by Robert Musil
“Everything?” said Törless, almost unintentionally. The two of them were staring each other in the eye.
“Come off it, don’t play the innocent with me. After the last time you know perfectly well what I’m talking about…” Törless didn’t reply. Had Reiting discovered something… or was he just testing the lie of the land? “…and I know that Beineberg told you what Basini gets up to.”
Törless breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh please, don’t look so surprised. You did that before, and it wasn’t all that terrible. In any case, Beineberg has already told me that he does the same thing with Basini.” And with this, Reiting pulled a sarcastic face at Beineberg. Dealing someone a low punch quite openly and in front of other people was very much his style.
Beineberg didn’t respond; he just sat where he was, lost in thought, and barely even opened his eyes.
“What’s the matter, has the cat got your tongue? He’s got this completely mad idea for Basini and wants to put it into operation before we do anything else. It’s actually quite amusing.”
Beineberg was still looking serious. He gave Törless a meaningful glance and then said: “Do you remember what we talked about that day behind the coat rack?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never mentioned it again, but that’s because words alone serve no purpose. But believe me, I’ve often thought about it. And what Reiting just told you is true: I’ve done the same with Basini as he has. Perhaps I’ve gone a bit further. Because as I said when we had that conversation, I’ve always believed that sensuality might be the right path to take. So it was an experiment. It was where my research seemed to lead. But working haphazardly doesn’t make sense. So I’ve spent whole nights thinking about how to go about it in a more systematic way.
“And now I think I’ve found one, so we’re going to put it to the test. And then you’ll see just how wrong you were. Everything that is said about the world is far from clear, things happen differently from how we imagine them. Yet we only discover this by approaching it from the reverse side, so to speak, by looking for those points where this perfectly natural explanation trips itself up; and now I think I can demonstrate the positive aspect – the other side of the coin!”
Reiting, who was pouring the tea, gave Törless a nudge. “Just listen to this!” he said, with a look of glee on his face. “It’s really spiffing what he’s come up with.”
Beineberg quickly put out the lamp. In the darkness the flame under the little spirit burner threw a trembling bluish light across their faces.
“I’ve put the lamp out, Törless, because it’s more suited to what we’re talking about. If you’re too stupid to understand these more profound questions, Reiting, you might as well go to sleep.”
Highly amused, Reiting roared with laughter.
“So you remember our conversation. You yourself had just discovered a slight anomaly in mathematics – an example that shows that our thought process isn’t always based on solid foundations, that there are gaps to leap across. It closes its eyes, stops and listens for a moment, yet it manages to land safely on the other side. We must have been in this state of despair for a long time, because in many areas our knowledge is full of gaping chasms, leaving nothing but fragments above a bottomless ocean.
“And yet we don’t despair; in fact we have the impression that we’re standing on solid ground. If we didn’t have this unambiguous sense of security then we would commit suicide in desperation at the poverty of our intellect. This feeling goes with us everywhere, gives us cohesion, safeguards our reason like a mother holding her child in her arms. Once we understand this we can no longer deny the existence of the soul. As soon as we analyse our intellectual life and realize how inadequate our intelligence is, then we feel it quite literally. If this feeling didn’t exist – do you see what I’m saying? – then we would just collapse like empty sacks.
“We have forgotten how to pay attention to this feeling, yet it’s one of the most ancient feelings in the world. Thousands of years ago, people who lived thousands of miles from each other were already aware of it. As soon as we show an interest in things of this kind we can no longer deny that they exist. But I won’t try to convince you with long speeches; I’ll just give you enough detail so you can understand what’s happening. The facts will provide all the proof you need.
“So if we accept that the soul exists, then it follows naturally that we can have no more burning desire than to re-establish contact with it, to become intimate with it again, to learn how best to use its energies and gain control of part of the supernatural powers that lie dormant deep inside them.
“Because all of this is possible, it’s been achieved more than once – the miracles, the lives of the saints, the Indian seers all bear witness to such happenings.”
“Just a minute,” said Törless, interrupting him. “I think it’s yourself that you’re trying to convince with these beliefs. That must be why you had to put out the lamp. Would you speak like this if we were sitting with all the others while they were doing their geography or history prep, or writing letters home in a brightly lit classroom where one of the prefects might be strolling up and down between the desks? Hasn’t it occurred to you that what you’re saying might be rather outlandish, even slightly pretentious, as if we were a different species from them and came from another world that existed eight hundred years ago?”
“No, my dear Törless, I would say exactly the same thing. And besides, forever looking over your shoulder to see what other people are doing has always been one of your faults: you’re not nearly independent enough. Writing letters home! We’re discussing matters of this kind and you’re thinking about your parents! Who says they’re capable of following us along this road? We’re a whole generation younger, there might be experiences reserved for us that they have never dreamt of. At least that’s my feeling. But what will all this talk achieve? I’m going to give you proof.”
After a pause during which no one spoke, Törless said: “So how exactly do you intend to take possession of your soul?”
“I don’t want to go into detail about that at the moment; and in any case, Basini has to be here for me to do it.”
“You could at least give us a vague idea.”
“If you like. History teaches us that there is only one way to do this: by descending deep within oneself. But that is precisely where the difficulty lies. In the past for example, when the soul still manifested itself through miracles, the saints could only achieve this by way of fervent inner prayer. At the time the soul must have been constituted differently, because nowadays that method always fails. Nowadays we have no idea what to do: the soul has changed, and unfortunately a long period of time has gone by during which no one has paid attention to this question, with the result that the connection has been irretrievably lost. Only after the most careful consideration will we be able to find another way. This has been on my mind constantly over the last few weeks. Hypnosis might prove to be the most successful means. But it’s never been tried. People are satisfied with banal sleights of hand, which is why no one has experimented with other methods that might lead us to loftier heights. I’m not going to say any more now, except that I’m not intending to hypnotize Basini using the popular method, but my own, which I believe is similar to one used during the Middle Ages.”
“Isn’t he just too much, this Beineberg,” laughed Reiting. “If only he had lived at the time when people were predicting the end of the world! He would have seriously believed that it was only because of this soul mumbo-jumbo of his that the human race still existed.”
While Reiting mocked, Törless glanced at Beineberg. He noticed that his face had stiffened into a rigid mask, as if in intense concentration. The next moment he felt as if he were being seized by an ice-cold hand. The violence of his reaction frightened him; and then the fingers relaxed their grip. “Oh, it was nothing,” said Beineberg. “Just an idea. I thought I had had an inspiration, a sign that seemed to
be telling me what to do next…”
“From where I’m sitting you seem pretty exhausted,” said Reiting jokingly. “I’ve always taken you for a tough fellow who only did this sort of thing for sport, but all of a sudden you look like a woman.”
“Be quiet! You haven’t the faintest idea what it’s like to know that you’re getting close to resolving questions of this kind, that every day you’re on the point of having them in your grasp!”
“Let’s not quarrel,” said Törless – over the past few weeks he had become even more assertive – “as far as I’m concerned you can both do whatever you like; I don’t believe in anything. Not in your sophisticated methods of torture, Reiting, nor in Beineberg’s hopeful beliefs. I don’t know what else to say. I’ll just wait and see what you come up with.”
“So when shall we do it?”
They decided it should be the following night.
17
TÖRLESS JUST LET IT GO AHEAD without offering any resistance. In any case, with these new developments he found that his feelings for Basini had very much cooled. It even turned out to be a lucky escape, by releasing him from a situation in which he vacillated between shame and desire without having the strength to break free. His disgust for Basini could now at least be clear and unambiguous, as if there were a risk that he himself might be defiled by the humiliations they were planning for him.
Apart from this his mind was elsewhere; he wasn’t really capable of thinking, least of all about what had been preoccupying him.
It was only when he started climbing the stairs to the attic with Reiting – Beineberg had gone ahead with Basini – that the memory of what had happened to him became more vivid. The confident words that he had flung in Beineberg’s face began to haunt him, and he longed to regain the resolve that he had shown then. His foot hesitated over every step. Yet his self-assurance refused to return. He could remember the thoughts he had had at the time, but they seemed to have left him far behind, as if they were just shadows of their former selves.
But eventually, as he was unable to find anything within himself, his curiosity focused on what was about to happen, and it was this that propelled him up the stairs.
Soon he was hurrying up the last few steps behind Reiting.
As the iron door creaked shut behind them, he told himself with a sigh that even if Beineberg’s scheme turned out to be nothing more than a ludicrous conjuring trick it was at least founded on something solid and well-thought-out, whereas he was just a mass of confusion.
They sat on one of the crossbeams and waited in excited suspense as if they were at the theatre.
Beineberg and Basini were already there.
The conditions seemed ideal for his venture. The darkness, the stale air, the sweet, sickly smell that rose from the water butts created an atmosphere of drowsiness, of not being able to keep your eyes open, of weary, lethargic indifference.
Beineberg told Basini to get undressed. In the shadows his naked body took on a bluish, almost putrescent glow, and ceased to be in any way arousing.
Then suddenly Beineberg took the revolver from his pocket and pointed it at Basini.
This even made Reiting lean forward, ready to intervene if necessary.
But Beineberg just smiled. It was a peculiarly contorted expression, as if he didn’t want to smile but the force of the fanatical words he was about to use had twisted his mouth out of shape.
As if paralysed, Basini fell to his knees and stared at the gun, his eyes bulging with fright.
“Get up,” said Beineberg. “If you do exactly what I say then you won’t get hurt – but if you oppose me in any way I’ll just shoot you. Remember that!
“In a sense I am going to kill you, but you’ll come back to life. Dying isn’t as alien to our nature as you might think; we die every day – in deep, dreamless sleep.”
And the same wild smile distorted his lips again.
“Go and kneel up there,” he said, pointing to a broad horizontal beam that was at about waist height. “Like that, completely upright, keep yourself straight – you have to arch your back. Now look directly at this, but without blinking: you must open your eyes as wide as possible!”
Beineberg placed a small spirit lamp in front of and a little higher than Basini, so that he had to tip his head back slightly to look at it.
Although barely perceptible, after a while Basini’s body seemed to begin swinging back and forth like a pendulum. The blue-tinted reflections moved up and down his skin. Every now and then Törless thought he could see his face contorting into an expression of fear.
After a while Beineberg asked: “Are you feeling sleepy?” This was the traditional question asked by hypnotists.
Then in a quiet, slightly hoarse voice he went on:
“Dying is simply a consequence of the way we live our life. We live from thought to thought, from feeling to feeling. Because our thoughts and feelings don’t flow calmly and quietly like a stream, they ‘fall into us’ like a stone dropping down a well. If you study yourself closely you will see that your soul isn’t something that changes colour in a series of gradual transitions, but that thoughts and ideas leap out of it like numbers out of a black hole. One minute you have a thought or feeling, the next another one appears as if from nowhere. If you pay attention, in the fleeting moment between two thoughts you can sometimes sense the utter darkness that exists there. Once we have grasped this, for us this moment is virtually the same as death.
“Our life consists of little more than setting out milestones and hopping from one to the other, thus experiencing many thousands of death moments every day. In a sense we only really live in the resting places that lie between them. That’s why we have such a ridiculous fear of our final death, because after that there are no more milestones, and we tumble into the vast, unending abyss. For that way of life, this is utter negation. But it’s only those who have never learnt to live any other way except from moment to moment who see it from that perspective.
“I call this the hopping malady, and the secret lies in overcoming it. We must learn to experience life as a gentle slide into awakening. The moment we succeed we are as close to death as we are to life. In worldly terms we are no longer alive, and yet we can no longer die, because as well as life we have also banished death. This is the moment of immortality, the moment when our soul leaves the narrow confines of our mind and enters the miraculous gardens of life.
“Now do exactly what I tell you.
“Let your mind go to sleep, keep your eyes fixed on this little flame… don’t let your mind wander… focus your attention inwardly… keep your eyes on the flame… your thoughts are like a machine that is running slower… and slower… and slower… Keep looking inwards… until you reach the point where you can feel yourself but not your thoughts or emotions…
“I’ll take your silence as a response. Keep your gaze turned inwards!…”
Several minutes went by.
“Can you feel the point?…”
No reply.
“Listen to me Basini: have you succeeded?”
Silence.
Beineberg stood up, and his gaunt shadow fell on the floor beside the beam. Above them, Basini could be seen swaying back and forth as if intoxicated with darkness.
“Turn sideways,” Beineberg told him. “It’s only the brain that is obeying me now,” he muttered. “For a while it just works mechanically, until the last traces of the soul have disappeared from it. The soul is already somewhere else – in its next existence. It’s no longer weighed down by the shackles of nature and its laws…” – and he turned to Törless – “it’s no longer condemned to give weight and substance to a body. Lean forward Basini… yes, that’s it… gradually… just move your body forward slightly… As soon as the final traces have been erased from the mind, then the muscles will relax and the empty body will collapse. Or it might continue to float, I’m not quite sure; the soul has left the body of its own accord, this isn’t the usual type of dea
th; perhaps the body will float in mid-air, because nothing, not the power of life or death will take responsibility for it any more… Lean forward slightly… a little farther.”
All of a sudden the terrified Basini, who had been doing exactly as he was told, fell off the beam and crashed to the floor at Beineberg’s feet.
Basini screamed in pain. Reiting roared with laughter. But when Beineberg, who had stepped back, realized that he had failed he let out a shriek of rage. In a flash he took off his leather belt, grabbed Basini by the hair and began to thrash him viciously. The terrible pressure that he had been under was released by his furious blows. Basini howled like a whipped dog, until every corner of the attic trembled with the sound.
During the whole scene Törless remained completely calm. He had secretly been hoping that something might happen to transport him back to the lost realm of his feelings. He had been aware all along that this was a foolish hope, and yet he had clung to it nonetheless. But it now seemed as if everything was over. The episode disgusted him. It was an unthinking disgust, inert and unspeaking.
Without saying a word he quietly got up and left. Completely mechanically.
Beineberg carried on thrashing Basini as if he would only stop once he was exhausted.
18
AS HE LAY IN BED later that night, Törless had a sense of finality, that something had come to an end.
During the next few days he just got on quietly with his work; he didn’t worry about anything. Reiting and Beineberg could continue putting their plan into action stage by stage, but he wanted nothing more to do with it.
Four days after the events in the attic, he was on his own, when Basini came up to him. He was a picture of misery, his face was pale and drawn, while in his eyes there was a constant, feverish flicker of anxiety. Casting frightened glances over his shoulder he blurted out: “You’ve got to help me! You’re the only one who can! I can’t stand it much longer, the way they’re torturing me. I’ve put up with everything so far… but in the end they’ll kill me!”