres all this is incessantly sieved, grouped, counted, cracked open, throw n a w ay , prepared, tasted. A n d the slow, stupid agen t o f inland trade, paper, has no place in the unfettered elem ent, the breakers o f foam ing lips that forever surge against the stream ing steps. But over there, on the other q u ay , stretches the m ou n tain range o f souvenirs , the m ineral hereafter o f sea shells. Seism ic forces have throw n up this m assif o f paste jew ellery, shell lim estone, and enam el, w here inkpots, steam ers, anchors, m ercu ry colum ns, and sirens com m ingle. T h e pressure o f a thousand atm ospheres under w hich this w orld o f im agery w rithes, rears, piles up, is the same force that is tested in the h ard hands o f seam en, after long voyages, on the thighs and breasts o f w om en, and the lust that, on the shell-covered caskets, presses from the m ineral w orld a red or blue velvet heart to be pierced w ith needles and brooches, is the same that sends tremors through these streets on p ayd ays. Walls. A d m irab le, the discipline to w h ich they are subject in this city. T h e better ones, in the centre, w ear livery and are in the pay o f the ru lin g class. T h e y are covered w ith gau d y patterns and have sold their w hole length m an y hundreds o f tim es to the latest brand o f aperitif, to d ep artm en t stores, to the C h o co lat M en ier , or D olores del R io. In the poorer quarters they are p o litically m ob ilized and post their spacious red letters as the fore

Marseilles runners o f red gu ards in front o f dockyards and arsenals.

2 13

The down-and-out w ho, after n ightfall, sells his books on the corner o f rue de la R e p u b liq u e and the V ie u x Port, aw aken s bad instincts in the passers-by. T h e y feel tem pted to m ake use o f so m uch fresh m isery. A n d they lon g to learn m ore abou t such nameless m is fortune than the m ere im age o f catastrophe that it presents to us. For w h a t ex trem ity m ust h ave b rou gh t a m an to tip such books as he has left on the asphalt before him , and to hope that a passer-by w ill be seized at this late hou r b y a desire to read ? O r is it all quite d ifferen t? A n d does a poor soul here keep vigil, m u tely beseeching us to lift the treasure from the ruins? W e hasten by. But we shall falter a g a in at every corner, for everyw h ere the Southern peddler has so p u lled his b e g g a r s c o a t aroun d him th at fate looks at us from it w ith a thousand eyes. H ow far w e are from the sad d ign ity o f our poor, the w ar-d isa b led o f com petition, on w hom tags and tins o f b oot b lackin g h an g like b raid and m edals. Suburbs. T h e farther we em erge from the in n er city, the m ore p o litica l the atm osphere becom es. W e reach the docks, the inland h arb ours, the w arehouses, the quarters o f po verty, the scattered refugees o f w retchedn ess: the outskirts. O utskirts are the state o f em erg en cy o f a city, the terrain on w hich incessantly rages the great d ecisive b attle b etw een tow n and cou ntry. It is now here m ore b itter than betw een M arseilles and the P roven9al landscape. It is the h an d -to-h an d figh t o f telegraph poles against A gaves, b arb e d w ire against thorn y palm s, the m iasm as o f stinking corridors against the d am p gloom under the plane trees in b roo d ing squares, short-w in ded outside staircases against the m ighty hills. T h e lon g rue de L yo n is the pow d er con d u it that M arseilles has d u g in the lan d scap e in order, in S a in t-L a za re , S ain t-A n toin e, A ren c, Septem es, to b lo w it up, b u ryin g it in the shell splinters o f ev ery n ational and com m ercial lan gu ag e. A lim en tation M o d ern e, rue de J a m a iq u e , C o m p to ir de la L im ite, Savon A b a tJ o u r, M in o te rie de la C a m p a g n e , Bar du G a z , B ar F a c u lta tif and o v er all this the dust th at here conglom erates out o f sea salt,

214
chalk, and m ica, and whose bitterness persists lon ger in the m ouths o f those w ho have pitted them selves against the city than the splendour o f sun and sea in the eyes o f its adm irers. 1928

Hashish in M arseilles

Preliminary remark: O n e o f the first signs that hashish is b egin n in g to tak e effect is a dull feelin g o f foreb od in g; som eth ing strange, in e lu cta b le is a p p ro a ch in g . . . im ages and chains o f im ages, longsu b m erged m em ories a p p e ar, w h ole scenes and situations are e x p e rie n c e d ; at first they arouse interest, now and then en joym ent, and fin a lly, w hen there is no tu rn in g a w a y from them , w eariness and torm en t. By ev eryth in g that happens, and by w h at he says and does, the subject is surprised and overw helm ed . His lau g h ter, all his utteran ces happ en to him like o u tw a rd events. H e also attains experiences that a p p ro a ch inspiration, illu m in ation. . . . S p a ce can exp an d , the grou n d tilt steeply, atm ospheric sensations oc c u r: va p o u r, an o p aq u e heaviness o f the a ir; colours g ro w b rig h ter, m ore lum inous; objects m ore b eau tifu l, or else lu m p y and th reaten in g. . . . A ll this does not occu r in a continuous d ev elo p m en t; rath er, it is typified by a con tin u al a ltern ation o f d ream in g and w a k in g states, a constan t and finally exhau stin g oscillation b etw een to tally differen t w orlds o f consciousness; in the m id d le o f a sen tence these transitions can take p la c e .. . . A ll this the su b ject reports in a form that u su ally diverges very w id ely from the norm . C on n ection s becom e difficult to perceive, o w in g to the freq u en tly sudden ru p tu re o f all m em ory o f past events, th o u gh t is not form ed into w ords, the situation can b ecom e so com p u lsively hilarious th at the hashish eater for m inutes on end is cap ab le o f nothing ex cep t la u g h in g .. . . T h e m em ory o f the in toxication is surprisingly c le a r. It is curious that hashish poisoning has not yet been exp erim en 215

2l6 ta lly studied. T h e most ad m irab le description o f the hashish trance is by B aud elaire (Les paradis artificiels) . From J o el and Frankel, D er H asch isch -R au sch , Klinische Wochenschrift, 1926, vol. 5, P- 3 7 M arseilles, J u ly 29. A t seven o clock in the evening, after lon g hesitation, I took hashish. D u rin g the d ay I had been in A ix . W ith the absolute certainty, in this city o f hundreds o f thousands w here no one knows me, o f not b eing disturbed, I lie on the bed. A n d yet I am disturbed, by a little ch ild crying. I think threequarters o f an hour have alread y passed. But it is on ly tw enty minutes. . . . So I lie on the bed, readin g and sm oking. O p p osite me alw ays this view o f the belly o f M arseilles. T h e street I have so often seen is like a knife cut. A t last I left the hotel, the effects seem ing non-existent or so w eak that the precaution o f staying at hom e was unnecessary. M y first port o f call was the cafe on the corn er o f the C an n eb iere and C ours Belsunce. Seen from the h arb ou r, the one on the right, therefore not m y usual cafe. W h a t n ow ? O n ly a certain ben e volence, the exp ectation o f being received kindly by people. T h e feeling o f loneliness is very q u ick ly lost. M y w alk in g stick begins to give me a special pleasure. O n e becom es so tender, fears that a shadow falling on the paper m ight hurt it. T h e nausea disappears. O n e reads the notices on the urinals. It w ou ld not surprise me if this or that person cam e up to me. But w hen no one does I am not d isappointed, either. H ow ever, it is too noisy for me here. N ow the hashish ea ters dem ands on tim e and space com e into force. As is know n, these are absolu tely regal. V ersailles, for one w ho has taken hashish, is not too large, or eternity too long. A g ain st the b ackgroun d o f these im m ense dim ensions o f inner experience, o f absolute d uration and im m easu rable space, a w on d erfu l, beatific hum our dwells all the m ore fon dly on the contingencies o f the w orld o f space and tim e. I feel this hum our infin itely w h en I am told at the R estau ran t Basso that the hot kitchen has ju st been closed, w hile I have ju st sat dow n to feast into etern ity. A fterw a rd , despite this, the feeling that all this is indeed bright, frequ ented ,

Hashish in Marseilles

2 17

an im ated , and w ill rem ain so. I must note how I found m y seat. W h a t m attered to me was the view o f the old port that one got from the u p p er floors. W a lk in g past below , I had spied an em p ty table on the b alcon y o f the second story. Y e t in the end I on ly reach ed the first. M ost o f the w in d o w tables w ere occupied, so I w ent up to a very large one that had just been vacated . As I was sittin g d ow n , h ow ever, the disproportion o f seating m yself at so large a tab le caused me such sham e that I w alk ed across the entire floor to the opposite end to sit at a sm aller table that becam e visible to m e o n ly as I reached it. B ut the m eal cam e later. First, the little b ar on the harbou r. I was a g a in ju st on the point o f retreatin g in confusion, for a concert, indeed a brass band, seem ed to be p la yin g there. I only ju st m an aged to ex p la in to m yself that it was nothing m ore than the b larin g o f car horns. O n the w a y to the V ie u x Port I a lrea d y had this w on d er ful lightness and sureness o f step that transform ed the stony, u n a rticu la te d earth o f the great square that I was crossing into the surface o f a cou n try road a lo n g w hich I strode at night like an en ergetic hiker. For at this tim e I was still a vo id in g the C an n ebiere, not yet quite sure o f m y regu latory functions. In that little h a rb o u r b ar the hashish then b egan to exert its can on ical m agic w ith a p rim itive sharpness th at I had scarcely felt until then. For it m ade m e into a physiognom ist, or at least a contem plator o f physiognom ies, and I un derw en t som ething u nique in my e x p e rie n c e : I positively fixed m y gaze on the faces that I had around me, w h ich w ere, in part, o f rem ark ab le coarseness or ugliness. Faces th at I w ou ld n orm ally h ave avoid ed for a tw ofold reason: I should n either have w ished to a ttract their gaze nor endured their b ru ta lity . It was a very a d va n ced post, this harb ou r tavern. (I believe it was the farthest accessible to me w ith ou t d anger, a circu m stan ce I had gau g ed , in the trance, w ith the same a ccu racy w ith w h ich , w hen u tterly w ea ry, one is able to fill a glass ex a ctly to the b rim w ith ou t spilling a drop, as one can never do w ith sharp senses.) It was still sufficien tly far from rue Bouterie, yet no bourgeois sat there; at the m ost, besides the true port p roletariat, a few petty-bourgeois fam ilies from the n eighbou rhood . I now

2l8 y suddenly understood how, to a p a in te r had it not h ap p en ed to R em b ran d t and m any oth ers? ugliness could appear as the true reservoir o f b ea u ty , better than an y treasure cask, a ja g g e d m ountain w ith all the inner gold o f b ea u ty gleam in g from the wrinkles, glances, features. I esp ecially rem em ber a boundlessly anim al and vu lg ar m ale face in w hich the line o f ren u n ciatio n struck me w ith sudden violence. It was above all m en s faces that had begun to interest me. N ow began the gam e, to be lon g m aintained, o f recogn izin g som eone I knew in every face; often I knew the nam e, often not; the deception vanished as deception s vanish in dream s: not in sham e and com prom ised, but p eacefu lly and am iab ly, like a being w ho has perform ed his service. U n d e r these circum stances there was no question o f loneliness. W as I m y ow n com p an y? Surely not so undisguisedly. I dou bt w h eth er that w ould have m ade me so happ y. M ore likely this: I b ecam e m y own skilful, fond, shameless procurer, gratifyin g m yself w ith the am biguous assurance o f one w ho knows from profou nd study the wishes o f his em ployer. T h en it b egan to take h a lf an etern ity until the w aiter reappeared . O r, rather, I could not w ait for him to appear. I w ent into the bar-room and paid at the counter. W hether tips are usual in such taverns I do not know . But under other circum stances I should have given som ething in an y case. U n d er hashish yesterday, how ever, I was on the stingy side; for fear o f attractin g attention by extra va ga n ce, I succeeded in m akin g m yself really conspicuous. S im ilarly at Basso's. First I ordered a dozen oysters. T h e m an w anted me to order the next course at the same tim e. I n am ed some local dish. H e cam e back w ith the news that none was left. I then pointed to a place in the m enu in the vicin ity o f this dish, and was on the point o f ordering each item , one after another, but then the nam e o f the one above it cau g h t m y atten tion , and so on, until I finally reached the top o f the list. T his was not ju st from greed, how ever, but from an extrem e politeness tow ard the dishes that I did not wish to offend by a refusal. In short, I cam e to a stop at a pate de Lyon. L ion paste, I th ought w ith a w itty sm ile, w hen it lay clean on a plate before me, and then, c o n te m p tu o u sly :

Hashish in Marseilles

2 ig

this tend er rab b it or chicken m e a t w h a tever it m ay be. T o m y lionish hu n ger it w ou ld not h ave seemed in a p p ro p ria te to satisfy itse lf on a lion. M o reover, I had tacitly decid ed that as soon as I had finished at Bassos (it was abou t h a lf past ten) I should go elsew here and dine a second tim e. B ut first, b ack to the w alk to Bassos. I strolled along the q u a y and read one after an oth er the nam es o f the boats tied up there. As I did so an in com p rehen sible gaiety cam e over me, and I sm iled in turn at all the C h ristian nam es o f F rance. T h e love prom ised to these boats by their nam es seem ed w on d erfu lly b ea u tifu l and tou ch in g to me. O n ly one o f them , Aero II, w h ich rem in d ed me o f aerial w arfare, I passed b y w ithou t cord iality, e x a ctly as, in the bar that I had ju st left, m y ga ze had been ob liged to pass over certain excessively deform ed countenances. U p stairs at Bassos, w h en I looked dow n, the old gam es began a ga in . T h e square in front o f the harb ou r was m y palette, on w h ich im a g in a tio n m ixed the q u alities o f the place, tryin g them out now this w a y , now that, w ith o u t concern for the result, like a painter d a y d re a m in g on his palette. I hesitated before takin g wine. It was a h a lf bottle o f Cassis. A piece o f ice was floatin g in the glass. Y e t it w en t ex cellen tly w ith m y drug. I had chosen m y seat on accou n t o f the open w in d o w , th rou gh w hich I could look dow n on the dark square. A n d as I did so from tim e to tim e, I noticed that it h ad a ten d en cy to chan ge w ith everyone w ho stepped onto it, as i f it form ed a figure a b ou t him that, clearly, had n othin g to do w ith the square as he saw it but, rath er, w ith the view that the great p o rtra it painters o f the seventeenth century, in accord an ce w ith the c h a ra cte r o f the d ig n ita ry w hom they placed before a colonn ad e or a w in d o w , threw into a relief by this colonn ad e, this w ind ow . L a te r I noted as I looked d ow n , From cen tu ry to cen tu ry things grow m ore estra n g ed . H ere I m ust observe in gen eral: the solitude o f such trances has its d ark side. T o speak on ly o f the physical aspect, there was a m om en t in the h arb ou r tavern w hen a violen t pressure in the d ia p h ra g m sought relief throu gh hum m ing. A n d there is no d ou b t that tru ly b eautiful, illu m in a tin g visions w ere not aw akened. O n

220 the other hand, solitude works in these states as a filter. W h a t one writes dow n the follow ing day is m ore than an en u m eration o f im pressions; in the night the trance cuts itself o ff from e v eryd a y reality w ith fine, prism atic edges; it forms a kind o f figure and is more easily m em orable. I should like to say: it shrinks and takes on the form o f a flow er. T o begin to solve the riddle o f the ecstasy o f trance, one o u gh t to m editate on A r ia d n e s thread. W h a t jo y in the m ere act o f u n rolling a ball o f thread. A n d this jo y is very d eeply related to the jo y o f trance, as to that o f creation. W e go fo rw ard ; but in so d oin g w e not only discover the twists and turns o f the cave, but also enjoy this pleasure o f discovery against the b ack grou n d o f the other, rhythm ical bliss o f un w in d ing the thread. T h e certain ty o f un rollin g an artfully w ound skein is that not the jo y o f all p ro d u ctivity , at least in prose? A n d under hashish w e are en raptu red prose-beings in the highest pow er. A deeply subm erged feeling o f happiness that cam e over me afterw ard, on a square o ff the C an n eb iere w here rue P arad is opens onto a park, is more difficult to recall than everyth in g that w ent before. F ortu n ately I find on m y new spaper the sentence O n e should scoop sameness from reality w ith a sp oon . S everal weeks earlier I had noted another, by Johann es V . Jensen, w h ich appeared to say som ething sim ilar: R ich a rd was a yo u n g m an w ith un derstan ding for everything in the w orld that was o f the same k in d . This sentence had pleased me very m uch. It en abled me now to confrqnt the political, rational sense it had had for me earlier w ith the in d iv id u a l m agical m ean in g o f m y exp erience the d a y before. W hereas Jen sen s sentence am ounted, as I had understood it, to sayin g that things are as we know them to be, thoroughly m echanized and ratio n alized , the p a rticu la r b eing confined today solely to nuances, m y new insight was en tirely different. For I saw only nuances, yet these w ere the sam e. I im m ersed m yself in contem plation o f the sidew alk before me, w hich, through a kind o f unguent w ith w hich I covered it, cou ld have been, precisely as these very stones, also the sidew alk o f Paris. O n e often speaks o f stones instead o f bread. These stones

Hashish in Marseilles

221

w ere the b read o f m y im ag in a tion , w hich was su d d en ly seized b y a raven ous hun ger to taste w h at is the same in all places and countries. A n d yet I th o u gh t w ith im m ense pride o f sitting here in M arseilles in a hashish tran ce; o f w ho else m ight be sharing m y in to x ica tio n this even ing, how few. O f how I was in cap ab le o f fearin g future m isfortune, future solitude, for hashish w ould alw ays rem ain. T h e m usic from a n earb y n igh t-clu b that I had been fo llo w in g p la yed a part in this stage. G . rode past me in a cab. It h a p p en e d suddenly, ex a ctly as, earlier, from the shadows o f the boat, U . had sudden ly d etach ed him self in the form o f a harb ou r loafer and pim p. But there w ere not only know n faces. H ere, w h ile I was in the state o f deepest trance, two figu res citizens, vagrants, w h a t do I k n o w ? passed me as D an te and P e tra rc h . A ll m en are b ro th ers. So began a train o f thought that I am no longer able to pursue. But its last link was certain ly m uch less banal than its first an d led on perhaps to im ages o f anim als. B a r n a b e , read the sign on a streetcar that stopped briefly at the square w here I was sitting. A n d the sad confused story o f B arn ab as seem ed to me no bad destination for a streetcar going into the outskirts o f M arseilles. S om eth ing very beautiful was go in g on aroun d the door o f the dance hall. N ow and then a C h in ese in blue silk trousers and a glo w in g pink silk ja c k e t stepped outside. H e was the d oorm an . G irls d isplayed them selves in the d o o rw a y. M y m ood was free o f all desire. It was am using to see a yo u n g m an w ith a girl in a w h ite dress com in g tow ard me and to be im m ed ia tely ob liged to th in k: She got a w a y from him in there in her shift, and now he is fetch in g her back. W ell, w e ll. I felt flattered b y the th o u gh t o f sitting here in a centre o f dissipation, and b y h ere I did not m ean the town but the little, not-veryeven tful spot w here I found myself. But events took place in such a w a y th a t the ap p eara n ce o f things tou ched me w ith a m agic w an d , and I sank into a dream o f them . People and things behave at such hours like those little stage sets and people m ade o f elder pith in the g la zed tin-foil box, w h ich , w hen the glass is rubbed, are electrified and fall at every m ovem ent into the most unusual relationships.

222 T h e m usic that m eanw h ile kept rising and falling, I called the rush switches o fja z z . I have forgotten on w h a t grounds I perm itted m yself to m ark the beat w ith m y foot. T h is is against m y ed u cation, and it did not happen w ithout inn er disputation. T h ere w ere times w hen the intensity o f acoustic im pressions blotted out all others. In the little bar, above all, ev eryth in g was suddenly subm erged in the noise o f voices, not o f streets. W h a t was most p eculiar about this din o f voices was that it sounded en tirely like dialect. T h e people o f M arseilles sudden ly did not speak good enough F rench for me. T h e y w ere stuck at the level o f dialect. T h e phenom enon o f alienation that m ay be in volved in this, w hich K rau s has form ulated in the fine dictum T h e m ore closely you look at a w ord the m ore d istantly it looks b a c k , appears to extend to the op tical. A t any rate I find am ong m y notes the surprised com m ent H ow things w ithstan d the g a z e . T h e trance abated w hen I crossed the C an n ebiere and at last turned the corner to have a final ice cream at the little C afe des C ours Belsunce. It was not far from the first cafe o f the evening, in w hich, suddenly, the am orous jo y dispensed by the co n tem p la tion o f some fringes blow n by the w in d had convinced me that the hashish had begun its work. A n d w h en I recall this state I should like to believe that hashish persuades nature to perm it us for less egoistic purposes that sq u an d ering o f our own existence that we know in love. For if, w hen w e love, our existence runs through n a tu res fingers like golden coins that she can not hold and lets fall to purchase new birth thereby, she now throws us, w ith ou t hoping or exp ectin g anythin g, in am ple handfuls to existence. 1928

IV

Surrealism
The L a st Snapshot o f the European Intelligentsia

In tellectu a l currents can generate a sufficient head o f w ater for the critic to install his pow er station on them . T h e necessary g ra d ient, in the case o f Surrealism , is produced by the difference in in tellectu al level betw een F ran ce and G erm an y. W h a t sprang up in 1919 in F ran ce in a sm all circle o f lite ra ti we shall give the most im p o rta n t nam es at on ce: A n d re Breton, Louis A ragon , P h ilip p e S oupault, R o b ert Desnos, Paul E lu a r d m ay have been a m eagre stream , fed on the d am p boredom o f post-w ar E urope and the last trickle o f F rench decadence. T h e know -alls w ho even tod ay have not ad van ced b eyon d the au th en tic origins o f the m ovem en t, and even now have n othin g to say a b ou t it except that yet another clique o f literati is here m ystifying the hon ou rable p u b lic, are a little like a gath erin g o f experts at a spring w ho, after len gth y d eliberation , arrive at the con viction that this p a ltry stream w ill never drive turbines. T h e G erm an observer is not standing at the head o f the stream . T h a t is his opportun ity. H e is in the valley. H e can gauge the energies o f the m ovem ent. As a G erm an he is lon g a cq u ain ted w ith the crisis o f the intelligen tsia, or, m ore precisely, w ith that o f the hum anistic concep t o f fre e d o m ; and he know s how frantic is the d eterm in atio n that has aw aken ed in the m ovem ent to go b eyond the stage o f eternal discussion and, at an y price, to reach a d ecisio n ; he has had d irect experience o f its h igh ly exposed posi tion b etw een an anarchistic frond* and a revo lu tio n a ry discipline, and so has no excuse for takin g the m ovem ent for the artistic , 225

226 p o etic one it superficially appears. I f it was such at the outset, it was, how ever, precisely at the outset that Breton d eclared his intention o f break in g w ith a praxis that presents the p u b lic w ith the literary precipitate o f a certain form o f existence w hile w ith h o ld in g that existence itself. Stated m ore briefly and d iale ctica lly , this means that the sphere o f poetry was here explored from w ithin by a closely knit circle o f people pushing the poetic life to the utm ost limits o f possibility. A n d they can be taken at their w ord w hen they assert that R im b a u d s Saison en enfer no longer had a n y secrets for them. For this book is indeed the first docu m en t o f the m ovem ent (in recent tim es; earlier precursors w ill be discussed later). C an the point at issue be more d efin itively and incisively presented than by R im b au d him self in his personal copy o f the book? In the m argin, beside the passage on the silk o f the seas and the arctic flow ers , he later w rote, T h e r e s no such th in g . In just how inconspicuous and perip heral a substance the d ialectical kernel that later grew into Surrealism was origin ally em bedded, was shown by A ra go n in 1924 at a tim e w hen its d evelopm ent could not yet be foreseen in his Vague de reves. T o d a y it can be foreseen. For there is no dou bt that the heroic phase, whose catalogu e o f heroes A ra g o n left us in that w ork, is over. T h ere is alw ays, in such m ovem ents, a m om ent w hen the original tension o f the secret society m ust either explode in a m atterof-fact, profane struggle for pow er and dom ination, or d ecay as a p ublic dem onstration and be transform ed. Surrealism is in this phase o f transform ation at present. But at the time w hen it broke over its founders as an inspiring dream w ave, it seem ed the most integral, conclusive, absolute o f m ovem ents. E very th in g w ith w hich it cam e into con tact was integrated . Life only seem ed w orth livin g w here the threshold betw een w akin g and sleeping was w orn a w ay in everyone as by the steps o f m ultitudinous im ages flooding b ack and forth, lan gu age on ly seem ed itself w here sound and im age, im age and sound interpen etrated w ith au tom atic precision and such felicity that no chink w as left for the penny-in-the-slot called m ea n in g . Im age and lan gu a g e take precedence. SaintPol R o u x, retirin g to bed abou t d a yb reak , fixes a notice on his

Surrealism 227 door: Poet at w o rk . B reton notes: Q u ietly . I w ant to pass w here no one yet has passed, q u ie tly ! A fter you , dearest la n g u a g e . L a n g u a g e takes preced ence. N ot on ly before m eanin g. Also before the self. In the w o rld s ! structure dream loosens in d iv id u a lity like a bad tooth. T h is loosening o f the self by in toxication is, at the same tim e, pre1 cisely the fruitful, livin g experience that allow ed these people to step outside the dom ain o f intoxication . T h is is not the place to give an exact definition o f Surrealist experience. But anyone w ho has p erceived that the w ritings o f this circle are not literature bu t som ething else dem onstrations, w atch w ord s, docum ents, bluffs, forgeries i f you w ill, but at a n y rate not lite ra tu re will also know , for the sam e reason, that the w ritings are concern ed literally w ith experiences, not w ith theories and still less w ith phantasm s. A n d these experiences are b y no m eans lim ited to dream s, hours o f hashish eatin g, or opium sm oking. It is a card in al error to believe that, o f Surrealist exp erien ces , we know only the religious ecstasies or the ecstasies o f drugs. T h e opium o f the people, L en in called religion, and b rou gh t the two things closer together than the Surrealists could h ave liked. I shall refer later to the bitter, passionate revolt against C ath olicism in w h ich R im b au d , L au tream ont, and A p o llin a ire b rou gh t Surrealism into the w orld. B ut the true, creative overco m in g o f religious illu m in ation certain ly does not lie in narcotics. It resides in a profane illumination, a m aterialistic, a n th rop ological inspiration, to w hich hashish, opium , or w h atever else can give an in trod u ctory lesson. (But a dangerous on e; and the religious lesson is stricter.) T his profane f illu m in ation did not a lw ays find the Surrealists equal to it, or to them selves, and the very w ritings that proclaim it most pow erfully, A r a g o n s in com p arab le Paysan de Paris and B re to n s Nadja, show very d isturbin g sym ptom s o f d eficiency. For exam ple, there is in Nadja an excellen t passage on the d elightful days spent lootin g Paris under the sign o f S acco and V a n z e tti ; Breton adds the assurance that in those days B ou levard B on n e-N ou velle fulfilled the strategic prom ise o f revolt that had alw ays been im plicit in its nam e. But M a d am e S acco also appears, not the wife o f F u lle rs

228 victim but a voyante, a fortune-teller w ho lives at 3 rue des Usines and tells P aul E luard that he can expect no good from N ad ja. N ow I concede that the breakneck career o f Surrealism over roof tops, ligh tn in g conductors, gutters, verandas, w eathercocks, stucco w o rk all ornam ents are grist to the cat b u rg la rs m ill m ay have taken it also into the h um id backroom o f spiritualism . But I am not pleased to hear it cau tiou sly tapp in g on the w in d ow panes to inquire abou t its future. W h o w ould not wish to see these adoptive children o f revolution m ost rigorously severed from all the goings-on in the conventicles o f dow n -at-heel dow agers, retired m ajors, and emigre profiteers? In other respects B reton s book illustrates w ell a n u m ber o f the basic characteristics o f this profane illu m in atio n . H e calls Nadja a book w ith a b an gin g d o o r . (In M oscow I lived in a hotel in w hich alm ost all the room s w ere occupied by T ib e ta n lam as w ho had com e to M oscow for a congress o f B uddhist churches. I was struck b y the n um ber o f doors in the corridors that w ere alw ays left ajar. W h a t had at first seem ed accid en tal began to be disturbing. I found out that in these rooms lived m em bers o f a sect w ho had sworn never to o ccu p y closed rooms. T h e shock I had then m ust be felt by the reader o f Nadja.) T o live in a glass house is a revo lu tion ary virtue p ar excellence. It is also an in to x ica tion, a m oral exhibitionism , th at we b ad ly need. D iscretion concern in g on es ow n existence, once an aristocratic virtu e, has becom e m ore and m ore an a ffair o f petty-bourgeois parvenus. Nadja has ach ieved the true, creative synthesis betw een the art novel and the roman-d-clef. M oreover, one need only take love seriously to recogn ize in it, to o as Nadja also in d icates a profane illu m in atio n . A t just that tim e (i.e., w hen he knew N a d ja ), the author tells us, I took a great interest in the epoch o f Louis V I I , because it was the tim e o f the courts o f lo ve, and I tried to picture w ith great inten sity how people saw life then . W e have from a recent author quite exact inform ation on P roven cal love poetry, w h ich comes surprisingly close to the Surrealist conception o f love. A ll the poets o f the new style , E rich A u e rb a ck points out in his excellent

Surrealism

22g

Dante: Poet o f the Secular World, possess a m ystical beloved, they all have a p p ro x im ately the sam e very curious experience o f lo v e ; to them all A m o r bestows or w ithholds gifts that resem ble an illu m in ation m ore than sensual pleasure; all are subject to a kind o f secret bond that determ ines their inner and perhaps also their outer lives. T h e dialectics o f in toxication are indeed curious. Is not perhaps all ecstasy in one w orld h u m iliatin g sobriety in that com p lem en tary to it? W h a t is it that cou rtly Minne seeks and it, not love, binds Breton to the telepath ic g ir l if not to m ake ch astity, too, a tran sport? Into a w orld that borders not only on tom bs o f the S acred H eart or altars to the V irg in , but also on the m ornin g before a b attle or after a victo ry . T h e lad y, in esoteric love, m atters least. So, too, for Breton. H e is closer to the things that N a d ja is close to than to her. W h a t are these things? N oth in g could reveal more a b ou t Surrealism than their can on . W here shall I b egin ? H e can boast an ex traord in ary discovery. H e was the first to perceive the revo lu tion ary energies that ap p ear in the o u tm o d ed , in the first iron constructions, the first fa ctory buildin gs, the earliest photos, the objects that h ave begun to be extinct, gra n d pianos, the dresses o f five years ago, fashion able restaurants w h en the vogue has begun to ebb from them . T h e relation o f these things to revo lu tio n no one can have a m ore ex a ct concep t o f it than these authors. N o one before these visionaries and augurs perceived how d estitu tion not only social but arch itecto n ic, the p o verty o f interiors, enslaved and enslaving o b jects can be sudden ly transform ed into revo lu tio n a ry nihilism . L e a v in g aside A r a g o n s Passage de I Opera, B reton and N ad ja are the lovers w ho convert everyth in g that w e h ave experienced on m ournful railw ay jo u rn eys (railw ays are begin n in g to age), on G odforsaken S u n d ay afternoons in the proletarian quarters o f the great cities, in the first glan ce throu gh the rain -b lu rred w ind ow o f a new a p artm en t, into revo lu tio n a ry experience, if not action. T h e y b rin g the im m ense forces o f atm osp h ere concealed in these things to the point o f explosion. W h a t form do you suppose a life w ou ld take that was d eterm in ed at a decisive m om ent precisely b y the street song last on ev e ry o n e s lips?

230 T h e trick by w hich this w orld o f things is m astered it is m ore proper to speak o f a trick than a m eth o d consists in the substitu tion o f a political for a historical view o f the past. O p e n , graves, you, the dead o f the picture galleries, corpses behind screens, in palaces, castles, and m onasteries, here stands the fabulous keeper o f keys h old in g a bunch o f the keys to all times, w ho knows w here to press the most artful lock and invites you to step into the m idst o f the w orld o f today, to m ingle w ith the bearers o f burdens, the m echanics w hom m oney ennobles, to m ake you rself at hom e in their autom obiles, w hich are b eau tifu l as arm our from the age o f ch ivalry, to take your places in the internation al sleeping cars, and to w eld yo u rself to all the people w h o tod ay are still prou d o f their privileges. But civilizatio n w ill give them short shrift. T h is speech was attributed to A p ollin aire by his friend H enri H ertz. A p o llin a ire originated this technique. In his vo lu m e o f novellas, L heresiarque, he used it w ith M a ch iav ellian calcu latio n to blow C ath olicism (to w hich he in w a rd ly clung) to sm ithereens. A t the centre o f this w orld o f things stands the most d ream ed -o f o f their objects, the city o f Paris itself. But only revolt com pletely exposes its Surrealist face (deserted streets in w hich whistles and shots dictate the outcom e). A n d no face is surrealistic in the sam e degree as the true face o f a city. N o picture by de C h irico or M a x Ernst can m atch the sharp elevations o f the c ity s inner strong holds, w hich one must overrun and o ccu p y in order to m aster their fate and, in their fate, in the fate o f their masses, on es ow n. N ad ja is an exponent o f these masses and o f w hat inspires them to revolution: T h e great living, sonorous unconsciousness that inspires m y only con vin cin g acts, in the sense that I alw ays w an t to prove that it com m ands forever everyth in g that is m in e. H ere, therefore, we find the catalogu e o f these fortifications, from P lace M aub ert, w here as now here else dirt has retained all its sym bolic power, to the T h ea tre M o d e rn e , w hich I am inconsolable not to have know n. But in B reton s description o f her b ar on the upper floor it is quite dark, w ith arbours like im p en etrable tunnels a d ra w in g room on the bottom o f a la k e there is som ething that brings b ack to m y m em ory that m ost u n com p re

Surrealism

231

hended room in the old Princess C afe. It was the b ack room on the first floor, w ith couples in the blue light. W e called it the an atom y school ; it was the last restauran t designed for love. In such passages in Breton, p h o to g ra p h y intervenes in a very strange w a y. It m akes the streets, gates, squares o f the city into illustrations o f a trashy novel, draws o ff the b an al obviousness o f this an cien t arch itectu re to inject it w ith the most pristine intensity tow ard the events described, to w hich, as in old ch am b erm aid s books, w ord -for-w ord quotations w ith page num bers refer. A n d all the parts o f Paris that ap p ear here are places w h ere w h at is betw een these people turns like a revo lvin g door. T h e Surrealists Paris, too, is a little u n iverse . T h a t is to say, in the larger one, the cosmos, things look no different. T h ere, too, are crossroads w here gh ostly signals flash from the traffic, and in co n ceiva b le analogies and connections b etw een events are the order o f the day. It is the region from w hich the lyric poetry o f S urrealism reports. A n d this must be noted if only to counter the o b lig a to ry m isun derstan ding o f I art pour I art. For a rts sake was scarcely ever to be taken litera lly ; it was alm ost alw ays a flag under w hich sailed a cargo that could not be declared because it still lacked a nam e. T h is is the m om ent to em b ark on a w ork that w ou ld illu m in ate as has no oth er the crisis o f the arts that we are w itnessing: a history o f esoteric poetry. N or is it by any m eans fortuitous that no such w ork yet exists. For w ritten as it dem ands to be w ritte n that is, not as a collection to w hich p a rticu la r specialists all con trib u te w hat is most w orth k n ow in g from their fields, but as the d eep ly grou n d ed com position o f an in d ivid u al w ho, from inner com pulsion, portrays less a historical evolution than a constan tly renew ed, prim al upsurge o f esoteric p o etry w ritten in such a w a y it w ou ld be one o f those scholarly con fessions that can be cou nted in every century. T h e last page w ou ld have to show an X -ra y pictu re o f Surrealism . Breton indicates in his Introduction au discours sur le peu de realite how the ph ilosophical realism o f the M id d le A ges was the basis o f poetic experience. T h is realism , h o w e ver that is, the b elief in a real, separate existence o f concepts w h eth er outside or inside thin gs has alw ays

232 very q u ick ly crossed over from the logical realm o f ideas to the m agical realm o f words. A n d it is as m agical experim ents w ith words, not as artistic d abb lin g, th at w e must understand the passionate ph onetic and grap h ical transform ational gam es that have run through the w hole literatu re o f the a van t-gard e for the past fifteen years, w hether it is called Futurism , D ad aism , or Surrealism . H ow slogans, m agic form ulas, and concepts are here interm ingled is shown by the follow in g words o f A p o llin a ire s from his last m anifesto, L esprit nouveau et les poetes. H e says, in 1918: For the speed and sim plicity w ith w h ich w e have all becom e used to referring by a single w ord to such com plex entities as a crow d, a nation, the universe, there is no m odern eq u ivalen t in literature. But to d a y s writers fill this g a p ; their synthetic works create new realities the plastic m anifestations o f w hich are ju st as com plex as those referred to by the words stan din g for collectives. If, how ever, A p ollin aire and Breton ad vance even m ore en ergetically in the same d irection and com plete the linkage o f Surrealism to the outside w orld w ith the declaration, T h e conquests o f science rest far more on a surrealistic than on a logical th in kin g if, in other words, they m ake m ystification, the cu lm in ation o f w hich Breton sees in poetry (w hich is defensible), the foundation o f scientific and technical d evelopm ent, too then such integration is too im petuous. It is very instructive to com pare the m o v em en ts over precipitate em b race o f the un com p rehen d ed m iracle o f m achines the old fables have for the most part been realized, now it is the turn o f poets to create new ones that the inventors on their side can then m ake rea l (A p o llin a ire ) to com pare these overheated fantasies w ith the w ell-ven tilated utopias o f a S ch eerbart. T h e thought o f all hum an a ctiv ity makes me la u g h . T his utterance o f A r a g o n s shows very clearly the path Surrealism had to follow from its origins to its p o liticization . In his excellen t essay La revolution et les intellectuels , Pierre N aville, w ho origin ally belonged to this group, righ tly called this d evelopm ent d ialectical. In the transform ation o f a h igh ly contem plative attitu d e into revolu tion ary opposition, the hostility o f the bourgeoisie tow ard every m anifestation o f radical in tellectu al freedom p la yed a

Surrealism 233 lead in g part. This hostility pushed Surrealism to the left. P olitical events, above all the w a r in M orocco, accelera ted this d evelop m ent. W ith the m anifesto In tellectuals A gain st the M o ro ccan W a r , w hich appeared in L Humanite, a fu n d am en tally different platform was gain ed from that w h ich was ch aracterized by, for exam ple, the fam ous scan d al at the Sain t-Pol R o u x ban quet. A t that tim e, shortly after the w ar, w hen the Surrealists, w ho deem ed the celeb ration for a poet they w orshipped com prom ised b y the presence o f nationalistic elem ents, burst out w ith the cry L o n g live G e r m a n y , they rem ain ed w ithin the boundaries o f scandal, tow ard w hich, as is know n, the bourgeoisie is as thick-skinned as it is sensitive to all action. T h ere is rem ark ab le agreem ent betw een the w ays in w hich, under such p o litical auspices, A p o lli naire and A ra g o n saw the future o f the poet. T h e chapters P ersecu tion and M u rd er in A p o llin a ire s Poete assassine contain the fam ous description o f a pogrom against poets. P u blish ing houses are storm ed, books o f poem s throw n on the fire, poets lynched . A n d the same scenes are takin g place at the same tim e all over the w orld. In A ra go n , Im a g in a tio n , in an ticip ation o f such horrors, calls its co m p a n y to a last crusade. T o understand such prophecies, and to assess strategically the line arrived at by Surrealism , one must investigate the m ode o f thought w idespread am o n g the so-called w ell-m ean in g left-w in g bourgeois intelligentsia. It manifests itself clearly enough in the present R ussian orien tation o f these circles. W e are not o f course referrin g here to B eraud, w ho pioneered the lie abou t Russia, or to F a b re-L u ce, w ho trots behind him like a devoted donkey, load ed w ith every kind o f bourgeois ill-w ill. B ut how prob lem atic is even the typ ical m ed iatin g book by D u h am el. H ow difficult to b ear is the strained uprightness, the forced anim ation and sincerity o f the Protestant m ethod, d ictated by em barrassm ent and lin guistic ign oran ce, o f p la cin g things in some kind o f sym bolic illu m in ation . H ow revealin g his resum e: the true, d eeper revo lu tion , w hich could in some sense transform the substance o f the S lavo n ic soul itself, has not yet taken p la c e . It is typ ical o f these left-w in g F rench in tellectu als ex a ctly as it is o f their

234
Russian counterparts, too that their positive function derives entirely from a feeling o f ob ligation , not to the R evolu tion , bu t to traditional culture. T h e ir collective achievem ent, as far as it is positive, approxim ates conservation. But p o litica lly and econ o m ically they must alw ays be considered a poten tial source o f sabotage. C h aracteristic o f this w hole left-w in g bourgeois position is its irrem ediable couplin g o f idealistic m orality w ith p o litical p ractice. O n ly in contrast to the helpless com prom ises o f sen tim en t are certain central features o f Surrealism , indeed o f the Surrealist tradition, to be understood. L ittle has happ ened so far to prom ote this understanding. T h e seduction w as too great to regard the Satanism o f a R im b a u d and a L au trea m o n t as a pend ant to art for a rts sake in an in ven tory o f snobbery. If, how ever, one resolves to open up this rom an tic d um m y, one finds som ething usable inside. O n e finds the cult o f evil as a political device, h ow ever rom antic, to disinfect and isolate against all m oralizin g d iletta n tism. C on vin ced o f this, and com ing across the scenario o f a horror play b y Breton that centres abou t a violation o f children, one m ight perhaps go b ack a few decades. Betw een 1865 and 1875 a n um ber o f great anarchists, w ith o u t know ing o f one another, w orked on their infernal m achines. A n d the astonishing thin g is that in d epen d en tly o f one another they set its clock at ex a ctly the same hour, and forty years later in W estern E u rop e the w ritings o f D ostoyevsky, R im b au d , and L au trea m o n t exploded at the same tim e. O n e m ight, to be m ore exact, select from D osto yevsk ys entire work the one episode that w as a ctu ally not published until about 1915, S ta v ro g in s C on fession from The Possessed. T h is chapter, w hich touches very closely on the third canto o f the Chants de Maldoror, contains a ju stification o f evil in w hich certain motifs o f Surrealism are m ore pow erfu lly expressed than by any o f its present spokesmen. For S tavrogin is a Surrealist avant la lettre. N o one else understood, as he did, how n aive is the view o f the Philistines that goodness, for all the m an ly virtue o f those w ho practise it, is G od -in spired ; w hereas evil stems en tirely from our spontaneity, and in it we are ind epen d en t and self-sufficient beings.

Surrealism

235

N o one else saw inspiration, as he did, in even the most ign oble actions, and precisely in them . H e considered vileness itself as som ething preform ed, both in the course o f the w orld and also in ourselves, to w hich we are disposed if not called , as the bourgeois idealist sees virtue. D o sto yevsk y s G od created not only h eaven and earth and m an and beast, but also baseness, vengeance, cru elty. A n d here, too, he ga v e the devil no o p p ortu n ity to m eddle in his handiw ork. T h a t is w h y all these vices have a pristine v ita lity in his w ork; they are perhaps not sp len d id , but etern ally new, as on the first d a y , separated by an infin ity from the cliches through w hich sin is perceived by the Philistine. T h e pitch o f tension that en abled the poets under discussion to ach ieve at a distance their astonishing effects is d ocu m en ted quite scurrilously in the letter Isidore D ucasse addressed to his publisher on O cto b er 23, 1869, in an attem p t to m ake his p o etry look a ccep table. H e places him self in the line o f descent from M ick ie w icz, M ilton, S ou they, A lfred de M usset, B audelaire, and says: O f course, I som ew hat sw elled the note to brin g som ething new into this literature that, after all, only sings o f despair in order to depress the reader and thus m ake him lon g all the m ore intensely for goodness as a rem edy. So that in the end one really sings on ly o f goodness, only the m ethod is m ore ph ilosoph ical and less n aive than that o f the old school, o f w hich only V ic to r H u go and a few others are still a liv e . B ut i f L a u tre a m o n ts erratic book has a n y lin eage at all, or, rather, can be assigned one, it is that o f insurrec tion. S o u p a u lts attem pt, in his edition o f the com plete w orks in 1927, to w rite a p o litical cu rricu lu m vitae for Isidore D ucasse was therefore a quite u n derstan d ab le and not un perceptive venture. U n fo rtu n a tely , there is no d ocu m en tation for it, and that a d d u ced by S o u p au lt rests on a confusion. O n the oth er hand, and h a p p ily, a sim ilar attem p t in the case o f R im b a u d was successful, and it is the ach ievem en t o f M a rce l C ou lon to h ave defended the p o ets true im age against the C a th o lic usurpation by C lau d el and B errichon. R im b a u d is ind eed a C ath o lic, b u t he is one, b y his ow n accou n t, in the m ost w retch ed part o f him self, w hich he does not tire o f d en oun cin g and consigning to his ow n and ev eryo n es

236
hatred, his ow n and ev eryo n es c o n te m p t: the part that forces him to confess that he does not un derstan d revolt. But that is the concession o f a com m u nard dissatisfied w ith his own con trib u tion w ho, by the tim e he turned his b ack on poetry, had lon g sin ce in his earliest w o rk taken leave o f religion. H atred , to you I have entrusted m y treasure , he writes in the Saison en enfer. T h is is another dictum aroun d w hich a poetics o f Surrealism m ight grow like a clim b in g plant, to sink its roots deeper than the theory o f surprised creation originated b y A p ollin aire, to the depth o f the insights o f Poe. Since B akunin, E urope has lacked a rad ical concept o f freedom . T h e Surrealists have one. T h e y are the first to liq u id ate the sclerotic liberal-m oral-h u m an istic id eal o f freedom , because they are convinced that freedom , w hich on this earth can on ly be b ough t w ith a thousand o f the hardest sacrifices, m ust be en joyed un restrictedly in its fullness w ith o u t any kind o f p ra gm a tic calculation , as long as it lasts. A n d this proves to them that m an k in d s struggle for liberation in its sim plest revo lu tion ary form (w hich, h ow ever, is liberation in every respect), rem ains the only cause w orth servin g. But are they successful in w eld in g this experience o f freedom to the other revo lu tion ary experience that we have to ackn ow led ge because it has been ours, the constructive, d ictatorial side o f revolu tion? In short, have they bound revolt to revolution? H o w are w e to im agine an existence oriented solely tow ard B ou levard B onn e-N ouvelle, in rooms b y Le C orbu sier and Oud? T o win the energies o f in toxication for the revo lu tio n this is the project abou t w hich Su rrealism circles in all its books and enterprises. T h is it m ay call its most p a rticu la r task. For them it is not enough that, as we know , an ecstatic com ponent lives in every revolution ary act. This com ponent is id en tical w ith the anarchic. But to place the accen t exclu sively on it w ou ld be to subordinate the m ethodical and disciplin ary prep aration for revolution entirely to a praxis oscillatin g betw een fitness exercises and celeb ration in advance. A d d ed to this is an in a d eq u ate, u n dialectical conception o f the nature o f intoxication . T h e aesthetic o f the painter, the poet,

Surrealism

237

en etat de surprise, o f art as the reaction o f one surprised, is enm eshed in a n um ber o f pernicious rom an tic prejudices. A n y serious ex p lo ra tion o f occult, surrealistic, ph an tasm agoric gifts and ph enom ena presupposes a d ialectica l intertw inem ent to w hich a rom an tic turn o f m ind is im pervious. For histrionic or fan atical stress on the m ysterious side o f the m ysterious takes us no fu rther; we penetrate the m ystery only to the d egree that we recogn ize it in the ev eryd a y w orld, by virtue o f a d ialectica l optic that perceives the ev eryd a y as im pen etrable, the im p en etrab le as everyd ay. T h e most passion ate investigation o f telepath ic phenom ena, for exam ple, w ill not teach us h a lf as m uch a b ou t readin g (w hich is an em in en tly telepath ic process), as the profane illu m in ation o f readin g abou t telepath ic phenom ena. A n d the most passionate investigation o f the hashish trance w ill not teach us h a lf as m uch abou t thin kin g (w hich is em in en tly n arco tic), as the profane illu m in ation o f th in kin g abou t the hashish trance. T h e reader, the thinker, the loiterer, the jl&neur, are types o f illu m in ati ju st as m uch as the op ium eater, the d ream er, the ecstatic. A n d m ore profane. N o t to m ention that most terrible d ru g ourselves w hich we take in solitude. . T o w in the energies o f in toxication for the revo lu tion in other words, poetic politics? W e have tried that b everage. A n y th in g , rath er than th a t! W ell, it w ill interest you all the m ore how m uch an excursion into poetry clarifies things. For w h at is the program m e o f the bourgeois parties? A bad poem on springtim e, filled to bursting w ith m etaphors. T h e socialist sees that finer future o f our children and gra n d ch ild ren in a condition in w hich all act as if they w ere an gels , and everyone has as m uch as i f he w ere ric h , and everyone lives as if he w ere free . O f angels, w ealth , freedom , not a trace. These are m ere im ages. A n d the stock im ag ery o f these poets o f the social-d em ocratic associations ? T h e ir gradus ad parnassum? O ptim ism . A very different air is b reath ed in the N av ille essay that makes the organ ization o f pessim ism the call o f the hour. In the nam e o f his literary friends he delivers an u ltim atu m in face o f w h ich this u n prin cipled, dilettan tish optim ism m ust u n failingly show its true c o lo u rs:

238 w here are the conditions for revo lu tion ? In the ch an gin g o f a tti tudes or o f extern al circum stances? T h a t is the card in al question that determ ines the relation o f politics to m orality and can not be glossed over. Surrealism has com e ever closer to the C om m u nist answer. A n d that means pessimism all along the line. A b solu tely. M istrust in the fate o f literature, m istrust in the fate o f freedom , mistrust in the fate o f E u rop ean h u m an ity, but three times mis trust in all recon ciliatio n : betw een classes, betw een nations, betw een individuals. A n d un lim ited trust only in I. G. F arb en and the peaceful perfection o f the air force. But w hat now, w h at next? H ere due w eigh t must be given to the insight that in the Traite du style, A r a g o n s last book, required in distinction betw een m etaph or and im age, a h ap p y insight into questions o f style that needs extending. E xtension: now here do these tw o m etaphor and im age collide so d rastically and so irreco n cila b ly as in politics. F or to organize pessimism means n othin g other than to expel m oral m etaphor from politics and to discover in political action a sphere reserved one hundred percent for im ages. This im age sphere, how ever, can no longer be m easured out by contem plation . I f it is the double task o f the revo lu tion ary intelligentsia to overth row the intellectual predom inance o f the bourgeoisie and to m ake contact w ith the p roletarian masses, the intelligentsia has failed alm ost entirely in the second part o f this task because it can no longer be perform ed con tem platively. A n d yet this has h indered hard ly an y b o d y from a p p roach in g it again and again as i f it could, and callin g for proletarian poets, thinkers, and artists. T o counter this, T ro tsk y had to point o u t as early as Literature and Revolution that such artists w ou ld on ly em erge from a victorious revolution. In reality it is far less a m atter o f m aking the artist o f bourgeois origin into a m aster o f proletarian a rt th an o f d ep loyin g him , even at the expense o f his artistic a ctiv ity, at im portant points in this sphere o f im agery. Indeed, m ight not perhaps the interruption o f his artistic career be an essential part o f his new fun ction ? T h e jokes he tells are the better for it. A n d he tells them better. For in the jo k e, too, in invective, in m isunderstanding, in all cases

Surrealism

239

w here an action puts forth its ow n im age and exists, absorbing and consum in g it, w here nearness looks w ith its ow n eyes, the longsought im age sphere is opened, the w orld o f universal and in tegral actualities, w here the best ro o m is m issing the sphere, in a w ord , in w hich p o litical m aterialism and ph ysical nature share the inner m an, the psyche, the in d ivid u al, or w h a tever else w e w ish to throw to them , w ith d ialectica l ju stice, so that no lim b rem ains unrent. N evertheless indeed, precisely after such d ialectica l a n n ih ila tio n this w ill still be a sphere o f im ages and, m ore con cretely, o f bodies. For it must in the end be ad m itted : m eta p h ysical m aterialism , o f the brand o f V o g t and B ukharin, as is attested by the experience o f the Surrealists, and earlier o f H ebei, G e o rg B uchner, N ietzsche, and R im b a u d , can not lead w ith ou t ru p tu re to an th ro p o lo gica l m aterialism . T h e re is a residue. T h e collective is a body, too. A n d the physis th at is being organ ized for it in tech n ology can, through all its p o litical and factual reality, on ly be prod uced in that im age sphere to w h ich profane illu m in a tion initiates us. O n ly w hen in techn ology body and im age so in terp en etrate that all revo lu tion ary tension becom es b od ily collective in n ervation , and all the b od ily innervations o f the collective becom e revo lu tio n a ry discharge, has reality transcended itself to the extent d em an d ed by the Communist Manifesto. F or the m om ent, on ly the Surrealists have understood its present co m m ands. T h e y exchange, to a m an, the p lay o f hum an features for the face o f an alarm clock that in each m inute rings for sixty seconds.

1929

f U

A Small History o f r U s r ir Wv*fv*'-S>

T h e fog that surrounds the begin nin gs o f ph otograph y is not as thick as that w hich shrouds the early days o f p rin tin g; m ore obviously than in the case o f the p rin tin g press, perhaps, the tim e was ripe for the invention, and was sensed by m ore than on e by men who strove ind epen d en tly for the same ob jective: to cap tu re the im ages in the cam era obscura, w h ich had been know n at least since L e o n a rd o s tim e. W hen, after abou t five years o f effort, both N iepce and D ag u erre sim ultaneously succeeded in doing this, the state, aided b y the patent difficulties encountered by the inventors, assumed control o f the enterprise and m ade it public, w ith com pensation to the pioneers. T his p a ved the w a y for a rap id on goin g developm ent w hich long precluded any b ackw ard glance. T h u s it is that the historical or, if you like, ph ilosophical questions suggested by the rise and fall o f ph otograph y h ave gone unheeded for decades. A n d if people are starting to be aw are o f them today, there is a definite reason for it. T h e latest w ritings on the subject point up the fact that the flow ering o f p h o to g ra p h y the w ork o f H ill and C am eron , H u g o and N a d a r cam e in its first decade. But this was the decade w h ich preceded its ind u strialization . N ot that hucksters and charlatan s did not approp riate the new techniques for gain, even in that early period ; indeed, they did so en masse. B ut that was closer to the arts o f the fairgroun d, w here ph otograph y is at hom e to this day, than to industry. In d u stry m ade its first real inroads w ith the visitin g card picture, whose first m anufacturer significan tly becam e a m illionaire. It w ould not be surprising if the p h otog rap h ic 240

A Small History o f Photography

241

m ethods w h ich today, for the first tim e, are h ark in g b ack to the pre-in dustrial h ey d a y o f p h o to g ra p h y had an u n dergrou n d co n nection w ith the crisis o f cap italist industry. B ut that does not m ake it an y easier to use the charm o f old ph otographs, a va ila b le in fine recent p u b lica tio n s,1 for real insights into their nature. A ttem p ts at th eoretical m astery o f the subject have so far been en tirely r u d i m en tary. A n d no m atter how extensively it m a y have been d eb a ted in the last cen tury, b asica lly the discussion n ever got a w a y from the lud icrous stereotype w h ich a ch au vinistic rag, the Leipziger Stadtanzeiger, felt it m ust offer in tim ely opposition to this b la c k art from F ran ce. T o try to cap tu re fleeting m irror im ages , it said, is not ju st an im possible u n dertakin g, as has been established after th o rou gh G erm an in vestig ation ; the very wish to do such a th in g is blasphem ous. M a n is m ade in the im age o f G od , and G o d s im age can not be cap tu red by any m achin e o f h u m an devising. T h e utm ost the artist m ay ventu re, borne on the w ings o f d ivin e inspiration , is to rep rod u ce m a n s G od -given features w ith o u t the help o f a n y m achine, in the m om ent o f highest d ed ication, at the high er b id d in g o f his ge n iu s. H ere w e have the philistine notion o f art in all its o v erw een in g obtuseness, a stranger to all tech n ica l considerations, w h ich feels th at its end is n igh w ith the a la rm in g a p p e ara n ce o f the new tech n ology. N evertheless, it was this fetishistic and fu n d a m en ta lly a n ti-tech n ical con cep t o f art w ith w h ich the theoreticians o f p h o to g ra p h y sought to grap p le for alm ost a hun d red years, n a tu ra lly w ith o u t the sm allest success. F o r they un dertook n oth in g less th an to legitim ize the p h o to g ra p h er before the very trib u n al he w as in the process o f overtu rn in g. F a r d ifferen t is the tone o f the address w hich the physicist A ra g o , sp eakin g on b e h a lf o f D a g u e r re s inven tion , ga v e in the C h a m b e r o f D ep uties on 3 J u ly 1839. T h e b eau tifu l th in g a b ou t this speech is the connections it m akes w ith all aspects o f h u m an a ctiv ity. T h e p a n o ra m a it sketches is b ro a d en ou gh not on ly to m ake the d u b io u s
1 H elm u th Bossert and H ein rich G u ttm an n , Aus der Friihzeit der Photographic 18401870. Ein Bildbuch nach 200 Originalen. Frankfurt a. M . 1930. H ein rich S ch w a rz, David Octavius H ill , der Meister der Photographie. W ith 80 plates. L e ip zig

i93i-

242 project o f a u th en ticatin g p h o to g ra p h y in terms o f p a in tin g w hich it does a n y w a y seem beside the p o in t; m ore im portant, it offers an insight into the real scope o f the inven tion . W h en inventors o f a new in strum en t , says A ra go , a p p ly it to the observation o f nature, w h at they expect o f it a lw ays turns out to be a trifle com pared w ith the succession o f subsequent discoveries o f w hich the instrum ent w as the o rig in . In a g rea t arc A r a g o s speech spans the field o f new technologies, from astrophysics to p h ilolog y: alongside the prospects for stellar p h o to g ra p h y w e find the idea o f establish ing a p h otog rap h ic record o f the E g y p tia n hieroglyphs. D a g u e rre s ph otograph s w ere iod ized silver plates exposed in the cam era obscura, w h ich had to be turned this w a y and that until, in the proper light, a pale grey im age cou ld be discerned. T h e y w ere one o f a k in d ; in 1839 a plate cost an a verage o f 25 gold francs. T h e y w ere not infreq u en tly kept in a case, like jew ellery . In the hands o f m an y a painter, though, th ey becam e a techn ical adjun ct. Just as 70 years later U trillo p ain ted his fascinating view s o f Paris not from life but from picture postcards, so did the h igh ly regarded English p o rtrait painter D av id O c ta v iu s H ill base his fresco o f the first general synod o f the C h u rch o f Scotlan d in 1843 on a long series o f p o rtrait photographs. B ut these pictures he took himself. A n d it is they, unpretentious m akeshifts m eant for internal use, that gave his nam e a place in history, w hile as a painter he is for gotten. A d m itted ly a num ber o f his studies lead even d eeper into the new techn ology than this series o f portraits: anonym ous im ages, not posed subjects. Such figures had lon g been know n in painting. W here the p a in tin g rem ained in the possession o f a p a rticu la r fam ily, now and then som eone w o u ld ask after the originals. B ut after two or three generations this interest fades; the pictures, if they last, do so on ly as testim ony to the art o f the painter. W ith p h otograp h y, how ever, we en cou n ter som ething new and stra n g e : in H ills N ew h a ve n fishwife, her eyes cast dow n in such indolent, seductive m odesty, there rem ains som ething that goes b eyond testim ony to the p h otog rap h ers art, som ething that can not be silenced, that fills you w ith an u n ru ly desire to know w h at her nam e was, the w om an w h o w as alive there, w h o even now is still real and

A Small History o f Photography 243 w ill never consent to be w h olly absorbed in art. A n d I ask: how did the b ea u ty o f that hair, those eyes, b egu ile our fo reb ea rs: h ow did that m outh kiss, to w h ich desire curls up senseless as sm oke w ith o u t fire. O r you tu rn up the pictu re o f D au th en d ey the p h otograp h er, the father o f the poet, from the tim e o f his en g a g e m ent to that w om an w h om he then found one d a y, shortly after the birth o f her sixth child, ly in g in the b edroom o f his M oscow house w ith her arteries severed. H ere she can be seen w ith him , he seems to be h old in g her; bu t her ga ze passes him by, absorbed in an om inous distance. Im m erse yo u rself in such a picture long en ou gh and you w ill recogn ize h ow alive the contrad ictions are, here to o : the most precise tech n ology can give its products a m agical va lu e, such as a painted pictu re can never again h ave for us. N o m a tter how artful the ph otograp h er, no m atter how carefu lly posed his subject, the beholder feels an irresistible urge to search such a p ic ture for the tin y spark o f con tin gen cy, o f the H ere and N ow , w ith w h ich rea lity has so to speak seared the subject, to find the in conspicuous spot w here in the im m ed iacy o f that lon g-forgotten m om en t the future subsists so eloq u en tly th at we, looking b ack , m ay rediscover it. For it is another n atu re that speaks to the cam era than to the e y e : other in the sense th at a space inform ed b y hum an consciousness gives w a y to a space inform ed by the u n conscious. W hereas it is a com m on place that, for exam ple, w e h a v e some id ea w h at is in volved in the act o f w alk in g, i f only in gen eral terms, w e have no idea at all w h a t happens d u rin g the fraction o f a second w hen a person steps out. P h otog rap h y, w ith its devices o f slow m otion and en largem en t, reveals the secret. It is th rou gh p h o to g ra p h y that w e first discover the existence o f this op tica l u n conscious, ju st as we d iscover the instinctu al unconscious th rou gh psychoanalysis. D etails o f structure, cellu la r tissue, w ith w h ich tech n ology and m edicine are n orm ally co n cern ed all this is in its origins m ore n ative to the cam era than the atm ospheric lan d scap e or the soulful portrait. Y e t at the sam e tim e p h o to g ra p h y reveals in this m aterial the ph ysiogn om ic aspects o f visu al w orlds w h ich d w ell in the sm allest things, m ean in gfu l yet covert enough to find a h id in g place in w akin g dream s, bu t w hich, en larged and c a p a b le

244
o f form ulation, m ake the difference betw een techn ology and m agic visible as a th o rou gh ly historical variab le. T h u s Blossfeldt w ith his astonishing plan t ph otographs2 reveals the forms o f ancien t colum ns in horse w illow , a b ish ops crosier in the ostrich fern, totem poles in tenfold enlargem ents o f chestnut and m aple shoots, and gothic tracery in the fu llers thistle. H ills subjects, too, w ere p ro b ab ly not far from the truth w h en they described the p h en o m enon o f p h o to g ra p h y as still b ein g a great and m ysterious exp erien ce ; even if for them this was no m ore than the conscious ness o f stan din g before a device w h ich in the briefest tim e could produce a pictu re o f the visible en viron m ent that seem ed as real and alive as nature itself . It has been said o f H ills cam era that it kept a discreet distance. But his subjects, for their part, are no less reserved; they m ain tain a certain shyness before the cam era, and the w atch w o rd o f a later ph otograph er from the h eyd ay o f the art, D o n t look at the cam e ra , cou ld be derived from their attitude. But that did not m ean the th e y re looking at y o u o f anim als, people and babies, that so distastefully im plicates the b u yer and to w hich there is no better counter than the w a y old D au th en d ey talks about d a g u erro ty p es: W e d id n t trust ourselves at first , so he reported, to look lon g at the first pictures he developed. W e w ere abashed by the distinctness o f these hum an im ages, and believed that the little tiny faces in the pictu re could see us, so p o w erfu lly was everyone affected by the u n accu stom ed clarity and the un accustom ed truth to nature o f the first d agu erro types . T h e first people to be reprod u ced entered the visual space o f p h otograp h y w ith their innocence in tact, uncom prom ised by captions. N ew spapers w ere still a lu x u ry item , w hich people seldom bought, preferring to consult them in the coffee hou se; p h otograp h y had not yet becom e a jou rn alistic tool, and ord inary people had yet to see their nam es in print. T h e h u m an countenance held a silence about it in w hich the gaze rested. In short, the p ortraitu re o f this period owes its effect to the absence o f contact betw een a ctu ality and p h otography. M a n y o f H ills portraits were m ade in the 2 K a rl Blossfeldt, Urformen der Kunst. Photographische Pjlanzen bilder. Published with an Introdu ction b y K a rl N ierendorf. 120 plates. Berlin 1931.

A Small History o f Photography

245

E d in b u rgh G reyfriars c e m e te ry n othin g is m ore ch aracteristic o f this ea rly period than the w a y his subjects w ere at hom e there. A n d indeed the cem etery itself, in one o f H ills pictures, looks like an interior, a separate clo sed -off space w here the gravestones prop ped against gab le w alls rise up from the grass, hollow ed out like ch im ney-pieces, w ith inscriptions inside instead o f flames. But this setting could never have b een so effective i f it had not been chosen on tech n ica l grounds. T h e low light-sensitivity o f the early plates m ade p rolon ged exposure outdoors a necessity. T h is in turn m ade it d esirab le to take the sub ject to some ou t-of-th e-w ay spot w here there was no obstacle to q u iet concen tration. T h e expressive coheren ce due to the len gth o f tim e the subject had to rem ain still , says O rlik o f early p h o to g ra p h y , is the m ain reason w h y these ph otographs, a p a rt from their sim plicity, resem ble w ell d raw n or pain ted pictures and prod u ce a m ore vivid and lasting im pression on the b eh old er than m ore recent p h oto g ra p h s. T h e procedure itself caused the subject to focus his life in the m om ent rather th an h u rry in g on past i t ; d u rin g the considerable period o f the exposure, the subject as it w ere grew into the picture, in the sharpest contrast w ith ap p earan ces in a sn ap -sh ot w hich is app rop riate to th at ch an ged en viron m ent w here, as K ra c a u e r has ap tly noted, the split second o f the exposure determ ines w hether a sportsm an becom es so fam ous th at p h otograph ers start takin g his picture for the illustrated pap ers . E v ery th in g abou t these early pictures w as built to last; not only the in com p arab le groups in w hich people cam e to g eth er and whose d isappearan ce was surely one o f the most tellin g sym ptom s o f w h a t was h ap p en in g in society in the second h a lf o f the c e n tu ry b u t the very creases in p eop les clothes have an air o f perm an en ce. J u st consider S ch ellin g s coat; its im m o rtality , too, rests assured; the shape it has borrow ed from its w earer is not u n w o rth y o f the creases in his face. In short, ev ery thin g suggests that B ern h ard von B rentano w as right in his view that a p h otog rap h er o f 1850 was on a par w ith his instrum ent for the first tim e, and for a lon g w hile the last. T o a p p reciate the full im p a ct m ade by the d agu erro typ e in the age o f its d iscovery, one should also bear in m ind that entirely new

246
vistas w ere then b ein g opened up in lan d scap e p a in tin g b y the most ad van ced painters. Conscious that in this very area p h o to g ra p h y had to take over w here p ain tin g left off, even A ra g o , in his historical review o f the early attem pts o f G io v a n n i B attista Porta, ex p licitly com m en ted : A s regards the effect prod u ced by the im perfect tran sparen cy o f ou r atm osphere (w h ich has been loosely term ed d eg ra d atio n ), not even exp erienced painters exp ect the cam era o b scu ra i.e. the cop yin g o f im ages a p p e arin g in it to help them to render it a cc u ra te ly . A t the m om en t w hen D ag u erre succeeded in fixing the im ages o f the cam era obscura, the painters parted com p an y on this point w ith the tech n ician . T h e real victim o f ph otograph y, how ever, was not lan d scap e pain tin g, b u t the p o rtrait m iniature. T h in gs d evelop ed so rap id ly that by 1840 most o f the in n u m erab le m iniaturists had a lre a d y becom e professional photographers, at first on ly as a sideline, b u t before lon g exclu sively. H ere the experience o f their origin al livelih oo d stood them in good stead, and it is not their artistic b ack gro u n d so m uch as their train ing as craftsm en that w e have to than k for the high level o f their p h o to g ra p h ic achievem ent. T h is tran sition al generation disappeared very g ra d u a lly ; indeed, there seems to h ave been a kind o f B ib lical blessing on those first p h otograp h ers: the N ad ars, Stelzners, Piersons, B ayards all lived w ell into their eighties and nineties. In the end, though, businessm en in vad ed professional p h otograp h y from every side, and w h en later on the retouched n egative, w hich was the bad p a in te rs revenge on p h oto g ra p h y, becam e ubiquitous, a sharp decline in taste set it. T h is was the tim e ph otograph album s cam e into vo gu e. T h e y w ere m ost at hom e in the chilliest spots, on occasional tables or little stands in the d ra w in g room : leather-bound tomes w ith u g ly m etal hasps and those giltedged pages as thick as you r finger, w h ere foolishly d rap ed or corsetted figures w ere d isplayed : U n cle A le x and A u n t R iek ch en , little T ru d i w h en she was still a b a b y , P ap a in his first term at university . . . and finally, to m ake ou r sham e com plete, w e ou r selves: as a parlo u r T y ro le a n , yo d ellin g , w a v in g our hat against a painted snow scape, or as a sm artly tu rn ed -o u t sailor, stan din g leg and trailing leg, as is proper, lea n in g again st a polished d o o rja m b .

A Small History o f Photography

24J

T h e accessories used in these portraits, the pedestals and b alu s trades and little oval tables, are still rem iniscent o f the period w hen because o f the lon g exposure tim e the subjects had to be given sup ports so that they w o u ld n t m ove. A n d i f at first head-holders or kneebraces w ere felt to be sufficient, further im pedim en ta w ere soon ad d ed , such as w ere to be seen in fam ous paintings and must there fore be artistic. First it w as pillars, or curtains. T h e most cap ab le started resisting this nonsense as early as the sixties. As an E nglish trad e jo u r n a l o f the tim e p u t it, in p ain tin g the pillar has some p la u sib ility, b ut the w a y it is used in p h o to g ra p h y is absurd, since it u su ally stands on a carpet. B ut anyon e can see that pillars o f m arb le or stone are not erected on a foun dation o f carp e tin g . T h is was the period o f those studios, w ith their draperies and palm trees, their tapestries and easels, w h ich occu pied so am biguous a place b etw een execution and representation , b etw een torture ch am b er and throne room , and to w h ich an early po rtrait o f K a fk a bears p a th e tic witness. T h e re the b oy stands, perhaps six years old, dressed up in a h u m ilia tin g ly tight c h ild s suit overloaded w ith trim m in g, in a sort o f con servatory landscape. T h e b ack grou n d is th ick w ith palm fronds. A n d as i f to m ake these upholstered tropics even stuffier and m ore oppressive, the subject holds in his left hand an in o rd in a te ly large b ro a d -b rim m ed hat, such as Spaniards w ear. H e w o u ld surely be lost in this setting w ere it not for the im m ensely sad eyes, w h ich d om in ate this lan dscape predestined for them . T h is pictu re in its infin ite sadness forms a pen d an t to the early p h otograp h s in w h ich people did not yet look out at the w orld in so ex clu d e d and god-forsaken a m anner as this boy. T h ere was an a u ra a b o u t them , an atm osp h eric m edium , th at lent fullness and secu rity to their gaze even as it p enetrated that m edium . A n d once ag a in the tech n ical eq u iva len t is ob viou s; it consists in the absolute co n tin u u m from brightest ligh t to darkest shadow . H ere too w e see in op eratio n the law th at new ad vances are prefigured in older techn iques, for the earlier art o f p o rtrait p a in tin g had produced the strange flow er o f the m ezzo tin t before its d isappearan ce. T h e m ezzo tin t process was o f course a tech n iqu e o f reproduction , w h ich was o n ly later com bin ed w ith the new p h o to g ra p h ic reproduction .

248 T h e w a y light struggles out o f darkness in the w ork o f a H ill is rem iniscent o f m ezzo tin t: O rlik talks abou t the coherent illu m i n atio n b rou gh t abou t by the lon g exposure times, w h ich gives these early ph otographs their greatness . A n d am ong the in v en tion s contem poraries, D elaroch e a lre a d y noted the u n p reced en ted and exq u isite general im pression, in w hich n othin g disturbs the tran q u illity o f the com position . So m uch for the techn ical considerations behind the atm ospheric appearances. M a n y group photos in p a rticu la r still preserve an air o f anim ated c o n v ivia lity for a b rie f space on the plate, before b ein g ruined by the print. It was this atm osphere that was som etim es cap tu red w ith d elicacy and depth by the now old-fashioned oval fram e. T h a t is w h y it w ould be a m isreadin g o f these in cu n a b u la o f p h o to g ra p h y to m ake too m uch o f their artistic perfection or their taste. T h ese pictures w ere m ade in rooms w here every client was confronted, in the ph otographer, w ith a technician o f the latest school; w hereas the ph otographer was confronted, in every client, w ith a m em ber o f a rising class eq u ipp ed w ith an au ra that h ad seeped into the very folds o f the m a n s frock coat or flopp y cravat. For that a u ra was by no means the m ere prod u ct o f a prim itive cam era. R a th e r, in that early period subject and tech n iqu e w ere as ex a ctly congru ent as they becom e incon gru en t in the period o f decline that im m ediately follow ed. For soon advances in optics m ade instrum ents a vailab le that put darkness entirely to flight and recorded ap p ear ances as faith fully as a n y m irror. A fter 1880, though, ph otographers m ade it their business to sim ulate w ith all the arts o f retou chin g, especially the so-called ru bber print, the au ra w hich had been banished from the pictu re w ith the rou t o f darkness throu gh faster lenses, exactly as it was banished from rea lity by the d eepen ing degeneration o f the im perialist bourgeoisie. T hus, esp ecially in Jugendstil, a p en u m b ra l tone, in terru p ted b y artificial highlights, cam e into vo gu e ; n otw ithstan d in g this fashionable tw ilight, h o w ever, a pose was m ore and m ore cle a rly in evidence, whose rig id ity b etrayed the im poten ce o f that gen eration in the face o f tech n ical progress. A n d yet, w h a t is again and again decisive for p h otog rap h y is the

A Small History o f Photography 249 p h o to g ra p h e rs attitud e to his techniques. C am ille R ech t has found an ap t m etap h or: T h e violin ist , he says, must first p ro duce the note, m ust seek it out, find it in an instant'; the pianist strikes the key and the note rings out. T h e pain ter and the p h oto gra p h er both have an instrum ent at their disposal. D ra w in g and colourin g, for the painter, correspond to the vio lin ists prod u ction o f sound; the ph otograp h er, like the pianist, has the ad van tage o f a m ech a n ical device th at is subject to restrictive laws, w hile the violinist is under no such restraint. N o P aderew ski w ill ever reap the fam e, ever cast the alm ost fabulous spell, th at P agan in i d id . T h ere is, h o w e v e r to con tin u e the m e ta p h o r a Busoni o f p h oto g ra p h y, and that is A tg et. B oth w ere virtuosi, but at the sam e tim e precursors. T h e com b in ation o f u n p aralleled absorption in their w ork and extrem e precision is com m on to both. T h ere was even a facial resem blance. A tg e t was an actor w ho, disgusted w ith the profession, w ip ed o ff the m ask and then set a b ou t rem ovin g the m ake-up from reality too. H e lived in Paris poor and unknow n, selling his pictures for a trifle to p h otog rap h ic enthusiasts scarcely less eccen tric than him self; he died recently, leavin g behind an oeuvre o f m ore than 4,000 pictures. B erenice A b b o t from N ew Y o rk has gath ered these together, and a selection has ju st appeared in an ex cep tio n a lly beautiful vo lu m e published b y C a m ille R e ch t.3 T h e co n tem p o ra ry jou rn a ls kn ew n oth in g o f the m an w ho for the m ost part h aw ked his pictures rou nd the studios, sold them o ff for next to n othin g, often for the price o f one o f those picture postcards w h ich , aroun d 1900, show ed such pretty tow n views, b ath ed in m id n igh t blue, com plete w ith tou ched -u p m oon. H e reached the pole o f utm ost m astery; b u t w ith the bitter m astery o f a great crafts m an w h o alw ays lives in the shadow s, he n eglected to plan t his flag there. T h erefo re m a n y are a b le to flatter them selves that they have discovered the pole, w hen A tg e t was there before th em . In d eed , A tg e ts Paris photos are the forerunners o f surrealist p h o to g ra p h y ; an a d va n ce p arty o f the on ly rea lly broad colum n surrealism m an aged to set in m otion. H e w as the first to disinfect the stifling

3 Eugene A tg e t Lichtbilder, Paris and L e ip zig 1931.

250 atm osphere gen erated by con ven tion al portrait p h o to g ra p h y in the age o f decline. H e cleanses this atm osphere, indeed he dispels it altogether: he initiates the em an cip ation o f object from a u ra w hich is the most signal ach ievem ent o f the latest school o f p h oto graphy. W h en a van t-g ard e periodicals like Bifur or Variete publish pictures cap tion ed Westminster, Lille, Antwerp or Breslau b u t show ing only details, here a piece o f balu strade, there a tree-top whose bare branches criss-cross a gas lam p, or a gable w all, or a lam p-post w ith a life-buoy b ea rin g the nam e o f the to w n this is n othin g b u t a literary refinem ent o f them es that A tg e t discovered. H e looked for w hat was u n rem arked, forgotten, cast adrift, and thus such pictures too w ork against the exotic, rom an tically sonorous nam es o f the cities; they p um p the au ra ou t o f reality like w ater from a sinking ship. W h a t is aura, a ctu a lly ? A strange w eave o f space and tim e : the un ique ap p earan ce or sem blance o f distance, no m atter how close the ob ject m ay be. W h ile resting on a sum m ers noon, to trace a range o f m ountains on the horizon, or a b ra n ch that throws its shadow on the observer, until the m om ent or the hou r becom e part o f their a p p e a ra n ce that is w h at it means to breath e the aura o f those m ountains, that b ran ch . N ow , to b rin g things closer to us, or rath er to the masses, is ju st as passionate an in clin a tion in our d a y as the overcom in g o f w h a tever is u nique in every situation by m eans o f its reprod u ction . E very d ay the need to possess the ob ject in close-up in the form o f a picture, or rath er a copy, becom es m ore im perative. A n d the difference betw een the copy, w hich illustrated papers and newsreels keep in readiness, and the picture is unm istakable. U n iquen ess and d u ration are as in tim ately conjoin ed in the latter as are transience and rep ro d u cib ility in the form er. T h e stripp in g bare o f the object, the destruction o f the aura, is the m ark o f a perception whose sense o f the sameness o f things has grow n to the point w here even the singular, the un ique, is divested o f its u n iqueness by m eans o f its \reproduction. A tg e t alm ost alw ays passed b y the great sights and the so-called lan d m ark s ; w h at he did not pass by was a lon g row o f boot lasts; or the Paris courtyards, w here from night to m ornin g the hand-carts stand in serried ranks; or the tables after people

A Small History o f Photography

251

have finished eatin g and left, the dishes not y et cleared a w a y as they exist in their hundreds o f thousands at the same hour; or the brothel at R u e . . . N o 5, whose street n u m ber appears, gigan tic, at four differen t places on the b u ild in g s facade. R e m ark a b ly , how ever, alm ost all these pictures are em p ty. E m p ty the P orte d A rc e u il by the F ortification s, em p ty the triu m p h al steps, em p ty the courtyard s, em pty, as it should be, the P la ce du T ertre. T h e y are not lonely, m erely w ith o u t m ood ; the city in these pictures looks cleared out, like a lo d gin g that has not yet found a new tenant. It is in these a ch ievem en ts that surrealist p h otograp h y sets the scene for a salutory estrangem ent b etw een m an and his sur roundings. It gives free p la y to the p o litica lly ed u cated eye, u n d er whose ga ze all intim acies are sacrificed to the illu m in ation o f detail. It is obvious that this n ew w a y o f seeing stands to gain least in an area w here there w as the greatest self-in du lgen ce: com m ercial p o rtrait p h oto g ra p h y. O n the other hand, to do w ith ou t people is for p h o to g ra p h y the most im possible o f renun ciations. A n d anyon e w ho did not know it was ta u g h t b y the best o f the Russian films that m ilieu and landscape, too, reveal them selves m ost readily to those ph otograph ers w ho succeed in cap tu rin g their anonym ous p h ysiogn om y, as it w ere p resentin g them at face valu e. W h eth er this is possible, how ever, depends very m uch on the subject. T h e gen eration th at was not obsessed w ith go in g dow n to posterity in ph otograph s, rath er sh yly d ra w in g b ack into their private space in the face o f such p ro ceed in gs the w a y S ch op en h au er w ith d rew into the depths o f his ch air in the F ran kfu rt picture, taken a b ou t 1850 for that very reason allow ed that space, the space w h ere they lived , to get onto the p la te w ith them . T h a t generation did not pass on its virtues. So the R ussian feature film was the first o p p o r tu n ity in decades to put people before the cam era w ho had no use for their ph otographs. A n d im m ed iately the hu m an face ap p eared on film w ith new and im m easu rab le significance. But it was no lon ger a portrait. W h a t w as it? It is the ou tstand ing service o f a G erm an p h otograp h er to have answ ered this question. A u g u st S an d er4 has com piled a series o f faces that is in no w ay inferior to
4 A u gu st Sander, Das Antlitz der eit. Berlin 1930.

252 the trem endous physiogn om ic gallery m ounted by an Eisenstein or a P udovkin, and he has done it from a scientific view poin t. His com plete w ork com prises seven groups w hich correspond to the existing social order, and is to be published in some 45 folios con taining 12 ph otographs ea ch . So far w e have a sam ple volu m e contain ing 60 reproductions, w h ich offer inexhaustible m aterial for study. S an d er starts o ff w ith the peasant, the earth-bou nd m an, takes the observer through every social stratum and every w alk o f life up to the highest representatives o f civilizatio n , and then back dow n all the w ay to the id io t. T h e author did not approach this enorm ous un d ertak in g as a scholar, or w ith the a d vice o f ethnographers and sociologists, but, as the publisher says, from direct ob servation . It was assuredly a very im partial, indeed bold sort o f observation, bu t delicate too, very m uch in the ' spirit o f G o e th e s rem ark: T h ere is a delicate em piricism w hich so intim ately involves itself w ith the ob ject that it becom es true th eo ry. So it was quite in order for an observer like D ob lin to have hit on precisely the scientific aspects o f this w ork, com m en tin g: Just as there is com p arative an atom y, w hich helps us to u n d er stand the nature and history o f organs, so this ph otographer is doing com parative p h otograp h y, ad optin g a scientific standpoint superior to the ph otograph er o f d e ta il. It w ou ld be a pity if econom ic con siderations should prevent the con tin u in g pu b lication o f this extraord in ary b od y o f w ork. A p a rt from this basic en cou ragem en t, there is a m ore specific incentive one m ight offer the publisher. W ork like S an d ers could overnigh t assume unlooked-for topi cality. Sudden shifts o f pow er such as are now overdu e in our society can m ake the ab ility to read facial types a m atter o f vital im portance. W h eth er one is o f the left or right, one w ill h ave to get used to being looked at in terms o f o n es provenance. A n d one w ill have to look at others the same w a y. S a n d ers w ork is m ore than a picture book. It is a train ing m anu al. ' In our age there is no w ork o f art th at is looked at so closely as a ph otograph o f oneself, on es closest relatives and friends, on es sw eetheart , w rote L ich tw a rk b ack in 1907, thereby m ovin g the in q u iry out o f the realm o f aesthetic distinctions into that o f social

A Small History o f Photography

253

functions. O n ly from this v a n ta g e point can it be carried further. It is ind eed significan t th a t the d ebate has raged most fiercely arou n d the aesthetics o f photography as art, w hereas the far less q uestion able social fact o f art as photography was given scarcely a glan ce. A n d yet the im p a c t o f the p h otog rap h ic reprod u ction o f art w orks is o f very m uch g rea te r im p ortan ce for the function o f art than the greater or lesser artistry o f a p h o to g ra p h y that regards all exp erien ce as fair gam e for the cam era. T h e am ateu r w ho returns hom e w ith great piles o f artistic shots is in fact no m ore ap p ealin g a figure than the hunter w h o com es b ack w ith q uan tities o f gam e o f no use to anyon e but the dealer. A n d the d a y does indeed seem to be at hand w h en there w ill be m ore illustrated m agazines th an gam e m erchants. So m uch for the snapshot. B ut the em phasis ch a n ges co m p letely if w e tu rn from photogra.phy-as-art to art-asp h o to g ra p h y . E veryon e w ill h ave noticed how m uch easier it is to get hold o f a picture, m ore p a rticu la rly a piece o f sculpture, not to m en tion arch itectu re, in a p h o to g ra p h than in reality. It is all too tem p tin g to b lam e this sq u arely on the decline o f artistic a p p recia tion, on a failure o f c o n tem p o ra ry sensibility. B ut one is b rou ght up short b y the w a y the u n d erstan d in g o f great w orks was transform ed at a b o u t the sam e tim e the techniques o f rep rod u ction w ere b ein g d evelop ed . T h e y can no lon ger be regarded as the w ork o f in d i-1 v id u a ls ; they have b ecom e a collective creation, a corpus so vast it can be assim ilated on ly th rou gh m in iatu rizatio n . In the final analysis, m ech a n ical rep rod u ction is a tech n iqu e o f dim inu tion that helps m en to ach ieve a control over w orks o f art w ith ou t w hose aid they could no lon ger be used. j I f one th in g typifies present-d ay relations betw een art and p h o to g ra p h y , it is the unresolved tension b etw een the two in tro d u ced b y the p h o to g ra p h y o f w orks o f art. M a n y o f those w ho, as ph otograph ers, d eterm in e the present face o f this tech n ology started out as painters. T h e y turned their b a c k on painting after attem pts to b rin g its expressive resources into a livin g and u n eq u iv o ca l relationship w ith m o d em life. T h e keener their feel for the tem per o f the times, the m ore prob lem atic their starting point becam e for them . For once again, as eighty years before, photo-

254
grap h y was takin g over from painting. T h e creative po ten tial o f the n ew , says M o h o ly -N a gy , is for the m ost part slow ly revealed through old forms, old instrum ents and areas o f design that in their essence have a lrea d y been superseded b y the new, but w h ich u nder pressure from the new as it takes shape are driven to a euphoric efflorescence. T h u s, for exam ple, futurist (structural) p ain tin g b rought forth the clearly defined Problematic o f the sim u ltaneity o f m otion, the representation o f the instant, w hich was later to destroy it and this at a tim e w hen film w as a lrea d y know n but far from being understood . . . S im ilarly, som e o f the painters (neoclassicists and verists) tod ay using representation al-objective m ethods can be reg a rd e d w ith c a u tio n as forerunners o f a new representational optical form w h ich w ill soon be m akin g use only o f m echan ical, techn ical m ethod s. A n d T ristan T z a r a , 1922: W hen everyth in g that called itself art was stricken w ith palsy, the p h otograp h er switched on his thousand can d le-pow er lam p and gra d u a lly the light-sensitive paper absorbed the darkness o f a few ev eryd a y objects. H e had discovered w h at cou ld be done by a pure and sensitive flash o f light that was m ore im portan t than all the con stellations arran ged for the ey e s p leasu re. T h e ph otographers w ho w ent over from figurative art to p h otog rap h y not on o p p o r tunistic grounds, not by chance, not out o f sheer laziness, tod ay constitute the avan t-gard e am ong their colleagues, because they are to some extent protected b y their backgrou nd against the greatest d anger facin g p h otog rap h y tod ay, the touch o f the com m ercial artist. P h otograp h y as a rt , says Sasha Stone, is a very dangerous field . W here p h o to g ra p h y takes itself out o f context, severing the con nections illustrated by Sander, Blossfeldt or G erm ain e K r u ll, w here it frees itself from ph ysiognom ic, po litical and scientific interest, then it becom es creative. T h e lens now looks for interesting ju x t a positions; p h otog rap h y turns into a sort o f arty jou rn alism . T h e spirit that overcom es m echanics translates exact findings into parables o f life . T h e m ore far-reach in g the crisis o f the present social order, the m ore rigid ly its in d iv id u a l com ponents are locked together in their death struggle, the m ore has the c re a tiv e in its

A Small History o f Photography

255

deepest essence a sport, b y con tra d ictio n out o f im ita tio n becom e a fetish, whose lineam ents live on ly in the fitful illu m in ation o f ch an g in g fashion. T h e creativ e in p h otog rap h y is its cap itu latio n to fashion. The world is beautiful that is its w atch w ord . T h erein is unm asked the posture o f a p h o to g ra p h y that can endow any soup can w ith cosm ic significan ce bu t can not grasp a single one o f the hum an connexions in w h ich it exists, even w h ere most far-fetched subjects are m ore con cern ed w ith saleability than w ith insight. B ut because the true face o f this kind o f p h o to g ra p h ic creativity is the ad vertisem en t or association, its log ical cou n terp art is the act o f un m asking or construction. As B recht says: the situation is com p licated by the fact that less than ever does the m ere reflection o f rea lity reveal a n yth in g a b o u t reality. A p h otograp h o f the K r u p p w orks or the A .E .G . tells us next to nothin g abou t these institu tions. A c tu a l rea lity has slipped into the fu n ctional. T h e reification o f hum an relatio n s the factory, sa y m eans that they are no lon ger exp licit. So som ething m ust in fact be built up, som ething artificial, po sed . W e ow e it to the surrealists that they trained the pioneers o f such a constru ctivist ph otograp h y. A further stage in this contest betw een cre ativ e and constructivist p h otog rap h y is typified b y the R ussian film . It is not too m uch to say that the great achievem ents o f the R u ssian directors w ere on ly possible in a cou n try w h ere p h o to g ra p h y does not set out to charm or persuade, but to exp erim en t and instruct. In this sense, and in this only, there is still some m ean in g in the g ra n d ilo q u en t salute offered to ph oto gra p h y in 1855 b y the u n cou th painter o f ideas, A n toin e W iertz. For som e years now the glo ry o f our age has been a m achin e w h ich d a ily am azes the m ind and startles the eye. Before another cen tu ry is out, this m ach in e w ill be the brush, the palette, the colours, the craft, the exp erience, the patien ce, the dexterity, the sureness o f touch, the atm osphere, the lustre, the exem plar, the perfection, the very essence o f p ain tin g . . . L et no one suppose that d a gu erro typ e p h o to g ra p h y w ill be the death o f art . . . W hen the d a gu erro ty p e, that in fan t p rod igy, has grow n to its full stature, w hen all its art and its strength have been revealed, then w ill G enius seize it by the sc ru ff o f the neck and shout: C om e w ith me,

256 you are m ine n ow ! W e shall w ork to g eth er! . H ow sober, indeed pessimistic by contrast are the w ords in w h ich B au d elaire ann ou n ced the new techn ology to his readers, tw o years later, in the Salon o f 1857. L ik e the precedin g q u otation , they can be read tod ay only w ith a subtle shift o f em phasis. B ut as a cou nterpart to the above, they still m ake sense as a violent reaction to the en croachm en ts o f artistic p h otograp h y. In these sorry days a new ind u stry has arisen that has done not a little to strengthen the asinine b e lie f . . . that art is and can be nothing oth er than the accu rate reflection o f nature . . . A vengeful god has hearkened to the vo ice o f this m ultitude. D agu erre is his M essiah . A n d : I f p h o to g ra p h y is perm itted to supplem ent some o f a rts functions, they w ill forth w ith be usurped and corru pted b y it, thanks to p h o to g ra p h y s n atural alliance w ith the m ob. It m ust therefore revert to its proper duty, w hich is to serve as the h an d m aid en o f science and the arts . O n e thing, how ever, both W iertz and B audelaire failed to g r a s p : the lessons inherent in the a u th en ticity o f the ph otograph . T h ese cannot be forever circu m vented b y a com m en tary whose cliches m erely establish verb al associations in the view er. T h e cam era is getting sm aller and sm aller, ever readier to cap tu re fleeting and secret m om ents whose im ages paralyse the associative m echanism s in the beholder. T h is is w here the caption comes in, w h ereb y p h otograp h y turns all lifes relationships into literatu re, and w ith out w hich all constructivist p h o to g ra p h y m ust rem ain arrested in the ap proxim ate. N ot for n othin g h ave A tg e ts ph otographs been likened to those o f the scene o f a crim e. But is not every square inch o f our cities the scene o f a crim e? E very passer-by a cu lp rit? Is it not the task o f the p h o to g ra p h e r descendant o f the augurs and haruspices to reveal gu ilt and to point out the gu ilty in his p ic tures? T h e illitera cy o f the fu tu re , som eone has said, w ill be ignorance not o f readin g or w ritin g, but o f p h o to g ra p h y . But must not a ph otograph er w ho can n o t read his ow n pictures be no less accoun ted an illiterate? W ill not the caption becom e the most im portant part o f the p h otograp h ? S u ch are the questions in w h ich the interval o f ninety years that separate us from the age o f the dagu erro type discharges its historical tension. It is in the illum in a-

A Small History o f Photography 257 tion o f these sparks that the first photographs em erge, beautiful and u n ap p ro ach a b le , from the darkness o f our grand fathers d ay. i 93i

Karl Kraus
D edicated to G u stav G lu ck

I. Cosmic M a n
H ow noisy everyth in g grows.
Words in Verse I I

In old engravings there is a m essenger w ho rushes tow ard us crying aloud, his hair on end, brand ishin g a sheet o f paper in his hands, a sheet full o f w ar and pestilence, o f cries o f m u rder and pain, o f danger from fire and flood, spreading everyw h ere the latest new s . News in this sense, in the sense that the w ord has in Shakespeare, is dissem inated by D ie Fackel [ The Torch].* F u ll o f b etrayal, earthquakes, poison, and fire from the mundus intelligibilis. T h e hatred w ith w hich it pursues the tribe o f jou rn alists that swarms into infinity is not only a m oral but a vital one, such as is hurled by an ancestor upon a race o f degenerate and dw arfish rascals that has sprung from his seed. T h e very term p u b lic op inion outrages him. O pinions are a private m atter. T h e pu blic has an interest only in ju d gm en ts. E ither it is a ju d g in g public, or it is none. But it is precisely the purpose o f the p u b lic opinion generated by the press to m ake the pu blic in cap ab le o f ju d g in g , to insinuate into it the attitude o f som eone irresponsible, u n in form ed. Indeed, w h at is even the most precise inform ation in the daily new spapers in com parison to the hair-raising m eticulousness observed by Die Fackel in the presentation o f legal, linguistic, and political facts? Die Fackel need not trouble itself abou t pu blic opinion, for the blood-steeped novelties o f this n ew spaper dem and a passing o f ju d gm en t. A n d on nothing m ore im petuously, urgently, than on the press itself.
* T h e jou rn al edited by K rau s from 1899 until his death in 1936 [N L B ].

258

Karl Kraus

2$g

A h atred such as that w h ich K rau s has h eap ed on jou rn alists can n ever be founded sim ply on w h at they d o how ever obnoxious this m ay b e; this hatred m ust have its reason in their very n atu re, w h eth er it be an tith etical or akin to his ow n. In fact, it is both. His most recent portrait ch aracterizes the jo u rn a list in the first sentence as a person w ho has little interest either in h im self and his ow n existence, or in the m ere existence o f things, but w h o feels things on ly in their relationships, above all w h ere these m eet in even ts and only in this m om ent becom e united, substantial, and a liv e . W h a t we have in this sentence is n oth in g other than the n egative o f an im age o f K ra u s. Indeed, w h o could have show n a m ore b u rn in g interest in h im self and his ow n existence than the w riter w h o is never finished w ith this subject; w h o a m ore atten tiv e concern for the mere existence o f things, their origin ; w h om does that coin cid en ce o f the event w ith the date, the witness, or the cam era cast into d eeper despair than him ? In the end he b ro u g h t together all his energies in the struggle against the em pty phrase, w hich is the linguistic expression o f the despotism w ith w h ich , in jo u rn a lism , top ica lity sets up its dom inion over things. T h is side o f his struggle against the press is illu m in ated m ost v iv id ly by the lifes w ork o f his com rade-in-arm s, A d o lf Loos. Loos found his p rovid en tia l adversaries in the arts-and-crafts m ongers and architects w ho, in the am bit o f the V ie n n a W o rk shops , w ere striving to give birth to a new art industry. H e sent out his rallyin g cry in n um erous essays, p a rticu la rly , in its en d u rin g form u lation, in the article O rn a m en tatio n and C rim e , w h ich a p p eared in 1908 in the Frankfurter %eitung. T h e ligh tn in g flash ign ited by this essay described a curiously zig za g course. O n read in g the w ords w ith w h ich G oeth e censures the w a y the Philis tine, and thus m any an art connoisseur, run their fingers over en gravin gs and reliefs, the revelation cam e to him that w h at m a y be tou ched cannot be a w ork o f art, and that a w ork o f art m ust be out o f re a ch . It was therefore L ooss first concern to sep arate the w ork o f art from the article o f use, as it was th at o f K rau s to keep ap a rt inform ation and the w ork o f art. T h e h ack jo u rn alist is in his heart at one w ith the ornam en talist. K rau s did not tire o f denounc-

260 ing H eine as an ornam entalist, as one w ho blurred the b o u n d a ry betw een jou rn alism and literature, as the creator o f the feuilleton in poetry and prose; indeed, he later p laced even N ietzsche beside H eine as the b etrayer o f the aphorism to the im pression. It is m y op in ion , he said o f the latter, that to the m ixtu re o f ele ments . . . in the decom posing E u rop ean style o f the last h a lf century, he added psychology, and that the new level o f lan gu age that he created is the level o f essayism, as H ein es was that o f feuilletonism . Both forms ap p ear as sym ptom s o f the chronic sickness o f w hich all attitudes and standpoints m erely m ark the tem perature c u r v e : in au th en ticity. It is from the unm asking o f the inauthentic that this battle against the press arose. W ho was it that brought into the w orld this great excuse: I can do w h at I am n o t? T h e em pty phrase. It, how ever, is an abortion o f technology. T h e n ew spaper industry, like a factory, dem ands separate areas for w orkin g and selling. A t certain times o f d a y tw ice, three times in the b igger new spapers a p a rticu la r q u an tity o f w ork has to have been procured and prep ared for the m achine. A n d not from ju st any m aterial: ev eryth in g that has happened in the m eantim e, anyw here, in any region o f life, politics, econom ics, art, etc., must by now have been reached and jo u rn a listica lly processed. O r, as K rau s so splendidly sums it up: H e ought to throw light on the w a y in w hich technology, w hile u nable to coin new p la ti tudes, leaves the spirit o f m ankind in the state o f being un able to do w ithou t old ones. In this d u ality o f a chan ged life d ra g gin g on in un chan ged forms, the w orld s ills grow and prosp er. In these words K rau s deftly tied the knot b in d in g tech n ology to the em pty phrase. T ru e, its un tyin g w ou ld have to follow a d ifferent pattern, jou rn alism being clearly seen as the expression o f the changed function o f lan gu age in the w orld o f high capitalism . T h e em pty phrase o f the kind so relentlessly pursued by K rau s is the label that m akes a thought m arketable, the w a y flow ery lan gu age, as ornam ent, gives it value for the connoisseur. But for this very reason the liberation o f lan gu age has becom e identical w ith that o f the em pty p h rase its transform ation from reprod u ction to p rod uctive instrum ent. Die Fackel itself contains m odels o f this,

Karl Kraus

261

even i f not the th eory: its form ulae are o f the kind that tie up, n ever that untie. T h e com b in ation o f b ib lical m agn iloq u en ce w ith stiff-necked fixation on the indecencies o f V ien n ese life th at is its w a y o f a p p ro a ch in g ph enom ena. It is not conten t to call on the w orld as witness to the m isdem eanours o f a cash ier; it m ust sum mon the dead from their graves. R ig h tly so, For the sh ab b y, obtrusive abu n d an ce o f these V ien n ese coffee-houses, press, and society scandals is on ly a m inor m anifestation o f a foreknow led ge that then, m ore sw iftly than an y could p erceive, suddenly arrived at its true and origin al su b ject; two m onths after the ou tb reak o f w ar, he called this subject b y its nam e in the speech In T h is G re a t A g e , w ith w hich all the dem ons that had p o p u la ted this possessed m an passed into the herd o f the swine w h o w ere his contem poraries. In these great times, w hich I knew w hen they w ere sm all, w hich w ill again be sm all if they still have tim e, and w h ich , because in the field o f o rgan ic grow th such transform ations are not possible, w e prefer to address as fat times and truly also as hard tim es; in these times, w hen precisely w h a t is h a p p en in g could not be im agined , and w hen w h at m ust happen can no lo n ger be imagined, and if it cou ld it w ou ld not h a p p en ; in these g ra v e tim es that have lau gh ed them selves to death at the possibility o f gro w in g serious and, overtak en by their ow n traged y, lon g for d istraction and then, catch in g them selves in the act, seek w ord s; in these loud times, b oom in g w ith the fearful sym phony o f deeds that en gend er reports, and o f reports that b ear the b lam e for d ee d s; in these un speakable times, you can exp ect no w ord o f m y ow n from me. N one excep t this, w hich ju st preserves silence from m isinterpretation . T o o d eep ly am I aw ed by the u n alterable, is lan gu a g e subordin ate to m isfortune. In the em pires bereft o f im agin ation , w here m an is d y in g o f spiritual starvation w h ile not feeling spiritual hun ger, w here pens are d ip p ed in b lood and swords in ink, that w h ich is not thought m ust be done, b u t th at w hich is only thought is inexpressible. E xp ect from me no w o rd o f m y ow n . N or should I be c ap ab le o f saying a n y th in g n ew ; for in the room w here som eone w rites the noise is so great, and w h eth er it com es from anim als, from child ren , or m erely from m ortars shall

262 not be decided now. H e w ho addresses deeds violates both w ord and deed and is tw ice despicable. T h is profession is not extinct. Those w ho now have nothing to say because it is the turn o f deeds to speak, talk on. L et him w ho has som ething to say step forw ard and be silen t! E veryth in g K rau s w rote is like th a t: a silence turned inside out, a silence that catches the storm o f events in its black folds, billow s, its livid lining turned outw ard. N otw ith stan d in g their abu n d an ce, each o f the instances o f this silence seems to have broken upon it w ith the suddenness o f a gust o f w ind. Im m ed iately, a precise apparatus o f control is brought into p la y : through a m eshing o f oral and w ritten forms the polem ical possibilities o f every situation are totally exhausted. W ith w h at precautions this is surrounded can be seen from the b arbed w ire o f editorial pronouncem ents that encircles each edition o f Die Fackel, as from the razor-sharp definitions and provisos in the program m es and lectures a cco m pan yin g his readings from his ow n w ork. T h e trinity o f silence, know ledge, and alertness constitutes the figure o f K rau s the p o le micist. His silence is a dam before w h ich the reflecting basin o f his know ledge is constantly deepened. His alertness perm its no one to ask it questions, forever u n w illin g to conform to principles proffered to it. Its first principle is, rather, to dism antle the situation, to discover the true question the situation poses, and to present this in place o f any other to his opponents. I f in J o h a n n Peter H ebei we find, developed to the utm ost, the constructive, creative side o f tact, in K rau s w e see its most d estructive and critical face. But for both, tact is m oral alertness Stossl calls it conviction refined into d ialectics and the expression o f an unknow n conven tion m ore im portan t than the ack n ow led ged one. K rau s lived in a w orld in w hich the most sham eful act was still the faux pas; he distinguishes betw een degrees o f the m onstrous, and does so precisely because his criterion is never that o f bourgeois respectability, w hich once above the threshold o f trivial mis dem eanour becom es so q u ick ly short o f breath that it can form no conception o f v illa in y on a w orld-h istorical scale. K rau s knew this criterion from the first, and m oreover there is

Karl Kraus

263

no other criterion for true tact. It is a theological criterion. For tact is n o w as n arrow m inds im agine i t the gift o f allottin g to each, on consideration o f all relationships, w h at is socially befitting. O n the contrary, tact is the ca p a city to treat social relationships, though not d ep artin g from them , as n atu ral, even as parad isiac relationships, and so not only to ap p roach the king as if he h ad been b o m w ith the crow n on his brow , but the lack ey like an A d a m in livery. H ebei possessed this noblesse in his priestly bearin g, K ra u s in arm our. His con cep t o f creation contains the th eological in h eritan ce o f speculations that last possessed con tem p o rary v a lid ity for the w hole o f E u rop e in the seventeenth century. A t the th eological core o f this concept, how ever, a transform ation has taken place that has caused it, qu ite w ith ou t constraint, to coincide w ith the cosm opolitan credo o f A u strian worldliness, w h ich m ade creation into a ch u rch in w hich n othin g rem ained to recall the rite excep t an occasional w h iff o f incense in the mists. Stifter gave this creed its most au then tic stam p, and his echo is heard w herever K rau s concerns him self w ith anim als, plants, child ren . T h e stirring o f the a ir , Stifter writes, the rip plin g o f w ater, the gro w in g o f corn, the tossing o f the sea, the verd u re o f the earth, the shining o f the sky, the tw in klin g o f the stars I hold g r e a t: the thunderstorm ap p ro a ch in g in splendour, the ligh tn in g flash that cleaves houses, the storm d riv in g the surf, the m ountains spew ing fire, the earth qu ak e la y in g w aste to countries, I do not hold greater than the form er p h en o m en a; indeed, I believe them sm al ler, because they are on ly effects o f far high er laws. . . . W hen m an was in his infan cy, his sp iritu al eye not yet tou ched by science, he was seized by w hat was close at hand and obtrusive, and was m oved to fear and ad m iration ; bu t w hen his m ind was opened, w hen his gaze began to be d irected at the connections betw een things p a r ticu lar phenom ena sank from sight and the law rose even higher, m iracles ceased, and w on d er increased. . . . Ju st as in nature the general laws act silently and incessantly, and conspicuous events are on ly single m anifestations o f these laws, so the m oral law acts silently, a n im atin g the soul through the infinite intercourse o f

264 hum an beings, and the m iracles o f the m om ent w hen deeds are perform ed are only sm all signs o f this general p o w er. T a c itly , in these famous sentences, the holy has given place to the m odest yet questionable concept o f law . But this nature o f S tifters and his m oral universe are transparent enough to escape an y confusion w ith K a n t, and to be still recogn izab le in their core as creation. This insolently secularized thu n d er and ligh tning, storms, surf, and earth q u a k es cosm ic m an has w on them b ack for creation by m aking them its w orld-historical answer to the crim inal existence o f men. O n ly the span betw een C reatio n and the L ast J u d gm en t here finds no redem ptive fulfilm ent, let alone a historical resolution. F or as the landscape o f A u stria fills u nbroken the cap tivatin g expanse o f S tifters prose, so for him , K rau s, the terrible years o f his life are not history, b u t nature, a river cond em ned to m eander through a landscape o f hell. It is a landscape in w hich every day fifty thousand tree trunks are felled for sixty new spapers. K raus im parted this inform ation under the title T h e E n d . For that m ankind is losing the figh t against the creatu rely w orld is to him ju st as certain as that techn ology, once d ep loyed against creation, w ill not stop short o f its m aster, either. His defeatism is o f a supranation al, that is, p la n eta ry kind, and history for him is m erely the w ilderness d ivid in g his face from creation, whose last act is w orld conflagration. As a deserter to the cam p o f anim al creatio n so he m easures out this wilderness. A n d on ly the anim al that is conquered by h u m an ity is the hero o f life : n ever was A d a lb e rt S tifters patriarch al credo given so lugubrious and heral dic a form ulation. It is in the nam e o f anim al creation that K rau s again and again bends tow ard the anim al and tow ard the heart o f all hearts, that o f the d o g , for him creatio n s true m irror virtu e, in w hich fidelity, purity, gratitu d e smile from times lost and rem ote. H ow lam entable that people usurp its p lace! These are his followers. M ore num erously and eagerly than abou t their m aster they th ron g w ith un lovely sniffings about the m ortally w ounded opponent. C ertain ly the dog is not for n othin g the em blem atic beast o f this author: the dog, the ideal exam ple o f the follower, w ho is n othin g

Karl Kraus excep t devoted creatu rely life. A n d

265

the m ore personal and

un founded this devotion, the better. K rau s is right to put it to the hardest test. But if a n y th in g makes plain w h at is infinitely ques tion able in these creatures, it is that they are recruited solely from those w hom K rau s h im self first called in tellectu ally to life, w hom he conceived and con vin ced in one and the sam e act. His w ord can be decisive only for those w hom it did not beget. It is en tirely logical w hen the im poverished, reduced h um an b ein g o f our days, the con tem po rary, can only seek sanctu ary in the tem ple o f livin g things in that most w ithered form , as a private in d ivid u a l. H ow m uch renu n ciation and how m uch irony lie in the curious struggle for the n erves , the last root fibres o f the V ien n ese to w hich K rau s could still find M o th er E arth adherin g. K r a u s , writes R o b ert Scheu, had discovered a great subject that had never before set in m otion the pen o f a publicist: the rights o f the nerves. H e found that they w ere ju st as w orth y an object o f im passioned defence as were prop erty, house and hom e, party, and constitution. H e becam e the ad vo cate o f the nerves and took up the fight against the petty, ev eryd a y im itations, but the subject grew under his hands, becam e the problem o f p rivate life. T o defend this against police, press, m orality, and concepts, finally against neighbours in every form , constantly to find new enem ies, becam e his profession. H ere, if anyw here, is m anifest the strange in terp la y betw een rea ctio n a ry theory and revo lu tion ary practice that is m et everyw h ere in K rau s. Indeed, to secure private life against m orality and concepts in a society that perpetrates the po litical radioscopy o f sexu ality and fam ily, o f econom ic and ph ysical existence, in a society that is in the process o f b u ild in g houses w ith glass w alls, and patios extend in g far into the d raw in g rooms that are no longer d ra w in g room s such a w atch w o rd w ould be the most rea ctio n a ry o f all w ere not the private life that K rau s had m ade it his business to defend precisely that w h ich , unlike the bourgeois form , is in strict accord an ce w ith this social u p h e a v a l; in other w ords, the private life that is dism antling itself, op en ly shaping itself, that o f the poor, from whose ranks cam e Peter A lten b erg, the agitator, and A d o lf Loos. In this fig h t and on ly in

266 i t his followers also have their use, since it is they w ho most sublim ely ignore the anon ym ity w ith w hich the satirist has tried to surround his private existence, and nothing holds them in check except K r a u s s decision to step in person before his threshold and pay hom age to the ruins in w hich he is a private in d iv id u a l . As decisively as he makes his ow n existence a p u b lic issue w hen the fight dem ands it, he has alw ays ju st as ruthlessly opposed the distinction betw een personal and ob jective criticism w ith the aid o f w hich polem ics are discredited, and w hich is a ch ief instrum ent o f corruption in our literary and political affairs. T h a t K rau s attacks people less for w hat they are than for w hat they do, m ore for w hat they say than for w hat they w rite, and least o f all for their books, is the precon dition o f his p o lem ical au thority, w hich is able to lift the in tellectu al universe o f an a u th o r all the m ore surely the more worthless it is, in confidence o f a truly prestabilized , reconciling h a rm o n y w hole and in tact from a single fragm en t o f sentence, a single w ord, a single intonation . But the coincid en ce o f personal and objective elem ents not on ly in his opponents but above all in him self is best dem on strated by the fact that he never puts forw ard an opinion. For opinion is false ob jectivity that can be separated from the person and incorp o rated in the circu latio n o f com m odities. K rau s never offered an argum en t th at had not engaged his w hole person. T h u s he em bodies the secret o f a u th o r ity : never to disappoint. A u th o rity has no other end than this: it dies or disappoints. It is not in the last underm ined by w h at others must avoid : its ow n despotism , injustice, inconsistency. O n the contrary, it w ould be disappoin tin g to observe how it arrived at its pron oun cem ents by fairness, for exam ple, or even self-consis tency. For the m a n , K rau s once said, being right is not an erotic m atter, and he gla d ly prefers others being right to his being w ro n g . T o prove his m anhood in this w ay is denied to K ra u s ; his existence dem ands that at most the self-righteousness o f others is opposed to his wrongness, and how right he then is to clin g to this. M a n y w ill be right one d ay. But it w ill be a rightness resulting from m y wrongness to d a y . T h a t is the lan gu age o f true authority. In sigh t into its operations can discover on ly one th in g:

Karl Kraus

267

that it is binding, m ercilessly b in d ing tow ard itself in the sam e degree as tow ard others; that it does not tire o f trem blin g before itself, though never before others; that it never does enough to satisfy itself, to fulfil its responsibility tow ard itself, and that this sense o f responsibility never allow s him to accep t argum ents d erived from his private constitution or even from the lim its o f hum an cap acity, but alw ays only from the m atter at hand, h ow ever unjust, from a private point o f view , it m ay be. T h e characteristic o f such u nlim ited a u th ority has for all tim e been the union o f legislative and execu tive pow er. But it was n ever a m ore intim ate union than in the theory o f lan gu age. T h is is therefore the most decisive expression o f K r a u s s au th ority. In cogn ito like H aroun al-R ash id , he passes by night am ong the sentence constructions o f the jou rn als, and, from behind the petrified facades o f phrases, he peers into the interior, discovers in the orgies o f b lack m a g ic the violation, the m artyrd om o f w ords: Is the press a m essenger? N o : the event. Is it speech? N o: life. It not only claim s that the true events are its news o f events, but it also brings abou t a sinister id en tification that constantly creates the illusion that deeds are reported before they are carried out, and frequ en tly also the possibility o f a situation, w hich in any case exists, that w hile w ar correspondents are not allow ed to witness events, soldiers becom e reporters. I therefore w elcom e the ch arge that all m y life I have overestim ated the press. It is not a servan t how could a servant d em and and receive so m u c h it is the event. O n ce again the instrum ent has run a w a y w ith us. W e have p laced the person w ho is supposed to report outbreaks o f fire, and w h o ought doubtless to p la y the most su bordin ate role in the state, in pow er over the w orld, over fire and over the house, over fact and over our fa n ta sy. A u th o rity and w ord against corruption and m a g ic these are the catchw ords d istributed in this struggle. It is not idle to prognosticate its outcom e. N o one, K rau s least o f all, can leave the utopia o f an o b jectiv e n ew spaper, the chim era o f an im p a rtial transm ission o f new s , to its ow n devices. T h e new s paper is an instrum ent o f pow er. It can d erive its valu e only from the ch ara cter o f the pow er it serves; not on ly in w hat it represents,

268 but also in w h at it does, it is the expression o f this pow er. If, h ow ever, high capitalism defiles not only the ends but also the m eans o f journalism , then a new blossom ing o f p arad isiac, cosm ic h u m an ity can no m ore be expected o f a pow er that defeats it than a second bloom ing o f the lan gu age o f G oethe or C lau d iu s. From that now prevailing it w ill distinguish itself first o f all b y pu ttin g out o f circulation ideals that debase the form er. T h is is enough to give a m easure o f how little K rau s w ou ld have to w in or lose in such a struggle, o f how un errin gly Die Fackel w ou ld illu m in ate it. T o the ever-repeated sensations w ith w hich the d aily press serves its public he opposes the eternally fresh n ew s o f the history o f creation: the etern ally renew ed, the un in terrupted lam ent.

I I. Demon
H ave I slept? I am ju st falling asleep. Words in Verse I V

It is deeply rooted in K r a u s s nature, and it is the stigm a o f every d ebate concern in g him , that all a pologetic argum ents miss their m ark. T h e great work o f L eop old L iegler springs from an ap olo getic posture. T o certify K rau s as an ethical p ersonality is his first objective. T h a t cannot be done. T h e d ark b ack grou n d from w hich his im age detaches itself is not form ed b y his contem poraries, but is the prim eval w orld or the w orld o f the dem on. T h e ligh t o f the first d ay falls on h im thus he em erges from this darkness. But not in all parts; others rem ain that are m ore deeply im m ersed in it than one suspects. A n eye that can n o t adjust to this darkness w ill never perceive the outline o f this figure. O n it w ill be w asted all the gestures that K rau s tirelessly m akes in his u n con q u erab le need to be perceived. For, as in the fairy tale, the dem on in K ra u s has m ade van ity the expression o f his being. T h e d em on s solitude, too, is felt b y him w ho gesticulates w ild ly on the hidden hill: T h a n k G od n obody knows m y nam e is R u m p elstiltsk in . Ju st as this

Karl Kraus

269

d a n cin g dem on is never still, in K rau s eccen tric reflection is in continuous uproar. T h e patien t o f his gifts , V iertel called him . In fact, his capacities are m aladies, and over and above the real ones, his van ity makes him a h yp o ch o n d riac. I f he does not see his reflection in him self, he sees it in the ad versary at his feet. His polem ics have been from the first the most intim ate in term in glin g o f a tech n iqu e o f unm asking that works w ith the most a d va n ced means, and a self-expressive art op eratin g w ith the m ost archaic. In this zone, too, how ever, a m b ig u ity, the dem on, is m anifest: self-expression and unm asking m erge in it as self-unm asking. K rau s has said, A n ti-S em itism is the m en tality . . . that m eans seriously a tenth part o f the jib es that the stock-exchange w it holds ready for his ow n b lo od ; he th ereby indicates the nature o f the relationship o f his own o p p o nents to himself. T h ere is no reproach to him , no vilification o f his person, that could not find its most legitim ate form ulation in his ow n w ritings, in those passages w here self-reflection is raised to self ad m iration . H e w ill p ay any price to get h im self talked abou t, and is alw ays justified by the success o f these speculations. I f style is the pow er to m ove freely in the length and breadth o f linguistic th in kin g w ith out fa llin g into b an ality, it is attained chiefly by the card iac strength o f great thoughts, w h ich drives the blood o f lan gu a g e through the cap illaries o f syntax into the rem otest lim bs. W h ile such thoughts are q u ite u n m istakable in K rau s, the pow erful heart o f his style is nevertheless the im age he bears o f h im self in his ow n breast and exposes in the most m erciless m anner. Y es, he is vain. As such he has been described by K a rin M ichaelis, crossing a room w ith swift, restless bounds to reach the lecture podium . A n d if he then offers a sacrifice to his van ity, he w o u ld not be the dem on that he is w ere it not fin ally himself, his life and his suffering, that he exposes w ith all its w ounds, all its nakedness. In this w a y his style comes into being, and w ith it the typ ical reader o f Die Fackel, for w hom in a subordin ate clause, in a p article, indeed in a com m a, fibres and nerves q u iv er; from the obscurest and driest fact a piece o f his m u tilated flesh hangs. Id iosyn crasy as the highest critical o r g a n that is the hidden logic o f this self-reflection and the hellish

2yo state known only to a w riter for w hom every act o f gratification becom es at the same time a station o f his m artyrdom , a state that was experienced, ap art from K rau s, by no one as d eep ly as by K ierk ega a rd . I a m , K rau s has said, perhaps the first instance o f a w riter w ho sim ultaneously writes and acts his w ritin g , and thus he shows his va n ity its most legitim ate p la ce: in m im e. His m im etic genius, im ita tin g w hile it glosses, pu llin g faces in the m idst o f polem ics, is festively unleashed in the readings o f dram as whose authors do not for nothing o ccu p y a p ecu liarly in term ed iate position: Shakespeare and N estroy, dram atists and actors; O ffen b ach , com poser and conductor. It is as if the dem on in the m an sought the tum ultuous atm osphere o f these dram as, shot through w ith all the lightning flashes o f im provisation, because it alone offered him the thousand opportunities to break out, teasing, torm enting, threatening. In them his ow n voice tries out the a bun d an ce o f personae in h ab itin g the perform er persona: that through w hich sound passes and abou t his fingertips d art the gestures o f the figures po pu latin g his voice. But in his polem ics, too, mimesis plays a decisive role. H e im itates his subjects in order to insert the cro w b a r o f his hate into the finest join ts o f their posture. This q u ib b ler, probing betw een syllables, digs out the grubs o f hum bug. T h e grubs o f ve n a lity and garru lity, ign om in y and bonhom ie, childishness and covetousness, glu tton y and dis honesty. Indeed, the exposure o f in a u th e n tic ity m ore difficult than that o f w ickedn ess is here perform ed beh aviou ristically. T h e quotations in Die Fackel are m ore than d ocu m en tary proof: they are masks stripped o ff m im etically by the quoter. A d m itted ly, w hat emerges in ju st this connection is how closely the cru elty o f the satirist is linked to the am biguous m odesty o f the interpreter, w hich in his p u b lic readings is heightened beyond com prehension. T o cre ep so is term ed, not w ith ou t cause, the lowest kind o f flattery; and K rau s creeps into those he im personates, in order to annihilate them . Has courtesy here becom e the cam ou flage o f hate, hate the cam ou flage o f courtesy? H o w ever that m ay be, both have attained perfection, the Chinese pitch. T o rm e n t , o f w h ich

Karl Kraus

271

there is so m uch talk in K rau s in such op aq u e allusions, here has its seat. His protests against letters, printed m atter, docum ents are n oth in g but the defensive reaction o f a m an w ho is h im self im p li cated. But w h at im plicates him so d eeply is m ore than the deeds and m isdeeds; it is the lan gu a g e o f his fellow m en. His passion for im ita tin g them is at the sam e tim e the expression o f and the struggle against this im plicatio n , and also the cause and the result o f th at ever-w atch fu l gu ilty conscience in w hich the dem on has his h ab itat. T h e econ om y o f his errors and w eaknesses a fantastic edifice, rath er than the totality o f his gifts is so d elicately and precisely o rgan ized that all o u tw a rd confirm ation only disrupts it. W ell it m ay, if this m an is to be certified as the pattern o f a harm oniously and perfectly form ed hu m an ty p e , if he is to a p p e a r in a term as absurd stylistically as se m a n tica lly as a ph ilanthropist, so that anyon e listening to his hardness w ith the ears o f the sou l w ou ld find the reason for it in com passion. N o! T his incorru p tib le, piercin g, resolute assurance does not spring from the noble poetic or hu m ane disposition that his followers are so fond o f attrib u tin g to him . H ow utterly b an al, and at the same tim e how fu n d am en tally w rong, is their d erivation o f his hatred from love, w hen it is obvious how m uch m ore elem ental are the forces here at w o rk : a h u m an ity that is only an alternation o f m alice and sophistry, sophistry and m alice, a n atu re that is the highest school o f aversion to m ankind and a pity that is alive only w hen m ingled w ith ven gean ce. O h , had I on ly been left the choice / to carve the d og or the butcher, / I should have chosen. N oth in g is m ore perverse than to try to fashion him after the im age o f w h a t he loves. R ig h tly , K rau s the timeless w orld -d istu rb er has been confronted w ith the eternal w orld -im p ro v er on w hom benign glances not infre q u en tly fall. W h en the age laid hands upon itself, he was the h an d s , Brecht said. Few insights can stand beside this, and certain ly not the com m ent o f his friend A d o lf Loos. K r a u s , he declares, stands on the frontier o f a new a g e . A las, b y no means. F or he stands on the threshold o f the Last J u d gm en t. As in the most

2J2 opulent exam ple o f baroque a ltar painting, saints hard-pressed against the fram e extend defensive hands tow ard the b reath tak in gly foreshortened extrem ities o f the angels, the blessed, and the dam n ed floating before them , so the w hole o f w orld history presses in on K rau s in the extrem ities o f a single item o f local news, a single phrase, a single advertisem ent. T h is is the inh eritan ce that has com e dow n to him from the serm on o f A b rah a m a San ta C lara. T h en ce the overw h elm in g im m ed iacy, the ready w it o f the w holly un con tem plative m om ent, and the inversion that allow s his w ill only theoretical, his know ledge only p ra ctica l expression. K rau s is no historic genius. H e does not stand on the frontier o f a new age. I f he ever turns his b ack on creation, if he breaks o ff in lam entation , it is only to file a com plain t at the L ast Ju d gm en t. N othin g is understood about this m an until it has been perceived that, o f necessity and w ithou t exception, ev ery th in g lan gu age and fa c t falls for him w ithin the sphere o f justice. A ll his fireeating, sw ord-sw allow in g p h ilology in the new spapers pursues justice just as m uch as language. It is to m isunderstand his theory o f lan guage to see it as other than a contribu tion to the linguistic rules o f court, the w ord o f som eone else in his m outh as other than a corpus delicti, and his own as other than a ju d g in g w ord. K rau s knows no system. E ach thought has its ow n cell. But each cell can in an instant, and ap p aren tly alm ost w ith ou t cause, becom e a cham ber, a legal ch am b er over w hich lan gu ag e presides. It has been said o f K rau s that he has to suppress the Jewishness in h im se lf , even that he travels the road from Jewishness to freed om ; nothing better refutes this than the fact that, for him , too, ju stice and lan gu age rem ain founded in each other. T o w orship the im age o f divine ju stice in la n g u a g e even in the G erm an la n g u a g e that is the gen uin ely Jew ish som ersault by w hich he tries to break the spell o f the dem on. For this is the last official act o f this zea lo t: to place legal system itself under accusation. A n d not in a pettybourgeois revolt against the enslavem ent o f the free in d iv id u a l by dead fo rm u lae . Still less in the posture o f those radicals w ho storm paragraphs w ithou t ever for a m om ent h avin g taken thought o f justice. K rau s accuses the law in its substance, not in its

Karl Kraus

273

effect. His charge is the b etray a l o f justice by law . M ore exactly, o f the w ord by the concept, w h ich derives its existence from the w o r d : the p rem editated m urder o f im agination , w hich dies o f the absence o f a single letter and for w hich, in his E legy on the D eath o f a S o u n d , he has sung the m ost m oving lam ent. For over ju risd iction , right-saying, stands o rth og rap h y, right-spelling, and woe to the form er if the latter should be w antin g. H ere, too, therefore, he confronts the press; indeed, in this charm ed circle he holds his fondest rendezvous w ith the lem ures. He has seen through law as have few others. I f he nevertheless invokes it, he does so precisely because his ow n dem on is d raw n so p o w erfu lly by the abyss it represents. By the abyss that, not w ithou t reason, he finds m ost g a p in g w here m ind and sexuality m eet in the trial for sexual o ffen ces and he has sounded in these fam ous w ords: A sexual trial is the d eliberate d evelopm en t from an in d ivid u al to a general im m orality, against w hich dark b ackgrou n d the proven gu ilt o f the accused stands out lu m in o u sly . M in d and sexuality m ove in this sphere w ith a solidarity whose law is am b igu ity. T h e possession o f dem onic sexuality is that o f the ego that, surrounded by sweet fem inine m irages such as the b itter earth does not h a rb o u r , enjoys itself. A n d no d ifferent is the loveless and self-gratifying trope o f possessed m in d : the jok e. N eith er reaches its ob ject, the ego w om en no m ore than the jo k e w ords. D ecom position has taken the place o f procreation, strid en cy that o f secrecy. N ow , h ow ever, they shim m er in the most w insom e n uan ces: in the repartee lust com es into its ow n, and in onanism , the jok e. K rau s portrayed him self as hopelessly subjugated to the d em on ; in the p an dem on iu m o f the age he reserved for him self the most m elan ch oly place in the icy wilderness lit b y reflected flam es. T h ere he stands on the L ast D a y o f M a n k in d the g ru m b le r w ho has described the p reced in g days. I h ave taken the traged y, w hich is d ivid ed into the scenes o f d eca yin g h u m an ity, on m yself, so that it m ight be heard by the spirit w ho takes pity on the victim s, even though he m ay have renounced for all tim e his connection w ith a hum an ear. M a y he receive the keynote o f this age, the echo o f m y bloodstained m adness, through w hich I share the gu ilt for

274
these noises. M a y he accept it as red em p tio n ! I share the guilt. . . . Because this has the ring o f the m an i festoes o f an intelligentsia seeking to call to m ind the m em ory o f an epoch that seemed to be turnin g a w ay from it, there is som e thing to be said abou t this gu ilt feeling in w hich private and historical consciousness so viv id ly m eet. T his gu ilt w ill alw ays lead to Expressionism , from w hich his m ature w ork was nourished by roots that cracked open their soil. T h e slogans are w ell k n o w n w ith w hat scorn did not K rau s him self register them : geballf , gestuft , sentences, gesteilt [clenched, stepped, steeped], stage sets, the paintings w ere com posed. U n m is ta k a b le and

Expressionists them selves proclaim it is the influence o f early m edieval m iniatures on the w orld o f their im agination . But anyon e w ho exam ines their figu res for exam ple, in the V ie n n a G enesis is struck by som ething very m ysterious, not only in their w ideopen eyes, not only in the u n fath om ab le folds o f their garm ents, b ut also in their w hole expression. As if falling sickness had over taken them thus, in their runn ing that is alw ays precipitous, they lean tow ard one another. In clin a tio n m ay be seen, before all else, as the deep hum an affect trem ulously pervad in g the w orld o f these m iniatures, as it does the m anifestoes o f that generation o f poets. But on ly one, as it were in w a rd ly curved, aspect is revealed by the front o f these figures. T h e sam e phenom enon appears quite different to som eone w ho looks at their backs. T hese backs are p ile d in the saints o f the adorations, in the servants o f the G ethsem ane scene, in the witnesses o f the entrance into Jeru salem into terraces o f hum an necks, o f hum an shoulders that, really clenched in steep steps, lead less tow ard heaven than d ow n w ard , to and even under the earth. It is im possible to find for their em otional im pact an expression th at ignores the fact that they could be clim b ed like heaped rocks or rough-hew n steps. W h a tev er powers m ay have fought out their spiritual battles on these shoulders, one o f them , from our experience o f the condition o f the defeated masses im m ed iately after the end o f the w ar, w e are able to call by its nam e. W h a t finally rem ained o f Expressionism , in w hich an o rigin ally hum an im pulse was converted alm ost w ith ou t

Karl Kraus

.275

residue into a fashion, was the experience and the nam e o f that nam eless pow er tow ard w hich the backs o f people bent: gu ilt. T h a t an obed ien t mass is led into d anger not by an unknow n w ill b u t by an unknow n gu ilt, makes them p itia b le , K rau s w rote as ea rly as 1912. As a g ru m b le r he particip ates in their lot in order to denounce them , and denounces them in order to pa rtici pate. T o m eet them throu gh sacrifice he one day threw h im self into the arms o f the C a th o lic C h u rch . In those biting m inuets that K rau s w histled to the chasse-croise o f J u stitia and V en u s, the leitm o tif that the Philistine know s n othin g o f lo v e is articu lated w ith a sharpness and persistence that have a coun terpart on ly in the correspon din g attitu d e o f decadence, in the p roclam ation o f art for a r ts sake. For it was precisely art for a rts sake, w hich for the decaden t m ovem ent applies to love as w ell, that linked expertise as closely as possible to craftsm anship, to tech n iqu e, and allow ed poetry to shine at its brightest only against the foil o f hack w riting, as it m ade love stand out against perversion. P enury can turn every m an into a jou rn alist, but not every w om an into a p ro stitu te. the false bottom In this form ulation K rau s b etrayed o f his polem ic

against journ alism . It is m uch less the ph ilanthropist, the en ligh t ened friend o f m an and nature, w ho unleashed this im p lacab le struggle, than the literary expert, artiste, indeed the d an d y w ho has his forebear in B aud elaire. O n ly B au d elaire hated as K rau s did the satiety o f h ealth y com m on sense, and the com prom ise that intellectuals m ade w ith it in order to find shelter in jou rnalism . J ournalism is b etrayal o f the literary life, o f m ind, o f the dem on. Id le ch atter is its true substance, and every feuilleton poses anew the insoluble question o f the relationship betw een the forces o f stup id ity and m alice, whose expression is gossip. It is, fu n d a m en tally, the com plete agreem en t o f tw o form s o f existence life under the aegis o f m ere m ind or o f m ere se x u a lity in w hich is founded that solidarity o f the m an o f letters w ith the w hore to w h ich B au d ela ires existence is once again the most in violab le testim ony. So K rau s can call by their nam e the laws o f his ow n craft, entw ined w ith those o f sexuality, as he did in the Wall o f

2 j6 China. T h e m an has wrestled a thousand times w ith the other, w ho perhaps does not live, but whose victory over him is certain. N ot because he has superior qualities but because he is the other, the late-com er, w ho brings the w om an the jo y o f v a riety and w ill trium ph as the last in the sequence. But they rub it from her brow like a bad dream , and w ant to be the first. N ow if la n g u a g e this we read betw een the lines is a w om an, how far is the author rem oved, by an un erring instinct, from those w ho hasten to be the first w ith her, how m ultifariously he forms his thought, w hich incites her w ith intuition, rather than slake her w ith know ledge, how he lets hatred, contem pt, m alice ensnare one another, how he slows his step and seeks the d etou r o f follow ership, in order finally to end her jo y in variety w ith the last thrust that J a ck holds in readiness for L u lu . T h e life o f letters is existence under the aegis o f m ere m ind, as prostitution is existence under the aegis o f mere sexuality. T h e dem on, how ever, w ho leads the w hore to the street exiles the m an o f letters to the courtroom . T h is is therefore for K rau s the forum that it has alw ays been for the great jo u rn a lis t for a C arrel, a Paul-Louis C ourier, a Lassalle. E vasion o f the genuine and dem onic function o f m ere m ind, to be a disturber o f the p eace; abstention from atta ck in g the whore from b e h in d K rau s sees this double omission as defin ing the jou rn alist. R o b ert Scheu rig h tly perceived that for K ra u s prostitution was a n atural form , not a social deform ation, o f fem ale sexuality. Y e t it is only the en tanglem en t o f sexual w ith com m ercial intercourse that constitutes the ch aracter o f prostitution. It is a natural phenom enon as m uch in terms o f its natural econom ic aspect, as a m anifestation o f com m od ity exchange, as in terms o f its n atu ral sexuality. C o n tem p t for prostitution? / H arlots worse than thieves? / L earn this: not on ly is love paid, / but paym ent, too, w ins lo v e ! T his a m b ig u ity this double nature as tw ofold n atu raln ess makes prostitution dem onic. But K rau s enlists w ith the pow er o f n a tu re. T h a t the sociological area never becom es transparent to h im no m ore in his attack on the press than in his defence o f prostitu tion is conn ected to this attach m en t to nature. T h a t to him the fit state o f m an appears

Karl Kraus

277

not as the destiny and fulfilm ent o f n ature liberated through revo lu tio n a ry chan ge, but as an elem ent o f nature per se, o f an a rch a ic nature w ith ou t history, in its pristine, prim eval state, throw s u n certain, d isqu ieting reflections even on his idea o f free dom and o f h um an ity. It is not rem oved from the realm o f gu ilt that he has traversed from pole to pole: from m ind to sexuality. In face o f this reality, how ever, to w hich K ra u s exposed h im self m ore h arro w in g ly than any other, the pure m in d that his followers w orship in the m asters activity is revealed as a worthless chim era. For this reason, none o f the m otives for his developm ent is m ore im p ortan t than the continuous cu rb in g and checking o f m ind. By Might, he entitles the logbook o f this control. For night is the m echanism by w h ich m ere m ind is converted into m ere sexuality, m ere sexuality into m ere m ind, and w here these two abstractions hostile to life find rest in recogn izin g each other. I w ork d a y and night. So I h ave a lot o f free tim e. T o ask a picture in the room how it likes w ork, to ask the clock w hether it is tired and the night how it has slep t. T h ese questions are sacrificial gifts that he throws to the dem on w hile w orking. His night, how ever, is not m aternal, or a m oonlit, rom an tic n igh t: it is the hour betw een sleeping and w akin g, the night w a tch , the cen trepiece o f his threefold so litu d e: th at o f the coffeehouse w here he is alone w ith his enem y, o f the n octu rn al room w here he is alone w ith his dem on, o f the lecture hall w here he is alone w ith his w ork.

I I I . M onster
A lre a d y the snow falls. Words in Verse I II

Satire is the only legitim ate form o f regional art. This, how ever, was not w h at people m eant by callin g K rau s a V ienn ese satirist. R a th e r, they w ere a ttem p tin g to shunt him for as long as possible into this siding w here his w ork could be assim ilated in the great store

278 o f literary consum er goods. T h e presentation o f K rau s as a satirist can thus yield the deepest insight both into w hat he is and into his most m elan choly caricature. For this reason, he was at pains from the first to distinguish the genuine satirist from the scribblers w ho m ake a trade o f m ockery and in their invectives have little m ore in m ind than givin g the pu blic som ething to lau gh about. In contrast, the great type o f the satirist never had firm er ground under his feet than am id a generation abou t to board tanks and put on gas masks, a m ankind that has run out o f tears but not o f lau gh ter. In him civilizatio n prepares to survive, if it must, and com m unicates w ith him in the true m ystery o f satire, w hich consists in the d evourin g o f the adversary. T h e satirist is the figure in w hom the can nib al was received into civilizatio n . His recollection o f his origin is not w ith ou t filial piety, so that the proposal to eat people has becom e an essential constituent o f his inspiration, from S w ifts pertinent project concern in g the use o f the children o f the less w ealth y classes, to L eon B lo y s suggestion that landlords o f insol vent lodgers be conceded a right to the sale o f their flesh. In such directives the great satirists have taken the m easure o f the hu m anity o f their fellow men. H u m an ity, cu ltu re, and freedom are precious things that cannot be bough t d early enough w ith blood, u n d er standing, and hum an d ign ity thus K rau s concludes the dispute betw een the can n ib al and hum an rights. It should be com pared to M a r x s treatm ent o f the Jew ish q u estion , in order to ju d g e how totally this p layfu l reaction o f 1909 the reaction against the clas sical ideal o f h u m a n ity was likely to becom e a confession o f m aterialist hum anism at the first opportu n ity. A d m itted ly, one w ould need to understand Die Fackel from the first n u m ber on literally w ord for w ord to predict that this aesthetically oriented journalism , w ith ou t sacrificing or gain in g a single m otif, was destined to becom e the political prose o f 1930. For that it had to thank its p artner, the press, w hich disposed o f hu m an ity in the w ay to w hich K ra u s alludes in these w ords: H um an rights are the fragile toy that grow nups like to tram p le on and so w ill not give u p . T h u s d ra w in g the frontier betw een the private and p u b lic spheres, w hich in 1789 was supposed to in au gu rate freedom , be

Karl Kraus

2 jg

cam e a m ockery. T h ro u g h the n ew sp ap er, says K ierk ega a rd , the distin ction b etw een p u b lic and private affairs is abolished in p riva te-p u b lic prattle. . . . T o open a d ialectica l d eb ate betw een the p u b lic and private zones that com m ingle d em o n ica lly in prattle, to lead m aterialist h u m a n ity to victory, that is the Purpose o f the o p eretta that K rau s discovered and in O ffe n b a c h * raised to its most expressive level. Ju st as p rattle seals the enslavem ent o f lan gu age w ith stup id ity, so op eretta transfigures stupidity through music. T o fail to recogn ize the b ea u ty o f fem inine stu p id ity was for K rau s alw ays the blackest Philistinism . Before its rad ian ce the chim eras o f progress evaporate. A n d in O ffe n b a c h s op eretta the bourgeois trin ity o f true, beautiful, and good is b rou gh t together, freshly rehearsed and w ith m usical accom p an im en t, in its star turn on the trap eze o f stupidity. N onsense is true, stu p id ity beautiful, weakness good. T h is is O ffe n b a c h s secret: how in the deep nonsense o f p u b lic d iscip lin e w h eth er it be o f the u p p er ten thousand, a dance floor, or a m ilitary sta te the deep sense o f private licen tiousness opens a d ream y eye. A n d w h at as lan gu age m ight have been ju d ic ia l strictness, ren u n ciation , discrim ination, becom es cu n n in g and evasion, ob stru ction and postponem ent, as m usic. M u sic as the preserver o f the m oral order? M u sic as the police o f a w orld o f pleasure? Y es, that is the splendour that falls on the old Paris ballroom s, on the G ran d e C h au m iere, the Closerie des L ilas in his perform ance o f La Vie Parisienne. A n d the inim itab le d u p licity o f this m usic, w h ich sim ultaneously puts a plus and a m inus sign before ev eryth in g it says, b etray in g id yll to parod y, m ock ery to lyricism ; the ab u n d an ce o f m usical devices read y to perform all duties, u n itin g pain and p leasu re this gift is here d eveloped to its purest p itc h . A n a rc h y as the only internation al constitution that is m oral and w orth y o f m an becom es the true m usic o f these operettas. T h e voice o f K rau s speaks, rather than sings, this inn er m usic. It whistles b itin g ly abou t the peaks o f d izzy in g stup id ity, reverb erates shatterin gly from the abyss o f the absurd, and in F rescata s lines it hums, like the w ind in the
* K a rl K rau s translated and edited O ffe n b a c h s La Vie Parisienne.
[n l b ]

280 chim ney, a requiem to the generation o f our grandfathers.

O ffe n b a c h s w ork is touched by the pangs o f death. It contracts, rids itself o f everyth in g superfluous, passes through the dangerous span o f this existence and re-em erges saved, more real than before. For where this fickle voice is heard, the ligh tn in g flashes o f the advertisem ents and the thunder o f the M etro cleave the Paris o f the om nibuses and the gas flames. A n d the w ork gives him all this in return. For at m om ents it is transform ed into a cu rtain , and w ith the w ild gestures o f a fairgrou n d showm an w ith w h ich he accom panies the w hole perform ance, K rau s tears aside this curtain and suddenly reveals the interior o f his cabinet o f horrors. T h ere they stan d: Schober, Bekessy, K err, and the other skits, no longer enemies but curiosities, heirloom s from the w orld o f O ffen b ach or N estroy, no, older, rarer still, lares o f the troglodytes, household gods o f stupidity from prehistoric times. K rau s, in his recitals, does not speak the words o f O ffen b ach or N estroy: they speak from him. A n d now and then a b reathtaking, h alf-blan k, half-glittering w h orem on gers glance falls on the crow d before him, invitin g them to the un holy m arriage w ith the masks in w hich they do not recogn ize them selves, and for the last tim e invokes his evil privilege o f am bigu ity. It is only now that the satirists true face, or rather true mask, is revealed. It is the mask o f T im on , the m isanthrope. Shakespeare had foreknow ledge o f everyth in g yes. But above all o f K rau s. Shakespeare portrays inhum an figu res and T im on as the most inhum an o f th e m and says: N atu re w ould produce such a creature if she w ished to create som ething befitting the w orld as your kind have fashioned it, som ething w orthy o f it. Such a creature is T im o n ; such is K rau s. N either has, or wants, a n y th in g in com m on w ith men. A n anim al feud is on, and so w e renounce h u m a n ity ; from a rem ote village in the Swiss m ountains K rau s throws dow n this challen ge to m ankind, and T im o n w ants only the sea to w eep at his grave. L ike T im o n s verse, K r a u s s poetry stands opposite the colon o f the dramatis persona, o f the role. A fool, a C alib an , a T im o n no m ore thoughtful, no m ore dign ified or b etter but, nevertheless, his ow n Shakespeare. A ll the figures

Karl Kraus

281

th ron gin g abou t him should be seen as o rigin atin g in Shakespeare. A lw a y s he is the m odel, w h eth er K rau s speaks w ith W ein in g er a b ou t m an or w ith A lte n b e rg abou t w om en, w ith W ed ekin d a b o u t the stage or w ith Loos a b ou t food, w ith Else L ask er-S ch u ler a b o u t the J ew s or w ith T h e o d o r H a eck er abou t the C hristians. T h e po w er o f the dem on ends in this realm . His dem i- or sub-hum an traits are con q u ered b y a truly in h u m an being, a m onster. K rau s hinted at this in the words In me a ca p a city for psych ology is united w ith the greater cap acity to ign ore the p sych o lo g ica l. It is the in h u m an q u a lity o f the actor that he pre-em pts in these w o r d s: the can n ib al q u ality . For in each o f his roles the actor assim ilates b o d ily a h u m an being, and in S h akesp eares b aroq u e tirad es w hen the can n ib al is unm asked as the better m an, the hero as an actor, w h en T im o n plays the rich m an, H am let the m a d m a n it is as i f his lips d rip p ed blood. So K ra u s, follow ing S h akesp eares exam p le, w rote h im self parts that let him taste blood. T h e en d u ran ce o f his convictions is persistence in a role, in its stereotypes, its cues. His experiences are in their en tirety nothing but this: cues. T h is is w h y he insists on them , d em an d in g them o f existence like an actor w ho never forgives a partner for d en yin g him his cue. T h e O ffe n b a c h readings, the recited o f couplets from N estroy, are bereft o f all m usical m eans. T h e w ord n ever gives w ay to the in strum en t; but by exten d in g its boundaries further and fu rther it fin ally enfeebles itself, dissolving into a m erely anim al vo ice: a h u m m in g that is to the w ord w h at his smile is to the jo k e is the h oly o f holies o f this perfo rm ers art. In this sm ile, this h u m m in g in w hich, as in a crater lake am id the most m onstrous crags an d cinders, the w orld is p e acefu lly and con ten ted ly m irrored, irrupts the deep com p licity w ith his listeners and m odels that K ra u s has never allow ed to enter his w ords. His service to the w orld perm its no com prom ise. But as soon as he turns his b ack on it, he is rea d y for a good m any. T h e n is felt the torm enting, in exh au stible ch arm o f these recitals: that o f seeing the distinction b etw een like and unlike m inds ann ulled, and the hom ogeneous mass o f false friends created , that sets the tone o f these perform ances. K rau s confronts a w orld o f enemies, seeks to coerce them to love and yet coerces

282 them to n othin g but hypocrisy. His defencelessness before the latter has a precise connection to the subversive dilettantism that is p articu la rly predom in an t in the O ffen b ach perform ances. H ere K rau s confines m usic to limits n arro w er than were ever dream ed o f in the m anifestoes o f the G eorge school. T h is cannot, o f course, obscure the antithesis betw een the linguistic gestures o f both m en. R ath er, an exact correlation exists betw een the factors that give K rau s access to the two poles o f linguistic expression the en feebled pole o f h um m in g and the arm ed pole o f path os and those w hich forbid his sanctification o f the w ord to take on the forms o f the G eorgean cult o f language. T o the cosm ic rising and fallin g that for G eorge deifies the b od y and em bodies the d ivin e , lan gu age is on ly the J a c o b s lad d er w ith its ten thousand w ordrungs. K r a u s s lan guage, by contrast, has done a w ay w ith all hieratic m om ents. It is the m edium neither o f clairvoyan ce nor o f dom ination. It is the theatre o f a sanctification o f the n a m e w ith the Jew ish certain ty it sets itself against the theurgy o f the w o rd -b o d y . V e r y late, w ith a decisiveness that must have m atured in years o f silence, K rau s entered the lists against the great partner whose w ork had arisen at the same tim e as his ow n, beneath the threshold o f the cen tury. G eo rg es first published book and the first volu m e o f Die Fackel are dated 1899. A n d only retrospectively, A fter T h irty Y e a r s , in 1929, did K ra u s issue the challenge. T h ere, as the zealot, he confronts G eorge, the object o f w orship,
w ho in the tem ple dwells from w hich he never had to drive the traders and the lenders, nor yet the pharisees and scribes who, therefore, cam ped abou t the place, describe it. Profanum vulgus praises this renouncer w ho never told it w hat it ought to hate. A n d he w ho found the goal before the w ay did not com e from the source.

Y o u cam e from the source the source is the go a l is received by the D y in g M a n as G o d s com fort and prom ise. T o this K rau s alludes here, as does V iertel w hen, in the same w ay as K raus, he calls the w orld a w rong, d eviatin g, circuitous w ay back

Karl Kraus

283

to p a ra d ise . A n d so, he continues in this most im portan t passage o f his essay on K ra u s, I attem pt to interpret the d ev elo p m ent o f this rem ark ab le talen t: in tellectu ality as a deviation . . . lead in g b ack to im m ed ia c y ; p u b lic ity a false trail b ack to la n g u a g e ; sa tire a d etou r to p o etry . T his sou rce the pheno m en on s seal o f a u th e n tic ity is the subject o f a discovery that has a curious elem ent o f rediscovery. T h e theatre o f this ph ilosophical recogn ition scene in K r a u s s w ork is poetry, and its lan gu ag e rh ym e: A w ord that never lies at source and that, ju st as blessedness has its source at the end o f tim e, has its at the end o f the line. R h y m e tw o putti b earin g the dem on to its grave. It died at its source because it cam e into the w orld as a h ybrid o f m ind and sexuality. Its sword and sh ield concept and g u ilt have fallen from its hands to becom e em blem s beneath the feet o f the angel that killed it. T h is is a poetic, m artial angel w ith a foil in his hand, as on ly B au d elaire knew him : practisin g alone fantastic sw ords m a n sh ip ,
Flairant dans tous les coins les hasards de la rime, Trebuchant sur les mots comme sur les paves, Heurtant parfois des vers depuis longtemps reves. (Scenting rh ym es h azards in every corner, S tu m b lin g on w ords as on uneven pavem ents, Jostlin g now and then lon g-d ream ed-o f lines.)

Also a licentious angel, to be sure, here chasing a m etap hor that has ju st turned the corner, there co u p lin g words like a procurer, pervertin g phrases, in fatu ated w ith sim ilarities, bliss fully abusin g chiastic em braces, alw ays on the look-out for a d ven ture, im p a tien t and hesitant to consum m ate in jo y and to rm en t. So fin a lly the hedonistic m om ent o f the w ork finds its purest expression in this m elan ch oly and fantastic relationship to existence in w h ich K rau s, in the V ienn ese tradition o f R a im u n d and G ira rd i, arrives at a concep tion o f happiness that is as resigned as it is sensual. This m ust be borne in m ind i f one is to understand the u rgen cy w ith w hich he opposed the d an cin g pose affected by N ie tzsc h e not to m ention the w rath w ith w hich the m onster w as b ou n d to greet the S u p erm an . T h e child recognizes by rh ym e that it has reached the sum m it o f

284 lan guage, from w hich it can hear at their source the rushing o f all springs. U p there creaturely existence is at hom e; after so m uch dum bness in the anim al and so m uch lyin g in the w hore, it has found its tongue in the child. A good brain must be cap ab le o f im aginin g each fibre o f childhood w ith all its phenom ena so intensely that tem perature is raised in statem ents such as this K rau s aims further than it appears. H e himself, at any rate, satisfied this requirem ent to the extent that he never envisaged the child as the object o f education but, in an im age from his own youth, as the antagonist o f ed u cation w ho is educated by this antagonism , not by the educator. N ot the cane was to be abolished, but the teacher w ho uses it b a d ly . K rau s wants to be n othin g except the teacher w ho uses it better. T h e lim it o f his p h ilan th ro p y, his pity, is m arked by the cane, w hich he first felt in the same class at school to w hich he owes his best poem s. I am only one o f the late follow ers K rau s is a late follow er o f the school anthologies. T h e G erm an B o y s T a b le G r a c e , Siegfrieds S w o rd , T h e G rav e in the B usento , K aiser K a rl Inspects a S ch o o l these w ere his m odels, p o etically re created by the atten tive pupil w ho learned them . So the Steeds o f G ra v elo tte becam e the poem T o E ternal P ea ce , and even the most incandescent o f his hate poems w ere ignited by H o lty s Forest F ire , the glow o f w hich p ervad ed the anthologies o f our school days. A n d if on the last d ay not on ly the graves but the school anthologies open, to the tune o f H ow the trum pets blow , Hussars a w a y , the true Pegasus o f the little folk w ill burst from them and, a shrivelled m um m y, a pu p pet o f cloth or yellow ish ivory, h anging dead and dried up over the shoulders o f his horse, this un paralleled fashioner o f verses w ill go careening off; but the tw o-edged sabre in his hand, polished as his rhym es and incisive as on the First D a y , w ill belab ou r the green woods, and bloom s o f style bestrew the ground. L an gu a ge has never been m ore perfectly distinguished from mind, never m ore intim ately bound to Eros, than by K rau s in the observation T h e more closely you look at a w ord the m ore distantly it looks b a c k . T his is a P laton ic love o f lan gu age.

Karl Kraus

285

T h e o n ly closeness from w h ich the w ord can n o t escape, how ever, is rh ym e. So the prim al erotic relationship b etw een closeness and distance is given voice in his la n gu a g e: as rh ym e and nam e. As rhym e, lan gu age rises up from the creatu rely w orld ; as nam e, it draw s all creation up to it. In T h e F orsaken the most ard en t in terp en etration o f lan gu a g e and Eros, as K rau s experienced them , expresses itself w ith an innocent gran d eu r that recalls the perfect G reek epigram s and vase pictures. T h e F orsaken are forsaken by each other. B u t this is their great so la ce... also w ith each other. O n the threshold betw een d yin g and rebirth they pause. W ith head turned back, jo y in u n h ea rd -o f fashion takes her eternal lea ve ; turned from her the soul in u n w an ted fashion silently sets foot in an alien w orld. T h u s forsaken w ith each oth er are jo y and soul, but also lan gu age and Eros, also rhym e and nam e. T o T h e F orsaken the fifth volu m e o f Words in Verse is d ed icated . O n ly the d ed ication now reaches them , w hich is n oth in g other than avow a l o f P laton ic love, w hich does not satisfy its desire in w hat it loves, but possesses and holds it in nam e. T h is self-obsessed m an know s no other self-renunciation than g iv in g thanks. His love is not possession, but gratitu d e. T h a n k in g and d e d ic a tin g for to than k is to put feelings under a nam e. H o w the b eloved grows distant and lustrous, how her m inuteness and her glo w w ith d raw into nam e, that is the on ly experience o f love know n to Words in Verse. A n d , therefore, T o live w ithou t w om en, how e a sy to have lived w ith o u t w om en, how h a rd . F rom w ith in the linguistic com pass o f the m an, and only from w ithin it, can w e discern K r a u s s basic polem ical proced u re: q u otation . T o quote a w ord is to call it by its nam e. So K r a u s s a ch ievem en t exhausts itself at its highest level by m akin g even the n ew spaper q u otab le. H e transports it to his ow n sphere, and the em p ty phrase is sudden ly forced to recognize that even in the deepest dregs o f the jo u rn a ls it is not safe from the voice that swoops on the w ings o f the w ord to d rag it from its darkness. H ow w on d erful, i f this voice approaches not to punish but to save, as it does on the Shakespearean w ings o f the lines in w hich, before A rras, som eone sends w ord hom e o f how in the early m orning, on

286 the last blasted tree before the fortifications, a lark began to sing. A single line, and not even one o f his, is enough to enable K rau s to descend, as saviour, into this inferno, a single ita lic iz a tio n : It was a n ightin gale and not a lark w hich sat there on the p o m egranate tree and san g. * In the q uotation that both saves and chastises, lan gu age proves the m atrix o f ju stice. It sum m ons the w ord by its nam e, w renches it destructively from its context, but precisely thereby calls it b ack to its origin. It appears, now w ith rh ym e and reason, sonorously, congruously in the structure o f a new text. As rhym e it gathers the sim ilar into its a u ra ; as nam e it stands alone and expressionless. In quotation the two realm s o f origin and d estruction ju stify them selves before lan gu age. A n d conversely, only where they in terp en etrate in q u o ta tio n is lan gu ag e con sum m ated. In it is m irrored the angelic tongue in w hich all w ords, startled from the id yllic context o f m eaning, have becom e mottoes in the book o f C reatio n . From its tw o p o les classical and m aterialist h u m an ism the w hole w orld o f this m an s culture is em braced by q u otation . Schiller, a d m itted ly unnam ed, stands beside Shakespeare: T h ere is also a m oral nobility. M ean natures pay/W ith that w hich they do, noble w ith that w hich they a re this classical distich ch ara c terizes, in the convergence o f m anorial noblesse and cosm opolitan rectitude, the utopian vanishing point w here W eim ar hum anism was at home, and w hich was finally fixed by Stifter. It is decisive for K rau s that he locates origin at ex a ctly this van ishing point. It is his program m e to reverse the d evelopm ent o f bourgeoiscapitalist affairs to a condition that was never theirs. But he is nonetheless the last bourgeois to claim his ju stification from Being, and Expressionism was portentous for him because in it this attitude had for the first tim e to prove its w orth in face o f a revo lu tion ary situation. It was precisely the attem p t to do ju stice to this situation not by actions but by B eing that led Expressionism to its clenched ensteepm ents. So it becam e the last historical refuge o f personality. T h e gu ilt that bow ed it and the purity it p ro cla im ed
* Granat means po m egran ate ; Granate, gren ad e or shell [Trans.].

Karl Kraus

287

both are part o f the ph an tom o f the u n p olitical or n a tu ra l m an w h o em erges at the end o f that regression and was unm asked by M a rx. M a n as m em ber o f bourgeois so ciety , writes M a rx , the u n p o litical m an, necessarily appears as the n atural m an. . . . P olitical revolution dissolves bourgeois life into its com p o n en t parts w ith ou t revo lu tion izin g or criticizin g these com ponents them selves. It stands to bourgeois society, to the w orld o f needs, w ork, p rivate interests, p riva te right, in the sam e relation as to the fou n d atio n o f its existence . . . and therefore to its n atural basis. . . . T h e real m an is ack n ow led ged only in the form o f the egoistical in d iv id u a l, the true m an on ly in the form o f the abstract citoyen. . . . O n ly w hen the really in d iv id u a l m an takes b ack into him self the abstract citizen and, as an in d ivid u a l m an, has becom e in his em p irical life, in his in d iv id u a l w ork, in his in d iv id u a l circu m stan ces a species-being . . . an d therefore no lon ger separates social pow er from h im self in the form o f political pow er, only then is hum an em an cipation co m p le te . The m aterialist hum anism w hich M a rx here opposes to its classical cou n terp art m anifests itself for K rau s in the child , and the d evelop in g hum an b ein g raises his face against the idols o f ideal m a n the rom an tic child o f n ature as m uch as the du tifu l citizen. F or the sake o f such d evelop m en t K rau s revised the school an th ology, investigated G erm an ed ucation, and found it tossing helplessly on the w aves o f jo u rn a listic caprice. H en ce the L yric o f the G erm an s : H e w ho can is their m an and not he w ho must, / they strayed from being to seem ing. / T h e ir lyrical case was not C lau d iu s / but H e in e . T h e fact, how ever, that the d evelop in g m an a ctu a lly takes form not w ithin the n atu ral sphere but in that o f m ankind , in the struggle for liberation , and that he is recogn ized by the posture that the fight w ith exp loitation and p o verty stam p upon him, that there is no idealistic but only a m aterialistic d elivera n ce from m yth, and that at the origin o f creation stands not pu rity bu t p u rifica tio n all this did not leave its trace on K r a u s s m aterialist hum anism until very late. O n ly in despair did he discover in q u otation the pow er not to preserve but to purify, to tear from context, to destroy; the on ly pow er in w hich hope still resides that

288 som ething m ight survive this a g e because it was w renched from it. H ere we find confirm ation that all the m artial energies o f this m an are inn ate civic v irtu es; only in the melee did they take on their com bative aspect. But alread y no one recognizes them any m ore; no one can grasp the necessity that com pelled this great bourgeois character to becom e a com edian, this gu ard ian o f G oeth ean linguistic values a polem icist, or w h y this irrep ro ach a b ly h on our able m an w en t beserk. This, how ever, was bound to happen, since he thought fit to begin ch an gin g the w orld w ith his ow n class, in his own hom e, in V ien n a. A n d w hen, recogn izin g the fu tility o f his enterprise, he abru p tly broke it off, he placed the m atter back in the hands o f n a tu re this tim e destructive, not creative n a tu r e :
L e t tim e stand still! Sun, be co n su m m ate! M ak e great the e n d ! A n n ou nce e te rn ity ! Rise up w ith m enace, let y o u r ligh t boom thunder, T h a t our strident death be silenced. Y o u golden bell, melt in you r ow n heat, M ake you rself a gun against the cosm ic fo e ! Shoot firebrands in his face! H a d I b ut Josh u as pow er, I tell you, G ib eon w ould be a g a in !

O n this unfettered nature K r a u s s later political credo is founded, though in antithesis to Stifters p a triarch al cod e; it is a confession that is in every respect astonishing, but incom prehensible on ly in the fact that it has not been preserved in D ie Fackels largest type, and that this most pow erful o f post-w ar bourgeois prose must be sought in a vanished edition o f the issue o f N ovem ber 1920: W h a t I m ean is and now for once I shall speak p lain ly to this d ehum anized brood o f owners o f property and blood, and all their followers, because they do not understand G erm an and from m y contrad ictions are in ca p a b le o f d ed u cin g m y true intention . . . w hat I m ean is: C om m u nism as a reality is on ly the obverse o f their own life-violatin g ideology, ad m itted ly by the grace o f a purer ideal origin, a d eran ged rem edy w ith a purer ideal purp o se the devil take its practice, but G od preserve it as a constant threat over the heads o f those w ho have p rop erty and

Karl Kraus

289

w ould like to com pel all others to preserve it, d rivin g them , w ith the consolation that w o rld ly goods are not the highest, to the fronts o f hunger and patriotic honour. G od preserve it, so that this rab ble w ho are beside them selves w ith brazenness do not grow m ore b razen still, and so that the society o f those exclusively en titled to enjoym ent, who believe it is lovin g subordinate h u m an ity enough i f they give it syphilis, m ay at least go to bed w ith a n ig h tm a re! So that at least they m ay lose their appetite for p rea ch in g m orality to their victim s, take less d elight in rid icu lin g th e m ! A h um an, n atural, n oble la n g u a g e p a rticu la rly in the light o f a n otew o rth y d eclaration by Loos: I f hu m an w ork consists only o f destruction, it is tru ly hum an, n atu ral, noble w o rk . For far too long the accen t was placed on creativity. People are on ly creative to the extent that they avoid tasks and supervision. W o rk as a supervised ta sk its m odel: p o litical and techn ical w o rk is atten d ed by dirt and detritus, intrudes d estru ctively into m atter, is abrasive to w h at is a lrea d y achieved , critical tow ard its conditions, and is in all this opposite to that o f the dilettan te lu x u ria tin g in creation. His w ork is innocent and pure, consum ing and pu rifyin g masterliness. A n d therefore the m onster stands am ong us as the m essenger o f a m ore real hum anism . H e is the con q u eror o f the em pty phrase. H e feels solid arity not w ith the slender pine but w ith the plane that devours it, not w ith the precious ore but w ith the blast furnace that purifies it. T h e average E u ro p ea n has not succeeded in un iting his life w ith techn ology, because he has clun g to the fetish o f creative existence. O n e m ust have follow ed Loos in his struggle w ith the d ragon orn am en t , heard the stellar E speranto o f S ch eerb a rts creations, or seen K le e s New Angel, w ho preferred to free m en by taking from them , rather than m ake them h a p p y by givin g to them , to understand a h u m a n ity that proves itself b y destruction. J ustice, therefore, is destructive in opposing the constructive am biguities o f law , and d estru ctively K rau s did ju stice to his ow n w ork: A ll m y errors stay behind to le a d . T h is is a sober lan gu age that bases its dom inan ce on perm anence, and the w ritings o f K rau s

290
have a lread y begun to last, so that he m ight furnish them w ith an epigraph from now L ich ten b erg, than w ho d edicated one o f his most his form er self-assertion, w hich profound works to Y o u r M ajesty Forgetfulness . So his m odesty a p p ears bolder dissolved in dem on ic self-reflection. N either pu rity nor sacrifice m astered the dem on ; but w here origin and destruction com e together, his rule is over. L ike a creatu re sprung from the child and the can n ib al his conqueror stands before him : not a new m an ; a monster, a new angel. Perhaps one o f those who, acco rd in g to the T a lm u d , are at each m om ent created anew in countless throngs, and who, once they have raised their voices before G od , cease and pass into nothingness. L am en tin g, chastising, or rejoicin g? No m a tter on this evanescent voice the ephem eral w ork o f K ra u s is m odelled. A n g e lu s that is the m essenger in the old engravings.

'9 3 0 31

A Berlin Chronicle
For my dear Stefan

N ow let me call b ack those w ho introd u ced me to the city. For a lth ou gh the child, in his solitary gam es, grow s up at closest quarters to the city, he needs and seeks guides to its w ider expanses, and the first o f these for a son o f w ealth y m iddle-class parents like m e are sure to h ave been nursem aids. W ith them I w ent to the Z o o a lth ou gh I recall it on ly from m uch later, w ith b larin g m ilitary bands and S can d al A v e n u e (as the adherents o f art nouveau d u b bed this p ro m en a d e) or, if not to the Zoo, to the T ierg a rten . I believe the first street that I discovered in this w ay that no longer had a n yth in g h ab itab le or hospitable abou t it, em a n a tin g forlornness b etw een the shopfronts and even danger at the crossings, was Schillstrasse; I like to im agine that it has altered less than others in the W est E nd and could now accom m od ate a scene rising irresistibly from the m ist: the saving o f the life o f little b ro th er : T h e w ay to the T ierg a rten led over the H erkules B ridge, the g e n tly sloping em b an k m en t o f w hich m ust h ave been the first hillside the child en co u n tere d accen tu ated by the fine stone flanks o f the lion rising above. A t the end o f Bendlerstrasse, how ever, began the lab yrin th , not w ith o u t its A riad n e: the m aze surrounding F red erick W illia m II I and Q u een Louise, w ho, rising sheer from the flow er beds on their illustrated, E m pire-style plinths, seem ed as if petrified by the signs that a little rivulet inscribed in the sand. R a th e r than the figures, m y eyes sought the plinths, since the events takin g place on them , if less clear in their ram ifications, w ere closer in space. But that a particu la r significance attaches to this

293

294
H o h en zollem lab yrin th I find confirm ed even now by the u tterly un concerned, b an al appearan ce o f the forecourt on T ierga rten strasse, w here nothing suggests that you stand but a few yards from the strangest place in the city. A t that tim e, it is true, it must have corresponded m ore than closely to w hat was w aitin g behind it, for here, or not far aw ay, were the haunts o f that A riad n e in whose proxim ity I learned for the first tim e (and was never en tirely to forget) som ething that was to m ake instantly com prehensible a word that at scarcely three I can not have know n: love. H ere the nursem aid supervenes, a cold shadow d rivin g a w ay w h at I loved. It is likely that no one ever masters an yth in g in w h ich he has not know n im poten ce; and if you agree, you w ill also see that this im potence com es not at the begin n in g o f or before the struggle w ith the subject, but in the heart o f it. W h ich brings m e to the m iddle period o f m y life in Berlin, extend in g from the w hole o f m y later childhood to m y entrance to the university: a period o f im potence before the city. T his h ad two sources. First was a very poor sense o f d irection; but if it was thirty years before the distinc tion betw een left and right had b ecom e visceral to me, and before I had acq uired the art o f readin g a street m ap, I was far from a p p re ciatin g the extent o f m y in ep titu d e; and if an yth in g was cap ab le o f increasing m y d isinclination to perceive this fact, it was the insistence w ith w hich m y m other thrust it under m y nose. O n her I lay the b lam e for m y in ab ility even tod ay to m ake a cup o f c o ffe e ; to her propensity for turning the m ost insignificant item s o f con d u ct into tests o f m y aptitude for p ra ctica l life I owe the d ream y recalcitrance w ith w hich I accom p an ied her as w e w alk ed throu gh the streets, rarely frequented by me, o f the city centre. But to this resistance in turn is due w ho know s how m uch that underlies m y present intercourse w ith the c ity s streets. A b o v e all, a gaze that appears to see not a third o f w h a t it takes in. I rem em ber, too, how nothing was more intolerable to m y m other than the p ed an tic care w ith w h ich , on these walks, I alw ays kept h a lf a step behind her. M y h abit o f seem ing slower, m ore m aladroit, m ore stupid than I am , had its origin in such w alks, and has the great a tten d an t danger o f m akin g me think m yself q u icker, m ore dexterous, and

A Berlin Chronicle shrew der than I am .

295

I h ave long, indeed for years, played w ith the idea o f setting out the sphere o flife b io s gra p h ica lly on a m ap. First I envisaged an o rd in ary m ap, but now I w ou ld incline to a general sta ffs m ap o f a city centre, if such a th in g existed. D oubtless it does not, because o f ign oran ce o f the theatre o f future wars. I have evolved a system o f signs, and on the grey back grou n d o f such maps they w ould m ake a colourful show if I clearly m arked in the houses o f m y friends and girl friends, the assem bly halls o f various collectives, from the d eb atin g ch am b ers o f the Y o u th M o vem en t to the ga th e rin g places o f the C om m u n ist you th , the hotel and brothel room s that I knew for one night, the decisive benches in the T ierg a rten , the ways to differen t schools and the graves that I saw filled, the sites o f prestigious cafes whose lon g-forgotten nam es d aily crossed our lips, the tennis courts where em p ty apartm ent blocks stand today, and the halls em b lazoned w ith gold and stucco that the terrors o f d an cin g classes m ade alm ost the equal o f gym nasium s. A n d even w ith out this m ap, I still have the en cou ragem en t provided b y an illustrious precursor, the F renchm an L eon D au det, exem p la ry at least in the title o f his w ork, w hich ex a ctly encom passes the best th a t I m ight ach ieve here: Paris vecu. L iv ed B erlin does not sound so good but is as real. A n d it is not ju st this title that concerns me here; Paris itself is the fourth in the series o f vo lu n tary or in v o lu n tary guides that b egan w ith m y nursem aids. I f I had to pu t in one w ord w hat I ow e to Paris for these reflections, it w ou ld be c a u tio n ; I should scarcely be able to ab an d o n m yself to the shifting currents o f these m em ories o f m y earliest city life, had not Paris set before me, strictly circum scribed, the two forms in w h ich alone this can le g itim a te ly that is, w ith a gu aran tee o f p erm an en ce be don e; and had I not forsworn the attem p t to equal the first as firm ly as I hope one d a y to realize the second. T h e first form was created in the w ork o f M a rce l Proust, and the renu n ciation o f any d allian ce w ith related possibilities could scarcely be m ore b in d in g ly em bodied than in the translation o f it that I have prod uced . R e la te d possibilities do they rea lly exist? T h e y w ou ld certain ly perm it no d allian ce. W h a t Proust began so p la yfu lly

296 becam e aw esom ely serious. H e w ho has once begun to open the fan o f m em ory never comes to the end o f its segm ents; no im age satisfies him , for he has seen that it can be unfolded, and only in its folds does the truth reside; that im age, that taste, that tou ch for whose sake all this has been u nfurled and dissected; and now rem em brance advances from sm all to sm allest details, from the smallest to the infinitesim al, w hile that w hich it encounters in these microcosm s grows ever m ightier. Such is the d ea d ly gam e that Proust began so d illettantishly, in w hich he will h ard ly find m ore successors than he needed com panions. H ow totally unlike this (the m usic at the Zoo) was some other park music that had begun to reach m y ears at an earlier tim e. It cam e from R ousseau Island and drove the skaters loop ing and w hirlin g on N ew L ake. I was am ong them long before I had any conception o f the source o f the islan d s nam e, not to m ention the d ifficulty o f his style. T h ro u gh its position this ice rink was com p arab le to no other, and still m ore b y virtue o f its life throu gh the seasons: for w h at did sum m er m ake o f the rest? T en nis courts. But here, under the overh an gin g branches o f the trees along the bank, stretched a lake connected to lab yrin th in e w aterw ays, and now one skated under the little arched bridges w here in sum m er one had leaned on balustrades, or on chains held by lions m ouths, w atch in g the boats glid ing in the dark w ater. T h ere w ere serpentine paths near the lake and, above all, the tender retreats o f lon ely old men, benches for adults o n ly at the edge o f the sand pit w ith its ditches, w here toddlers dig or stand sunk in thought until b um ped by a playm ate or roused by the voice o f a nursem aid from the bench o f co m m a n d ; there she sits, stem and studious, readin g her novel and keeping the child in check w h ile hard ly raising an eyelid until, her lab ou r done, she changes places w ith the nurse at the other end o f the bench, w ho is h old in g the b ab y betw een her knees and knitting. O ld , solitary m en found their w ay here, p a y in g due honour, am id these scatterbrain ed w om enfolk, am ong the shrieking children , to the serious side o f life : the new spaper. Even if the girl I loved, after tarrying lon g on the paths o f this garden, had left at last, there was now here I liked staying to think o f her

A Berlin Chronicle

29J

better than on a backless bench in one o f those playgrounds, and I never sw ept the sand from w here I was going to sit dow n. A ll these pictures I have preserved. But none w ould b rin g b ack N ew L ak e and a few hours o f m y child h ood so viv id ly as to hear once m ore the bars o f m usic to w hich m y feet, h eavy w ith their skates after a lone excursion across the bustling ice, tou ched the fam iliar planks and stum bled past the chocolate-dispen sing slot m achines, and past the m ore splendid one w ith a hen lay in g can d y-filled eggs, through the d o o rw a y behind w hich glow ed the a n th racite stove, to the bench w here you now savoured for a w hile the w eigh t o f the iron rails on y ou r feet, w hich did not yet reach the grou n d , before resolving to u n bu ck le them . I f you then slow ly rested one c a lf on the other knee and unscrew ed the skate, it was as if in its place you had sud d en ly grow n w ings, and you w ent out w ith steps that nod d ed to the frozen groun d. A n d then m y fifth gu id e : F ran z Hessel. I do not m ean his book On Foot in Berlin , w hich was w ritten later, bu t the Celebration th at our w alks together in Paris received in our n ative city, as if we w ere return in g to harbour, the je tty still rising and falling as on w aves under the feet o f strolling seam en. T h e cen trepiece o f this Celebra tion, h ow ever, was the G reen M e a d o w a bed that still stands high above the couches spreading all arou n d , on w h ich w e com posed a sm all, com plaisan t, orien tally p allid epilogue to those great, sleeping feasts w ith w hich, a few years earlier in Paris, the Surrealists had u n w ittin g ly in au gu rated their reactio n ary career, thus fulfillin g the text that the L ord giveth unto his ow n in sleep. O n this m eadow we spread out such w om en as still am used us at hom e, b ut they w ere few. From beneath low ered lids our gaze often met, better than on d rafty stairw ays, the palm s, carytids, w indow s, and niches from w hich the T ierg a rten m y th o lo g y was evo lvin g as the first ch ap ter o f a science o f this city. It prospered, for we had been astute enough to gather to us girls from the most latin ate q u arter and in gen eral to observe the P arisian custom o f residing in the quartier. T ru e , the quartier in Berlin is u n fortu nately an affair o f the w ell-to-do, and neither W ed d in g nor R e in ick e n d o rf

298 nor T eg el bears com parison on this accou n t w ith M en ilm on tan t, A u teu il, or N eu illy. A ll the m ore gratifyin g, therefore, w ere m arau d in g S u nd ayafternoon excursions on w hich w e discovered an arcad e in the M o ab it q u arter, the Stettin tunnel, or liberty in front o f the W alln er T h ea tre. A girl p h otograp h er was w ith us. A n d it seems to me, as I think o f Berlin, that on ly the side o f the city that w e explored at that tim e is truly receptive to ph otograp h y. F or the closer we com e to its present-day, fluid, fun ctional existence, the narrow er draw s the circle o f w h at can be p h otog rap h ed ; it has been rightly observed that p h otog rap h y records p ra ctica lly n othin g o f the essence of, for exam ple, a m o d em factory. Such pictures can perhaps be com pared to railw ay stations, w hich, in this age w hen railw ays are begin n in g to be out o f date, are no longer, gen erally speaking, the true ga tew ay s th rou gh w hich the city unrolls its outskirts as it does along the approach roads for motorists. A station gives the order, as it were, for a surprise attack, but it is an ou tdated m anoeuvre that confronts us w ith the arch aic, and the sam e is true o f ph otograp h y, even the snapshot. O n ly film com m ands op tical approaches to the essence o f the city, such as con d u ctin g the motorist into the new centre. T h e fourth g u id e.* N ot to find on es w ay in a city m ay w ell be uninteresting and banal. It requires ign o ra n ce n oth in g m ore. But to lose oneself in a c ity as one loses on eself in a forest that calls for quite a different schooling. T h en , signboards and street names, passers-by, roofs, kiosks, or bars must speak to the w an d erer like a crack in g tw ig under his feet in the forest, like the startlin g call o f a bittern in the distance, like the sudden stillness o f a clearin g w ith a lily stan din g erect at its centre. Paris taught me this art o f strayin g; it fulfilled a dream that had shown its first traces in the labyrinths on the b lottin g pages o f m y school exercise books. N or is it to be denied that I penetrated to its innerm ost place, the M in o ta u rs cham b er, w ith the on ly difference b ein g that this m ythological m onster had three h e a d s: those o f the occu pan ts o f the small brothel on rue de la H arpe, in w hich, sum m oning m y last
* Benjam in is referring
to

Paris,

[ n lb ] .

A Berlin Chronicle

299

reserves o f strength (and not en tirely w ith ou t an A ria d n e s th read ), I set m y foot. But if Paris thus answ ered m y most uneasy ex p ecta tions, from another side it surpassed m y gra p h ic fantasies. T h e city, as it disclosed itself to me in the footsteps o f a herm etic trad itio n that I can trace b ack at least as far as R ilk e and whose g u ard ia n at that tim e was F ran z Hessel, was a m aze not on ly o f paths but also o f tunnels. I can not think o f the un derw orld o f the M e tro and the N orth -S ou th line opening their hundreds o f shafts all over the city, w ith ou t recallin g m y endless flAneries. T h e most rem ark ab le o f all the street im ages from m y early child hood , h o w e ver m ore so even than the arrival o f the bears, w h ich I w itnessed at the side o f a nursem aid, or it m ay have been m y F ren ch governess m ore rem arkab le th an the racecourse that passed Schillstrasse or ended there, is it m ust have been a b o u t 1900 a com pletely deserted stretch o f road upon w hich ponderous torrents o f w ater continuou sly thundered dow n. I had been ca u g h t up in a local flood disaster, but in other w ays, too, the id ea o f ex tra o rd in ary events is inseparab le from that d a y ; possibly w e had been sent hom e from school. In any case, this situation left behind an alarm signal; m y strength must have been failing, and in the m idst o f the asphalt streets o f the city I felt exposed to the pow ers o f n a tu r e ; in a prim eval forest I should not have been m ore aban d o n ed than here on K urfurstenstrasse, betw een the colum ns o f w ater. H o w I reached the bron ze lions m ouths on our front door w ith their rings that w ere now life belts, I can not rem em ber. R id es to the station in the rattlin g taxi, skirting the L an d w eh r C a n a l w hile, am ong the d irty cushions, the w eekly even in g gath erin g in the d ra w in g room or the livin g room o f m y parents ap artm en t, w hich had ju st neared its end, for a w eek at least, was revived w ith stricken violence. A n d so it was not w h at im pen d ed that w eigh ed so terrifyin gly upon me, or even the partin g from w h a t had been, b ut that w hich still continued, persisted, asserting itself even in this first stage o f the jou rn ey. T h e destination o f such rides w ou ld usually h ave been the A n h a lt S ta tio n w here you took the train to Sud erod e or H ahn en klee, to Bad S alzsch lirf o r in the later y ea rs to Freuden stadt. But now and again it was

300 A rendsee, too, or H eiligen d am m , and then you w ent by the Stettin Station. I believe it is since that tim e that the dunes o f the B altic landscape have appeared to me like a fata morgana here on C hau sseestrasse, supported only by the yellow , sandy colours o f the station b uild in g and the boundless horizon op en in g in m y im agin ation behind its w alls. But this vista w ould indeed be delusive if it did not m ake visible the m edium in w hich alone such im ages take form , assum ing a transparency in w hich, how ever m istily, the contours o f w h at is to com e are delineated like m ountain peaks. T h e present in w hich the w riter lives is this m edium . A n d in it he now cuts another sec tion through the sequence o f his experiences. H e detects in them a new and d isturbin g articulation. First, his early child h ood , enclosing him in the district w here he liv e d the old or the new W est End, w here the class that had pron oun ced him one o f its n um ber resided in a posture com pou nd ed o f self-satisfaction and resentm ent that turned it into som ething like a ghetto held on lease. In any case, he was confined to this affluent q u arter w ith ou t know ing o f an y other. T h e poor? For rich children o f his gen eration they lived at the back o f beyond. A n d if at this early age he could picture the poor, it was, w ith ou t his k n ow in g either nam e or origin, in the im age o f the tram p w ho is a ctu ally a rich m an, though w ithout m oney, since he stands far rem oved from the process o f X production and the exploitation not yet abstracted from i t in the same con tem plative relation to his destitution as the rich m an to his w ealth. T h e ch ild s first excursion into the exotic w orld o f abject poverty ch aracteristically took w ritten form (only b y ch an ce, perhaps, one o f his first excursions to do so), being the d ep iction o f a sandw ich m an and his h u m iliation at the hands o f the pu b lic, w ho did not trouble even to take the leaflets he held out to them , so that the w retched m a n thus the story en d ed secretly jettisoned his entire consignm ent. C erta in ly a w h olly unfruitful solution to the problem , alread y an n ou n cin g the flight into sabotage and anarchism that later m akes it so difficult for the intellectual to see things clearly. Perhaps the same sabotage o f real social existence is to be found even later in m y m anner, a lrea d y

A Berlin Chronicle

301

d escribed, o f w alk in g in the city, in the stubborn refusal under a n y circum stances to form a united front, be it even w ith m y ow n m other. T h ere is no d ou b t, at any rate, that a feeling o f crossing the threshold o f on es class for the first tim e had a part in the alm ost u n equalled fascination o f p u b licly accosting a w hore in the street. A t the b egin nin g, how ever, this was a crossing o f frontiers not on ly social but top ograp h ical, in the sense that w hole netw orks o f streets w ere opened up under the auspices o f prostitution. B ut is it rea lly a crossing, is it not, rather, an obstinate and volu ptu ou s hoverin g on the brink, a hesitation that has its most cogent m otive in the circum stance that b eyond this frontier lies nothingness? But the places are countless in the great cities w here one stands on the edge o f the void, and the w hores in the d oorw ays o f tenem ent blocks and on the less sonorous asphalt o f railw ay platform s are like the household goddesses o f this cult o f nothingness. So on these erring paths the stations becam e m y especial habitat, each w ith its outskirts like a city : the Silesian, Stettin, G orlitz stations, and Friedrichstrasse. Just as there are, for children , fairy tales in w hich a w itch or even a fairy holds a w h ole forest in thrall, as a child I knew a street that was ruled and occu pied entirely by a w om an, even th ou gh she was alw ays enthroned in her bay w in d o w , one m in u tes w a lk from the house in w hich I was b orn : A u n t L eh m an n . T h e stairs rose steeply to her room from ju st behind the hall door; it was d ark on them , until the door opened and the b rittle voice bid us a thin go o d -m o rn in g and directed us to place before us on the table the glass rhom bus con tain in g the m ine, in w h ich little men pushed w heelbarrow s, lab ou red w ith pickaxes, and shone lanterns into the shafts in w hich buckets w ere w in ch ed p erp etu ally up and dow n. O n accoun t o f this au n t and her mine, S teg litzer Strasse cou ld henceforth, for me, n ever be nam ed after S teglitz. A goldfin ch [Stieglitz] in its cage bore greater resem blan ce to this street h arb ou rin g the aunt at her w in d o w than the Berlin suburb that m eant n othin g to me. W h ere it joins G en th in er Strasse, it is one o f the streets least tou ched by the changes o f the last thirty years.

302 In the b ack rooms and attics, as gu ardian s o f the past, num erous prostitutes h ave established them selves here, w ho, d u rin g the inflation period, brought the district the reputation o f b eing a theatre o f the most squalid diversions. Needless to say, no one could ever determ ine on w hich stories the im poverished opened their d raw in g rooms, and their daughters their skirts, to rich A m erican s. C lim b in g the stairs in this fashion,* w ith nothing before me but boots and calves, and the scrapin g o f hundreds o f feet in m y ears, I was often seized I seem to rem em b er by revulsion at being hem m ed in by this m ultitude, and again, as on those w alks in the city w ith m y m other, solitude appeared to me as the only fit state o f m an. V e r y u n derstan d ably, for such a m ob o f school children is am ong the most formless and ignoble o f all masses, and betrays its bourgeois origin in representing, like every assem bly o f that class, the most ru dim en tary organ ization al form that its in d ivid ual m em bers can give their recip rocal relationships. T h e corridors, and the classrooms that fin ally cam e into view , are am ong the horrors that have em bed d ed them selves most inerad icab ly in me, that is to say, in m y dream s; and these have taken revenge on the m onotony, the cold torpor that overcam e me at each crossing o f the classroom thresholds, by turnin g them selves into the arena o f the most e x tra va ga n t events. T h e b ack d rop was often the fear o f h avin g to take the Abitur again (under m ore un favourab le conditions), a position in w hich I had been placed by m y own recklessness and folly. U n d o u b ted ly, these room s lend themselves to dream like representation ; there is som ething n ig h t marish even in the sober recollection o f the dam p odour o f sweat secreted by the stone steps that I had to hasten up five tim es or more each day. T h e school, o u tw a rd ly in good repair, was in its architecture and situation am ong the most desolate. It m atch ed its em blem , a plaster statue o f the E m p eror F rederick, w hich had been deposited in a rem ote corner o f the playgrou n d (ad m itted ly one favoured by hordes engaged in m artial gam es), pu n y and
* T h e beginning o f this passage is missing in the m anuscript; B enjam in is talking about his school experiences, [ n l b ] .

A Berlin Chronicle 303 pitiful against a fire w all. A cco rd in g to a school legend it was, if I am not m istaken, a d on ation. T h is m onum ent, unlike the class room s, was never w ashed, and had acq u ired in the course o f years an a d m irab le coat o f dirt and soot. It still stands today in its appo in ted place. But soot descends upon it d a ily from the passing m u n icipal railw ay. It is far from im possible that m y uncom m on aversion to this railw ay dates from this tim e, since all the people sitting at their w indow s seem ed en viable to me. T h e y could afford to ign ore the school clock that held sw ay above our heads, and qu ite unaw ares they cut throu gh the invisible bars o f our tim etable cage. T h e y could only be seen, in cid en tally, d u rin g the breaks, for the low er panes o f the classroom w indow s w ere o f frosted glass. V a g a b o n d clouds, sailors o f the skies had for us the absolute precision that the verse holds for prisoners. M o reover, little a b ou t the actu al classroom s has rem ained in m y m em ory except these ex a ct em blem s o f im prison m ent: the frosted w indow s and the infam ous carved w ooden battlem ents over the doors. It w ou ld not surprise me to hear that the cupboards, too, w ere crow ned w ith such adornm ents, not to m ention the pictures o f the K aiser on the w alls. H erald ic and chivalrou s obtuseness shone forth w h erever possible. In the great hall, how ever, it was most cerem oniously un ited w ith art nouveau. A crude, e x tra va ga n t ornam en t stretched w ith stiff grey-green lim bs across the pan ellin g o f the walls. R eferen ces to objects w ere no m ore to be found in it than references to his tory; n ow here did it offer the eye the slightest refuge, w hile the ear was helplessly a b an d o n ed to the clatter o f id iotic harangues. A ll the sam e, one o f these occasions is perhaps n otew o rth y for the effect it had on me for years afterw ard . It was the leave-tak in g cerem on y for those w ho had grad u ated . H ere, as in several other places, I find in m y m em ory rig id ly fixed words, expressions, verses that, like a m alleab le mass that has later cooled and hardened, preserve in m e the im print o f the collision betw een a larger collective and m yself. Just as a certain kind o f significant dream survives a w ak en ing in the form o f w ords w h en all the rest o f the dream content has van ished, here isolated w ords have rem ained in place as m arks o f catastrop h ic encounters. A m o n g them is one in w h ich for me the

304 w hole atm osphere o f the school is condensed; I heard it w hen, havin g hitherto received only p rivate tutoring, I was sent for my first m orning, on a trial basis, to w h at was later to becom e the K aiser F ried rich School, but at that time was still situated on Passauerstrasse. This w ord that still adheres in m y m ind to a p h legm atic, fat, un becom in g figure o f a boy is the follow ing: ringleader. N oth in g else is left o f this earliest school experience. It was re-enacted in sim ilar form , h ow ever, some six years later, w hen I spent m y first day in alien and th reaten ing circum stances in H au b in d a and was asked by a tall, hostile-seem ing lout w ho played a prom inent part in the class w heth er m y old m a n had a lread y left. This com m on piece o f sch oolboy parlan ce was en tirely u n fam iliar to me. A n abyss opened before me, w hich I sought to b ridge w ith a lacon ic protest. H ere in the great hall it was the verses w ith w hich the school choir began the farew ell song to the leavers Brother now m ay we / your com panions be / in the w orld so w id e follow ed by som ething con tain in g the words lo y ally by your side ; at any rate these w ere the verses that en abled m e year by year to take the m easure o f m y ow n weakness. For no m atter how p a lp a b ly the abom in able goings-on at school w ere d aily before m y eyes, the m elody o f this song seem ed to surround the departure from this hell w ith infinite m elancholy. But by the time it was addressed to me and m y class it must have m ade little impression, for I rem em ber n othin g o f it. M ore rem ark ab le are some other verses that I heard once in the gym n asiu m dressing room after the lesson, and never forgot. W h y ? Perhaps because S ch u lze as the im pruden t boy w h o knew the lines was c a lle d was rather pretty, perhaps because I thou ght them true, but most prob ab ly because the situation in w hich they were spoken, one o f frenetic, m ilitary h yp er-activity, was so utterly approp riate. L oiterin g at the rear / you never need fear / n eu rasth en ia. I f I w rite better G erm an than most w riters o f m y generation , it is thanks large ly to tw enty years observance o f one little rule: never use the w ord I except in letters. T h e exceptions to this precept that I have perm itted m yself could be counted. N ow this

A Berlin Chronicle 505 has had a curious consequence that is in tim ately connected to these notes. For w hen one d ay it was suggested that I should w rite, from d ay to d ay in a loosely subjective form , a series o f glosses on ev eryth in g that seemed n otew o rth y in B erlin and w hen I agreed it becam e suddenly clear that this subject, accustom ed for years to w a itin g in the wings, w ou ld not so easily be sum m oned to the lim elight. But far from protesting, it relied on ruse, so successfully that I b elieved a retrospective glance at w h at Berlin had becom e for me in the course o f years w ould be an a p p rop riate p refa ce to such glosses. I f the preface has now far exceeded the space o rigin ally allotted to the glosses, this is not on ly the m ysterious w ork o f rem em b ra n ce w hich is really the cap acity for endless interpolations into w h at has b e e n but also, at the same tim e, the precau tion o f the subject represented by the I , w hich is entitled not to be sold cheap. N ow there is one district o f Berlin w ith w h ich this subject is m ore closely connected than any other that it has consciously experienced. T o be sure, there are parts o f the city in w hich it was destined to h ave eq u ally deep and h arrow in g exp eri ences, but in none o f them was the place itself so m uch a part o f the event. T h e district I am talkin g o f is the T ierga rten q u arter. T h ere, in a b ack w in g o f one o f the houses stan din g nearest the m u n icipal railw ay via d u ct, was the M eetin g H o u se . It was a sm all a p artm en t that I had rented jo in tly w ith the student Ernst Joel. H ow w e had agreed on this I no lon ger rem em ber; it can h a rd ly have been sim ple, for the student G ro u p for Social W o r k led by Joel was, durin g the term in w hich I was president o f the Berlin Free Students U n io n , a ch ief target o f m y attacks, and it w as precisely as leader o f this grou p that Joel had signed the lease, w hile m y contribution secured the rights o f the d eb atin g ch am b e r to the M eetin g House. T h e distribution o f the rooms betw een the tw o gro u p s w hether o f a spatial or a tem poral c h a ra cte r was ve ry sharply defined, and in any case, for me at that time on ly the d eb atin g group m attered . M y co-signatory, Ernst Joel, and I w ere on less than cordial terms, and I had no in k lin g o f the m agical aspect o f the city that this sam e Joel, fifteen years later, was to reveal to me. So his im age

306 appears in me at this stage on ly as an answ er to the question w hether forty is not too youn g an age at w hich to evoke the most im portant m em ories o f on es life. For this im age is alread y now that o f a dead m an, and w ho know s how he m ight have been able to help me cross this threshold, w ith m em ories o f even the most external and superficial things? T o the oth er threshold he had no access, and o f all those w ho once had it I alone rem ain. I should never have thought that I should seek him by this top og rap h ical route. But if I call to m ind the first trial run I m ade in this direction, m ore than ten years ago now, the earlier and m ore m odest essay has the better o f the com parison. It was in H eidelberg, d u rin g w hat was u n d o u b ted ly self-forgetful w ork, that I tried to sum m on up, in a m ed itation on the nature o f the lyric, the figure o f m y friend F ritz H einle, aroun d w hom all the happenings in the M eetin g House arran ge them selves and w ith w hom they vanish. F ritz H einle was a poet, and the only one o f them all w h om I m et not in real life but in his w ork. H e died at nineteen, and could be know n in no other w ay. A ll the sam e, this first attem p t to evoke the sphere o f his life through that o f po etry was unsuccessful, and the im m ed iacy o f the experience that gave rise to m y lecture asserted itself irresistibly in the incom prehen sion and sn obbery o f the audience, w h o cam e to hear it at the house o f M a ria n n e W eb er. N o m atter how m uch m em ory has subsequen tly paled, or how indis tin ctly I can now give an accou n t o f the rooms in the M eetin g House, it nevertheless seems to me tod ay m ore legitim ate to attem pt to delineate the ou tw ard space the dead m an inh ab ited , indeed the room w here he was a n n o u n ce d , than the inn er space in w hich he created. But perhaps that is on ly because, in this last and most crucial y ear o f his life, he traversed the space in w hich I was born. H e in les Berlin was the B erlin o f the M eetin g H ouse. H e lived at this period in closest p roxim ity to it, in a fourth-floor room on K lopstockstrasse. I once visited him there. It was after a long separation resulting from a serious dissension betw een us. B ut even today I rem em ber the smile that lifted the w hole w eig h t o f these weeks o f separation, that turned a p ro b a b ly insignificant phrase into a m agic form ula that healed the w ound. L ater, after the

A Berlin Chronicle j o y m orn in g w hen an express lettep.aw oke me w ith the words Y o u w ill find us lyin g in the M e etin g H ou se w h en H einle and his girl friend w ere d e a d this district rem ained for a period the central m eetin g place o f the livin g. T o d a y , how ever, w hen I recall its old-fashioned a p artm en t houses, its m any trees dust-covered in sum m er, the cum bersom e iron-and-stone constructions o f the m u n icipal railw ay cu ttin g th rou gh it, the sparse streetcars spaced at great intervals, the sluggish w ater o f the L a n d w eh r C a n a l that m arked the district o ff from the p roletarian quarters o f M o ab it, the splendid but w h olly un freq u en ted cluster o f trees in the Schlosspark B ellevue, and the u n speak ab ly cruel hu n tin g groups flan king its a p p roach at the star-shaped intersection o f road s today this point in space w here we ch an ced then to open our M eetin g H ouse is for me the strictest pictorial expression o f the point in history occupied by this last true elite o f bourgeois Berlin. It was as close to the abyss o f the G reat W a r as the M eetin g H ouse was to the steep slope d ow n to the L a n d w e h r C a n a l, it was as sh arp ly divid ed from p roletarian youth as the houses o f this rentiers q u arter w ere from those o f M o ab it, and the houses w ere the last o f their line ju st as the occupan ts o f those apartm ents w ere the last w h o could appease the clam orous shades o f the dispossessed w ith p h ilanth ropic cerem onies. In sp ite or perhaps b ecau se o f this, there is no d oub t th at the city o f Berlin was never again to im pinge so force fully on m y existence as it did in that epoch w hen w e believed w e could leave it un touched, on ly im p rovin g its schools, only b reak in g the in h u m an ity o f their inm ates parents, on ly m akin g a place in it for the w ords o f H o ld erlin or G eorge. It was a final, heroic a ttem p t to chan ge the attitudes o f people w ith o u t chan gin g their circum stances. W e did not know that it was b ou nd to fail, but there was h ard ly one o f us whose resolve such know ledge could have altered. A n d tod ay, as clearly as at that tim e, even if on the basis o f en tirely differen t reasoning, I un derstan d that the lan gu a g e o f y o u th had to stand at the centre o f our associations. N or do I know tod ay o f a n y truer expression o f our im potence than the struggle that seem ed the pinnacle o f our strength and our exu b eran ce, even i f the shadow o f dow nfall, cast b y the in com p re

308 hension o f the audience, was seldom m ore p a lp a b le than on that evening. I think here o f an altercation betw een H einle and m yself on an even ing at the Aktion* O rig in a lly only a speech by me entitled Y o u th had been on the agen d a. I took it for granted that its text should be know n to our closest circle before it was delivered. S carcely had this happened, how ever, w hen H einle raised ob jec tions. W h eth er he w an ted to speak him self, or to im pose alterations on me that I refused the upshot was an u g ly q u arrel into w hich, as alw ays happens on such occasions, the w hole existence o f each p articip an t was d ra w n H e in les side b eing taken b y the youngest o f the three sis terst around w hom the most im portan t events used to gravitate, as if the fact that a Jew ish w id ow was livin g w ith her three daughters represented, for a group seriously intent upon the abolition o f the fam ily, an a p p rop riate base from w h ich to launch an attack. In short, the girl reinforced her frien d s dem ands. But I was not prep ared to yield, either. So it happ ened that on that evening at the Aktion, before an astonished but less-th an -captivated audience, tw o speeches w ith the same title and alm ost exactly identical texts w ere delivered, and in truth the latitu d e w ith in w hich the Y o u th M o vem e n t had to m anoeuvre was no larger than the area bound ed by the nuances o f those speeches. T h in k in g abou t the tw o speeches today, I should like to com pare them to the clashing islands in the legend o f the A rgonau ts, the S ym plegades, betw een w hich no ship can pass in safety and w here, at that tim e, a sea o f love and hatred tossed. Assem blies o f bourgeois intellectuals w ere then far com m oner than n ow ad ays, since they had not yet recognized their limits. W e m ay say, how ever, that w e felt those limits, even if m uch time was to pass before the realization m atured that no one can im prove his school or his p aren tal hom e w ith out first sm ashing the state th at needs bad ones. W e felt these limits w hen we held our discussions, at w hich the you n ger am ong us spoke o f the brutalities they had to endure at hom e, in d raw in g

* Die Aktion , a political jo u rn al o f revolu tion ary tendency, founded in 1 9 1 1 by Franz Pfemfert, d edicated to the revolution in literature and the visual arts, t T rau te, C a rla , and R ik a Seligson. [ n l b ] .

A Berlin Chronicle j o g rooms k in d ly m ade a va ila b le by parents w ho at bottom thought no d ifferen tly from those w e w ished to oppose. W e felt them w hen we old er m em bers held our literary evenings in room s at beerhouses that w ere never for a m om ent safe from the serving w aiters; w e felt them w hen we w ere ob liged to receive our lad y friends in furnished rooms w ith doors w e w ere not at lib e rty to lock; w e felt them in our dealings w ith ow ners o f pu blic room s and w ith porters, w ith relations and gu ard ian s. A n d w hen, fin ally, after A u gu st 8, 19 14, the days cam e w h en those am ong us w ho w ere closest to the dead couple did not w a n t to part from them until they w ere b uried, w e felt the limits in the sham e o f b eing able to find refuge only in a seedy railw a y hotel on S tu ttgart Square. E ven the gra vey a rd dem onstrated the boundaries set by the city to all that filled our h e a rts: it was im possible to procure for the pair w ho had died together graves in one and the sam e cem etery. But those w ere days th at ripened a realization that was to com e later, and that plan ted in me the con viction that the city o f B erlin w ould also not be spared the scars o f the struggle for a better order. I f I chan ce tod ay to pass through the streets o f the q u arter, I set foot in them w ith the sam e uneasiness that one feels w hen entering an attic unvisited for years. V a lu a b le things m ay be lyin g around, but n ob o d y rem em bers w here. A n d in truth this dead q u arter w ith its tall ap a rtm en t houses is to d a y the ju n k room o f the W est E nd bourgeoisie. T h a t was the time w h en the Berlin cafes p layed a part in our lives. I still rem em ber the first that I took in consciously. T h is was m uch earlier, im m ed iately after m y grad u atio n . T h e V ik to ria C afe, w here our first com m u n al ja u n t ended at three in the m orn ing, no longer exists. Its p la c e on the corner o f Friedrichstrasse and U n ter den L in d e n has been taken by one o f the noisiest lu xu ry cafes o f new Berlin, against w hich the earlier one, how ever luxurious it m ay have been in its d ay, stands out w ith all the m agic o f the age o f chandeliers, m irrored walls and plush com fort. T h is old V ik to ria C afe was on th at occasion our last port o f call, and w e doubtless reached it a dep leted group. It must h ave been more than

3io
h a lf em p ty at any rate I can discern, through the veils that mask the im age today, no one apart from a few whores, w ho seem ed to have the spacious cafe to them selves. W e did not stay long, and I do not know w hether I paid the V ik to ria C afe, w hich must have disappeared soon after, a second visit. T h e tim e had not yet arrived w hen the frequenting o f cafes was a daily need, and it can hard ly have been Berlin that fostered this vice in me, how ever w ell the vice later ad ap ted itself to the establishm ents o f that city, w hich leads far too strenuous and conscious a life o f pleasure to know real coffeehouses. O u r first cafe, a ccord in gly, was m ore a strategic q u arter than a place o f siesta. A n d I have thus unm is tak ab ly revealed its nam e: as is w ell know n, the h ead qu arters o f bohem ians until the first w ar years was the old W est E nd C afe. It was in this cafe that we sat together in those very first A u g u st days, choosing am on g the barracks that w ere being storm ed b y the onrush o f volunteers. W e decided on the cav alry on B elle-A llian ce Strasse, w here I d u ly appeared on one o f the follow ing days, no spark o f m artial fervour in m y breast; yet how ever reserved I m ay have been in m y thoughts, w hich w ere concerned on ly w ith securing a place am ong friends in the in evitab le conscription, one o f the bodies ja m m e d in front o f the barracks gates was m ine. A d m itted ly only for two days: on A u gu st 8 cam e the event that was to banish for long after both the city and the w ar from m y m ind. I often saw H einle in the W est E nd C afe. W e usually m et there late, abou t tw elve. I cannot say that we had close relations to the literary B ohem ia whose days, or nights, w ere spent there; we w ere a self-contained group, the w orld o f our m ovem en t was different from that o f the em an cipated people around us, and contacts w ith them w ere only fleeting. A m ed iator betw een the two sides for a period was F ran z Pfem fert, editor o f Die Aktion ; our relations w ith him w ere p u rely M a ch iav ellian . Else L ask er-S ch iiler once drew me to her tab le; W ielan d H erzfeld e, then a y o u n g student, was to be seen there, and Sim on G u ttm an n , to w hom I shall return; but the list here reaches the boundaries o f our n arrow er w orld. I believe we w ere alien to the cafe; the feverish con cen tra tion in d uced by concern w ith so m an y rival actions, the o rg a n iza

A Berlin Chronicle

311

tion o f the Free S tuden ts U n io n and the d evelopm ent o f the d eb atin g cham bers, the elabo ration o f our speeches in large assem blies o f pupils, help for com rades in need, care for those im p erilled by en tanglem en ts either o f friendship or o f lo v e all this set us a p a rt from the sated, self-assured bohem ians abou t us. H ein le was m ore closely a cq u ain ted w ith one or another o f them , such as the painter M eid n er, w ho drew h im ; bu t this connection rem ain ed unfruitful for us. T h en , one d ay in S w itzerlan d , I read that the W est E nd C afe had been closed. I had never been m uch at hom e in it. A t that tim e I did not yet possess that passion for w a itin g w ith ou t w h ich one can not th o rou gh ly appreciate the charm o f a cafe. A n d if I see m y self w aitin g one night am id tob acco smoke on the sofa that en circled one o f the centred colum ns, it was no d ou b t in feverish exp ectation o f the outcom e o f some negotiation at the d eb atin g cham ber, or o f one o f the m ediators w ho w ere b rou gh t into p la y w hen tensions had once again reached an u n b earab le pitch. I cam e to be on m uch m ore intim ate terms w ith the n eigh b ou rin g cafe, w h ich had its b egin n in g du rin g the period I now refer to. This was the Princess Cafe. In an attem p t to create a P hysiology o f C offeeh ou ses , o n es first and most superficial classification w ould be into professional and recreation al estab lishm ents. If, how ever, one leaves aside the m ost b razen en tertain m ent places run along industrial lines, it becom es very n oticeable that in the d evelopm ent o f most hostelries the two functions coincid e. A p a rticu la rly tellin g exam ple is the history o f the R o m an isch e C afe from ex a ctly the m om ent w hen the proprietor o f the W est E nd C afe evicted his clientele. V e r y soon the R om an ische C afe a ccom m od ated the bohem ians, w ho, in the years im m ed iately after the w ar, w ere able to feel them selves m asters o f the house. The legen d ary, n ow -departed w aiter R ic h a rd , distributor o f n ew spapers a h u n ch b ack w ho on accou n t o f his bad repu tation en joyed high esteem in these circles was the sym bol o f their dom inan ce. W hen the G erm an econom y began to recover, the b oh em ian contingent visib ly lost the th reaten ing nim bus that had surrounded them in the era o f the Expressionist revo lu tion ary m anifestoes. T h e bourgeois revised his relationship to the inm ates

312
o f the C afe M e ga lo m an ia (as the R o m an isch e C afe soon cam e to be called) and found that everyth in g w as b ack to norm al. A t this m om ent the ph ysiogn om y o f the R o m an isch e C afe began to chan ge. T h e artists w ith d rew into the b ack grou n d , to becom e m ore and m ore a part o f the furniture, w hile the bourgeois, represented by stock-exchange speculators, m anagers, film and theatre agents, literary-m in d ed clerks, began to o ccu p y the p la c e as a p lace o f relaxation. For one o f the most elem en tary and indispensable diversions o f the citizen o f a great m etropolis, w edged, d a y in, d ay out, in the structure o f his office and fam ily am id an infin itely variegated social environm ent, is to plun ge into another w orld, the more exotic the better. H ence the bars haunted b y artists and crim inals. T h e distinction betw een the two, from this point o f view , is slight. T h e history o f the Berlin coffeehouses is largely th at o f different strata o f the public, those w ho first conqu ered the floor b eing obliged to m ake w ay for others gra d u a lly pressing forw ard , and thus to ascend the stage. Such a stage, for H einle and me, was the Princess C afe, w h ich w e w ere in the h abit o f p atron izin g as occupants o f private boxes. T h e latter should be taken alm ost literally, for this cafe, designed by L u cia n B ernhard, an interior decorator and poster artist m uch in dem and at that tim e, offered its visitors an ab u n d an ce o f snug recesses, stan din g historically m id w a y betw een the chambres separees and the coffee parlours. T h e profession p rim arily served b y this establishm ent is therefore clear. A n d w hen w e visited it, indeed m ade it for a tim e our regu lar m eeting place, it was certain ly on account o f the cocottes. H einle w rote Princess C a fe at that tim e. Doors d raw coolness over th rou gh the son g. W e had no intention o f m akin g acqu ain tances in this cafe. O n the c o n tra ry w hat attracted us here was being enclosed in an en viron m ent that isolated us. E very distinction betw een us and the literary coteries o f the city was w elco m e to us. T h is one, to be sure, m ore so than all others. A n d that certain ly had to do w ith the cocottes. But this leads into a subterran ean stratum o f the Y o u th M o vem en t, reached by w ay o f an a rtists studio in H alensee, to w hich we shall return. It is quite possible that S. G u ttm a n n , its occu pant, m et us here,

A Berlin Chronicle 3 1 3 too, from tim e to time. I have no recollection o f it, ju st as in general, here m ore than elsew here, the hum an figures recede before the place itself, and none o f them is as viv id ly present to me as a forlorn, a p p ro x im ately circu lar ch am b er in the u pp er story, hung w ith violet d ra p ery and illu m in ated w ith a violet glow , in w hich m an y seats w ere alw ays em pty, w h ile on others couples took up as little space as possible. I called this am ph ith eatre the an atom y school . L ater, w hen this epoch was long since closed, I sat long evenings there, close to a ja z z band, discreetly consulting sheets and slips o f paper, w ritin g m y Origin of German Tragic Drama. W h en one d ay a new ren o va tio n set in, tu rn in g the Princess C afe into C afe Sten w yk, I gave up. T o d a y it has sunk to the level o f a beerhouse. N ever again has m usic possessed so d eh u m an ized and shameless a q u a lity as that o f the tw o brass bands that tem pered the flood o f people surging torpid ly a lo n g Scan dal A v e n u e betw een the cafe restaurants o f the Zoo. T o d a y I perceive w h a t gave this flow its elem ental force. For the city dw eller there was no higher school o f flirtation than this, surrounded by the sandy precincts o f gnus and zebras, the bare trees and clefts w here vultures and condors nested, the stinking enclosures o f w olves, and the hatcheries o f pelicans and herons. T h e calls and screeches o f these anim als m in gled w ith the noise o f drum s and percussion. T his was the air in w h ich the glance o f a boy fell for the first tim e on a passing girl, w hile he talked all the m ore zealously to his friend. A n d such w ere his efforts to b etray h im self neither by his eyes nor his voice that he saw n othin g o f her. A t that tim e the Z o o lo gical G a rd en still had an entrance by the L ichtenstein B ridge. O f the three gates it was the least fre quented , and gave access to the p a rk s most deserted q u arter: an aven u e that, w ith the m ilk-w hite orbs o f its can d elab ras, resem bled some deserted prom en ade at W iesbaden or P yrm o n t; and before the econ om ic crisis had so d ep op u lated these resorts that they seem ed m ore antiq ue than R o m a n spas, this dead corner o f the Z o o lo g ical G a rd en was an im age o f w h at was to com e, a prophesy-

ing place. It m ust be considered certain that there are such p la c e s; indeed, ju st as there are plants that prim itive peoples claim confer / the pow er o f clairvoyan ce, so there are places endow ed w ith such pow er: they m ay be deserted prom enades, or treetops, p a rticu la rly in towns, seen against walls, railw a y level-crossings, and above all the thresholds that m ysteriously d ivid e the districts o f a tow n. T h e L ichtenstein gate was rea lly such a threshold, betw een the tw o W est E nd parks. It was as if in both, at the point w here they w ere nearest, life paused. A n d this d a ily desertion was the m ore keenly felt b y one w h o rem em bered the d azzlin g a p p ro a ch to be seen on festal nights for a n um ber o f years from a d oo rw a y o f the A d ler ballroom s, w hich has fallen now into ju st such disuse as has this long-closed gate. v L an gu a ge shows clearly that m em ory is not an instrum ent for explorin g the past but its theatre. It is the m edium o f past exp eri ence, as the ground is the m edium in w h ich dead cities lie interred. H e w ho seeks to approach his ow n buried past m ust cond u ct him self like a m an digging. Th is confers the tone and b earin g o f genuine rem iniscences. He must not be afraid to return again and , again to the same m atter; to scatter it as one scatters earth, to turn it over as one turns over soil. For the m atter itself is on ly a deposit, a stratum , w hich yields only to the most m eticulous exam ination w h a t constitutes the real treasure hidden w ithin the e a r th : the im ages, severed from all earlier associations, that stan d like precious fragm ents or torsos in a collecto rs g a lle r y in the prosaic rooms o f our later un derstan ding. T ru e, for successful excavations a plan is needed. Y e t no less indispensable is the cautious prob ing o f the spade in the dark loam , and it is to cheat oneself o f the richest prize to preserve as a record m erely the inven tory o f o n es discoveries, and not this dark jo y o f the place o f the finding itself. Fruitless search in g is as m uch a part o f this as I succeeding, and consequently rem em b rance must not proceed in the m anner o f a n arrative or still less that o f a report, b u t must, in the strictest epic and rhapsodic m ann er, assay its spade in evernew places, and in the old ones d elve to ever-deeper layers.

A Berlin Chronicle 3 /5 It is true that countless facades o f the city stand exactly as they stood in m y childhood. Y e t I do not en counter m y childhood in their contem plation . M y gaze has brushed them too often since, too often they have been the decor and theatre o f m y walks and concerns. A n d the few exceptions to this r u le above all St. M a tth e w s C h u rch on St. M a tth e w s S q u a re are perhaps on ly j ap p a ren tly so. For did I as a child really frequ ent the re m o te -1 corn er w here it stands, did I even know it? I can n o t tell. W h a t it says to me tod ay it owes solely to the edifice itself: the church w ith the tw o pointed, gab led roofs over its tw o side aisles, and the y ellow -an d -och re brick o f w h ich it is built. It is an old-fashioned church, o f w hich the sam e is true as o f m an y an old-fashioned b u ild in g: although they w ere not you n g w ith us and perhaps did not even know us w hen w e w ere children, th ey have m uch k n ow led ge o f our child hood , and for this w e love them . But I should con front m y self at that age in q u ite a different w a y had I the cou rage to enter a certain front door that I have passed thousands u pon thousands o f times. A front door in the old W est End. T ru e, m y eyes no lon ger see it, or the facad e o f the house. M y soles w o u ld doubtless be the first to send me w ord, once I had closed the door b ehin d me, that on this w orn staircase they trod in ancient tracks, and i f I no longer cross the threshold o f that house it is for fear o f an en counter w ith this stairw ay interior, w h ich has conserved in seclusion the pow er to recogn ize m e that the faade lost long ago. For w ith its colum ned w indow s it has stayed the same, even i f w ith in the livin g quarters all is chan ged. B leak verses filled the intervals betw een our heartbeats, w hen w e paused exhausted on the landings betw een floors. T h e y glim m ered or shone from panes in w hich a w om an w ith n ut-brow n eyebrow s floated aloft w ith a go b let from a niche, and w hile the straps o f m y satchel cut into m y shoulders I was forced to read, In dustry adorns the bu rgher, blessedness is to ils r e w a rd . O utsid e it m a y h ave been raining. O n e o f the coloured w indow s was open, and to the b eat o f raindrops the u p w ard m arch resum ed.
M o tto : O b row n -baked colum n o f victo ry W ith ch ild ren s sugar from the w in ter days.

316 I never slept on the street in Berlin. I saw sunset and d aw n , but betw een the tw o I found m yself a shelter. O n ly those for w hom poverty or vice turns the city into a lan dscape in w h ich they stray from dark till sunrise know it in a w ay denied to me. I alw ays found quarters, even though som etim es tard y and also unknow n ones that I did not revisit and w here I was not alone. I f I paused thus late in a d oorw ay, m y legs had becom e entangled in the ribbons o f the streets, and it was not the cleanest o f hands that freed me. Rem iniscences, even extensive ones, do not alw ays am ou nt to an autob iograph y. A n d these quite certain ly do not, even for the B erlin years that I am exclu sively concerned w ith here. For au to b io gra p h y has to do w ith tim e, w ith sequence and w h a t m akes up the continuous flow o f life. H ere, I am talkin g o f a space, o f m om ents and discontinuities. For even. if m onths and years ap p ear here, it is in the form they have at the m om ent o f recollection. T his strange form it m ay be called fleeting or etern a l is in neither case the stu ff that life is m ade of. A n d this is shown not so m uch by the role that m y ow n life plays here, as by that o f the people closest to me in B erlin w hoever and w h en ever they m ay have been. T h e atm osphere o f the city that is here evoked allots them on ly a brief, shadow y existence. T h e y steal along its w alls like beggars, appear w raith lik e at w indow s, to vanish again, sniff at thresholds like a genius loci, and even if they fill w hole quarters w ith their names, it is as a dead m an s fills his gravestone. N oisy, m atter-offact Berlin, the city o f w ork and the m etropolis o f business, nevertheless has m ore, rather than less, than some others, o f those ' places and m om ents when it bears witness to the dead, shows itself full o f d ead ; and the obscure aw areness o f these m om ents, these places, perhaps m ore than a n y th in g else, confers on ch ild hood mem ories a q u a lity that makes them at once as evanescent and as allurin gly torm en ting as half-forgotten dream s. For childhood, know ing no p recon ceived opinions, has none abou t life. It is as \ d early attach ed (though w ith ju st as strong reservations) to the realm o f the dead, w here it ju ts into that o f the livin g, as to life itself. H ow far a child has access to the past is d ifficult to tell, and

A Berlin Chronicle

3/7

depends on m any th in gs tim e, environm ent, its nature and ed ucation. T h e lim itation o f m y ow n feeling for the Berlin that is not circum scribed by a few facts abou t the S tratau Fair and F red erick in 1848*that is, for the top og rap h ical tradition representing the conn ection w ith the dead o f this g ro u n d results en tirely from the circu m stance that n either o f m y parents fam ilies w ere natives o f Berlin. T h a t sets a lim it to the c h ild s m em o ry and it is this lim it, rather than child hood experience itself, that is m anifest in w h at follows. W h erever this bou n d ary m ay h ave been draw n, h ow ever, the second h a lf o f the nineteenth cen tu ry certain ly lies w ithin it, and to it b elon g the follow ing im ages, not in the m anner o f general representations, but o f im ages that, acco rd in g to the teach in g o f E picurus, constan tly d etach them selves from things and determ ine our percep tion o f them . First o f all, let no one think w e w ere talkin g o f a Markt-Halle [covered m arket]. N o: it was pronounced M ark-Talle , and ju st as these w ords w ere eroded b y the h abit o f speech until none retained its origin al sense , so b y the h abit o f this w alk all the im ages it offered w ere w orn a w ay , so that none o f them conform s to the origin al concep t o f b u yin g and selling. B ehind us lay the forecourt, w ith its dangerous, heavy sw ing doors on their w hiplash springs, and w e had now set foot on the flagstones, slippery w ith fish w ater or swill, on w hich you could so easily slip on carrots or lettu ce leaves. B ehind w ire partitions, each b earin g a num ber, w ere ensconced the ponderous ladies, priestesses o f V e n a l Ceres, purveyors o f all the fruits o f field and tree, and o f all ed ib le birds, fishes, and m am m als, procuresses, un tou ch ab le woolclad colossi exch an gin g vib ra n t signs from booth to booth w ith a flash o f their large m other-of-pearl buttons or a slap on their boom in g b lack aprons or their m oney-filled pouches. D id it not b u b b le and seethe below the hems o f their skirts, and was this not the truly fertile groun d ? D id not a god o f the m arket him self cast the gods into their laps: berries, crustaceans, m ushroom s, chunks o f m eat and cab b age, in visibly coh ab itin g w ith those w ho a b a n doned them selves as they la n g u id ly and m u tely eyed the unsteady

3 lS procession o f housewives w ho, laden w ith baskets and bags, laboriously drove their brood before them along these slippery alleyw ays o f ill repute. But if in w in ter the gas lam ps w en t on in the early evening, you had at once a feeling o f sinking, becom ing aw are, in this gentle gliding, o f the depths o f sea b elow the surface that heaved o p aq u e and sluggish in the glassy waters. T h e m ore frequently I return to these m em ories, the less fortuitous it seems to me how slight a role is p layed in them by people: I think o f an afternoon in Paris to w hich I ow e insights into m y life that cam e in a flash, w ith the force o f an illu m in ation. It was on this very afternoon that m y b io grap h ical relationships to people, m y friendships and com radeships, m y passions and love affairs, w ere revealed to me in their most vivid and hidden intertwinings. I tell m yself it had to be in Paris, w here the w alls and quays, the places to pause, the collections and the rubbish, the railings and the squares, the arcades and the kiosks, teach a lan guage so singular that our relations to people attain , in the \ solitude encom passing us in our im m ersion in that w orld o f things, j the depths o f a sleep in w hich the dream im age w aits to show the / people their true faces. I wish to w rite o f this afternoon because it m ade so apparen t w h at kind o f regim en cities keep over im a g in a tion, and w hy the city, w here people m ake the m ost ruthless dem ands on one another, w here appointm ents and telephone calls, sessions and visits, flirtations and the struggle for existence grant the in d iv id u a l not a single m om ent o f contem plation , indem nifies itself in m em ory, and w h y the veil it has covertly w oven out o f our lives shows the im ages o f people less than those o f the sites o f our encounters w ith others or ourselves. N ow on the afternoon in question I was sitting inside the C afe des D eu x M agots at St.-G erm ain-des-Pres, w here I was w a itin g I forget for w hom . S ud d en ly, and w ith com p ellin g force, I was struck by the idea o f d ra w in g a d iagram o f m y life, and knew at the same m om ent ex a ctly how it was to be done. W ith a very sim ple question I interrogated m y past life, and the answers w ere inscribed, as if o f their ow n accord , on a sheet o f paper that I had w ith me. A

A Berlin Chronicle 3 1 g year or two later, w hen I lost this sheet, I was inconsolable. I have never since been able to restore it as it arose before me then, resem bling a series o f fam ily trees. N ow , how ever, reconstructing its outlin e in thought w ith ou t d irectly rep rod u cin g it, I should, rather, speak o f a lab yrin th . I am not concern ed here w ith w h at is installed in the cham b er at its en igm atic centre, ego or fate, but all the m ore w ith the m any entrances lead in g into the interior. T hese entrances I call prim al acq u ain ta n ces; each o f them is a gra p h ic sym bol o f m y a cq u ain ta n ce w ith a person w hom I met, not through other people, but through n eighbou rhood , fam ily relationships, school com radeship, m istaken id en tity, com panionship on travels, or other su c h hard ly n u m ero u s situations. So m any prim al relationships, so m any entrances to the m aze. But since most o f th e m at least those that rem ain in our m e m o ry for their part open up new acq uain tances, relations to new people, after some tim e they branch o ff these corridors (the m ale m ay be d raw n to the right, fem ale to the left). W h eth er cross-connections are fin ally established betw een these systems also depends on the intertw inem ents o f our path through life. M ore im portant, how ever, are the astonishing insights that a study o f this plan provides into the differences am ong in d iv id u a l lives. W h a t part is played in the p rim al acquain tancesh ip s o f d ifferent p eo p les lives by profession and school, fam ily and travel? A n d above all: is the form ation o f the m an y offshoots go vern ed in in d ivid u al existence by hidden law s? W h ich ones start early and w hich late in life? W h ich are continued to the end o f life and w hich peter ou t? I f a m an has c h a ra cte r , says N ietzsche, he w ill have the sam e experience over and over a g a in . W h eth er or not this is true on a large scale, on a sm all one there are perhaps paths that lead us again and again to people w ho have one and the same function for us: passagew ays that alw ays, in the most diverse periods o f life, gu id e us to the friend, the b etrayer, the beloved , the pupil, or the m aster. T his is w hat the sketch o f m y life revealed to me as it took shape before me on that Paris afternoon. A gain st the back grou n d o f the city, the people w ho had surrounded me closed together to form a figure. It was m any years earlier, I believe at the begin nin g o f the w ar, that in Berlin,

320 against the back grou n d o f the people then closest to me, the w orld o f things contracted to a sym bol sim ilarly profound. It was an em blem o f four rings. This takes me to one o f the old Berlin houses on the K u p ferg ra b en . W ith their plain, genteel facades and their w ide hallw ays they m ay have stem m ed from the Schin kel period. In one o f them lived at that tim e a prom inent an tiq u e dealer. H e had no display w indow . Y o u had to go into his a p artm en t to adm ire, in a n um ber o f showcases, a selection o f prehistoric brooches and clasps, L o m b a rd earrings, late R o m a n neck chains, m edieval coins, and m any sim ilar valuables. H ow m y friend A . C .* had tracked him dow n I do not know . But I rem em ber distinctly the engrossm ent w ith w hich, under the im pression o f A lois R ie g ls Late Roman Art Industry, w hich I had recen tly studied, I contem plated the breastplates m ade from sheet gold and garnet-ad orned bracelets. T h e re w ere, if I am not m istaken, three o f u s : m y friend, his fiancee at that time or F rau D oroth ea J ., and me. C . asked to see rings G reek and R enaissance cam eos, rings from the im perial period, usually w ork carved in sem i-precious stone. E ach o f the four that he finally purchased is im printed u n forgettab ly on m y mind. E xcep t for one that I have lost sight of, they are still today w ith those for w hom they w ere intended that m orning. O n e, a bright-yellow sm oky topaz, was chosen by D orothea J. T h e w ork m anship was G recian and d ep icted in a tiny space L ed a receivin g the swan betw een her parted thighs. It was most graceful. I was less able to ad m ire the am ethyst that the donor, E rnst S [ch oen ], selected for our m utual friend: a fifteenth- or sixteenth -cen tury Italian had carved a profile in it w hicji L ed erer claim ed to be that o f Pom pey. I was quite d ifferen tly affected, how ever, by the last two rings. O n e was intended for me, but only as a very tem porary ow ner; it was really destined to reach , through me, m y then fiancee, G rete R [a d t], It was the most fascin ating ring I have ever seen. C u t in a dark, solid garnet, it p o rtrayed a M e d u sa s head. It was a w ork o f the R o m a n im perial period. T h e proustite m ou n ting was not the original. W orn on the finger, the ring seem ed m erely the most perfect o f signet rings. Y o u only entered its secret by takin g it
* Alfred Cohn.
[n
lb

].

A Berlin Chronicle 32 1 o ff and con tem p latin g the head against the light. As the different strata o f the garnet w ere u n eq u a lly translucent, and the thinnest so tran sparen t that it glow ed w ith rose hues, the som bre bodies o f the snakes seemed to rise above the two deep, glo w in g eyes, w hich looked out from a face that, in the pu rp le-b lack portions o f the cheeks, receded once m ore into the night. L a te r I tried more than once to seal w ith this stone, but it proved easy to crack and in need o f the utm ost care. Shortly after givin g it a w a y , I broke o ff m y relationship w ith its new ow ner. M y heart had a lread y gone w ith the last o f the four rings, w h ich the giver had reserved for his sister. A n d certain ly this girl was the true centre o f the circles fate, though years w ere to elapse before w e realized it. For apart from her b e a u ty itself not d a zzlin g, but inconspicuous and w ithou t lu stre she had nothin g that seem ed to destine her for the centre o f the stage. A n d in fact she never was the centre o f people but, in the strictest sense, o f fates, as if her plantlike passivity and inertia had arran ged the la tte r w hich, o f all hum an things, seem the most subject to vegetal la w s con cen trically abou t her. M a n y years w ere needed before w h a t at that time was in part b egin nin g to unfold in its seed, and in part still d orm an t, em erged in its ram ifications to the light o f d a y : the fate by virtu e o f w hich she, w ho stood in a relation to her brother that by its tenderness filled to the very edge the limits o f sisterly love, was to form a liaison w ith her b ro th ers tw o closest friends w ith the recipient o f the ring w ith the head o f P om pey and w ith m e to find her husband finally in the broth er o f the w om an w ho m arried her ow n brother as her second h u sb a n d * and she it was, on the d ay I am speaking of, w ho received from me the ring w ith the M e d u sa s head. It cannot have been m a n y days later that I sent after the lapis lazuli w ith the lute w reath ed in foliage en graved in it after the fourth ring and to its w e a re r this sonnet: T o you r finger constan tly e n circle d !

* J u la C o hn m arried Fritz R a d t, whose sister, G rete R a d t, becam e the wife o f A lfred C o h n . [ n l b ] . t T h e sentence breaks o ff w ithout pu n ctu ation at the end o f a page, and the con tin uation is no doubt missing. T h e sonnet is likely to have been by Benjam in but has not been preserved, [ n l b ] .

322 T h e treasure-dispensing gian t* in the green pine forest or the fairy w ho grants one w ish they a p p ear to each o f us at least once in a lifetim e. But only S u n d a y s children rem em ber the wish they m ade, and so it is only a few w ho recognize its fulfilm ent in their ow n lives. I know o f such a wish that was fulfilled for me, and w ould not claim it to be wiser than those o f children in fairy tales. It goes b ack to m y early childhood, and arose in me in connection w ith the lam p that on dark w inter m ornings at h a lf past six was carried through m y d oorw ay and cast the shadow o f our nursem aid on the ceiling. T h e fire was lit in the stove and soon, am id reddish reflections, the gratin g was m arked out on the bare floor. W h en the tem p eratu re the n ightly w arm th from m y bed and the m orning w arm th from the fire had m ade me d ou b ly drow sy, it was time to get up. T h en I had no other wish than to finish m y sleep. T his wish accom p an ied me throu gh ou t the w hole o f m y school days. Its inseparable atten d an t, how ever, was fear o f being late. I can still feel today, w hen I pass the S av ign yp latz, the dread w ith w hich, stepping into Carm erstrasse, w here I lived, I read m y ju d g em e n t in the spellbound space betw een the ten and the tw elve on the , repulsive clockface. T h e wish that anim ated me on such w inter days, and even later, when, in an extrem ity o f fatigue, I rose from the couch in the afternoon because o f a gym nastics class, had been fulfilled. O n ly I did not alw ays recogn ize this fufilm ent w hen yet another o f m y attem pts to find a place o f w ork, in the bourgeois sense o f the w ord, had come to grief. T h ere is one other sound that, thanks to the decades in w hich it neither passed m y lips nor reached m y ears, has preserved the un fath om able m ystery that certain words from the lan gu age of adults possess for children. It was not long ago that I rediscovered it, and indeed a n um ber o f indivisible finds o f this n ature have played a large part in m y decision to w rite dow n these m em ories. M y parents b eing w ealthy, we m oved every year, before I w ent to school and perhaps later, too, n otw ithstan d ing other occasional sum m er trips, into sum m er residences not far from hom e. First it was Potsdam , later N eu b ab elsb erg. W hereas the latter period still
* See H auflfs fairy tale, T h e Cold H e a rt ,
[n
lb

].

A Berlin Chronicle 323 survives in a n um ber o f im ages, o f w hich I m ay perhaps have m ore to te ll the n ight o f the great b u rg la ry w hen m y parents locked them selves in m y room , the hours I stood fishing beside m y father on the b an k o f L ak e G rie b n itz, the visit to P eacock Island that b rou gh t the first great d isappoin tm en t o f m y life, because I could not find the p eacock feathers in the grass as I h ad been prom ised b y contrast, the sum m er m onths in Potsdam h ave w h olly vanished, unless I m ay situate the asparagus c u ttin g m y first and on ly a g ricu ltu ral passion as far b ack as the gard en on the B rauhausberg. A n d I have thus d ivu lg ed the w ord in w h ich , like countless rose petals in a drop o f R ose M alm aison, hundreds o f sum m er days, forfeiting their form , their colour, and their m u ltip licity, are preserved in their scent. T h e w ord is B rau hau sberg. T o approach w h at it enfolds is alm ost im possible. These w ords that exist on the frontier b etw een two lingu istic regions, o f ch ild ren and o f adults, are co m p a ra b le to those o f M a lla rm e s poem s, w hich the conflict betw een the poetic and the profane w ord has as it w ere consum ed and m ade evanescent, airy. Likew ise the w ord B rau hau sberg has lost all heaviness, no lon ger contains a trace o f a b rew ery [Brauhaus], and is at the most a hill sw athed in blue that rose up each sum m er to give lod gin g to me and m y parents. T h e econom ic basis on w h ich the finances o f m y parents rested was surrounded, long past m y childhood and adolescence, by deepest secrecy. P ro b a b ly not only for me, the eldest child, but also for m y m other. A n d it is certain that such a state o f affairs was the rule in a Jew ish fam ily, and no d ou b t in very m an y C h ristian ones as well. M o re curious is the fact that consum ption, too, was w rap p ed in some o f the m ystery that so d eeply shrouded incom e and fortune. I rem em ber, at any rate, that the m ention o f certain sup pliers sources , as they w ere c a lle d alw ays took p lace w ith the solem nity befittin g an initiation . T h ere are, it is true, distinctions to be d raw n . T h e purveyors w h o met the d aily household needs no m ore belon ged to that secret circle than did the Berlin firm s o f lon g-stand in g repute that m y m other visited w hen she took me and the y o u n ger children to to w n . O n such o c c a

3*4
sions it was as certain that our suits w ould be b ou gh t at A rn o ld M u lle rs, shoes at S tillers, and suitcases at M a d le r s, as that at the end o f these com missions our hot chocolate w ith w h ipp ed cream w ould be ordered at H illb r ic h s. These shoppin g places w ere strictly preordain ed by tra d itio n quite unlike the conn ec tions w ith traders, w hich w ere m y fa th ers responsibility. M y father possessed at base, along w ith a n um ber o f inhibitions stem m ing not only from his d ecen cy but also from a certain civic w orthiness, the en trepren eurial nature o f a b ig businessm an. U n fav o u ra b le influences brough t abou t his very prem ature retirem ent from an enterprise that was prob ab ly by no means ill-suited to his capacities, the L epke art auction, in w hich he was a partner. W h en he had relinquished his share in the firm, he concerned h im self increasingly w ith speculative investm ents o f his cap ital, and it w ou ld not surprise me if the interest he took in household transactions was far keener from this tim e on. W h a t is certain is that the suppliers he henceforth searched out w ere his investm ents. If, therefore, in d irectly con n ected my w ith from m oth er s shopping

excursions, a trad itional and as it w ere official im age o f the Berlin com m ercial w orld em erged, the hints and instructions o f m y father gave rise to an un kn ow n and slightly sinister one, the prestige o f w hich derived as m uch from the au th oritarian resonance that these nam es carried at the fam ily table as from the fact that these firms, unlike the others, w ere never seen by me. A t their head, so to speak, was the L epke auction room itself, w ith w hich m y father not only had connections but from w hich, from tim e to tim e, he also brough t hom e a purchase. I d ou b t that this com m erce was an altogether h a p p y one, w ith the exception perhaps o f his carpet buying. S h ortly before his death he told me that he could distin guish the qualities o f a pile w ith the ball o f his foot, i f his soles were suitably thin. In m y childhood, how ever, w hat im pressed me most was to im agine the gavel blows w ith w h ich m y father accom p an ied the auction. L ater, w hen he had w ith d raw n from L ep k e s, this gavel alw ays lay on his desk. Even if I never heard the rap o f this gavel, there is another sound that becam e indissoluble from the im age o f m y fath ers po w er and g ra n d e u r or, rather,

A Berlin Chronicle 32 5 from those o f a m an in his profession. It is, im plau sible as it m a y seem, the noise m ade by the knife that m y m oth er used to spread the rolls that m y father took to his w ork in the m orning, w hen it was scraped for the last tim e, to rem ove the b u tter still ad h erin g to it, against the crisp surface o f the cut roll. T his signal prelu d in g the lab ou r o f m y fath ers d a y was no less exciting to me than, in later years, the sound o f the bell that announced the start o f a p erform ance at the theatre. A p a rt from this, the real token o f m y fa th ers profession in our a p artm en t was a M oor, alm ost life-size, w h o stood on a gon d ola red u ced to one-thirtieth o f its size, h old in g w ith one h and an oar that could be taken out, and lifting on the oth er a golden bow l. This w ork o f art was m ade o f w ood , the M o or b lack, the go n d o la and oar glo w in g in m an y colours beneath the varnish. T h e w hole, how ever, was so u rgen tly oriented tow ard its com pan ion piece that I can n o t tell today w h eth er a second M o o r, w hom I im agin e w ith it, rea lly stood there o rigin ally or is a creatu re o f m y im agin ation . So m uch for L e p k e s art au ction . T h ere w as, besides, a futher p u rveyor o f art-w orks at least as far as bronzes w ere con cern ed ; it was the firm o f G lad en b eck. W h eth er the ch oice was affected here, too, b y m ore intim ate com m ercial ties, I do not know . Such was certain ly the case, how ever, w ith our su p p ly o f m outh w ash, hyd rogen peroxid e obtained in huge bottles from the M e d ic in a l Stores , o f w h ich m y father was a director. Less transparent, on the other hand, was the state o f affairs rega rd in g the S ta b ern ack firm, w hich for years held an uncontested m on op o ly o f installations in our apartm en t. H ere the in term ed iate p a rty was perhaps a certain com p an y o f bu ild in g contractors, one o f w hose directors, H err A ltg elt, filled the role o f p artn er in countless telephone conversations w ith m y father, and whose nam e has stayed in m y m em ory because his son was a m em ber, and one o f the most inglorious, o f m y class. L e a v in g aside m ealtim e conversations, it was on ly the telephone that intim ated to us the occult w orld o f business and traders. M y father telephoned a great deal. H e, w hose ou tw a rd m anner seems to h ave been alm ost alw ays courteous an d p liable, possessed perhaps on ly on the telephone the b earin g and decisiveness corresponding to his som etim es great w ealth . In

32 6 conversations w ith m ediating agencies this energy not in freq u en tly grew vociferous, and the serious side o f life , w hich was em bodied tangibly in m y fath ers activity, found in the altercations w ith the telephone operators its true sym bol. T h e telephone first cam e into use durin g m y childhood. I have therefore know n it nailed in some corner o f the corridor, w hence, shrilling from the darkness, it augm ented the terrors o f that Berlin apartm ent w ith the endless passage lead in g from the half-lit d in in g room to the b ack bedroom s. It becam e a truly infernal m achin e w hen m y school friends phoned in the prohib ited period betw een two and four. But not all m y fathers m ysterious transactions w ere carried out by telephone. From earliest times he had h a d like m an y husbands w ho do not alw ays find life easy in m a rria g e a tenden cy to address him self ind epen d en tly to certain branches o f the dom estic econ om y. T hu s he had connections in the provinces, p rin cip a lly in the vicin ity o f H am b u rg, w hich frequently called him a w ay on business. T h e house was regu larly plied from this source w ith H olstein butter, and in autu m n w ith teal. W ine, on the other hand, was catered for by a Berlin firm , whose share certificates w ere also in m y fa th ers possession: this was the C en tral W in e D istributors, w ho w ere trying out new m ethods o f calcu latio n in the w ine business. F in a lly these names becam e entw ined, in the parental discussions, w ith others in w hich the traditions o f the m iddle-class Berlin o f that time con verged from both sides: for n otarial attestation O b ern eck was consulted, operations w ere perform ed by R in n e, d an cin g instruction was entrusted to Q u aritsch , the fam ily doctor was Renvers, at least as long as he lived in the same b u ild in g ,* Joseph G oldschm idt was our banker. B ut as for me, I was m ost lastingly affected by a reckless attem pt that m y father em b arked upon one evening to b rin g even the fa m ily s am usem ents into the h arm on y w ith his business enterprises that he had been able to establish for all its other needs. For w hen, a b ou t 1910, on Lutherstrasse in the W est End, a consortium erected the b u ild in g that now houses the Scala as an Ice P a la ce , m y father, w ith a sizable stake, was am ong their num ber. N ow one evening, I do not know w h eth er it
* Professor R . R envers lived at 24 N ettelbeckstrasse.
[n l b ].

A Berlin Chronicle 32 j was the open in g date or later, m y father conceived the idea o f takin g me there. T h e Ice P alace, how ever, was not only the first artificial ice rink to be seen in Berlin, but also a thrivin g n igh tclu b. So it happ en ed that m y atten tion was held far less by the con volu tions in the arena than by the apparitions at the bar, w hich I was able to survey at m y ease from a box in the circle. A m o n g these was a prostitute in a very tigh t-fittin g w hite sailors suit, w ho, w ith ou t m y h a vin g been able to exch an ge a w ord w ith her, determ ined m y erotic fantasies for years to com e. In those early years I got to know the to w n only as the theatre o f purchases, on w hich occasions it first becam e apparen t how m y fa th ers m oney could cut a path for us betw een the shop counters and assistants and m irrors, and the appraising eyes o f our m other, whose m u ff lay on the counter. In the ign om in y o f a new su it we stood there, our hands peep in g from the sleeves like dirty price tags, and it was only in the con fection ers that our spirits rose w ith the feeling o f h avin g escaped the false w orship that hum iliated our m oth er before idols b earin g the names o f M an n h eim er, H erzo g and Israel, Gerson, A d am , Esders and M ad ler, E m m a Bette, Bud and L ach m a n n . A n im p en etrab le chain o f m ountains, no, caverns o f com m od ities that was the to w n . T h e re are people w ho think they find the key to their destinies in hered ity, others in horoscopes, others again in education. For m y part, I believe that I should gain num erous insights into m y later life from m y collection o f picture postcards, i f I were able to le a f through it again today. T h e m ain con trib u tor to this collec tion was m y m aternal grand m oth er, a d ecid ed ly enterprising lad y, from w hom I believe I have inh erited tw o th in g s: m y d elight in giv in g presents and m y love o f travel. I f it is doubtful w h at the C hristm as h o lid a ys w hich cannot be th o u gh t o f w ithou t the B erlin o f m y c h ild h o o d m eant for the first o f these passions, it is certain that none o f m y boys adven ture books kindled m y love o f travel as did the postcards w ith w hich she supplied me in abu n d an ce from her far-flung travels. A n d because the lon gin g w e feel for a

328 place determ ines it as m uch as does its ou tw ard im age, I shall say som ething abou t these postcards. And y e t was w hat they aw akened in me lon ging? D id they not have far too m agn etic an attraction to leave room for a wish to travel to the places they showed? For I was th ere in T a b a rz , Brindisi, M a d o n n a di C am p iglio, W esterland, w hen I gazed , unable to tear m yself aw ay, at the w ooded slopes o f T a b a rz covered w ith glo w in g red berries, the y ellow -an d -w h ite-d au b ed quays at Brindisi, the cupolas o f M a d o n n a di C am p iglio printed bluish on blue, and the bows o f the W esterla n d slicing high through the w aves. V isitin g the old lad y in her carpeted w in d o w alcove, ornam en ted w ith a little balustrade and looking out onto the Blum eshof, it was hard to im agine how she had u n dertaken lon g sea voyages or even cam el rides under the direction o f S ta n g e ls T ra v e l Bureau. She was a w id ow ; three o f her daughters w ere a lread y m arried w hen I was small. I can tell nothing about the fourth, but a good deal abou t the room that she occupied in her m o th ers apartm ent. But perhaps I must first say som ething about the apartm en t as a w hole. W ith w hat words am I to circum scribe the alm ost im m em orial feeling o f / bourgeois security that em anated from these room s? P arad o xical as it m ay sound, the idea o f that particu la r protectedness seems to relate most d irectly to their shortcom ings. T h e in ven tory that filled these m an y room s tw elve or fou rteen could tod ay be accom m od ated w ith ou t in con gru ity in the shabbiest o f secondhand furniture shops. A n d if these ephem eral forms were so m uch m ore solid than those o f the art nouveau that superseded th e m w hat m ade you feel at hom e, at ease, com fortable, and com forted in them was the n onchalan ce w ith w hich they attach ed them selves to the sauntering passage o f years and days, entrusting their future to the d u rab ility o f their m aterial alone, and now here to rational c a lc u la tion. H ere reigned a species o f things that was, no m atter how com plian tly it bow ed to the m inor whim s o f fashion, in the m ain so w h olly convinced o f itself and its perm anence that it took no account o f w ear, inheritance, or m oves, rem ain ing forever eq u a lly near to and far from its ending, w h ich seemed the en d ing o f all things. P overty could have no place in these rooms w here even

A Berlin Chronicle 329 death had none. T h e y had no space for d y in g w hich is w hy their ow ners died in a sanitorium , w hile the furniture w ent straight to the secondhand dealer. D eath was not provided for in th e m that is w h y they w ere so cozy by day, and b y night the theatre o f our m ost oppressive dream s. It is for this reason that, w hen I think o f this house it was n um ber 10 or 12 B lu m esh of in w hich w ere spent so m any o f m y ch ild h o o d s happiest hours, such as w hen I was allow ed, to the sound o f piano etudes, to browse in Darlings Diversions in an a rm c h a ir I am m et on its threshold b y a n ightm are. M y w akin g existence has preserved no im age o f the staircase. But in m y m em ory it rem ains tod ay the scene o f a h a u n tin g dream that I once had in just those h ap p y years. In this d ream the stairw ay seem ed u nder the pow er o f a ghost that aw aited me as I m ounted, though w ith ou t barrin g m y w ay, m akin g its presence felt w hen I had only a few m ore stairs to clim b. O n these last stairs it held me spellbound. T h e rooms in this a p artm en t on the B lu m esh of w ere not on ly num erous but also in some cases v ery large. T o reach m y gran d m oth er at her w in d o w I had to cross the huge dinin g room and attain the farthest end o f the livin g room . O n ly feast days, and ab ove all C h ristm as D a y , could give an idea o f the capaciousness o f these rooms. But if, w hen this day cam e, it seem ed as though it had been aw aited all the y ear long in the front rooms, there w ere other occasions that b ro u g h t oth er parts o f the ap a rtm en t to life: a visit by a m arried d a u gh ter unlocked a longdisused w a rd ro b e; another b ack room opened to us children w hen the grow n ups wished to take their afternoon nap at the front o f the house, and another part again was an im ated by the piano lessons received by the last d au gh ter to rem ain at hom e. T h e most im p o rta n t o f these rem ote, less-frequented rooms, how ever, was the loggia. Perhaps this was because, b eing the least furnished, it was least suited to the sojourn o f adults, or because m uted street noises cam e in, or finally because it opened onto the back co u rt yards w ith children, dom estic servants, h u rd y-g u rd y men, and porters. But o f these it was m ore often the voices than the forms that w ere to be described from the loggia. M o reover, the courtyards o f a residential q u arter as genteel as this never really bustled w ith

330 a ctiv ity ; som ething o f the com posure o f the rich people whose w ork was b eing done there seem ed to have perm eated this w ork itself, and ev eryth in g seemed to a w ait the Sleeping B eau ty slum ber that descended here on Sundays. For this reason S u n d a y was properly the d ay o f the lo g g ia S u n d ay, w hich none o f the other rooms could ever quite contain, as i f they w ere d am aged . S u n d ay seeped out o f them ; only the loggia, looking out onto the yard w ith the carp et rails and the other loggias w ith their bare w alls o f Pom peian red, could hold it, and not a chim e o f the cargo o f bells w ith w hich the ch u rch es the T w e lv e Apostles, St. M a tth e w s, and the E m p eror W illiam M em orial C h u r c h slow ly load ed it throughout the afternoon, slipped over its b alu strade; all rem ain ed piled high till evening. As I have a lread y ind icated , m y g ra n d m other did not die in the B lum eshof; nor did the other, w ho lived opposite her in the same street and was older and m ore severe, m y fath ers m other. So the B lum eshof has becom e for me an E lysium , an indefinite realm o f the shades o f deceased but im m ortal gra n d mothers. A n d ju st as im agination , h avin g once cast its veil over a district, is apt to adorn its edges w ith incom prehen sible, capricious frills, so, in the course o f decades and to this day it m ade o f a longestablished g ro cers store situated near this house but on M agd eburgerstrasse, to one driving past w ith ou t ever h avin g set foot inside, a m onum ent to an ea rly-d ep arted grand fath er, solely because the first nam e o f its ow ner, like his, was G eorg. But is not this, too, the city: the strip o f light under the bedroom door on evenings w hen we w ere en terta in in g . D id not Berlin itself find its w a y into the exp ectan t ch ild hood night, as later the w orld o f W illia m T e ll or Julius C aesar in vad ed the night o f an audience? T h e dream ship that cam e to fetch us on those evenings must have rocked at our bedside on the w aves o f conversation, or under the spray o f clatterin g plates, and in the early m ornin g it set us down on the ebb o f the carpet beatin g that cam e in at the w indow w ith the moist air on rain y days and en graved itself m ore ind elib ly in the ch ild s m em ory than the voice o f the beloved in that o f the m an, the carpet b ea tin g that was the lan gu a g e o f the

A Berlin Chronicle

jji

nether w orld, o f servant girls, the real grow nups, a lan gu age that som etim es took its tim e, lan gu id and m uted under the grey sky, b reak in g at others into an in ex p lica b le gallop, as i f the servants w ere pursued by phantom s. T h e cou rtyard was one o f the places w here the city opened itself to the ch ild ; others, ad m ittin g him or lettin g him go, w ere railw ay stations. O n d ep artu re, their openings w ere a pan oram a, the fram e o f a fata morgana. N o distance was m ore rem ote than the place w here the rails con verged in the mist. R e tu rn in g hom e, h ow ever, all was different. For the lam ps still b urned in us that had shone in isolation from cou rtyard w indow s often w ith ou t curtains, from staircases bristling w ith filth, from cellar w indow s hung w ith rags. These w ere the b ack yards that the city showed me as I returned from H ah n en klee or Sylt, on ly to close upon them once m ore, never to let me see or enter them . But those five last fearful m inutes o f the jo u rn ey before everyone got out have been converted into the g a z e o f m y eyes, and there are those perhaps w ho look into them as into cou rtyard w indow s in d am aged w alls, in w h ich at early even ing a lam p stands. A m o n g the postcards in m y album there are a num ber o f w hich the w ritten side has lasted better in m y m em ory than the picture. A ll b ear the handsom e, legible signature H elene P u fah l . She was m y first teacher. L o n g before I knew o f classes at school, I was b rou gh t by her into close relationship to the children o f m y class , in the sense o f the w ord that I was to becom e acq u ain ted w ith only tw o decades later. A n d that it was high on the social scale I can infer from the nam es o f the two girls from the little circle that rem ain in m y m em ory: Use U llstein and Luise von L a n d a u . W h a t order o f n ob ility these L an d au s belonged to I do not know . But their nam e had an im m ense a ttraction for me a n d I h ave grounds to suppose for m y parents. Y e t this is h ard ly the reason w h y their nam e has rem ained u n dim m ed in m y m ind until to d a y ; rather, it is the circum stance that this was the first nam e on w hich I consciously heard fall the accen t o f death. T h a t was, as far as I know , not long after I had grow n out o f the little p rivate circle. L ater, each tim e I passed the L u tzo w U fer, m y eyes

33 *
sought her house, and w hen, tow ard the end o f m y school days, I w rote m y first philosophical essay, w ith the title R eflections on the N o b ility , beside that o f P in dar w ith w hich I started, the allu rin g nam e o f m y first schoolm ate stood unuttered. Fraiilein P ufahl was succeeded by H err K n och e, w hom I had to confront qu ite alone. H e was the pre-school teacher from the school for w hich m y parents later intended me. His instruction does not appear to have en tirely agreed w ith me. A t any rate, I perform ed on occasion m agical rites directed against his person, and I still rem em ber the feeling o f om nipotence that cam e over me one day on the H erkules B ridge on receiving the news that H err K n o ch e had can celled the next d a y s class. A t that tim e I knew to w h a t I m ight attribu te this, but today, sadly, I have forgotten the m agic form ula. M o re than in his private appearances, H err K n o ch e im pressed me in the classroom lessons I had w ith him later, w hen I had started school. T h e y w ere enlivened by frequent interm ezzi for thrashing. H err K n o ch e was a zealous exponent o f the cane. H e was also entrusted w ith our singing instruction. A n d it was in a singing lesson th at he showed me one o f the shut gates that w e all know from our ch ild hood, behind w hich, w e w ere assured, the w a y to later, real life lay open. W e w ere practising the cuirassiers song from Wallen steins Camp. T o horse, trusty friends, to horse and aw ay/to the field o f freedom and valian ce,/w h ere a m a n s w orth m ore than dust and clay/and the h earts still w eigh ed in the b a la n c e . H err K n o ch e w an ted the class to tell him w h at these last w ords a ctu a lly m eant. N o one, o f course, could give an answer. It was one o f those artful questions that m ake child ren obtuse. O u r discom fiture seem ed most agreeab le to H err K n o ch e, w ho said poin ted ly, Y o u ll understand that w hen you are grow n u p . N ow I am grow n u p ; I am tod ay inside the gate that H err K n o ch e showed m e ; but it is still firm ly shut. I was not to m ake m y entrance through that portal. As lights on a foggy night h ave aroun d them gig an tic rings, m y earliest theatrical im pressions em erge from the mist o f m y childhood w ith great aureoles. At the very begin n in g is a m onkey th e atre that played perhaps on U n ter den L in d en

A Berlin Chronicle 333 and at w hich I a p p eared , as I rem em ber, h ea v ily escorted, as neither parents nor gran d m oth er was prep ared to forgo w itnessing the effect on me o f m y first theatrical perform ance. T ru e, the source o f the light, the actu al h ap p en in g on the stage, I can no lon ger discern in so m uch lum inous haze. A pinkish-grey cloud o f seats, lights, and faces has o b literated the pranks o f the poor little m onkeys on the stage. A n d w h ile I can recount the sequence o f th eatrical events in the follow ing six or seven years, I can say nothing m ore o f th e m neither o f the Ladies Man I saw at the Spa T h e a tre at S u d erod e; nor o f the William Tell that, as is custom ary, in itiated m e to the Berlin stage; nor o f the Fiesco, w ith M atkow sky, th at I saw at the Schauspielhaus or the Carmen, w ith D estinn, at the O p e ra . T h e latter tw o perform ances m y gran d m oth er had taken under her w in g ; hence not on ly the d a zzlin g program m e but also the im posing circle seats. A n d yet m ore fon d ly than to them , m y m ind goes b ack to the William Tell, because o f the event that preceded it, the h igh ly herm etic nature o f w hich is still un dim m ed, w hile n othin g rem ains in m y m em ory o f the same ev en in gs perform ance. It must h ave been in the afternoon that a difference o f opinion arose b etw een m yself and m y m other. Som ething was to be done that I did not like. F inally, m y m other had recourse to coercion. She threatened that unless I did her b id d in g I should be left at hom e in the evening. I obeyed. But the feeling w ith w h ich I did so, or rather, w ith w h ich , the threat h a rd ly uttered, I m easured the two opposed forces and instan taneously perceived how enorm ous was the prep on d eran ce o f the oth er side, and thus m y silent in d ign ation at so crude and brutal a proced u re, w hich pu t at stake som ething totally d isproportionate to the e n d for the end was m om en tary whereas the stake, the gratitu d e for the even in g that m y m other was a b ou t to give me, as I know today and a n ticip a ted then, was deep and p e rm a n e n t this feeling o f m isused and vio la ted trust has ou tlived in me all that succeeded it that d ay. M a n y years afterw ards it was proved a second tim e how m uch m ore significant and en d u rin g the an ticip a tio n o f an event can be than w h at a ctu a lly ensues. As a boy I longed for nothing m ore than to see K a in z. But his guest perform ances in Berlin w ere d u rin g

334
school time. As the ad van ce bookings in the m orning offered the only possibility o f procurin g seats at prices com m ensurate w ith m y pocket m oney, m y wish was denied for years. M y parents, at any rate, did n othin g to advance its fulfilm ent. O n e d a y w h eth er because the ad van ce bookings w ere on a S u n d ay or for another reason I was able after all to be one o f the first at the ticket office, w hich was a lrea d y that o f the theatre at the N ollen d orfp latz. I see f m yself stan din g at the box office a n d as if m em ory w an ted to prelude the ap p ro a ch in g m ain th em e w a itin g there, sure enough, but not b u yin g m y ticket. A t this point m em ory pauses, and only picks up its thread again w hen I am m oun ting the stairs to the circle in the evening, before the perform ance o f Richard II. W h a t is it that imposes once again on m em ory, at the door o f the a u d i torium , a so far and no fu rther ? T ru e, I see before me a scene from the d ram a, but entirely cut off, w ith ou t m y know in g w hether it is really from this perform ance or from another, any m ore than I know w hether I saw K a in z or not; w hether his ap p earan ce was cancelled or w hether the disappointm ent o f finding him less great than I had believed him annulled, w ith the im age o f his actin g, the w hole evening. So I confront u n certain ty w herever I follow m y earliest theatrical m em ories, and in the end I can no longer even distinguish dream from reality. T h is is true o f a dark w inter evening w hen I w ent w ith m y m other to a production o f The Merry Wives o f Windsor. I really saw this opera, in a kind o f p eop les theatre. It was a noisy, cheerful evening, but all the m ore silent was the jo u rn e y there, through a snow -covered, unknow n Berlin spreading abou t me in the gaslight. It stood in the same relation to the city I knew as that most jea lo u sly gu ard ed o f m y postcards, the depiction o f the H alle G ate in pale blue on a d arker blue background. T h e B elle-A llia n cep latz was to be seen w ith the houses that fram e it; the full m oon was in the sky. From the m oon and the w indow s in the facades, how ever, the top layer o f card had been rem oved ; their contrasting w hite disrupted the picture, and one had to hold it against a lam p or a can dle to see, b y the light o f w indows and a lunar surface p a rad in g in exactly the same illum in ation, the w hole scene regain its com posure. Perhaps

A Berlin Chronicle

5 55

that even in g the op era w e w ere a p p ro a ch in g was the source o f light that m ade the city su d d en ly gleam so d ifferen tly, but perhaps it was only a dream th at I had later o f this w alk, the m em ory o f w h ich had displaced w h a t previously stood in for reality. T h e arch itect o f the K a iser F ried rich School must have had som ething on the order o f B ran d en b u rg brick G oth ic in m ind. A t an y rate, it is constructed in red brick-w ork and displays a preference o f motifs com m on ly found at Sten dal or T a n g erm iinde. The w hole, how ever, gives a n arrow -chested, R isin g close by h ig h shouldered im pression. the precincts o f the

m u n icip al railw ay, the b u ild in g exudes a sad, spinsterish prim ness. E ven m ore than to the experiences I had w ithin , it is p ro b ab ly to this exterior that I should attribu te the fact that I have not retained a single cheerful m em ory o f it. N or, since leavin g, h ave I ever had the idea o f go in g back. O f the w alk to school I have a lrea d y spoken. But if the portal had been reached ju st in tim e, or there was no lon ger sufficient tim e and the n ightm arish things to com e did not w eigh too h e a v ily to allow me to b u y at the ad join in g station ers another piece o f plasticine, a protractor, or, at the very b egin n in g, wafers and the little ribbons used to attach b lo ttin g sheets to exercise-book co vers if finally the w rought-iron door, w hich the ja n ito r was allow ed to open on ly ten m inutes before school started, was still clo sed how m elan ch oly and oppressed m ust this w ait at the door h ave been, under the arch o f the m u n icipal railw ay , w hich crossed K nesebeckstrasse at this point, if n othin g o f it com es b ack to me besides the com pulsion incessantly to rem ove m y cap, to p a y atten tion to m yself, w hen another o f the teachers passed, w ho w ere perm itted to enter, o f course, at any tim e they pleased. O n ly today, it seems to me, am I able to ap p reciate how m uch hatefulness and h u m iliatio n lay in the o b ligation to raise m y cap to teachers. T h e necessity o f ad m ittin g them by this gesture into the sphere o f m y private existence seem ed presum ptuous. I should h ave had no objection to a less intim ate, and in some w ay m ilitary d isp lay o f respect. But to greet a teacher as one w ould a relation

33$ or a friend seem ed in o rd in ately unfitting, as if they had w an ted to hold school in m y hom e. From this alone it can be seen how little school was ever able to w in me over. A n d if I experienced the antiquated forms o f school d iscip lin e can ing, change o f seats, or d eten tio n only in the low er forms, nevertheless the terror and the pall they placed me under in those years never lifted from me. I find this not only in the im portance a ttach ed to prom otion to the next form and to the four reports b rou ght hom e each year, but also in sm aller but m ore telling details. A b o v e all in the u n fath om able shock or, rather, bew ilderm ent into w hich I was p lu n ged by interruptions in the continuity o f te a c h in g such as excursions to the country, gam es, and above all the great annual com petition betw een the schools o f G reater Berlin to decide the best team at prisoners base. N eedless to say, I never belonged to the school team , w hich seldom m et w ith success. But in the m ob ilization o f the w hole school that took place on such occasions, I, too, was involved. T h e m atches w ere n orm ally played in M a y or Ju ne, on some field or drill ground in the vicin ity o f the L eh rter station. As a rule, the w eather was b lazin g hot. N ervously I aligh ted at the L ehrter station, u n certainly I set o ff in the direction I v a g u ely rem em bered, and found m yself at last, w ith m ixed feelings o f relief and repugnan ce, am id some alien troop o f schoolboys. From now on bew ilderm ent was u n in terru pted : w hether I had to look for m y own school party, or sought a resting place in the shade, w hether I had to reach a stall w ith ou t crossing the field in order to buy fruit for breakfast, or congregate, w hile avoid ing any a p p e ar ance o f indifference, around one o f the gentlem en w ho m ade know n the d a y s results, or finally, althou gh I had not understood these results, exchange w ith m y school fellows du rin g the hom ew ard jo u rn ey observations on the course o f the gam e. Y e t w hat m ade these sporting occasions most hated and most repellent o f all was not their m ultitudinous attendance but their site. T h e broad, un frequented avenues lead in g to it w ere flanked by barracks, barracks bordered the p la yin g field, the field was a parade ground. A n d on those days the feeling never left me that if for only a m om ent I relaxed m y vigilan ce, perm itted m yself only the briefest w ell

A Berlin Chronicle 33 7 b ein g in the shade o f a tree or before a sausage ve n d o rs stand, I should fall in ten years tim e irred eem ab ly into the pow er o f this p la ce : I should have to becom e a soldier. T h e K a iser F ried rich School stands close by the m u n icipal railw ay y ard at the S av ign yplatz. A t the S a v ig n yp la tz station you can look dow n into its p la y gro u n d . A n d because, once liberated from it, I freq u en tly took the op p ortu n ity to do this, it now stands before me qu ite uselessly, sim ilar to one o f those M exica n tem ples that w ere ex ca v a ted m uch too early and in expertly, their frescoes h a v in g been lon g effaced by rain by the time the excavation o f the cere m on ial im plem ents and p a p yri, w hich m ight have throw n some light on these im ages, cou ld at last seriously begin. So I h ave to m ake do w ith w hat is resurrected only today, isolated pieces o f in terio r that have broken a w a y and yet contain the w hole w ith in them , w hile the w hole, stan din g out there before me, has lost its details w ith ou t trace. T h e first fragm en t to reap p ear is w h at was certain ly, throughout m y w hole tim e at school, the idlest o f m y percep tion s: the m ould in g, crow n ed w ith crenellations, ab ove the classroom s. A n d perhaps that is not so difficult to explain. F or ev eryth in g else that cam e w ithin m y visual field sooner or later b ecam e o f use to me, b ecam e associated w ith a thou ght or a notion that sw ept it along into the sea o f oblivion . O n ly this n arro w m ould in g, cast out in n u m erab le times by the healthy b eat o f ev eryd a y w aves until it was left stranded like a shell on the shore o f m y d ayd ream in g. A n d there I now com e across it. I pick it up and question it like H a m let addressing the skull. It is, as I h ave said, a m o u ld in g representing a row o f battlem ents. W h a t is visible b etw een them , therefore, is not em pty space b u t the same w ood, only b evelled and notched. T h e intention was certain ly to rem ind the onlooker o f a castle. W h a t he was to do w ith the recollection was an oth er question. In a n y event, this m ou ld in g reinforced the the dense mass d ivided in the m orning behind the closed doors: the class at lessons. O v e r the doors lead in g to the arts-and-crafts rooms it b ecam e the em blem o f a certain gu ild -like solidity. O n the classroom cu p b oard I en cou ntered it again, b u t how m uch m ore em phasis it had on the id en tica lly shaped cu pboard s stan din g

33

along the faculty-room w all. In the first, second, and third forms, in the vicin ity o f the m any little coats and caps on their racks, its im pact was lost; but in the upper classes it acquired an allusion to the Abitur that was soon to crow n the labours o f their m em bers. Y e t never m ore than a shadow o f m eaning and reason passed across it in such places, and it rem ained, w ith the u nspeakable grey-green ornam ents adorning the w all o f the hall, and w ith the absurd bosses and scrolls o f the cast-iron balustrades, the refuge o f all m y m inutes o f terror and m y nightm ares. N othin g, how ever, could com pare w ith the m oulding, unless it w ere the bell that shrilly m arked the beginning and end o f lessons and breaks. T h e tim bre and d uration o f this signal never varied. A n d yet how different it sounded at the begin n in g o f the first and at the end o f the last p e rio d to circum scribe this difference w ould be to lift the veil that seven years o f school cast ever more tigh tly over each o f the days that com posed them. In the w inter the lam ps w ere often still on w hen it rang, but it was bereft o f cosiness, offerin g as little shelter as the light the dentist shines into the m outh on w hich he is about to operate. Betw een two peals o f the bell lay the break, the second p recip itatin g the shuffling, chatterin g u proar w ith w hich the mass o f pupils, streaking through only two doors, surged up the n arrow stairw ay from floor to floor. T hese staircases I have alw ays hated: hated w hen forced to clim b them in the m idst o f the herd, a forest o f calves and feet before me, defenselessly exposed to the bad odours em an atin g from all the bodies pressing so closely against m ine, hated no less w hen, arrivin g late, passing deserted corridors, I hastened up them qu ite alone to the very top, arriving breathless in the classroom . I f that happ en ed before the teach ers hand was on the door handle, even though he m ight be quite near, you got in unseen. But w oe i f the door was a lrea d y sh u t how ever w ide open those next to it m ight still be, and even if above or below some time passed before the ban g or a shutting door ann oun ced the start o f a lesson, and no m atter how harm lessly the eye o f a strange teacher ap p ro a ch in g along the corridor brushed y o u the ju d g m e n t was in elu ctab le w ithin, once you had plucked up courage to open it.

A Berlin Chronicle 3 j g In one o f the streets I passed along on m y endless w an d erin gs I was surprised, m an y years earlier, by the first stirring o f m y sexual urge, un der the oddest circum stances. It was on the Jew ish N ew Y e a r s D a y , and m y parents had m ade arran gem en ts for m e to atten d some d ivin e celeb ration . P ro b a b ly it was a service at the reform ed synagogue, w h ich m y m other, on grounds o f a fa m ily tradition, held in some sym p ath y, w hereas m y fa th ers u p b rin g in g in clin ed him m ore to the orth od o x rite. H o w ever, he had to give w a y. F or this visit to the synagogu e I had been entrusted to a relative w hom I had to fetch on m y w ay. But w heth er b ecause I had forgotten his address or because I was u n fam iliar w ith the district, it grew later and later w ith ou t m y d ra w in g nearer to m y goal. T o m ake m y w ay in d ep en d en tly to the synagogu e was out o f the question, since I had no idea w here it was. T h is b ew ild erm en t, forgetfulness, and em barrassm ent w ere doubtless chiefly d u e to m y dislike o f the im p en d in g service, in its fam ilial no less th an its divin e aspect. W h ile I was w an d erin g thus, I was suddenly and sim ultaneously overcom e, on the one hand, b y the th ought T o o late, tim e was up long ago, y o u ll never get th ere and, on the other, b y a sense o f the insignificance o f all this, o f the benefits o f lettin g things take w h at course they w ou ld ; and these two stream s o f consciousness con verged irresistibly in an im m ense pleasure that filled me w ith blasphem ous indifference tow ard the service, but ex a lted the street in w h ich I stood as if it had a lrea d y in tim ated to m e the services o f p rocu rem en t it was later to render to m y a w ak en ed drive. W e had our sum m er residences first at Potsdam , then at B abelsberg. T h e y w ere outside, from the point o f view o f the c ity ; but from that o f the sum m er, inside; we w ere ensconced w ith in it, and I m ust disengage m y m em ories o f it, like moss that one plucks at ran d om in the dark from the walls o f a cave, from its sultry, h um id glim m er. T h ere are m em ories that are esp ecially w ell preserved because, a lth ou gh not them selves affected, they are isolated b y a shock from all that follow ed. T h e y have not been w orn a w a y b y con tact w ith their successors and rem ain d eta ch ed ,

34
self-sufficient. T h e first such m em ory appears w hen I speak o f these sum m er days: it is an even in g in m y seventh or eighth year. O n e o f our m aidservants stands a long w hile at the w rou ght-iron gate, w hich opens onto I know not w hat tree-lined w alk. T h e big garden, w here I have been roam in g in overgrow n b order regions, is alread y closed to me. It is tim e to go to bed. Perhaps I have sated m yself w ith m y favourite gam e, shooting w ith the ru bb er bolts o f m y E u rek a pistol, som ew here in the bushes by the w ire fence, at the w ooden birds, w hich, struck by a bolt, fell b ack w ard out o f the painted foliage to w hich they w ere attach ed by strings. T h e w hole d a y I had been keeping a secret to m yself: the dream o f the previous night. It had been an eerie one. A ghost had appeared to me. T h e site o f its operations did not, in exact truth, really exist, but had nevertheless a very strong resem blance to one know n, tan talizin g, and inaccessible to me, n am ely the corner o f m y parents b ed ch am b er that was separated from the rest o f the cham ber by an arch hung w ith a h eavy, faded-violet cu rtain , and in w hich m y m o th ers dressing gow ns, house dresses, and shawls w ere suspended. T h e darkness behind the curtain was im pene trable, and this corner was the sinister, nocturnal cou n terp art o f that bright, beatific realm that opened occasion ally w ith m y m oth ers linen cupboard , in w h ich , piled up on the shelves, edged w ith w hite trim m in g and b earin g a blu e-em broid ered text from S ch illers T h e B ell , lay the sheets, tablecloths, napkins, and pillowcases. A sweet laven der scent cam e from the b rig h tly coloured silk sachets h anging on the inside o f the cu pb oard doors. These were the hell and paradise into w h ich the ancient m agic o f hearth and home, w hich had once been lod ged in the spinning w heel, had been sundered. N ow m y dream had risen from the evil w orld : a ghost busyin g itself at a trestle d raped w ith a profusion o f silken fabrics, one coverin g another. T hese silks the ghost was stealing. It did not snatch them up or carry them aw ay, it did n othin g w ith or to them that was actu ally visible and distinguishable, and yet I knew it stole them , just as in legends people w ho discover a spirits b an q u et know that these d ead things are feasting, w ith ou t seeing them eat or drink. It was this dream that I had kept secret.

A Berlin Chronicle

341

A n d in the n ight that follow ed it I noticed, h a lf asleep, m y m oth er and father com ing q u ietly into m y room at an unusual hour. I did not see them lock them selves in ; w hen I got up next m ornin g there was n othin g for breakfast. T h e house had b een stripped o f e v e ry thing. A t m id d ay m y gra n d m o th er arrived from Berlin w ith the bare necessities. A num erous b an d o f burglars had descended on the house in the night. F o rtu n a te ly the noise they m ade gave an in d ication o f their num ber, so that m y m oth er had succeeded in in restrain ing m y father, w h o, arm ed only w ith a pocketkn ife, had w a n ted to confront them . T h e dangerous visit had lasted alm ost until m orning. In va in m y parents had stood at the w in d o w in the first light, signallin g to the outside w o rld : the ban d had d ep arted at their leisure w ith the baskets. M u c h later they w ere cau gh t, and it em erged th at their organizer, a m urderer and crim in al w ith m an y previous convictions, was a deaf-m ute. It m ade m e proud that I was questioned a b o u t the events o f the previous ev e n in g for a com p licity was suspected b etw een the housebreakers and the m aid servan t w ho had stood at the gate. W h a t m ade me even prouder, how ever, was the question w h y I had kept silent abou t m y dream , w hich I now , o f course, n arra ted at len gth as a prop h ecy. W h a t m y first books w ere to m e to rem em ber this I should first h ave to forget all oth er know ledge o f books. It is certain th at all I know o f them tod ay rests on the readiness w ith w hich I then opened m yself to books; b u t w hereas now content, them e, and subject m atter are extraneous to the book, earlier they w ere solely and en tirely in it, being no m ore external or in d epen d en t o f it than are tod ay the n um ber o f its pages or its paper. T h e w orld that revealed itself in the book and the book itself w ere never, at a n y price, to be d ivid ed . So w ith each book its content, too, its w orld, was p a lp a b ly there, at hand. But, eq u a lly , this conten t an d w orld transfigured every part o f the book. T h e y burn ed w ith in it, b lazed from it; located not m erely in its b in d in g or its pictures, they w ere enshrined in ch ap ter headings and open in g letters, p a ragrap h s and colum ns. Y o u did not read books th rou gh ; y o u

342
dw elt, ab id ed betw een their lines, and, reopening them after an interval, surprised you rself at the spot where you had halted. T h e rapture w ith w hich you received a new book, scarcely ven tu rin g a fleeting glan ce betw een its pages, w as that o f the guest in vited for a few weeks to a m ansion and h a rd ly d arin g to d art a glan ce of ad m iration at the long suites o f state room s through w h ich he must pass to reach his quarters. H e is all the m ore im patien t to be allow ed to w ith d raw . A n d so each y ear scarcely had I found the latest volum e o f the New Companion o f German Youth w hen I retreated com pletely behind the ram parts o f its cover, w hich was adorned w ith coats o f arms, and felt m y w a y into the spy or h u n tin g story in w hich I was to spend the first night. T h ere was n othin g finer than to sn iff out, on this first ten tative expedition into the lab yrin th o f stories, the various drafts, scents, brightnesses, and sounds that cam e from its different cham bers and corridors. For in reality the longer stories, interru p ted m an y tim es to reappear as con tin u a tions, extended through the w hole like subterran ean passages. A n d w hat did it m atter if the arom as that rose from the tunnels high into the air, w here w e saw globes or w aterw heels glisten, m ingled w ith the smell o f the gin gerb read , or if a Christm as carol w ove its halo aroun d the head o f Stephenson glim psed betw een two pages like an ancestral portrait through a door crack, or if the sm ell o f the gin gerb read join ed w ith that o f a S icilian sulphu r m ine that suddenly burst upon us in a fu ll-p age illustration as in a fresco. B ut if I had sat for a w hile im m ersed in m y book and then w ent b ack to the table b earin g the presents, it no longer stood alm ost im periously over me as it had w h en I first entered the Christm as ro o m ; rather, I seemed to be w a lk in g on a sm all platform that led dow n to it from m y fairy castle. A n yon e can observe that the d u ration for w hich w e are exposed to impressions has no b earin g on their fate in m em ory. N oth in g prevents our keeping rooms in w h ich w e have spent tw enty-four hours m ore or less clearly in our m em ory, and forgettin g others in w hich w e passed months. It is not, therefore, due to insufficient exposure-tim e if no im age appears on the plate o f rem em brance.

A Berlin Chronicle 343 M o re frequent, perhaps, are the cases w hen the half-light o f h abit denies the plate the necessary ligh t for years, until one d ay from an alien source it flashes as if from b u rn ing m agnesium pow der, and now a snapshot transfixes the ro o m s im age on the plate. N o r is this very m ysterious, since such m om ents o f sudden illu m in atio n are at the sam e time m om ents w hen w e are beside ourselves, and w hile our w akin g, h a b itu al, ev eryd a y self is in volved a ctiv e ly or passively in w hat is h app en in g, our d eeper self rests in an oth er place and is touched by the shock, as is the little heap o f m agn esium pow d er by the flam e o f the m atch . It is to this im m olation o f our deepest self in shock that our m em ory owes its most in d elib le im ages. So the room in w h ich I slept at the age o f six w ou ld h ave been forgotten had not m y father com e in one n ig h t I w as a lrea d y in b e d w ith the news o f a death. It was not, really, the news itself that so affected m e : the deceased was a distant cousin. But in the w ay in w hich m y father told me, there lay [text breaks off] W ith the jo y o f rem em berin g, how ever, an oth er is fused: th at o f possession in m em ory. T o d a y I can no longer distinguish th em : it is as if it w ere only a part o f the gift o f the m om ent I am now relatin g, that it, too, received the gift o f never again b eing w h o lly lost to m e even if decades have passed b etw een the seconds in w hich I think o f it. T h e first great d isappoin tm ent o f m y life reach ed me one after noon on P eacock Island. I had been told on the w ay there th at I should find peacock feathers in the grass. S ca rce ly had I h eard this w hen, w ith the speed o f a spark leapin g b etw een two ch arged systems, a close connection m ust have been form ed in me b etw een the nam e o f these islands and the peacock feathers. It was not th at the spark took a rou n d ab o u t path by w ay o f the im age o f the p e a cock. T h is had no part in the process. A n d so m y rep roach fu l d ism ay as I scoured the tu rf so va in ly was not directed against the peacocks that I saw stru ttin g up and dow n, b u t rather, against the soil o f the island itself, w h ich was a peacock island yet bore no peacock earth. H ad I found the feather I craved in the grass, I

344
should have felt as if I were exp ected and w elcom e at this spot. N ow the island seemed to have broken a prom ise. C e rta in ly the peacocks could not console me. W ere they not there for everyb od y to see? A n d I was to have had som ething intended on ly for me, concealed from all others, to be found in the grass only by me. Th is disappointm ent w ould not have been so great had it not been M o th er E arth herself w ho had inflicted it on me. S im ilarly, the bliss at havin g, after m uch toil, at last learned to ride a b icycle w ould have been less sweet had not M o th er E arth h erself let me feel her praise. O n e learned to ride in those d a y s it was the h eyd ay o f bicycle ra c in g in large halls specially established for the purpose. These halls did not how ever, have the snobbish ch aracter o f the later ice palaces or indoor tennis co u rts; rather, they resem bled skating rinks or gym nasium s, and bespoke a m en tality for w hich sport and open air w ere not inseparable as they are today. It was the era o f sporting costum es that, unlike our present track suits, did not yet seek to a d ap t the b od y to im m ediate needs, but, rather, to define the p a rticu la r sport as sharply as possible and isolate it from all others, ju st as those halls cut it o ff from nature and other exercises. T h e sport, as it was practised in those halls, still had abou t it all the eccentricities o f its beginnings. O n the asphalted floor, m oving under the supervision o f trainers am ong the ord inary tricycles for gentlem en, ladies, and children, were constructions w ith front w heels ten times larger than their small rear wheels, their airy seats p ro b ab ly occupied b y artistes rehearsing a num ber. T h e orch ard at G leinicke, the b road , cerem onious p rom en ad e o f Schloss B abelsberg, the narrow , concealed pathw ays o f our sum m er garden, the shady ways through the foliage leading dow n to L ake G riebn itz at the places w here there w ere je ttie s all this I annexed to m y dom ain, com pletin g in an instant in fantasy the w ork o f countless walks, gam es, and outings, kneeling in m y nuptials w ith the ground as a dynast conquers endless territories by m eans o f a single felicitous union. I have talked o f the courtyards. E ven Christm as was fu n da

m en tally a festival o f the courtyards. T h ere it began w ith the barrel

A Berlin Chronicle 34.5 organs, w hich stretched the w eek before the festival w ith chorales, and there it ended w ith the C hristm as trees, w hich, bereft o f feet, leaned in the snow or glistened in the rain. But Christm as cam e, and all at once, before the eyes o f the bourgeois child, it d ivid ed his city into tw o m igh ty cam ps. These w ere not the genuine ones, in w h ich the exploited and their rulers lie irreco n cila b ly opposed. N o, it was a cam p posed and arran ged alm ost as artificially as the cribs com posed as paper or w ooden figures, but also as old and as h o n o u rab le: C hristm as cam e and divided the children into those w ho shuffled past the booths on Potsdam S qu are and those w ho, alone, indoors, offered their dolls and farm anim als for sale to child ren o f their age. C hristm as cam e and w ith it a w hole, unknow n w orld o f w ares, [breaks o ff] T h e deja vu effect has often been described. B ut I w onder w hether the term is a ctu a lly w ell chosen, and w hether the m etaphor a p p rop riate to the process w ou ld not be far better taken from the realm o f acoustics. O n e o u gh t to speak o f events that reach us like an echo aw aken ed by a call, a sound that seems to have been heard som ew here in the darkness o f past life. A cco rd in gly , if we are not m istaken, the shock w ith w h ich m om ents enter consciousness as if a lrea d y lived usually strikes us in the form o f a sound. It is a w ord, tapp in g, or a rustling that is endow ed w ith the m agic pow er to transport us into the cool tom b o f long ago, from the vault o f w hich the present seems to return only as an echo. B ut has the cou nter part o f this tem poral rem oval ever been investigated , the shock w ith w h ich w e com e across a gesture or a w ord as w e suddenly find in our house a forgotten glove or reticu le? A n d ju s t as they cause us to surmise a stranger w ho has been there, there are words or gestures from w hich we infer that invisible stranger, the future, w h o left them in our keeping. I was perhaps five years old. O n e ev e n in g I was a lread y in b e d m y father app eared , p rob ab ly to say good night. It was h a lf against his w ill, I thought, that he told me the news o f a re la tiv e s death. T h e deceased was a cousin, a grow n m an w ho scarcely concern ed me. But m y father gave the news w ith details, took the o p p ortu n ity to exp lain, in answer to m y

34 $
question, w h at a heart attack was, and was com m u n icative. I did not take in m uch o f the exp lanation . But that evening I m ust have m em orized m y room and m y bed, as one observes e x a ctly a place w here one feels d im ly that one w ill later have to search for som e thing one has forgotten there. M a n y years afterw ard I discovered w hat I had forgo tten , a part o f the news that m y father had broken to me in that room : that the illness was called syphilis. 1932

VI

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian

T h e lifes w ork o f E d u a rd Fuchs belongs to the m ost recent past. A retrospect o f this w ork involves all the difficulties posed by an a ttem p t to render an acco u n t o f the im m ed iate p a st in this case the im m ed iate past o f the M a rxist theory o f art, w hich does not ease m atters. F or by contrast w ith M arxist econom ics, there is still no history o f this theory. Its teachers, M a rx and Engels, did no m ore than in d icate a b ro a d field for the m aterialist d ialectic in it. W h ile the first w ho b roach ed it, a P lekh an ov, a M ehrin g, assim i lated the lessons o f the m asters on ly in d irectly or at any rate belated ly. T h e tradition that leads from M a rx through W ilh elm L ie b k n ech t to Bebel d evelop ed the p o litical far m ore than the scientific side o f M arxism . M e h rin g passed through n ationalism and the school o f L assalle; and w hen he first entered the Social D em o cratic P arty, its th eoretical outlook w a s accord in g to K a u ts k y d om inated b y a m ore or less vu lg a r Lassalleanism . C oh eren t M arxist th o u gh t was non-existent, apart from a few isolated personalities. 1 M e h rin g cam e into con tact w ith M arxism later, in the final years o f E n gelss life. Fuchs on the other hand cam e upon M e h rin g qu ite early. In the relationship betw een the two a trad ition o f cu ltu ra l investigation for the first tim e em erged w ithin historical m aterialism . B ut M e h rin g s field, the history o f literature, had few points o f con tact w ith th at o f Fuchs, as both researchers w ere aw are. T h e d ifference in their dispositions was
1 K a rl K a u tsky, F ranz M eh rin g , in Die . Xeue eit, X X I I , Stuttgart 1904, I, pp 103-104.

349

350
even m ore im portant. M e h rin g w as b y tem peram ent a scholar, Fuchs a collector. T h ere are m an y kinds o f collector, and in any one there is a host o f impulses at w ork. Fuchs as a collector is above all a pioneer: the founder o f a u n iq u e arch ive on the history o f caricature, erotic art, and the p o rtrayal o f m anners. M o re im portant, though, is another and indeed com p lem en tary c irc u m sta n c e : it was as a pioneer that Fuchs becam e a collector. T h a t is, as a pioneer o f the m aterialist view o f art. B ut w h a t m ade this m aterialist a collector was his m ore or less clear feeling for w h at he saw as his historical situation. T his was the situation o f historical m aterialism itself. It finds expression in a letter F ried rich Engels sent to M e h rin g at a time w hen Fuchs, in a socialist ed itorial office, was w in n in g his first victories as a publicist. T h e letter is dated 14 J u ly 1893 and says, am ong other things: It is above all this sem blance o f an indepen den t history o f state constitutions, o f systems o f law , o f ideological conceptions in every separate dom ain, that dazzles most people. I f L u th er and C a lv in overco m e the official C ath o lic religion, or H egel overcom es F ich te and K a n t, R ousseau w ith his repub lican Social C o n tra ct in d irectly overcom es the constitu tional M on tesquieu, this is a process w h ich rem ains w ithin theology, philosophy or po litical science, represents a stage in the history o f these p a rticu la r spheres o f thought an d never passes b eyon d the sphere o f thought. Since the bourgeois illusion o f the etern ality and finality o f cap italist prod u ction has been added as w ell, even the overcom in g o f the m ercantilists b y the physiocrats and A d a m Sm ith is a ccou n ted a sheer victo ry o f thought, not as the reflection in thought o f ch an ged econom ic facts, bu t o f the finally achieved correct u n derstan d ing o f actu al conditions substituting alw ays and everyw h ere. 2 E ngelss objection is tw ofold: first, he is protesting against the habit in the history o f ideas o f representing a new d ogm a as the development o f an earlier one, a new school o f poetry as a reaction to a
2 M arx-E ngels, Selected Correspondence, M oscow 1964, pp 5 4 1-54 2 . Cited in G ustav M ayer, Friedrich Engels, V o l II, Friedrich Engels und der Au/stieg der Arheiterbewegung in Europa, Berlin, pp 450-451.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 3 5 1 preced in g one, a new style as the overcoming o f an older one; second, it is clear that he also im p licitly objects to the custom o f represent ing such new entities in isolation from their effect on people and their in tellectu al and econ om ic processes o f production . His a rg u m ent destroys the claim o f the hum anities to be the history o f con stitutions or n atu ral sciences, o f religion or art. But the explosive pow er o f these thoughts, w h ich Engels carried w ith him for h a lf a cen tu ry ,3 goes deeper. It calls in question the herm etic self sufficiency o f the various disciplines and their su b jects in the case o f art, the w orks w h ich the con cep t o f art purports to encom pass. F or a d ialectical historian, these w orks in corpo rate both their p re history and their a fter-h istory an after-history in virtue o f w hich their pre-history, too, can be seen to u n dergo constant change. T h e y teach him how their fu n ction can outlast their creator, can leave his intentions b eh in d ; how its reception b y the artists con tem poraries forms part o f the effect that the w ork o f art has on us ourselves today, and how this effect derives from our encounter not ju st w ith the w ork, b ut w ith the history that has brou gh t the w ork dow n to us. T h is is w h a t G oeth e intim ated to C h an cello r von M u ller in a conversation a b ou t S hakespeare: N o th in g that has had a great im p act can really be ju d g e d any lo n g er. T h ere cou ld be no apter evocatio n o f the disquiet that m arks the b egin nin g o f any critiq u e o f history w o rth y to be called d ialectical, w hich m ust renounce a calm , co n tem p la tive attitu d e tow ards its subject to becom e aw are o f the critical constellation in w hich precisely this fragm en t o f the past is found w ith precisely this present. T ru th w ill not run a w a y from us this d ictum , b y G ottfried K eller, indicates the exact spot w here historical m aterialism breaks through the historicist view o f the past. For it is an irrecoverab le p icture o f the past that threatens to vanish w ith every present instant that does not see itself prefigured in it. T h e m ore one reflects on E n gelss rem arks, the clearer it becom es that the price o f any d ialectica l accou n t o f history is aband onm en t
3 T h e y appear in the earliest studies on F euerbach, w here M arx writes: T h ere is no history o f politics, o f law, o f science . . . o f art, o f religion . Marx-Engels Arckiv , I, ed. D a vid R ya za n o v, Frankfurt am M ain 1928, p 301.

35 *
o f the con tem p lative approach ch aracteristic o f historicism . T h e historical m aterialist m ust sacrifice the epic dim ension o f history. T h e past for him becom es the subject o f a construction whose locus is not em p ty tim e, bu t the p a rticu la r epoch, the p articu lar life, the p articu lar w ork. H e breaks the epoch a w a y from its reified his torical continuity, and the life from the epoch, and the w ork from the lifes w ork. But the result o f his construction is that in the w ork the lifes work, in the lifes w ork the ep och , and in the epoch the course o f history are suspended and p reserved .4 Historicism presents an etern al im age o f the past, historical m aterialism a specific and u n iqu e en gagem en t w ith it. T h e sub stitution o f the act o f construction for the epic dim ension proves to be the condition o f this en gagem en t. In it those pow erful forces that lie bound in the o n ce-u p on -a-d m e o f historicism are set free. T h e task o f historical m aterialism is to set to w ork an en ga ge ment w ith history origin al to every new present. It has recourse to a consciousness o f the present th at shatters the continu u m o f history. H istorical m aterialism conceives historical u n derstan ding as an after-life o f that w h ich is understood, whose pulse can still be felt in the present. T h is un derstan d ing has its place in F u ch ss schem e, but by no m eans an undisputed one. A n old, d ogm atic and naive notion o f recep tio n coexists in him w ith the new and m ore critical one. T h e form er consists essentially in the assertion that w h at should coun t for most in ou r reception o f a w ork is the w a y it was received at the hands o f the a rtists contem poraries. It forms an exact an a logy to R a n k e s w h at it was actu ally lik e , w hich is after all the o n ly thin g that m atters .5 C heek by jo w l w ith this, how ever, w e find a d ialectical insight into the significance o f a history o f recep tio n an insight th at opens the w idest horizons.
4 It is the dialectical construction w h ich distinguishes that w hich is our original concern w ith historical engagem ent from the patchw ork findings o f actu ality. T h a t w hich is origin al is never revealed in the naked and m anifest existence o f the factu al; its rh ythm is apparent only to a d u al insight. I t . . . is related to its history and subsequent d evelopm en t. W alter Benjam in, The Origin o f German Tragic Drama , L ondon N L B , 1977, pp 45-46. 5 Erotische Kunst> I, p 70.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 353 Fuchs com plains that the question is ign ored in art history. T h is om ission is a failure in ou r overall ap p reciation o f art. A n d yet it seems to m e that u n co v erin g the real reasons for the greater or lesser success o f an artist, for the d u ration o f his success, and no less so for the opposite, is one o f the most im portan t problem s o f a r t. 6 T h is w as also the view taken b y M eh rin g, the starting point o f whose analyses in his Lessing-Legende was the reception accorded to the poet, w hether by H ein e or G ervin us, S tah r or D an zel or, finally, E rich S ch m idt. It w as not for n othin g that J u lian H irsch s O n the G enesis o f F a m e , a v a lu a b le study in terms o f its contents if not its m ethods, ap p eared not long afterw ards. Fuchs had the sam e question in m ind. Its solution affords a criterion for the stan dards o f historical m aterialism . T h is fact does not, how ever, ju stify the suppression o f a n o th e r : th at such a solution is still w antin g. It is better to concede w ith o u t reservations that only in isolated cases has it been possible to ap p reh en d the historical im port o f a w ork o f art in such a w a y as to m ake it m ore transparent for us as a work o f art. A ll attem pts to court a w ork o f art m ust rem ain futile unless its sober historical content is illu m in ed by the shafts o f d ialectical insight. T h a t is on ly the first o f the truths b y w h ich the w ork o f f d u a r d Fuchs the co llector was guided. H is collections are the p ra ctica l m a n s answer to the paradoxes o f theory. 2 Fuchs was born in 1870. H e was not predisposed to a life o f sch olar ship. A n d n otw ith stan d in g the great eru d ition to w h ich he attain ed in later life, he never b ecam e the typical scholar. His w ork con stan tly overshot the bounds o f the research ers field o f vision. So it was w ith his achievem ents as a collector; so, too, w ith his a ctiv ity as a politician . Fuchs started to earn his livin g in the mid-1880s. It was the tim e o f B ism arck s law against socialists. F u ch s position as an ap p ren tice b rou gh t him together w ith p o litica lly concerned proletarian s, and he was soon in volved in w h a t tod ay seems the
6 Gavarni, p 13.

354
id yllic struggle o f the illegal m ilitan ts o f that tim e. T h is a p p ren ticeship ended in 1887. A few years later, the B avarian organ o f the Social D em ocrats, the Miinchener Post, solicited the services o f the youn g book-keeper Fuchs from a S tu ttga rt p rin ters; it b elieved it had found in him the m an w ho cou ld clear up the p a p e rs adm in is trative difficulties. Fuchs w en t to M u n ich , to w ork there w ith R ic h a rd C a lv e r. T h e publishers o f the Miinchener Post also b rou gh t out a m agazin e o f socialist lam poons, the Suddeutsche Postilion. It h app en ed one d ay that Fuchs, to help out, had to assum e responsibility for m akin g up an issue o f the Postilion, and filled som e gaps w ith contribu tion s o f his own. T h is issue was u n usually successful. T h en , the sam e year, appeared the M a y issue o f this p ap er, colou rfu lly illu stra ted coloured n ew spaper illustration w as ju st then gettin g sta rted and put together by Fuchs. Sixty thousand copies w ere sold, com pared w ith an an n u al average o f 2,500. T h u s Fuchs b ecam e editor o f a m agazin e devoted to political satire. A t the sam e tim e he turned to the history o f his field ; this, together w ith his d a y-to -d a y w ork, was the origin o f the illustrated studies on the year 1848 in carica tu re and on the L o la M o n tez affair. B y contrast w ith history books illustrated b y livin g artists (e.g. W ilh elm Bloss p o p u la r books on the revolution, w ith pictures b y von Jen tsch ), these w ere the first historical w orks w ith d o cu m en tary illustration. A t H a rd e n s in vitation, Fuchs h im self ann ou n ced the second o f these w orks in
D ie Zukunft, rem ark in g that it w as o n ly an excerpt from the com

prehensive w ork he plann ed on carica tu re am ong the E u rop ean peoples. A ten-m onth spell in prison, after a con viction for lesemajeste in the press, stood him in go od stead in his studies for this

w ork. T h e id ea was p lain ly an auspicious one. A certain H ans K raem er, w h o had som e exp erience in the prod u ction o f illustra ted alm an acs, a p p roach ed Fuchs w ith the news that he was a lread y w orkin g on a history o f c a ric a tu re ; he proposed to con trib u te his ow n studies to a jo in t w ork. H is contributions, h ow ever, failed to m aterialize, and before long it w as clear that Fuchs w ou ld h ave to shoulder the entire considerable w ork-load b y him self. T h e nam e o f the presum ptive co-author, w h ich still appeared on the title p age

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 355 o f the first edition o f the w ork on caricatu re, was dropped in the second. B ut Fuchs had given the first co n vin cin g p ro o f o f his stam ina and o f his m astery o f his m aterial. T h e long series o f his m ajor w orks was la u n c h e d .7 F uchs em erged at a tim e w hen, as D ie Neue J^eit once put it, the trunk o f the Social D em o cratic P arty was exp an d in g in rin g after rin g o f organic g ro w th .8 T h is m eant new tasks in the p a r ty s ed u cation al w ork. T h e m ore the w orkin g masses flocked to the p arty, the less could it conten t itself w ith their m ere political and scientific en lightenm ent, w ith p o p u la rizin g the theories o f surplus valu e and o f evolution. It also had to start in clu d in g historical m aterial in its lecture courses and in the feature supplem ents o f the p a rty press. T h is raised the w hole problem o f the popularization o f
knowledge. It was not solved. A n d no solution could be ap p roach ed

so lon g as the ob ject o f this ed u cation al w ork w as th ought o f as the

public rath er than as a class.9 I f the ed u cation al w ork o f the p arty

had b een d irected at the class, it w ou ld not h a ve lost its feel for the scientific tasks o f historical m aterialism . T h e historical m aterial, p lou gh ed over b y M a rxist dialectics, w ou ld h ave becom e the soil in w h ich the seed sown b y the present could h a ve sprouted. T h a t did not happen. T h e slogan W o rk and E d u c a tio n , under w h ich
7 T h ese h ave been published b y A lb e rt Lan gen o f M u n ich as Hauptwerke. T h e y in clu d e: Illustrierte Sittengeschichte vom M ittelalter bis zur Gegenwart, V o l I: Renaissance, V o l I I : D ie galante V o l I I I : D as biirgerliche eitalter, also S upplem entary Vols II II (here cited as Sittengeschichte)', Geschichte der erotischen Kunst, V o l I: D as zeitgeschichtliche Problem, V o l I I : D a s individuelle Problem , Part O n e, V o l I I I : D as individuelle Problem, Part T w o (here cited as Erotische K unst ) ; D ie Karikatur der europaischen Volker, V o l I : Vom Altertum bis zum Jahre 184.8, V o l I I: Vom Jahre 184 8 bis zum Vorabend des Weltkrieges (here cited as Karikatur ) ; Honore Daumier: Holzschnitte und Lithographien, V o l I : Holzschnitte, V ols II I V : Lithographien (here cited as Daumier ) ; D er M aler Daum ier; Gavarni; D ie grossen Meister der Erotik; Tang-Plastik. Chinesische Grab-Keramik des 7. - 10. Jahrhunderts ; Dachreiter und verwandte chinesische Keramik des 1 5 .- 1 8 . Jahrhunderts. A p a rt from these works, Fuchs devoted special studies to the caricatu re of w om en, o f Jew s, and o f the W orld W ar. 8 A . M ax , Z u r Frage der O rgan isatio n des Proletariats der In telligen z, Die Neue eit, X I I I / I , S tu ttgart 1895, p 645. 9 N ietzsche w rote as early as 1874: T h e fin a l. . . result is the generally approved p o p u lariza tion . . . o f science, th at is the notorious cu tting o f the coat o f science to the figure o f the m ixed p u b lic , to use a tailor-like G erm an [sic] for a tailor-like a ctiv ity , Friedrich N ietzsche, V o m N utzen und N ach teil der H istorie fur das L e b e n , Unzeitgemassige Betrachtungen, I, L eip zig 1893, p 168.

35^ the patriotic associations o f S ch u ltze-D elitzsch had cond u cted w or kers education, was countered b y Social D em o cracy w ith the / slogan K n o w le d g e is p o w er . B u t the p a rty failed to p erceive its double m eaning. It thought the sam e know ledge that secured the rule o f the bourgeoisie over the p roletariat w ould en able the proletariat to free itself from that rule. In reality, k n ow led ge w ith no outlet in praxis, know ledge th at could teach the p roletariat n othin g a b ou t its situation as a class, was no d anger to its oppres sors. This was especially true o f kn ow ledge relatin g to the h u m a n i ties. It lagged far behind econom ics, rem ain ing u n tou ched by the revolution in econom ic theory. It sought only to stimulate, to offer variety, to arouse interest. H istory was shaken up, to relieve the m onotony; the result was cultural history. T h is is w here F u ch ss w ork cam e into its o w n : in its reaction to this state o f affairs lay its g rea t ness, in its p articip atio n in it, its pro b lem a tic dim ension. From the begin nin g Fuchs had m ade a point o f tailorin g his w ork for the readin g m asses.10 Few recogn ized at the tim e how m uch in reality dep en ded on the w ork o f m aterialist education. It was the hopes, and even m ore the m isgivings, o f those few that found expression in a d ebate reflected in Meue %eit. T h e most im p o rta n t contribu tion was an essay by K o rn entitled T h e P roletariat and the C lassics . It dealt w ith the notion o f heritage, a con cep t w h ich has again becom e im portant today. Lassalle saw in G erm an idealism , K o rn argu ed , a heritage o f w hich the w orkin g class took possession. B ut M a rx and Engels held a d ifferent view. T h e y did not derive the social priority o f the w orkin g class from an inh eritan ce, bu t rath er from its decisive position in the prod u ction process itself. Besides, w h at need is there to talk o f possessions, even cu ltu ral possessions, on the part o f a p arven u class, like the m odern p roletariat, that d aily and hourly dem onstrates its right throu gh . . . its w ork that is constan tly reprod ucin g the entire apparatu s o f cu ltu re? . . . For M a r x and Engels the show piece o f L assalles ed u cation al ideal, sp ecu lative philosophy, is thus no tabern acle . . . and both felt m ore and m ore
10 A cu ltu ral historian who takes his task seriously must alw ays w rite for the masses. (Erotische Kunst, II, Forew ord.)

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 5 5 7 stron gly d raw n to n atu ral science. . . . In d eed for a class whose essence is its function, n atu ral science m ay as w ell be called k n ow ledge pure and sim ple, ju st as for the ru lin g and possessing class ev eryth in g that is historical com poses the given form o f its ideology. . . . In actu al fact history represents for consciousness the catego ry o f possession, ex a ctly as ca p ita l represents for econom ics the con trol o f past la b o u r. 11 T h is critiq ue o f historicism has some w eight. H ow ever, the reference to n atural scien ce know ledge pure and sim ple for the first tim e perm its a clear view o f the dangerous prob lem atic o f the ed u ca tio n a l question. T h e prestige o f the n atu ral sciences had d om in ated d ebate since Bebel. H is m ajor w ork, Women and Socialism, sold 200,000 copies in the th irty years betw een its a p p e ar ance and that o f K o r n s w ork. B eb els ap p reciation o f n atu ral science does not rest on the m a th em atical exactness o f its results alone, b ut above all on its p ra ctica l a p p lic a b ility .12 L ate r it occupies a sim ilar position in E n gelss thou ght, w hen he tries to refute K a n t s ph en o m en o logy by pointin g to the trium ph o f tech n ology, w h ich shows th at w e do indeed recogn ize things in them selves . N atu ra l science, w h ich in K o rn appears as know ledge tout court, does so a b o v e all as the fou n d ation o f technology. But tech n ology is ob viou sly not a pu rely scientific phenom enon. It is also an historical one. A s such, it forces us to investigate the positivist and u n d ialectical separation betw een n atu ral science and the hum anities. T h e questions w h ich m ankind asks o f nature are d eterm in ed am on g other things by its level o f production. T h is is the point w here positivism breaks dow n. In the d evelopm ent o f tech n o lo g y it saw only the progress o f science, not the retrogression o f society. It overlooked the fact that capitalism has decisively con d ition ed that d evelopm ent. It also escaped the positivists am ong the theoreticians o f S ocial D em o cracy that the d evelopm ent o f

11 C . K o rn , Proletariat und K lassik , Die Neue eit, X X V I / I I , Stuttgart 1908, pp 4 1 4 -4 15 . 12 See A u gu st Bebel, Die Frau und der Soziatismus, Stu ttgart 1891, pp 17 7 -17 9 and PP 333 ~ 33 > on the changes in housew ork effected by technology, and pp 200-201 on w om an as inventor.

35-9
technology m ade it m ore and m ore d ifficult for the p ro letariat to take possession o f i t an act that w as seen to be m ore and m ore urgen tly necessary. T h e y failed to p erceive the destructive side o f techn ology because they w ere alien ated from the d estructive side o f the dialectic. A prognosis was needed, and it w as not forthcom ing. T h is set the seal on a trend th at was ch aracteristic o f the last cen tu ry : the defective reception o f technology. It consisted in a series o f vigorous and repeated attem pts to get round the fact that techn ology serves this society solely for the p rod u ction o f com m odities. T h e disciples o f S ain t-Sim on started the ball ro llin g w ith their industrial p o etry; then cam e the realism o f a D u C a m p , w ho saw the locom otive as the saint o f the fu tu re; and a L u d w ig P au b rou ght up the rear: It is quite unnecessary to becom e an a n g e l , he w rote, since the locom otive is w orth m ore than the finest pair o f w in g s. 13 T h is rom antic view o f techn ology is straight out o f Die Gartenlaube. It m ay fairly be w on dered w hether the Gemutlichkeit in w h ich the c en tu ry s bourgeoisie rejoiced m ay not stem from a vag u e satis faction at n ever h a vin g to experience at first hand the d evelopm en t o f the forces o f production . T h a t exp erience was really reserved for the follow ing cen tury. It is d iscoverin g that traffic speeds, like the cap acity to d u p licate both the spoken and the w ritten w ord , have outstripped hum an needs. T h e energies that tech n ology develops beyond their threshold are destructive. T h e y serve p rim arily to foster the tech n ology o f w arfare, and o f the m eans used to p rep are public opinion for w ar. It m ay be said o f this d evelopm ent, w h ich was th o rough ly class-determ ined, th at it occurred beh ind the b ack o f the last c e n tu ry w h ich was not yet aw are o f the destructive energies o f techn ology. T his was p a rticu la rly true o f Social D em o cracy at the turn o f the century. I f it sought to pu n ctu re the illu sions o f positivism in certain specific areas, b y and large it rem ain ed under their sw ay. It saw the past as h a vin g been b rou gh t once and for all into the granaries o f the present; if the future held w ork in store, it also prom ised the certain ty o f a rich harvest.
13 P 728. Cited in D. Bach, Joh n R u skin , Die Neue eit, X V I I I / I , Stu ttgart 1900,

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 359

3
T h is was the age in w h ich E d u a rd Fuchs grew up, and some essential features o f his w ork are d erived from it. T o put it sim ply, his w ork partakes o f the p ro b lem a tic that is inseparable from cu ltu ra l history. T h is p ro b lem a tic goes b ack to the Engels text qu oted above. In d eed , the passage m ay be seen as the locus classicus that defines historical m aterialism as the history o f culture. M u st that not be its real m ea n in g? M u st not the study o f in d ivid u al disciplines, now stripped o f their a p p aren t a u ta rk y, be subsum ed in the study o f cultural history as th at o f the in ven tory m ankind has to date preserved? In rea lity anyon e asking questions o f this sort w o u ld on ly be rep la cin g the m an y and p rob lem atical unities em b ra ced b y in tellectu al history (as the history o f literatu re and art, o f law or religion) w ith a new and even m ore p rob lem atical one. T h e historical m aterialist understands th at the abstract m ode in w h ich cu ltu ral history presents its m aterial is an illusion, estab lished by false consciousness.14 H e approaches this abstraction w ith reserve. H e w ould be ju stified in this reserve by the m ere inspection o f the actu al p a s t: w h a tev er he surveys in art and science has a descent that can not be con tem plated w ith o u t horror. It owes its existence not ju st to the efforts o f the great geniuses w ho fashioned it, b u t also in greater or lesser d egree to the anonym ous d ru d g ery o f their contem poraries. T h ere is no cu ltu ral docu m en t that is not at the sam e tim e a record o f barbarism . N o history o f

14 T h is illusion found ch aracteristic expression in A lfred W e b e rs w elcom ing address to the G erm an Socio lo gical C onven tion o f 1912 : C u ltu re only emerges w hen life has becom e a form w h ich rises above its necessities and utilities. T h is concept o f cultu re contains seeds o f barbarism w hich h ave since germ inated. C u l ture appears as som ething w h ich is superfluous for the continued existence o f life but w h ich w e feel to be the very reason for w hich life is th ere. In short, culture exists after the fashion o f a w ork o f art w hich perhaps disarrays entire modes o f livin g and life principles, m ay be dissolving and destructive, but whose existence we feel to be higher than everyth in g h ealthy and livin g w hich it destroys. A lfred W eber, D er soziologische K u ltu rb e g riff , Verhandlungen des zweiten deulschen
Soziologentages: Schriften der deutschen Gesellschaft fu r Soziologie , 1 : 1, T u b in gen 1913, pp 11 12. T w en ty -five years after this was said, cultured S tates have m ade it a point o f pride to resem ble, even to be, such works o f art.

36o
culture has yet done ju stice to this fu n dam en tal fact, or can w ell hope to do so. Y e t this is not the crux o f the m atter. I f the concep t o f culture is a p rob lem atical one for historical m aterialism , the disintegration o f culture into com m odities to be possessed by m ankind is un thin kable for it. H istorical m aterialism does not regard the w ork o f the past as over and don e w ith. It does not see that w ork, or any part o f it, as fallin g w ith con ven ien t q u id d ity into the lap o f any eporfi. T h e con cep t o f culture as the em bod im en t o f entities that are considered in d epen d en tly, i f not o f the p rod u ction process in w hich they arose, then o f that in w h ich they continue to survive, is fetishistic. C u ltu re appears reified. Its history is then n othin g but the residue o f m em orable things and events that never broke the surface o f hum an consciousness because they w ere never truly, that is p o litica lly , experienced. O n e m ust recogn ize that no h istoriography un dertaken on the basis o f cu ltu ral history has ever m anaged to escape this p rob lem atic. It is m anifest in the am bitious
German History o f L am p rech t, to w h ich the critics o f M ew %eit m ore

than once addressed them selves, for obvious reasons. O f the bourgeois historians , w rites M e h rin g, L am p rech t is know n as the one w ho has com e closest to historical m a terialism . N ev er theless, L am p rech t stopped h a lfw a y . . . A n y con cep t o f historical m ethod vanishes . . . w hen L a m p re c h t tries to a p p ly a p articu lar m ethod to his accou n t o f econ om ic and cu ltu ral developm ents, yet com piles the political developm ents o f the same period from other historians. 15 T o represent cu ltu ra l history on the basis o f p ra g m atic story-telling certain ly m akes no sense. But the absu rd ity o f a d ialectical history o f culture as such lies deeper, since the continuum o f history, b lo w n ap art by d ialectics, is now here scattered over a w ider area than in that part p eop le call culture. In short, cu ltu ral history on ly seems to represent a d eepen ing o f insight; it does not present even the ap p earan ce o f progress in dialectics. F or it lacks the destru ctive elem ent that gu aran tees the a u th en ticity o f d ialectical th o u gh t and o f the d ia le ctic ia n s ex15 F ranz M eh rin g, Akadem isches , Die Neue eit, X V I , Stu ttgart 1898, I,

PP 1 95 - [ 9 6 -

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 36 1 perience. It m ay w ell increase the burden o f the treasures that are piled up on h u m a n ity s back. B ut it does not give m ankind the strength to shake them off, so as to get its hands on them . T h e same applies to the ed u cation al w ork o f socialism aroun d the turn o f the cen tury, w hich m ade cu ltu ra l history its lodestar.

4
F u ch s w ork takes on sharper historical definition against this b a ck groun d. W h ere it has lastin g va lu e, it was w rested from an in tellectu al constellation th at has rarely been m ore u n favou rab le. A n d here it is Fuchs the co llector w h o tau gh t the theoretician m any things to w hich his tim e b arred access. It was the collector w ho found his w a y into grey a re a s caricatu re, p o rn o g ra p h y w here the m odels o f con ven tion al art history sooner or later com e to grief. In the first place it should be noted that Fuchs broke right across the b oard w ith the classicist concep tion o f art, whose traces can still be recogn ized even in M a rx. T h e ideas em ployed by the b ourgeoisie in d evelop in g this conception o f art no longer operate in F uch s: not b eau ty o f a p p earan ce, not harm on y, not unity in diversity. A n d the same robust self-assertiveness o f the collector w hich estranged the w riter from the classicist theories sometimes sets its face, in the bluntest term s, against classical an tiq u ity itself. In 1908, po in tin g to the w ork o f R o d in and Slevo gt, he prophesied a new b ea u ty , w hich in its end result prom ises to be infin itely greater than the an cien t w orld . For w here the latter was on ly the highest an im al form , the n ew b ea u ty w ill be im bued w ith a grandiose in tellectu al and sp iritu al con ten t .16
16 Erotische Kunst, I, p 125. A constant reference to con tem porary art is am ong the most im p ortan t im pulses o f Fuchs the collector. It, too, com es to him partially through the great creations o f the past. His in com parab le know ledge o f older caricatu re allow s Fuchs an early recognition o f the works o f a T o ulouse-L au trec, a H eartfield and a G eorge Grosz. H is passion for D au m ier leads him to the w ork o f Slevogt, whose conception o f D o n Q u ix o te he deems alone able to hold its own beside D au m ier. His studies in ceram ics give him the auth ority to sponsor an Em il Pottner. A ll his life Fuchs enjoyed friendly relations w ith creative artists. H ence it is not surprising th at his m anner o f addressing works o f art is often m ore that o f an artist th an o f a historian.

3 62
In brief, the values that had d ictated the aesthetic views of W in ck elm an n or G oeth e lose all influence in the w ork o f Fuchs. It w ould o f course be a m istake to conclude that the d ialectical critique o f art was itself revo lu tion ized . T h a t cannot be the case before the disiecta membra, w h ich idealism keeps h an d y in the form o f historical representation and appreciation, have becom e one and as such have been superseded. T h a t task is reserved for a science of history whose subject m atter is not a tangle o f p u rely factu al details, but consists rath er o f the n u m bered grou p o f threads th at represent the w eft o f the past as it feeds into the w a rp o f the present. (It w ould be a m istake to equ ate this w eft w ith the m ere nexus o f causation. R ath er, it is thorou gh ly d ialectica l, and threads m ay have been lost for centuries that the present course o f history erratically, in conspicuously picks up again.) T h e subject m atter o f history, once released from pure facticity, needs no appreciation. F or it offers not vague analogies to the present, b u t constitutes the precise d ia lectical prob lem th at the present is called upon to resolve. T h a t is indeed F u ch s purpose. I f in n oth in g else, his intention w ou ld be felt in the sententiousness that often m akes his text sound m ore like a lecture. O n the other hand, it also shows that m uch the auth or intended rem ain ed inchoate. W h a t is b asically new in the inten tion finds coheren t expression p rin cip a lly w here the subject meets A it h a lfw a y . T h is happens in the in terpretation o f ico n o grap h y, in the consideration o f mass art, and in the study o f the techn ology of reproduction. These parts o f F u ch ss w ork are pioneering. T h e y are essential elem ents o f any future m aterialist critique o f w orks o f art. T h e three topics m entioned h a ve one thing in com m on : they lead to insights that can not p rove other than d estructive to the trad itional view o f art. A tten tion to the techn ology o f reprod u ction reveals, as does scarcely any other line o f in q u iry, the decisive im portance o f receptio n ; it th ereb y allow s the correction , w ithin limits, o f the process o f reification un dergon e by the w ork o f art. C on sideration o f mass art leads to a revision o f the concep t o f genius; it is a rem inder not to overlook the invoice w hich alone allows the inspiration in volved in the genesis o f a w ork o f art to becom e fruitful. F in ally, ex p licatio n o f ico n o grap h y not only

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 363 proves indispensable for the study o f reception and mass art; above all it guards against the excesses to w hich an y form alism soon b ecko n s.17 Fuchs had to concern h im self w ith form alism . W o lfflin s teach ings w ere in the ascen d an t at the tim e Fuchs was lay in g the foundations o f his w ork. In his Problem o f the Individual he refers to a p rin cip le from W o lfflin s Classical Art. T h is prin ciple reads: T h e Q u a ttro cen to and C in q u ecen to as stylistic concepts can thus not be ch ara cterized b y a m ere accou n t o f their subject m atter. T h e ph enom enon . . . points to a d evelopm en t o f the artistic vision w hich is essentially in d epen d en t o f a p a rticu la r m en tality or a p a rticu la r ideal o f b e a u ty . 18 T h is form u lation is certain ly offen sive to the historical m aterialist. B ut it does contain som ething useful; for it is precisely the historical m aterialist w ho is interested in tracin g the change in artistic vision not so m uch to a chan ged ideal o f b ea u ty as to m ore elem en tary processes processes brou gh t ab ou t b y econom ic and tech n ical transform ations in production. In this p a rticu la r case, a fruitful line o f in q u iry w ou ld be to ask w h at eco n o m ically d eterm in ed changes in residential b u ild in g w ere in trod u ced by the R en aissan ce, and w h a t role R enaissance p a in tin g p layed as a prospectus for the new arch itectu re and as an illustration o f the m anners m ade possible b y it.19 A d m itted ly W olfflin on ly touches on this question in passing. But w hen Fuchs retorts that It is precisely these form al points that can be acco u n
17 T h e m aster o f icon ograph ic in terpretation is p ro b a b ly Em ile M ale. His research is confined to the sculpture o f French cathedrals from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries, and so does not overlap with F uchs studies. 18 H ein rich W olfflin, Die klassiscke Kunst , M u n ich 1899, p 275. 19 O ld e r panel painting gran ted no m ore than the outline o f a house to men for their quarters. T h e painters o f the early Renaissance w ere the first to depict interior space in w h ich the figures represented have room to m ove. T h a t is w h at m ade U cce llo s invention o f perspective so overpow ering to his contem poraries and to himself. From then on pain terly creations, dedicated more than before to inhabitants rather to suppliants, presented them w ith patterns o f dw ellin g and never tired o f u n folding before them perspectives o f the villa. T h e H igh R enaissance, although m uch m ore sparin g in the representation o f actual interiors, con tin ued to build on this foundation. T h e C inq u ecento has a particu larly strong feeling for the relation between m an and building, for the resonance o f a beautiful room. It can scarcely im agin e an existence w hich is not arch itectu rally fram ed and founded . W olfflin, p 227.

3^4
ted for only in terms o f a ch an ge in the m ood o f the tim es , he

points straight to the dubiousness o f the categories o f cu ltu ral history discussed above. It can be seen from m ore than one passage that Fuchs the w riter was not interested in argum en t, or even discussion. T h e eristic dialectic, w h ich accord in g to H e g e ls definition enters into the strength o f the oppon en t so as to destroy him from w ith in , is not to be found in F u ch ss arsenal, com bative as he m ay appear. In those w ho pursued the in q u iry initiated by M a rx and Engels the destructive pow er o f thought subsided, for it no longer dared to take on the cen tu ry sin gle-handed. It had a lread y lost some o f its tension in M eh rin g, from the sheer n u m ber o f skirmishes fought. E ven so, his Lessing-Legende is a considerable achievem en t. It showed w h a t a host o f political, b u t also scientific and theoretical, energies w ere m ustered in the g rea t classics. H e thus m ade good his distaste for the bellettristic p lo d d in g o f his contem poraries. H e cam e to the noble insight that art cou ld hope to be reborn only in the econom ic and political v icto ry o f the p roletariat, and also to the incontestable conclusion: A r t has no pow er to interven e d eeply in the struggle for the em an cipation o f the p ro le ta ria t. 21 T h e subsequent d evelopm ent o f art b ore him out. M e h rin g s insights sent him w ith redoubled con viction to the study o f science. In that study he earned the solidity an d the rigou r that m ade him in vu ln erab le to revisionism . T ra its w ere thus form ed in his ch aracter that can be called in the best sense bourgeois, yet are far from gu aran teein g the d ialectician . T h e y are to be m et w ith no less in Fuchs. A n d they are perhaps the m ore conspicuous in his case for being em bodied in a m ore exp an sive and sensual disposition. Be that as it m ay, one can easily im agine his portrait in a gallery o f scholars. N ex t to him one m igh t pu t G eo rg Brandes, whose rationalist fervour and passion to shed the ligh t o f the ideal (pro gress, science, reason) over b ro a d vistas o f history he shared. O n

20 Erotische Kunst, II, p 20. 21 F ranz M eh rin g, Geschichte der deutscken Sozialdemokratie, Part T w o : Von Lassalles offenem Antwortschreiben bis zum Erfurter Programm (Geschichte des Sozialismus in Einzeldarstellungen, I II , 2). Stu ttgart 1898, p. 546.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 365 his oth er side one m ight im agin e A d o lf B astian, the ethnologist. Fuchs is rem iniscent o f him ab ove all in his insatiable hunger for m aterial. B astian was leg en d a ry for his readiness to pack his grip and set o ff on expeditions th at kept him a w a y from hom e for m onths, w hen ever there w as a question to be clarified. So too Fuchs alw ays o b eyed the im pulse that drove him on to the quest for new evid ence. T h e works o f both w ill rem ain an inexh au stible m ine o f inform ation for research.

5
For the psychologist it m ust be a significant question how an enthusiast, a n ature turned tow ards the positive, can arrive at the passion for caricatu re. A n sw er it as he w ill, so far as Fuchs is con cerned the facts allow o f no d ou b t. From the start his interest in art differs from w h at m ight be called joy in the beautiful. From the start, truth enters the gam e. F uch s never tires o f em p hasizin g the source va lu e, the au th ority, o f carica tu re. T ru th lies in extrem es , he says som ew here. H e goes fu rther: carica tu re is for him to some extent the form from w h ich all ob jective art arises. O n e look at the m useum s o f eth n ograp h y w ill v in d ica te this p rop osition . 22 W h en Fuchs brings prehistoric peoples and ch ild ren s draw ings into the area o f caricatu re, the con cep t m a y becom e p ro b lem a tic; yet the vehem ent interest he brings to bear on the g ra p h ic content o f the w ork o f art, w hether su b stan tive23 or form al, appears all the m ore origin al. T h is interest runs throu gh the w hole broad range o f his w ork. E ven in the late T ang Sculpture w e rea d : T h e grotesque is the ne plus u ltra o f the visu al im agin ation . . . In this sense grotesque forms are at the same tim e an expression o f the exu b eran t health o f an age . . . T h ere is o f course no question th at the d rivin g force
22 Karikatur, I, pp 4 -5 . 23 See his fine com m ent on D a u m ie rs figures o f proletarian w om en: W hoever views such subjects m erely as sentim ental motifs proves that the ultim ate im pulses necessary to create pow erful art are a sealed book to him. Precisely because these pictures represent som ething a ltogether different from sentim ental motifs they will live forever . . . as pow erful m onum ents to the enslavem ent o f m aternal w om an in the nineteenth cen tu ry. Der Mater Daumier, p 28.

3 66
behind the grotesque m ay also be the exact opposite. D ecad e n t times and sick brains, too, tend to prod u ce grotesque forms. In such cases the grotesque is a sh ocking reflection o f the fact that for the times and in d ivid u als concern ed , the problem s o f the w orld and existence ap p ear insoluble . . . W h ic h o f these tw o tendencies is the creative force behind a grotesque fantasy can be recogn ized at a gla n ce. 24 T h e passage is instructive. It shows p a rticu la rly cle arly w h a t it was that m ade F u ch ss w ork so popular. It was the gift o f im m e d iately com b in in g his basic concepts w ith valu e ju d gm en ts. Th is often occurs on a gran d scale.25 T h e ju d gm en ts are alw ays extrem e. As such they p o larize the con cep t w ith w hich they are a m a lg a m a ted. So in the representation o f the grotesque; so too in erotic caricature. In times o f decline it is sm ut and risque , w hen things are lookin g u p the expression o f overflow ing pleasure and exub eran t stren gth .26 Som etim es Fuchs brings in the va lu e con cepts o f h ey-d ay and decaden ce, som etim es those o f health and sickness. H e steers clear o f b ord erlin e cases, that m igh t reveal the prob lem atic ch ara cter o f such term s. H e prefers to stick to the truly g rea t , whose prerogative is to give free rein to rap tu re in the sim plest thin gs .27 T ran sitio n al periods like the B aroq u e he has little tim e for. E ven for him , the great age is still the R en a is sance. H ere his cult o f the creative gets the better o f his aversion to the classics. T h e concep t o f the creative in F u ch ss w ork has a strongly b iological slant. W h ile genius is credited w ith attributes th at at times border on the priapic, artists from w hom the a u th or keeps his distance seem reduced in their m asculin ity. T y p ic a l o f such quasi-biological views is his ju d g m en t o f G reco, M u rillo and R ib e ra : A ll three are classic representatives o f the B aroque in that each in his w a y was a p o rn ograp h er manque .28 O n e m ust not
24 Tang-Plastik, p 44. 25 See his thesis on the erotic effects o f w orks o f a rt: T h e m ore intense the effect, the greater the artistic q u a lity . Erotische Kunst, I, p 68. 26 Karikatur, I, p 23. 27 Dachreiter, p 39. 28 D ie grossen Meister der Erotik, p 115.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 36 7 lose sight o f the fact that F uchs d eveloped his basic concepts in an age th at regarded pathography as the u ltim ate standard o f the psych ology o f art, and L om broso and M obiu s as authorities. T h e con cep t o f genius, furnished at the sam e tim e w ith a w ealth o f illustrative m aterial b y B u rk h a rd ts influ ential Culture o f the
Renaissance, contributed from other sources to the w idespread con

viction that creativ ity was above all a m anifestation o f super a b u n d an t strength. It was related trends that later led Fuchs to conceptions akin to p sych o a n a ly sis; he was the first to ap p ly them fru itfu lly to aesthetics. T h e eru ptive im m ed iacy, w h ich in this view gives artistic crea tion its special ch aracter, is no less im portan t for Fuchs as a criterion for a p p ro a ch in g w orks o f art. So for him it is often no m ore than a single leap from percep tion to ju d gm en t. In d eed , Fuchs regards the impression the observer gets from a w ork o f art not only as an im m ed iate and self-evident experience, but as an actu al catego ry o f contem plation . For instance, w h en Fuchs reports his critical reservations a b o u t the artistic form alism o f the M in g period, he clinches his arg u m en t b y saying that the works in the final analysis . . . m ake no m ore, and very often not even as m uch im pression as, say, the T an g period did w ith its bold lines .29 T his is how Fuchs the w riter comes to the p a rticu la r and apod ictic, not to say rustic, style expressed in m asterly fashion in his d ictum , in the History o f Erotic A r t : F rom the correct intu ition to the correct and com prehensive d ecip h erin g o f the energies op eratin g in a w ork o f art is alw ays but a single step . 30 T his style is not w ithin reach o f ev eryo n e; Fuchs had to p a y a price for it. T o in d icate the price in a w ord : Fuchs the w riter had not the gift o f surprise. H e was u n d o u b ted ly aw are o f this lack. H e tries to com pensate for it in the most various w ays, and likes n othin g better th an to talk abou t the m ysteries he tracks dow n in the p sychology o f creation, or the riddles o f history that find their solution in m aterialism . But the urge to the most im m ed iate m astery o f the facts, w hich is a lrea d y decisive for his concep tion o f creation and o f reception too, fin ally
29 Dachreiter, p 48. 30 Erotische Kunst, II, p 186.

3 68 prevails in his analysis as w ell. T h e course o f art history is seen as necessary, styles in art as organic, even the most d isconcertin g art forms as logical. O n e gets the im pression that these term s occu r less frequently as his analysis proceeds. But he can still describe the fabulous creatures o f the T an g period w ith w ings o f flam e and horns as absolutely logical, organic. E ven the enorm ous elep hant ears seem lo g ic a l; logical, too, the posture. . . . These are no m ere con structs, but in v a ria b ly an idea clo th ed in livin g, b reath in g form . 31 T his was a series o f ideas that h ad the closest possible connection w ith the S ocial-D em ocratic doctrines o f the age. W e know w h at a
31 Tang-Plastik, pp 30 -31. This im m ediate, in tuitive approach becom es prob lem atic w hen it attem pts to fulfill the dem ands o f a m aterialist analysis. It is well known that M a rx now here really d ivu lged how the relationship between super structure and infrastructure should be con ceived in in d ivid u al cases. A ll that can be said w ith confidence is that he envisaged a series o f m ediations, as it were trans missions, in terpolated between the m aterial relationships o f production and the rem oter realm s o f the superstructure, in clu d in g art. So also Plek h an ov: W hen art, w hich is created by the higher classes, stands in no direct relation to the process o f production, then this must ultim ately be exp lained on econom ic grounds. T h e m aterialist in terpretation o f history . . . is ap p licab le here as well. O b viou sly, how ever, the u n doubted causal connection b etw een being and consciousness, between the social relations founded on la b o u r and art, are in this case not so easy to establish. . . . T h e re are some in term ediate stations between th em . G . Plekhanov, Das franzosische M alerei im n eunzehnten Jahrhu n d ert vom Stan d pu n kt der m aterialistischen G eschichtsauffassung , Die Neue eit, X X I V , Stu ttgart 1911, PP 543 5 44 - So m uch is clear, h o w ev e r; M a r x s classic historical d ialectic takes the existence o f causal dependencies as given. L a ter practice becam e m ore lax and was often content w ith analogies. Possibly this was linked to the am bition to replace bourgeois histories o f literature and art b y m aterialist works planned on an eq ually grand scale a h allm ark o f the epoch th at was part o f the W ilh elm in e ethos. This am bition took its toll o f Fuchs as well. A favourite idea o f the author, expressed in various ways, prescribed epochs o f realism for tradin g states for H ollan d o f the seventeenth cen tury as m uch as for C h in a o f the eighth and ninth centuries. Starting from an analysis o f Chinese horticulture, as the explanation o f m an y characteristics o f the Em pire, Fuchs then turns to the new sculpture w hich em erged under T ang rule. T h e m onum ental rigidity o f the H an style was relaxed : the anonym ous masters w ho created the new pottery responded to the m ovem ents o f m en and anim als. T im e , Fuchs goes on, aw oke from its long sleep in C h in a in those centuries . . . for com m erce alw ays quickens life and m ovem ent. So life and m ove ment come to the forefront in the art o f the T ang period. Th is is the first ch ara c teristic it displays. W hile the whole b earin g o f the anim als o f the H an period is heavy and cum bersom e, for exam ple, those o f the T ang period vivaciou sly stir in every lim b . Tang-Plastik, pp 41-42 . Th is kind o f treatm ent rests on mere a n a lo g y m ovem ent in trade as in sculpture: one m ight almost call it nom inalistic. F uchs attem pts to elu cid ate the reception o f A n tiq u ity in the R enaissance rem ains eq ually trapped in an alo gy. In both epochs the econom ic basis was the same, only in the

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian j 6 g profound effect D arw in ism h ad on the d evelopm en t o f the socialist con cep tion o f history. In the tim e o f the persecution by Bism arck, this effect helped to keep the p a r ty s self-confidence intact and its figh tin g spirit unbroken. L ate r, in the epoch o f revisionism , the evo lu tio n ary view o f history laid increasing em phasis on develop ment, in d irect prop ortion to the p a r ty s gro w in g relu ctan ce to risk w h at had been ach ieved in the struggle against capitalism . H istory began to look d eterm in istic; the trium ph o f the p arty was in e v ita b le . Fuchs alw ays held a lo o f from revisionism ; his political instincts as w ell as his co m b a tiv e n ature in clin ed him to the left. B ut as a theoretician he w as powerless to escape these influences. T h e y can be felt th rou gh ou t his w ork. In those days a m an like Ferri could derive not ju st the principles b u t even the tactics o f Social D em o cra cy from n atu ra l laws. A n arch ist deviations he blam ed on insufficient k n ow led ge o f geology and biology. It is true that leaders like K a u tsk y took issue w ith such deviations.32 Y e t m any found satisfaction in theses that sorted historical processes into p h ysio lo g ical and p a th o lo g ic a l , or claim ed that scientific m aterialism in the hands o f the p roletariat had a u to m a tica lly been prom oted to historical m aterialism .33 S im ilarly, Fuchs saw

Renaissance this basis was at a h igh er stage o f developm ent. Both were founded on com m erce in com m odities. Erotische Kunst, I, p 42. F in ally trade itself appears as the subject o f the exercise o f art. Fuchs w rites: T ra d e must calculate with given quantities and it can only take in to accoun t concrete and verifiable quantities. T h a t is how trade has to approach the w orld and things if it w ants to master them econ om ically. C onsequen tly its aesthetic outlook is in every respect realistic. Tang-Plastik, p 42. O n e m ay disregard the fact that a realistic representation in every respect cannot be found in art. But one w ould h ave to say that any connec tion w h ich claim s equal v alid ity for the art o f A n cien t C h in a and o f early m odern H ollan d appears questionable in principle. In effect, no such connection exists, as a glance at the R ep u b lic o f V en ice suffices to show. V en ice flourished because o f its trade. Y e t the art o f Palm a V ec ch io , o f T itia n or o f V eronese could scarcely be called realistic in every respect . T h e aspect o f life we encounter in it is rather festive and sym bolic. O n the other hand, com m ercial life in all stages o f its d evelop m ent dem ands a considerable sense o f reality. T h e m aterialist cannot deduce any m anifestations o f style from this. 32 K a r l K a u tsky, D arw inism us und M arxism us , Die Neue eit, X I I I/ I , S tu tt gart 1895, pp 70 9-710. 33 H . L au fen berg, D ogm a und K la ssen k am p f , Die Neue & i t , X X V I I / I , S tu tt gart 1909, p 574. T h e notion o f self-activity has sunk to a sad state here. T h e zenith

370
the progress o f hum an society as a process w hich can no m ore be held b ack than a glacier can be stopped in its in exorab le ad v a n ce .34 T h e determ inist view is thus coupled w ith a robust optim ism . Y e t in the long run, w ith o u t self-confidence, no class can engage in p o litical action w ith a n y success. But it m akes a difference w hether the optim ism is felt for the active strength o f the class, or for the circum stances in w hich it operates. Social D em o cra cy in clined tow ards the second, m ore questionable kind o f optim ism . T h e prospects o f incipient barbarism , w hich had daw n ed on Engels in his Condition o f the Working Class in England, and on M a rx in his predictions o f the course o f cap italist d evelopm ent, and w hich are tod ay fam iliar even to the m ost m ediocre politician , w ere invisible to lesser lights arou n d the turn o f the cen tu ry. W h en C on d o rcet spread the doctrin e o f progress, the bourgeoisie was on the brin k o f p o w er; the p roletariat a hun dred years later was in a different position. In the p roletariat it could breed illusions. T hese illusions in fact still form the b ack grou n d w hich F u ch ss accou n t of the history o f art now and then reveals: T h e art o f our tim e , he m aintains, has enriched us in a hu n d red w ays that in the most various directions go far b eyon d the achievem ents o f R enaissance art, and the art o f the future w ill u n qu estion ab ly take us to still greater h eigh ts. 35

6
T h e pathos that runs through F u ch ss conception o f history is the d em ocratic pathos o f 1830. Its echo was the orator V ic to r H ugo. T h e echo o f the echo are those books in w h ich H u g o as orator speaks to posterity. F u ch ss con cep tion o f history is that celebrated by H u go in William Shakespeare: Progress is G o d s very footstep. U n iversal suffrage is the cosm ic clock b y w hich the pace o f that

o f the idea is to be found in the eighteenth cen tury as m arkets started to be equalized. It celebrated its trium ph in K a n t in the form o f spontaneity , and in technology in the form o f autom atic m achines. 34 Karikatur, I, p 312. 35 Erotische Kunst, I, p 3.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 3 7 1 step is m easured. Q u i vote regn e , w rote V ic to r H ugo, raising the stan dard o f d em ocratic optim ism . T h is optim ism long con tinued to b eget strange fantasies. O n e o f them was the illusion that all in tellectu al workers, in clu d in g m aterially and socially prom i nent persons, should be considered proletarian s . For it was an u n d en iab le fact that all w h o offer their services for m oney, from the p u ffed -u p p rivy cou n cillor in his gold-frogged uniform dow n to the exhausted w age earner . . . are defenceless victim s o f cap i ta lism . 36 T h e ban ner raised b y V ic to r H u g o still w aves over the w ork o f Fuchs. Besides, F uch s stands sq u arely in the d em ocratic trad ition in his special atta ch m en t to F ra n ce : the scene o f three great revolutions, the hom e o f exiles, the w ellspring o f u topian socialism , the fatherlan d o f the tyran t-haters Q u in et and M ich elet, the earth in w h ich the C om m u n ard s lie buried. T h is was the im age o f F ran ce that lived in M a r x and Engels, this was how M e h rin g cam e to see it, and this, too, as the v a n gu a rd o f culture and freed om ,37 was the co u n try as it appeared to Fuchs. H e com pares the w in g ed irony o f the F ren ch w ith heavy-footed G erm an rid icu le; he com pares H ein e w ith those w h o stayed at hom e; he contrasts G erm an natu ralism w ith F rench satirical novels. In this w a y he w as led, like M e h rin g, to m ake sound predictions, espe cially in the case o f G e rh a rd t H a u p tm a n n .38 F ra n ce is also a hom e for Fuchs the collector. T h e figure o f the collector, w h ich im proves on closer acq u ain ta n ce, has not often been given its due. O n e m igh t think that n othin g could h ave offered the rom an tic story-tellers a m ore tem p tin g subject. But one looks in va in for the collector, m oved b y dangerous if dom esticated passions, am ong the characters o f H o ffm an n , Q u in ce y or N erva l.

36 A . M ax , Z u r Frage der O rgan isatio n des Proletariats der Intelligen z , p 652. 37 Karikatur, II, p 238. 38 M eh rin g com m ented on the trial occasioned by T h e W eavers in Die Neue Zeit. Parts o f the speech by the la w yer for the defence h ave becom e as topical today as th ey w ere in 1893: he said he had to point out that the allegedly revolution ary passages in question are offset b y others w h ich are soothing and appeasing in ch aracter. T h e poet in no w ay stands on the side o f the revolt, he rather perm its the v icto ry o f order through the in terven tion o f a handful o f soldiers . F ranz M eh rin g, E n tw e d e r-O d e r , Die Neue /, X I/ I, S tu ttgart 1893, p 780.

37 *
T h e traveller is a rom an tic figure, o f the fldneur, the gam b ler, the virtuoso. T h e collector is not a m o n g their num ber. Y o u w ill seek him in vain in the P hysiologies , w h ich from the n ew svendor to the literary lion allow ed no other figu re o f the Paris w axw orks u nder Louis P h ilip p e to escape them . A ll the m ore significant, then, is the place occupied by the collector in B alzac. B alzac raised a m on u m ent to him w h ich is in no w a y rom an tic. H e had alw ays been a stranger to rom an ce. T h ere are few passages in his w ork w here the anti-rom an tic position is given its d u e as a m azin gly as in the sketch o f Cousin Pons. T h e most significan t thing is this: no m atter how m uch we learn a b ou t the objects in the collection for w h ich Pons lives, w e are told v irtu a lly n othin g a b ou t how they w ere acq u ired. T h ere is no passage in Le Cousin Pons to com pare w ith the pages from the d iary o f the G on co u rt B rothers w here they describe the breath -takin g excitem ent o f a rare find. B alza c does not p o rtray the hunter out in the bush track in g dow n his q u arry, the w a y any collector can be seen. T h e feverish exaltation that fills his Pons, his Elie M agu s, w ho are very poorly dressed. . . . T h e y look as if they gu ard w ith tireless vigilan ce. B a lza c puts the w hole em phasis on the possessor, and he uses millionaire as a synonym for collector. H e talks abou t Paris. T h e r e , he says, you can often m eet a Pons, an Elie M agu s, w ho are very poorly dressed . . . T h e y look as if they cared for n othin g and bothered a b ou t n oth in g; they heed neither the w om en nor the shop w indow s. T h e y w a lk along as i f in a dream , their pockets are em pty, their ga ze is blan k, and you w on d er to w hat class o f Parisians they a ctu a lly b e lo n g . T h ese people are m illionaires. T h e y are collectors; the m ost passionate people that w alk the e a rth . 39 B a lza c s picture o f the co llector com es closer to Fuchs, to the passionate intensity o f his interests, than one could h ave expected from a rom an tic. Indeed, p o in tin g to the very q uick o f the m an, one m ay say th at Fuchs as a co llector w as truly B a lza cia n ; he was a B alzacian figure w ho ou tgrew the a u th o rs conception . W h a t could be m ore in keeping w ith th at conception than a collector

39 H on ors de B alzac, Le Cousin Pons, Paris 1925, p 162.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian

373

whose pride, whose expansiveness, w ere such that m erely in order to b rin g his collections before the p u b lic eye, he w ou ld put them on sale in the form o f reproduction s, a n d a no less B alzacian tw ist in this w a y becam e a rich m an ? It was not ju st the conscientious ness o f a m an w ho know s h im self to be a custodian o f treasures, it was also the exhibition ism o f the great collector that prom pted Fuchs, in each o f his w orks, to publish exclu sively un publish ed pictures, d raw n alm ost exclu sively from his ow n collections. For the first vo lu m e o f Caricature o f the European Peoples alone he brou gh t together no few er than 68,000 items, in order to pick out some 1,500 o f them . H e never h ad an y item rep rod u ced in m ore than one single place. T h e vo lu m e o f his d ocu m en tation and the b read th o f his grasp belon g together. B oth show him to be a true descendant o f the race o f bourgeois giants aroun d 1830, as ch aracterized b y D rum on t. A lm ost all leaders o f the school o f 1830 , w rites D ru m o n t, had the sam e extra o rd in ary constitution, the sam e fertility, and the sam e pen ch an t for the grandiose. D ela cro ix throw s epics onto the can vas, B alzac portrays an entire society, D u m a ss novels range over 4,000 years o f h u m an history. T h e y all have backs for w hich no b u rd en is too h e a v y . 40 W hen the revo lu tion cam e in 1848, D u m as published an ap p eal to the workers o f Paris, in w hich he presented h im self as their like. In tw enty years, he said, he had prod uced 400 novels and 35 p lays; he had p rovided a livin g for 8,160 p eople: proofreaders and typesetters, m ach in e operators and cloakroom a tten d a n ts; he even spares a th ou ght for the claq u e. T h e feeling w ith w h ich the w orld historian Fuchs laid the econ om ic foundations o f his m agn ificen t collections is perhaps not altogeth er unlike this amour propre o f D um as. L ater, these foundations w ere to give him alm ost as free a hand in the Paris m arket as in his ow n p riva te preserves. T h e ch airm an o f the Paris art dealers used to say o f him aroun d the turn o f the cen tu ry : C est le M onsieur qui m ange tout P aris. Fuchs is an exam ple o f the ramasseur typ e; he takes a R a b elaisia n jo y in q u an tity, w hich is n oticeab le even in the lu x u ria n t red u n d a n cy o f his texts.

40 E d o u ard D rum ont, Les Heros et les Pitres, Paris, pp 107-108.

374
7
Fuchs pedigree on the French side is th at o f the collector, on the G erm an side that o f the historian. T h e m oral austerity w h ich is typical o f Fuchs the historiographer gives him the T e u to n ic stam p just as it did G ervin u s, whose History o f National Poetic Literature could be called one o f the first attem pts at a history o f G erm an thought. It is characteristic o f G ervin u s, and later o f Fuchs too, that they represent the great creative m inds so to say in m artial gu ise the active, m asculine, im petu ou s side o f their natures get ting the better o f the m ore con tem p lative, fem inine, receptive side. A d m itted ly this was easier for G ervin u s. A t the tim e he was w ritin g his book, the bourgeoisie was in the a sce n d a n t; its art abou n d ed in political energies. Fuchs w rote in the age o f im perialism ; he argued for the p o litical energies o f art in an epoch w hen they w ere d w in d ling daily. B ut his criteria w ere still the same as those o f G ervin us. In d eed , they can be traced b ack further, as far as the eighteenth century, w ith the aid o f G ervin us him self, whose com m em orative address on F. C . Schlosser gave resoun ding expression to the un bendin g rectitud e o f the bourgeoisie in the age o f revolution. Schlosser had been reproach ed w ith a dour p u ritan ism . W h a t Schlosser could and w ould h a ve retorted to such rep roach es , G ervinus argued , w ould be this: that in general life, like history but unlike fiction, does not instruct even the most ligh t-h earted and optim istic in a superficial joie de vivre; that the con tem plation o f life and history is con d u cive not, o f course, to a disdainful mis anth rop y, b ut surely to a stern view o f the w orld and serious principles a b ou t life ; that the im pression prod u ced b y existence on the greatest o f all those w ho h ave ju d g e d the w orld and m en, those whose ow n inn er life was the m easure o f their outer experience, the im pression prod uced at least on a Shakespeare, a D an te, a M a ch iav e lli has alw ays been con d u cive to ju st such seriousness and sternness. 41 T h a t is the origin o f F u ch ss m oralism : a G erm an

41

G. G . G ervinus, Friedrich Christoph Schlosser: Ein JVekrolog, L eip zig

1861,

PP 3 3 i-

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian

3 75

J aco b in ism , whose m em orial is Schlossers w orld history, w hich Fuchs cam e to know in his y ou th .42 As is h a rd ly surprising, this bourgeois m oralism contains ele ments th at conflict w ith F u ch ss m aterialism . I f Fuchs had realized this, he m ight perhaps h ave succeeded in m u tin g the clash. B ut he w as con vin ced that his m oralistic view o f history was in perfect a ccord w ith historical m aterialism . T h is w as an illusion. It was based on the w idespread view , m uch in need o f revision, that the bourgeois revo lu tion s as celeb rated b y the bourgeoisie itse lf w ere the d irect ancestors o f a p roletarian revolu tion.43 F or a decisive counter to this, one m ust look to the spiritualism that runs through these revolutions. Its golden threads w ere spun by m orality. T h e m orality o f the bou rgeo isie the reign o f terror is a lrea d y sy m p to m atic is inn er-d irected. Its touchstone is the in d ivid u a l conscience, w h eth er o f R o b esp ierres citoyen, or o f K a n t s citizen o f the w orld. T h e b eh a vio u r o f the bourgeoisie, w hich tended to ad van ce its ow n interests bu t was d ep en dent on co m p le m en tary action by the p roletariat that did not correspond to its interests, p roclaim ed conscience the arbiter o f m orality. C onscience is concern ed w ith altruism . It advises the prop erty-ow n er to act in a cco rd an ce w ith concepts whose ap p licatio n is ind irectly a d v a n tageous to his fellow property-ow ners, and it cheerfully advises n on-p rop erty-ow ners to do likew ise. I f the latter go along w ith this ad vice, the usefulness o f their beh aviou r to the property-ow ners is
42 T h is elem ent in F u chss w ork proved useful w hen the im perial prosecutors started to accuse him o f d istribu ting obscene w ritin gs . H is m oralism was n atu rally d epicted w ith particu lar em phasis in an expert testim onial subm itted in the course o f one o f his trials, all o f w h ich w itho ut exception ended in his acqu ittal. W ritten by F edor von Z ob eltitz, its most im portan t passage reads as follow s: Fuchs seriously considers h im self a preach er o f m orals and an educator. T h is deeply serious outlook on life, this inner conviction th at his w ork in the service o f the history o f hum an ity must be inform ed by the highest m orality, is alone enough to protect him against the suspicion o f any profiteering speculation. A n yon e w h o knows the m an and his en ligh tened idealism must sm ile at the very id ea . 43 T h is revision has been in au gu rated by M ax H orkheim er in his essay Egoism us und F reih eitsb ew egu n g , Zeitschrift fu r Sozialforschung, V , 1936, p 161 ff. T h e d ocu ments assem bled by H orkh eim er find confirm ation in a series o f interesting m aterials on w hich the U ltra A b e l B onnard bases his charges against those b ou r geois historians o f the F rench R evolu tio n w hom C h a tea u b rian d calls '' I .Y cole adm irative de la terreur . See A b e l B onnard, Les Moderes, Paris, pp 179 ff.

376
the more im m ed iately visible the m ore questionable it is for those so b eh avin g and for their class. H en ce this beh aviou r bears the price tag o f virtue. T h is is how class m orality gets its w ay. B ut it does so unconsciously. T h e b ourgeoisie was not so grea tly in need o f consciousness in order to erect this class m orality as is the pro letariat in order to overturn it. F u chs misses this point, since he believes it his d u ty to direct his attacks against the conscience o f the bourgeoisie. Its id eology seems to him a tissue o f lies. T h e sanctim onious d riv e l , he says, th at is talked abou t the subjective honesty o f the ju d ges even in the m ost shameless class ju d gm en ts m erely dem onstrates the lack o f ch ara cter o f those w ho say or w rite such things, or at best their obtuseness. 44 It does not occu r to Fuchs to in d ict the very notion o f bona fides (good conscience). Y e t that w ou ld be the n atural reaction o f a historical m aterialist. N ot only because he perceives this con cep t to be a carrier o f bou r geois class m orality, but also becau se he w ill not fail to notice that it sustains the bond betw een m oral disorder and econom ic an arch y. M ore recent M arxists have at least hin ted at the truth o f the m atter. T h u s it has been rem arked o f the politics o f L am artin e, w ho m ade excessive use o f bona fides: Bourgeois . . . d em ocracy . . . needs this value. T h e d e m o c r a t. . . is professionally upright. T h e re b y he feels he can rise ab ove the need to inqu ire into the real state o f affairs. 45 T reatm en ts w h ich focus on the conscious interests o f individuals, rath er than on the often unconscious reactions o f their class to its position in the p rod u ction process, lead to an over estim ation o f the role o f conscious elem ents in the form ation o f ideology. T h is is obvious in Fuchs w hen he says: A rt is in all essentials the id ealized mask o f a p a rticu la r social order. For it is an eternal law . . . that every ru lin g p o litical or social order strives to idealize itself, in order m orally to ju stify its existen ce. 46 H ere w e approach the essential m isunderstanding. It consists in the idea that the m ain reason w h y exp lo itatio n gives rise to a false con
44 Der Maler Daumier, p 30. 45 N orbert G u term an and Henri L efebvre, La Conscience mystijiee, Paris 1936, P I5 I 46 Erotische Kunst, II/I, p n .

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian

377

sciousness, at least on the p a rt o f the exploiters, is that a true consciousness w ould be m orally burdensom e to them . T his thesis m ay have some lim ited v a lid ity in the present d ay, w hen the class struggle has p o w erfully invested the entire bourgeois w ay o f life. But the bad conscien ce o f the p rivileged is certain ly not selfevid en t as regards the earlier forms o f exp loitation. For reification not on ly obscures relations am on g people; it also befogs the real subjects o f such relations. B etw een the ru lin g powers o f econom ic life and the exp loited there arises an a rray o f ju d icia l and a d m inistrative b ureaucracies, whose m em bers no longer function as fully responsible m oral subjects; their sense o f d u ty is n othin g but the unconscious expression o f this deform ity.

8
P sychoanalysis, too, failed to shake the m oralism that left its m ark on F u ch ss historical m aterialism . His verd ict on sexu ality: A ll forms o f sensual b eh a vio u r that m anifest the creative prin ciple inh eren t in this law o f life are justified. . . . T hose forms are to be cond em ned on the oth er hand, w hich debase this highest o f in stincts to a m ere instrum ent o f sophisticated pleasure-seeking. 47 T his m oralism bears an o b viou sly bourgeois stam p. A proper m is trust for the bourgeois proscription o f pure sexual pleasure and the m ore or less fantastic w ays it is created rem ain ed outside F u ch ss exp erience. H e does a llow in principle th at one can speak o f m orality and im m orality on ly in relative term s . But in the very next breath he decrees an excep tion for the absolute im m o rality exem p lified by offences against the social instincts o f society, i.e. offences that are so to speak against n atu re . C h aracteristic o f this view is w h at Fuchs regard ed as the historically in evitab le victo ry o f the masses, w ho are alw ays cap ab le o f developm ent, over degen erate in d iv id u a lity .48 In short, it can be said o f Fuchs that
47 Ibid, I, p 43. His m oral-historical im age o f the D irecto ry has traits rem iniscent o f a p op u lar ballad. T h e frightful book o f the M arqu is de Sade, its plates as b ad as they were infam ous, lay open in all shop w in dow s. Barras expressed the desolate fantasy o f the shameless lib ertin e. (Karikatur, I, pp 201-202). 48 Karikatur, I, p 188.

37 8
he does not ch allen ge the leg itim acy o f con d em n in g a lleged ly corrupt instincts, bu t rather the usual view o f their history and their exten t .49 E lu cid atio n o f the psycho-sexual problem is th ereby ham pered a problem w h ich has assum ed p a rticu la r im portance since the bourgeoisie assum ed pow er. T h is is w here the taboo on m ore or less w ide areas o f sexual pleasure com es in. For the repressions it induces in the masses generate sado-m asochistic com plexes to w hich the ru lin g powers deliver u p those objects best suited to their purposes. A coeval o f Fuchs, W ed ekin d , looked into these con n ec tions. Fuchs n eglected to u n dertak e their social critiq u e. A ll the more significant, then, is the passage w here he m akes good this omission, in an aside on n atural history. It is a b rillian t ap ologia for the orgy. A c c o rd in g to Fuchs orgiastic pleasure is am on g the most valu able tendencies o f culture . . . it m ust be understood that the orgy is one o f the signs that distinguish us from anim als. By con trast w ith m an, anim als do not h ave orgies. . . . T h e anim al turns aw ay from the lushest fodder and the clearest stream w hen its hunger and thirst are assuaged, and its sexual d rive is m ostly restricted to b rie f and clearly defined periods o f the year. H u m an beings are en tirely different, esp ecially creative hu m an beings. For them there is sim ply no such th in g as en ou gh .50 T h e force o f F uchss psycho-sexual observations lies in the ideas he uses to criticize con ven tion al standards. It is these ideas th at en able him to dispel certain petty-bourgeois illusions the fa lla cy o f nudism for instance, w hich he rig h tly sees as a revolu tion o f n arro w m indedness . M a n is h ap p ily no lon ger a beast o f the field and we . . . w an t fantasy, in clu d in g erotic fantasy, to p la y a role in dress.

4,9 M a x H orkheim er, Egoismus und F reih eitsbew egun g , p 166. 50 Erotische Kunst , II, p 283. H ere Fuchs is on the track o f an im portant pheno menon. W ou ld it be too rash to link the threshold between h um an and anim al, w hich Fuchs sees in the orgy, directly to th at o ther threshold, o f erect posture? W ith its appearan ce, the partners can for the first tim e in natural history look into each oth ers eyes d urin g orgasm . T h erew ith the orgy becom es possible. N ot through an increase in visual attractions, but rather because the expression o f satiety and even im potence can now becom e an erotic stim ulan t itself.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian

jy g

W h a t w e do not w an t is a social organ ization o f hu m anity t h a t . . . depraves all this. 51 F u ch ss psychological and historical outlook proved very fruitful for the history o f clothing. In d eed , there is scarcely any subject that lends itself better to the a u th o rs threefold in terest the historical, the social, and the ero tic than does fashion. T h is can be seen in his very definition o f it, w h ich is cou ched in terms rem iniscent o f K a rl K rau s. Fashion, says Fuchs in his history o f m anners, announces how people m ean to carry on the business o f p u b lic m o ra lity .52 In cid e n ta lly, Fuchs did not fall into the error, com m on am on g interpreters o f m anners (think o f M a x von B oehn), o f in vestigatin g fashion m erely from the aesthetic and erotic stan d points. H e did not fail to note its role as an instrum ent o f d om in a tion. J u st as fashion articu lates the nuances o f status, so is its m ain fun ction to supervise the grosser class differences. In the third vo lu m e o f his history o f m anners Fuchs d evoted a long essay to fashion, whose argu m en t the su p plem en tary volu m e sum m arized in a list o f its key elem ents. T h e first such elem ent is the interests o f class d istin ctio n ; the second is the priva te capitalist m ode o f p ro d u ctio n , w hich seeks to increase its sales potential throu gh repeated changes o f fashion ; in third place w e m ust not forget the e ro tica lly stim ulatin g purposes o f fashion .53 T h e cult o f creativity, w h ich runs through the w hole o f F u ch ss w ork, d rew fresh n ourishm ent from his psych oan alytic studies. T h e y en riched his o rigin ally b io logically-d eterm in ed conception , though a d m itted ly w ith o u t correctin g it. Fuchs enthusiastically espoused the theory o f the erotic origin o f the creative im pulse. But his con cep tion o f the erotic rem ained close to a rigorous, b io
51 Sittengeschichte, I II , p 234. A few pages later this confident ju d g m en t dis a p p ears p ro o f o f the force w ith w h ich it had to be wrested aw ay from convention. H e now w rites: T h e fact th at thousands o f people becom e sexually excited at the sight o f a fem ale or m ale nude ph otograph . . . proves th at the eye is no longer ca p ab le o f perceivin g the harm onious w hole but only the piqu an t d eta il. Ibid, III, p 269. I f there is an yth in g sexually arousing here, it is m ore the idea o f the naked b od y d isplayed before the cam era, than the sight o f nakedness in the photograph itself. T h is is probab ly the effect in tended by most o f these photographs. 52 Ibid, I II , p 189. 53 Ibid, Erganzungsband, pp 53-54.

3# lo gically determ ined view o f sensuality. H e steered clear as far as possible o f the theory o f repression and the com plexes, w h ich m ight perhaps have m odified his m oralistic view o f social and sexual rela tions. Just as historical m aterialism , in F u ch ss un derstan ding, traced the origin o f things to the conscious econom ic interest o f the in d ivid u al rath er than to the interests o f the class unconsciously at w ork w ithin him , so he saw the creative im pulse as lyin g closer to conscious sensuous intention than to the unconscious im ag in a tion .54 T h e sym bolic significance o f erotic im agery, as revealed by F reud in The Interpretation o f Dreams, Fuchs ackn ow ledges only w here he feels a strong sense o f personal iden tification . W h en that happens, his w ritin g is filled w ith it, even w hen any reference to it is avoided. T h u s, in his m asterly description o f the gra p h ic art o f the revo lu tion ary p eriod : E very th in g is taut, rigid, m ilitary. People do not lie, for the parad e grou n d allow s o f no Stand easy . E ven w hen they sit, it is as if they w ere abou t to spring up. T h e w hole body is tense, like an arrow on the bow string. As w ith line, so w ith colour. T h e pictures produce a cold , brassy effect . . . by contrast w ith those o f the r o c o c o . . . T h e colou r had to be harsh . . . , m etallic, it had to m atch the content o f the pictu res. 55 M o re exp licit is a revealin g observation on fetishism , w h ich traces its historical equivalents. It turns out that the increasing incid en ce o f shoe and foot fetishism appears to point to the substitution o f the cult o f the vu lv a for the cu lt o f the p h allu s , w hereas the grow in g in ci dence o f breast fetishism points to a reverse trend. T h e cult o f the clothed foot and leg m irrors the d om inion o f w om an over m an ; the w orship o f the breast m irrors the role o f w om an as the object o f m an s p leasu re. 56 F u ch ss deepest insights into the realm o fsym z bols w ere prom pted by D au m ier. His com m ent on the trees in D a u m ie rs paintings is one o f the happiest finds o f his w hole w ork.
54 For Fuchs art is im m ediate sensuousness, as id eology is im m ediate expression o f interests. T h e essence o f art is: sensousness. A rt is sensuousness. Indeed it is sensuousness in its most potent form. A rt is sensuousness becom e form, becom e visible, at the sam e tim e the highest and noblest sensuousness. Erotische Kunst, I, p 6 i. 55 Ka.rik.atur, I, p 223. 56 Erotische Kunst, II, p 390.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian

8i

H e sees them as a q u ite u n iq u e sym bolic form . . . , w hich ex presses D a u m ie rs sense o f social responsibility and his conviction that it is societys d uty to protect the in d iv id u a l . . . T y p ic a lly , D au m ie r depicts trees w ith outspread branches, especially w hen som eone is stan din g or resting beneath. T h e branches o f such trees extend like a g ia n ts arm s, th ey seem to reach out for the infinite. T h e y thus form an im p en etrab le ro o f that keeps from harm all w ho have sought their p ro te ctio n . 57 T h is lovely im age leads Fuchs on to the d om inan ce o f the m atern al in D a u m ie rs w ork.

9
N o one becam e m ore alive for Fuchs than D au m ier. T h e figure o f D au m ie r accom p an ied him throu gh his w o rk in g life; one cou ld alm ost say that it was th rou gh him that Fuchs becam e a d ialecti cian. H e certain ly grasped the b read th and livin g con trad iction o f the m a n s character. I f he perceived the m atern al in D a u m ie rs art and v iv id ly conveyed it to his readers, he w as no less aw are o f the other pole, the m asculine, pu gnaciou s side o f D au m ier. H e rig h tly pointed out that D a u m ie rs w ork is lack in g in the id y llic; not on ly the lan d scap e, the an im al painting, and the still life, but also the erotic m o tif and the self-portrait. W h a t rea lly im pressed Fuchs a b ou t D au m ie r was the elem ent o f classical conflict in him , the agonistic elem ent. O r w o u ld it be too d arin g to seek the source o f D a u m ie rs great caricatu res in a q u estio n : how , D au m ier seems to ask, w ou ld the bourgeois o f m y tim e look i f one w ere to conceive their struggle for existence so to speak in terms o f a palaestra? D a u m ie r translated the p u b lic and private life o f the Parisians into the lan gu a g e o f the agon. H is highest enthusiasm is aroused b y the a th letic tension o f the w h ole b od y, its m u scu lar excitem ents. T h is is in no w a y con trad icted b y the fact that perhaps n obod y has d ep icted the utter en ervation o f the b od y m ore arrestingly than D au m ier. H is concep tion , as Fuchs observes, is closely akin to the scu lp to rs. A n d so he w a yla y s the types offered him by his tim e and
57 Der Maler Daumier, p 30.

382

puts them on show in a convulsed travesty o f O ly m p ic cham pions. It is above all the studies o f ju d ges and law yers that m ay be seen in this light. T h e elegaic hu m ou r w ith w h ich D au m ier likes to approach the G reek pan theon points m ore d irectly to this inspira tion. Perhaps it offers a solution to the rid d le that had a lrea d y teased B au d elaire: how was it th at the m asters caricatures, for all their force and penetration, cou ld yet be so free o f ran co u r ? Fuchs has on ly to speak o f D au m ier, and all his energies com e alive. T h ere is no other subject th a t struck such sparks o f insight from his connoisseurs intelligence. H ere the least im pulse can set him off. A sketch, so fleeting that to call it unfinished w ou ld be a euphem ism , suffices to give Fuchs a deep insight into D a u m ie rs prod uctive m ania. It shows on ly the u p p er h a lf o f a head, in w h ich the eyes and nose alone speak. T h a t the sketch is restricted to this part, that it presents only a person looking, alerts Fuchs to the fact that here the p a in ters central interest is in play. For, he says, every painter sets abou t the execu tion o f his pictures at the very spot w here he in stin ctively feels m ost in v o lv e d .58 T h ere are in n u m er able figures in D a u m ie rs p ain tin gs , says Fuchs in his w ork on the artist, en gaged in the most co n cen trated looking, w h eth er they gaze into the distance, or con tem p late p a rticu la r things, or look no less inten tly into their ow n inn er selves. D a u m ie rs people look literally w ith the tip o f their nose. 59
58 C o m pare the follow ing reflection: M y observations have led me to conclude that the d om in ant elements in each artists palette can be seen w ith particu lar clarity in his erotically pointed paintings. H ere . . . they acqu ire their highest lum inosity. Die grossen Meister der Erotik, p 14. 59 Der Maler Daumier, p 18. T h e fam ous A rt E x p ert , a w ater colour in several versions, must be num bered am ong the figures in question. O n e d ay Fuchs was shown a hitherto unknow n version o f the pain ting, to authenticate it. H e picked up the m ain representation o f the m otif in a good reproduction and then proceeded to a very instructive com parison. N o variatio n , how ever sm all, rem ained unnoticed, as he sought to determ ine w hether each w as the product o f the m asters hand or that o f im potence. A g a in and again Fuchs reverted to the original. Y e t the w ay he did so suggested th at he could w ell h ave dispensed w ith it, so fam iliar was it to him as can only occu r w ith a painting one has had in m ind for years. D oubtless this was the case for Fuchs. O n ly so could he discern the most covert uncertainties of contour, the least evident discolorations o f shadow , the slightest deflections o f line, w hich enabled him to place the p a in tin g not as a forgery but as a good old copy w hich m ight h ave been the w ork o f an a d m ire r.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 383 10 D au m ie r was the happiest subject for the scholar. H e was no less the co lle cto rs luckiest strike. Fuchs rem arks w ith justified prid e that it was not the state b u t he him self, on his ow n initiative, th a t started the first collections o f D au m ie r (and G a va rn i) in G erm an y. H e is not alone am ong the great collectors in his aversion to m useum s. T h e G on cou rts preced ed him in this; their distaste w as even m ore vehem ent. I f p u b lic collections m ay be socially less p ro b lem a tic and scien tifically m ore useful th an private ones, they h ave not the la tters biggest ad va n ta ge. T h e collectors passion gives him a d ivin in g rod th at guides him to new sources. T h is w as true o f Fuchs, and it w as therefore in evitab le that he should feel h im self at odds w ith the spirit that p revailed in the museum s u n der W ilh elm II. T h e y had con cen trated on so-called showpieces. O f course , says Fuchs, to d a y s m useum is lim ited to this kind o f collectin g if only for reasons o f space. But th at does not alter the fact that because o f it w e get on ly a very im perfect conception o f the cu ltu re o f the past. W e see it dressed up in its S u n d a y best, and on ly v ery rarely in its m ostly sh ab b y w o rk a d a y clothes. 60 T h e great collectors are u su ally distinguished by the origin ality o f their choice o f object. T h e re are ex cep tio n s: the G oncourts w ere not after objects so m uch as the ensem ble th at was to house th em ; they un dertook the tran sfigu ration o f the interior ju st as it h ad exp ired . But as a rule collectors have been gu id ed b y the ob ject itself. A great exam ple on the threshold o f the m od em age is the hum anists, whose G reek acquisitions and travels testify to the single m indedness w ith w hich th ey collected. W ith M arolles, the m odel for D am o ced e, the collector was in trod u ced by L a B ruyere into literatu re (and at once u n flatterin gly). M arolles was the first to recogn ize the im p ortan ce o f prints: his 125,000 piece collection forms the groun d floor o f the C ab in et des Estam pes. T h e sevenvo lu m e catalogu e o f his collections, published b y C o u n t C ay lu s in the follow in g century, is the first great a ch ievem en t o f arch aeology.

60 Dachreiter, pp 5-6.

3&4
T h e gem collection o f von Stosch w as catalogu ed by W in ck elm an n , on com m ission from the collector. E ven w here the scientific con ception p u rp o rted ly em bodied in such collections was not destined to last, the collection itself som etim es was. T h is happ en ed w ith the collection o f W a llr a f and Boisseree, whose founders, basin g them selves on the rom an tic N azaren e theory that the art o f C o lo g n e was inherited from that o f ancient R o m e, laid the foundations o f the C ologne M useum w ith their G erm an paintings o f the M id d le Ages. Fuchs belongs in the ranks o f these great, system atic, and un sw ervingly single-m inded collectors. His idea was to restore the i w ork o f art to its existence in society, from w h ich it had been so com pletely cut o ff that the place w here he cam e upon it was the art m arket, w here, as far rem oved from those w ho prod u ced it as from those w ho w ere cap ab le o f u n derstan d in g it, shrunk to m ere m er chandise, it yet survived. T h e fetish o f the art m arket is the old m asters nam e. H istorically it w ill perhaps be seen to have been Fuchs greatest service that he in itiated the em an cipation o f art history from the fetish o f the m asters nam e. T h e com plete a n on ym ity o f thtfse tom b furnishings , says Fuchs abou t the sculp ture o f the T an g period, the fact that in no single instance do w e know the in d ivid u al creator o f such a w ork, is an im p ortan t p ro o f that w hat we confront here is never the experience o f a p a rticu la r artist, but rath er the w a y the w orld and things w ere seen in those days by society at la rg e . 61 Fuchs was one o f the first to elu cid ate the special ch aracter o f mass art, and w ith it im pulses he had received from historical m aterialism . T h e study o f mass art necessarily leads to the question o f the techn ical reprod uction o f works o f art. E very age has its ow n qu ite specific techniques o f reproduction . T h e y represent the techn o logical poten tial o f the period concern ed and are . . . a response to the requirem ents o f the tim e. It is therefore no cause for w on d er that every m ajor historical u p h ea va l that brings oth er classes to pow er than those w ho have ru led hitherto, also regu larly produces a change in the techniques o f gra p h ic reproduction . T h is fact needs

61 Tang-Plastik, p 44.

Eduard Fuchs, Collector and Historian 385 to be m ade p a rticu la rly c le a r . 62 Fuchs was a pioneer w ith such insights. In them he pointed to subjects in whose study historical m aterialism can train itself. T h e techn ical stan dard o f the arts is one o f the most im portan t criteria. P roper atten tion to it can m ake good some o f the havoc w ro u gh t in the usual view o f intellectu al history (and sometimes even in Fuchs him self) by the vague con cept o f culture. T h a t thousands o f the sim plest potters w ere cap ab le o f prod ucing, literally o ff the cuff, w ork that was both tech n ically and artistically d a rin g 63 quite rig h tly strikes Fuchs as concrete p ro o f o f the va lu e o f ancien t Chinese art. T ech n ica l con siderations now and then lead him to lum inous aper^us that are ahead o f his tim e : as witness his exp lan ation o f the fact that there was no caricatu re in the an cien t w orld. T h e idealistic view o f his tory w ou ld in evita b ly see this as corrob oratio n o f the classicist concep tion o f G r e e c e : its noble sim plicity and tran qu il greatness. A n d w h at is F u ch s ex p la n a tio n ? C arica tu re, he says, is a mass art. T h ere is no caricature w ith ou t the mass circu latio n o f its products. M ass circu latio n means cheapness. But there was no cheap form o f reprod uction in the ancien t w orld, apart from coins. 64 T h e coin offers too sm all an area for caricatu re. So there was no caricatu re in a n tiq u ity. T h e caricatu re was mass art, so was genre painting. T his m ade forms a lrea d y held in low esteem b y con ven tion al art history seem even m ore contem ptible. N ot in F u ch ss eyes; looking at the despised and a p o cry p h al was his strength. A n d he b eat his ow n path to them as a collector, a path w h ich M arxism had done little m ore than broach. T h a t took a passion bord erin g on m ania. It left its m ark on F u ch ss features, in w hat sense m ay best be seen by going through 62 Honore Daumier, I, p 13. T h ese thoughts m ay be com pared with V icto r H u g o s allegorical in terpretation o f the W ed d in g at C an a. T h e m iracle o f the loaves represents the m ultiplication o f readers. T h e d ay that Christ hit upon this sym bol he had a prem onition o f the art o f the book p rin ter. V ic to r H ugo, W illiam Sh akespeare , cited by G eorges B atault, Le pontife de la demagogic: Victor Hugo, Paris 1934, p 142. 63 Dachreiter, p 46. 64 Karikatur, I, p 19. T h e excep tion proves the rule. A m echanical technique o f reprodu ction served to produce terracotta figures. A m o n g these m any caricatures m ay be found.

3 86 D a u m ie rs lon g series o f lithographs o f art-lovers and dealers, o f adm irers o f p ain tin g and connoisseurs o f sculpture. T h e y resem ble Fuchs, even to the very build. T h e y are tall, gau n t figures, and their eyes b laze fire. It has been not in a p tly rem arked that in these figures D au m ier conceived the descendants o f the gold-seekers, necrom ancers and misers to be found in the paintings o f the old masters.65 As a collector Fuchs is one o f their kind. A n d ju st as the alchem ist, w ith his base wish to m ake gold, experim ents w ith chem icals in w hich the planets and elem ents com bine to form im ages o f spiritual m an, so did this collector, w hile satisfying the base wish for possession, u n dertake the exploration o f an art in whose creations the prod u ctive forces and the masses com bin e to form im ages o f historical m an. E ven in the late books one can feel the passionate interest Fuchs took in these im ages. It is not the least glo ry o f the Chinese ridge tu rrets , he w rites, that they represent an anonym ous folk art. T h ere are no heroic epics to celebrate their creato rs. 66 W h e th er such contem plation o f u n know n craftsm en and the w ork o f their hands does not contribu te more to the h u m an izin g o f m an kin d than the cult o f the leader, w hich is ap p a ren tly once m ore to be inflicted on it future can tell. that, like so m uch about w h ich the past has v a in ly sought to instruct us, only the

1937

65 See E rich Klossow ski, Honore Daumier, M u n ich 1908, p 113. 66 Dachreiter, p 45.

Bibliographical Note

T h e first pu b lication o f the texts included in this volum e was as fo llo w s: O n e -W a y S treet : Einbahnstrasse, R o w o h lt, Berlin 1928. F ate and C h a ra c te r : D ie Argonauten, I, 1921. C ritiq u e o f V io le n c e : Archiv fu r Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik, X L V I I , 1920/1921. T h e D estructive C h a r a c te r : Frankfurter /jitu n g , L X X V I , N o vem b er 20, 1931. N a p les : Frankfurter ^eitung, L X X , A u gu st 19, 1925. M o sco w : D ie Kreatur, II, 1927. M arseilles : Neue Schweizer Rundschau, X X I I , 1929. H ashish in M arseilles : Frankfurter ^eitung, L X X V I I , D ecem ber 4, 1932. S u rrealism : Literarische W elt, V , 1929, in four instalm ents. A Sm all H istory o f P h o to g ra p h y : Literarische Welt, V I I , 1931, in three instalm ents. K a r l K r a u s : Frankfurter ^eitung, L X X V I , 1931, in four instalm ents. E d u a rd Fuchs, C o llecto r and H istorian : ^ eitschriflfur Sozialforschung, O c to b e r 1937. T exts unpublished in B en ja m in s life-tim e first appeared post hum ously th u s : O n L a n g u a g e as Such and on the L an g u a g e o f M a n : Schriften, V o l. I, Su h rk am p V e rla g , F ran kfu rt 1955. T h eo lo gico -P o litica l F ra g m e n t : Schriften, V o l. I, F ran kfu rt I9 5 5 -

388
O n the M im e tic F a c u lty : Schriften, V o l. I, Frankfurt 1955. A Berlin C h ro n ic le : Berliner Chronik, edited b y Gershom Scholem , S u hrkam p V erla g , Frankfurt 1970.

Index

A b b o t, Berenice, 249 A b ra h a m a San ta C lara , 272 A d orn o, G retel, 2 in A d orn o, T h eod or, 18, 24 and n, 25 and n, 26 and n, 27, 31, 37 and n A lte n b e rg, Peter, 265, 281 A p o llin aire, G u illau m e, 227, 230, 232,

233.236
A ra g o , D om in iq ue Francois, 241, 242, 246 A ra g o n , Louis, 10, 225, 226, 227, 229, 232, 233, 238 A tget, E ugene, 249 and n, 250, 256 A u e rb a ch , E rich , 228 B aedeker, K a rl, 168 B ach, D ., 358n B aku n in , M ik h ail A ., 236 B a lza c, H onor6 de, 372 and n, 373 Barras, Paul Francois de, 377n B artram , 184 Bastian, A d o lf, 184 B atau lt, Georges, 385n B aud elaire, C h arles, 8, 9, 20, 22, 23, 24. 3 5 . 4 8 >5 '. 2 35 , 256, 275, 382 B ayard , E m ile-A ntoine, 246 Bebel, A u gu st, 349, 357 B eethoven, L u d w ig van , 66 Bekessy, Im re, 280 Belm ore, H . W ., i5n B eraud , H enri, 233 B ern h ard , L u cien , 312 B errich on , Paterne, 235 Bism arck, O tto von, 353, 369 B loch , Ernst, 30, 31, 32, 33, 155 Bios, W ilh elm , 354

Blossfeldt, K a rl, 244 and n, 254 Bloy, L eon , 278 Boehn, M a x von, 379 Boisseree, J o h a n n Sulpiz, 384 Bonnard, A b e l, 375n Bossert, H elm u t, 2 4 m Brahe, T y ch o , 103 Brandes, G eo rg, 364 Brecht, B ertolt, 7, 18, 255, 271 B rentano, B ern h ard von, 245 Breton, A ndrS, 10, 131, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 234 Bronnen, A rn olt, 198 Buber, M artin , 30 B uchner, G eo rg , 239 Bukharin, N iko lai, 239 Busoni, F erru ccio B envenuto, 249 B urkhardt, Jako b, 367

C ald eron , de la B arca, Pedro, 100 C a lib a n , 280 C a lv er, R ich a rd , 354 C alvin , Joh n , 350 C am eron, J u lia M argaret, 240 C arrel, F rank, 276 C h a tea u b rian d , Francois Ren6 A u guste, 375n Ch irico, G io rgio de, 230 C lau d el, P au l, 235 C laudius, M atth ias, 268, 287 Co hen , H erm an n , 150 and n Co hn , A lfred , 320 and n C ohn , J u lia , 3 2 m C opernicus, N icolaus, 103 Corbusier, 236

389

390
C ondorcet, M arie J ea n Antoine N icolas, 370 C oulon, M arcel, 235 C ourier, Pau l-L ou is, 276 D agu erre, Louis, 240, 241, 246, 256 D an te A ligh ieri, 221, 229, 374 D an zel, 353 D arw in , C h arles, 133 D au det, Leon, 295 D aum ier, H on ore, 36 m , 3 6 5 ^ 380, 381, 382, 383, 386 D au then dey, 243, 244 D elaroche, Pau l, 248 D elacroix, F erd in an d V icto r Eugene, G lu ck , G u stav, 37, 258 G oeth e, Jo h a n n W o lfg an g von, 9 and n, 19, 21, 25, 31, 32, 47, 67, 252, 259, 268, 3 51, 362 Green, A n n a K a th a rin e , 49 G rosz, G eorge, 177, 3 6 m G u n dolf, F riedrich, 25 G u term an n , N orbert, 367n G u ttm an n , H ein rich, 2 4 m G u ttm an n , Sim on, 310, 312 H aecker, T h eod or, 281 H am an n , Joh an n G eorg, 114, 118 H au ff, W ilhelm , 322n H au p tm an n , G erh art, 371 H eartfield, J oh n (H elm u t H erzfelde), 36m H ebei, Joh an n Peter, 239, 262, 263 H egel, G eo rg W ilh elm F riedrich , 350,

373
Desnos, R ob ert, 225 Destinn, E m m y, 333 D oblin, A lfred, 252 Dollfuss, E n gelb u rt, 39 Dostoevsky, F yod or, 31, 48, 234, 235 D oyle, A rth u r C o n an , 49 D rum ont, E d ouard , 373 and n du C am p , M ax im e, 358 Ducasse, Isidore, see Lautream ont D u h am el, G eorges, 233 Eisenstein, Sergei, 252 E luard, Paul (E ugene G rin d el), 225, 228 Engels, F ried rich , 349, 350, 351, 356,

364
H eid egger, M artin , 27, 30, 38 H eine, H einrich, 260, 287, 353, 371 H einle, Friedrich C ., 306, 307, 308, 310, 3 1 1, 312 H ertz, H enri, 230 H erzfelde, W ielan d , 310 Hessel, Franz, 297, 299 H ill, D a vid O ., 240, 2 4 m , 242, 244, 245, 248 H illel, 103 H iller, K u rt, I52n H irsch, Ju lia n , 353 H offm ann , E. T . A ., 371 H ofm annsthal, H u go von, 32 H old erlin , Fried rich , 67, 307 H o lty , L u d w ig, H ein rich , 284 H orkheim er, M ax, 24n, 40, 4 1, 3 75 n >
i 78n

3 57 . 3 59 . 3 6 4 . 37 . 3 7 1
Epicurus, 317 Ernst, M ax, 230 F ab re-L u ce, A lfred, 233 Ferri, E nrico, 369 Feuerbach, L u d w ig, 3 5 m F ichte, J o h an n G ottlieb , 350 France, A n ato le, (Jacques Anatole Francois T h ib a u lt), 149 Frankel, F ritz, 216 Frescata, 279 Freud, Sigm und, 18, 380 Fuchs, E duard, 4 1, 349-386 Fuller, 227 G avarn i, Paul (Sulpice C h evalier), 383 G eorge, Stefan, 282, 307 G ervinus, 353, 374 and n G irard i, A lex an d er, 283 G uillaum e

H u go, V icto r, 235, 240, 370, 371, 38511 Jentsch, H ans G ab riel von, 354 Jensen, Johannes, 220 Jo e l, Ernst, 305 K a fk a , Franz, 9, 14, 15, 18, 23, 247 K a in z , Josef, 333, 334 K a n t, Im m anuel, 29, 138, 264, 350,

3 57 . 37 0n, 375 K astn er, E rich, 25n K a u tsk y , K a rl, 349, 36gn K e ller, G ottfried, 351

M i
K e p ler, Johannes, 103 K e rr, A lfred , 280 K ie rk e g a a rd , Soren, 23, 119, 270, 279 K le e , Pau l, 9, 289 K n o ch e , 332 K o rn , K a rl, 356, 357 and n K lossow ski, E rich, 386n K ra ca u e r, Siegfried, 18, 245 K raem er, Hans, 354 K ra ft, W erner, 24n K ra u s, K a rl, 9, 23, 25, 26, 28, 3 1, 37, 3 8 ,3 9 ,7 9 .2 2 2 ,2 5 8 - 2 9 0 ,3 7 9 K r u ll, G erm ain e, 254 Lacis, A sja, 1 in , 32, 33, 36, 40, 45, M ax, A ., 35511, 371 n M ehrin g, F ranz, 38, 349, 350, 353. 36on, 364 and n, 371 M eidner, L u d w ig, 311 M eyer, G u stav, 35on M eyerh old , K a rl T h eo d o r Kasim ir,

196
M ichaelis, K a rin , 269 M ichelet, Ju les, 371 M ickiew icz, A d a m , 235 M ilton, Jo h n , 235 M o gra b y , 173 M obius, T h eo d or, 367 M o h oly-N ag y, Laszlo, 254 M oliere (Jean Baptiste Poquelin), 130 M onticelli, A d olph e, 211 M ontesquieu, (Charles de Secondat),

167
L am artin e, A lphonse de, 376 L am p rech t, K a rl, 360 L a n d a u , Louise von, 331 L a n g e n , A lb ert, 355n L asker-S ch iiler, Else, 281, 310 Lassalle, F erd in an d, 276, 349, 356 L au fen berg, H einrich, 36gn La u tream o n t (Isidore D ucasse), 227, 2 3 4 >235 L efeb vre, H enri, 376n L en in , V . I., 182, 189, 196, 200, 201, 207, 208, 227 L eon ard o, 240 L ich ten b erg, G eorge Christoph, 96, 290 L ich tw ark, A lfred, 252 L ieb k n ech t, W ilh elm , 349 L iegler, L eop old , 268 L igu o ri, A lfonso M aria de, 167 Lom broso, Cesare, 367 Loos, A d o lf, 2^0, 265, 2 71, 281, 289 L ouis V I I , 228 L o uis-P h ilippe, 372 L o w y , M ich a el, 3on L o w en th al, L eo , 41 L u k acs, G eorg, 30, 31, 33 L u th er, M artin , 350 M alla rm e, Stephane, 6 1, 62, 67 M ach iav elli, N iccolo, 374 M ale, E m ile, 363n M arolles, 383 M a rx , K a rl, 18, 23, 146, 278, 287,

35
M ontez, L o la , 354 M uller, F ried rich , 118, 121, 351 M urillo, Bartolom e Esteban, 366 M usset, A lfred de, 235 N ad ar (Felix T o u rn a ch o n ), 240, 246 N aville, Pierre, 232, 237 N erval, G erard de, 371 N estroy, Joh a n n , 270, 280, 281 N iepce, Joseph N icephore, 240 N ierendorf, K a rl, 244n N ietzsche, F ried rich 126, 239, 260, 283 3 1 9 , 3 5 5 N ovalis, (Friedrich Leop old ), 29

O ffe n b ach , J acq u es, 270, 279n, 280, 281, 282 O rlik, E m ile, 245, 248 O u d , Jacob u s Johannes Pieter, 236 Paderew ski, I g n a c e je a n , 249 Paganin i, N icolo, 249 Pau, L u d w ig , 358 Peladan , J osephin , 168 Peter the G rea t, 197 Petrarch, 221 Pfem pfert, F ra n z, 3o8n, 310 Pilniak, Boris (Boris A n d reyevich V o g a u ), 186, 197 Pierson, 246 Pindar, 332 Piscator, E rw in , 11 Plekhanov, G . V ., 349, 368n Poliak, D o ra, 39 Poe, E d gar A lla n , 48, 236

3 4 9 > 3 5 ln > 3 56 , 3 6 i 3 6 4 , 36811, 370, 371

M atkow sky, A d albert, 333

J
392
Pom pey, 320, 321 Porta, G iovan n i Battista, 246 Pottner, E m ile, 36 m Proust, M arce l, 9, 12, 14, 15, 23, 67, 184 198 2 95 ,2 96 Pudovkin, V sevolod Ilarionovich, 252 Pufahl, H elene, 331 Seligson, R ik a, 3o8n Seligson, T ra u te , 3o8n Shakespeare, W illia m , 100, 198, 258, 270, 280, 281, 286, 351, 374 Slevogt, M ax, 361 and n Sm ith, A d am , 350 Sorel, Georges, i4 5 n , 146, 150 Sou pault, P h ilippe, 225, 235 Southey, R o b ert, 235 Spin oza, B aruch, 133 S talin, Joseph, 36 Stahr, A d o lf W ilh elm , 353 Stelzner, 246 Stifter, A d alb ert, 263, 264, 286, 288 Stone, Sasha, 254 Stossl, Franz, 262 Sw ift, J on athan , 278 Szonti, Peter, 1 in T im o n , 280 T itia n , (T izian o V ecelli), 36gn T o u lo u se-L au trec, 36 m T retia k ov, Sergei, 184 Trostsky, Leon, i3 n , 238 T z a ra , T ristan , 254 U ccello, Paolo, 363n U llstein, Ilse, 331 U n ger, I43n, I45n U trillo , M au rice, 242 V a n ze tti, B artolom eo, 227 V ec ch io , P alm a, 36gn V eronese, Paolo (Paolo C a glia ri), 36gn V iertel, B erthold, 269, 282 V o g t, K a rl, 239 W agner, R ich ard , 27 W alser, R ob ert, 9, 19 W alzel, O skar, 197 W eber, A lfred, 359n W eber, M arian n e, 306 W edekin d, F rank, 281, 378 W eininger, O tto , 281 W iertz, A n toin e J ., 255, 256 W in ckelm an n , 362, 384 W itte, Bernd, 32n, 37n W olfflin, H ein rich , 363 and n W alraff, F erdin an d Franz, 384 Z ob eltitz, F eodor von, 375n

, ,

Q u in cey, T h om as de, 371 Q uinet, E dgar, 371 R a d t, F ritz, 3 2 m R a d t, G rete, 320, 32 m R aim u n d , F erd in an d, 283 R an g, C h ristian Florens, 18 R anke, Leop old von, 352 a l-R ash id , H arou n, 267 R ech t, C a m ille, 249 R em bran d t (van R ijn ), 218 R envers, Professor R ., 326 and n R ibera, Jusepe, 366 R iegl, Alois, 320 R ilk e, R a in er M aria , 299 R im b au d , A rth u r, 226, 227, 234, 235,

239

Robespierre, M axim ilien , 375 R odin, Auguste, 361 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 350 R o w a lt, Ernst, 20 R y a za n o v , D a vid , 35 m R ych en , M a x , 37 S acco, N icola, 227 Sade, C o m te de, 377n S aint-Pol R o u x (Paul R o u x ), 226, 233 S aint-Sim on , 358 Sander, A u gu st, 25 m , 252, 254 Scheerbart, Paul, 232, 289 Schelling, Friedrich W ilhelm von, 245 S cheu, R ob ert, 265, 276 Schiller, Friedrich von, 286 Schlegel, Friedrich von, 29 Schlossen, F. C ., 374, 375 Schm idt, E rich , 353 Schober, Johannes, 280 Schoen, Ernst, 320 Scholem , Gershom , 8 and n, 14 and n, 15, 17, 19 and n, 23, 26, 30, 31 and n, 33 and n, 34, 35, 36, 38 Schopenhauer, 251 " S ch w arz, H ein rich, 24 m !, Seligson, C a rla , 3o8n