The Confusions of Young Master Törless (Alma Classics)

by Robert Musil

  Törless would have preferred not to be involved in this conversation. After a moment he replied: “I can’t help you. You’re to blame for everything that’s happening to you.”

  “But not long ago you were really nice to me.”

  “No I wasn’t.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t even mention that. It wasn’t really me… It was a dream… a passing whim… In fact I’m glad this latest depravity of yours has driven a wedge between us. It’s the best thing that could have happened to me…”

  Basini hung his head. He felt as if a dismal grey ocean of disillusionment lay between him and Törless… Törless was cold now, a totally different person.

  Then suddenly he fell to his knees in front of him and pounded his head on the ground: “Help me! Help me! For God’s sake help me!”

  For a moment Törless hesitated. He had no desire to help Basini, but he wasn’t sufficiently outraged to reject him. So he did what his first instinct told him: “Come to the attic tonight and I’ll talk to you about it one last time.” But he immediately regretted his words.

  “Why go over all that again?” he thought. And then, as if he had given it some consideration, he added: “Actually it’s no good: they’ll see you.”

  “No they won’t. They spent all last night with me, until first thing this morning; tonight they’ll be fast asleep.”

  “All right then. But don’t expect me to help you.”

  * * *

  Törless had agreed to meet Basini against his own inner convictions. And these told him that everything was over, that there was nothing more to be gained. It was only a form of fastidiousness on his part, a stubborn conscientiousness that was nonetheless resigned to failure from the outset, which had whispered in his ear that he should go back over this ground one more time.

  He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

  Basini had no idea how he should behave. He was so battered and bruised that he hardly dared move. Any personality that he had had seemed to have disappeared; only in his eyes was there a final trace, which seemed to cling to Törless, anxiously pleading with him.

  So he waited to see what he was going to do.

  It was Törless who eventually broke the silence. He spoke quickly, in a bored voice, as if it were a matter that had been dealt with a long time ago but which had to be looked at again purely for the sake of formality.

  “I’m not going to help you. It’s true that for a while I took an interest in you, but that’s all in the past. The fact is you’re nothing but a base, cowardly individual. That’s all there is to it. So why should I stand up for you? Until recently I thought I could find other words, another way of describing you – but there is no other description except that you’re a base coward. It might sound simplistic and meaningless, but that’s really all there is to say. Ever since you got me involved with your unsavoury desires I’ve forgotten whatever else it was that I was originally looking for in you. I wanted to find a point a long way away from you, from where I could observe you… that was what interested me about you – and it was you who destroyed that… but I’ve gone far enough: I don’t owe you any explanations. There’s only one more thing: what do you feel now?”

  “What am I supposed to feel? I just can’t stand it any more.”

  “That they’re doing terrible things to you and that you’re in a lot of pain?”

  “Yes.”

  “But is it only pain? You can feel that you’re suffering, and you want to escape from it? Simply that? Nothing more complex?”

  Basini didn’t know how to reply.

  “I see: my question obviously wasn’t clear enough. But that isn’t important. I want nothing more to do with you; I’ve already told you that. Your existence leaves me completely cold. You can do whatever you like…”

  Törless was about to leave when Basini suddenly tore off his clothes and threw his arms round him. His body was covered in weals; it was repulsive, and the gesture was like that of an inept young prostitute. Törless turned away in disgust.

  He had hardly gone more than a few steps into the darkness when he bumped into Reiting.

  “What’s this! So you’re having secret assignations with Basini now, are you?”

  Törless followed Reiting’s gaze and looked back at Basini. Moonlight was shining through a skylight onto the very spot where he was standing. In the bluish glow his skin, with all its scars and bruises, looked like a leper’s. Without thinking, he tried to explain.

  “He was the one who came begging to me.”

  “What does he want?”

  “For me to protect him.”

  “Well he chose the right person, didn’t he?”

  “I might have done it if this whole business hadn’t become so boring.”

  Reiting didn’t seem too pleased by this; angrily he turned to Basini.

  “We’ll teach you to plot behind our backs! Your guardian angel Törless will be there to witness it, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy himself.”

  Törless had already started to walk away, but this pointed remark, which was clearly aimed at him, made him stop and turn round before he had time to think.

  “No I won’t, Reiting. I don’t want anything more to do with this: it disgusts me.”

  “What, all of a sudden?”

  “Yes, all of a sudden. At first I thought I could see something behind all this…” He wondered why he couldn’t get this idea out of his mind…

  “Ah, second sight!”

  “Exactly. But now all I see is that you and Beineberg are a pair of crude, vulgar brutes.”

  “Oh, but you can’t not watch Basini eating excrement,” said Reiting sarcastically.

  “I’m not interested any more.”

  “You were before!…”

  “I’ve already told you: it was only because at the time Basini was a mystery to me.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t see things as a mystery any more. They just happen: that’s the only wisdom there is.” He was surprised that the vocabulary that belonged to the lost realm of his emotions should suddenly come back to him like this. When Reiting retorted mockingly that “you don’t need to look very far to find wisdom like that”, he was suddenly filled with an angry sense of his own superiority, which drove him to use harsh words. For a second or two he despised Reiting so much that he would have gladly stamped him into the dirt.

  “Mock as much as you like! But what you’re doing is nothing but mindless, dismal, nauseating cruelty!”

  Reiting shot a glance at Basini, who was listening closely.

  “Watch what you’re saying, Törless!”

  “Nauseating, sordid – you heard me!”

  It was Reiting’s turn to lose his temper.

  “I forbid you to insult us in front of Basini!”

  “Ha! You’re in no position to forbid me to do anything! Those days are over. I used to respect you and Beineberg, but now I see you for what you are: repulsive, brainless morons, no better than wild animals!”

  “Shut your mouth or…”

  Reiting seemed to be about to attack him. But Törless stepped back and shouted: “Do you think I’m going fight you? Basini isn’t worth the effort. Do what you like to him, but just get out of my way!”

  Reiting seemed to have had second thoughts about resorting to violence, and stepped aside. He didn’t even lay a finger on Basini. But Törless knew what he was like, and realized that from now on he would have to watch his back against a constant, insidious threat.

  19

  TWO DAYS LATER, in the afternoon, Reiting and Beineberg came up to Törless.

  He saw the malevolent look in their eyes. Beineberg now obviously blamed him for the ridiculous failure of his prophesies, and Reiting must have been fanning the flames.

  “I hear you insulted us. And in front of Basini, to make matters worse. What gives you the right?”

  Törless didn’t answer.

  “You know we won’t sta
nd for that sort of thing. But seeing as it’s you and we’re used to your moods and don’t take much notice of them, we’ll let sleeping dogs lie – as long as you do one thing.”

  Despite his friendly tone there was malice hovering somewhere in Beineberg’s eyes.

  “Basini is coming to the room in the attic tonight; we’re going to give him a thrashing for encouraging you to turn against us. When you see us leave the dormitory, you must follow.”

  Törless refused. “You can do whatever you like, but leave me out of it.”

  “We’re going to have fun with Basini one last time, and then tomorrow we’ll hand him over to the class, because he’s starting to get disobedient.”

  “Do what you like.”

  “But you’ll be there.”

  “No I won’t.”

  “Basini has to be made to understand, with you as witness, that he’s powerless against us. Last night he refused to do what we told him; we thrashed him half to death, but he still wouldn’t submit. We have to go back to attacking him mentally, humiliate him in front of you and then the whole class.”

  “But I’m not going to be there!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  Beineberg gave a deep sigh; then he came and stood right in front of Törless, as if he were about to spit venom in his face.

  “Do you really think we don’t know why? Do you think we don’t know exactly what you got up to with Basini?”

  “No more than you.”

  “Oh really. So I wonder why it was you that he chose as his patron saint? Well? Why it was that he put his trust in you? Do you take us for fools?”

  Törless lost his temper: “I don’t care what you know or don’t know: just stop trying to drag me into this sordid business of yours!”

  “So you’re going to be offensive again!”

  “You disgust me! This base behaviour of yours is utterly mindless! That’s what I find so repulsive about you!”

  “Listen: you have more than a few reasons to be grateful to us. If you think you’re above us all of a sudden, when we’ve always been your masters, then you’re making a big mistake. So are you coming tonight or not?”

  “No!”

  “My dear Törless, if you rebel and don’t come, then you’ll meet the same fate as Basini. You know perfectly well the circumstances in which Reiting found you. That will be enough. Whether we did more or less than you won’t be of much help to you. We’ll turn everything round so it points to you. You’re far too weak-willed and not nearly clever enough when it comes to things like this to be able to protect yourself. So if you don’t change your mind pretty rapidly we’ll tell the rest of the class that you’re Basini’s accomplice. And then we’ll see if he protects you. Is that understood?”

  This stream of threats, issued first by Beineberg, then by Reiting, then by both of them together, passed over Törless’s head like a thunderstorm. Once they had gone he rubbed his eyes as if he had been dreaming. But he knew Reiting: when he was in a rage he was capable of the vilest behaviour, and Törless’s insults and insubordination seemed to have deeply offended him. And Beineberg? He had looked as if he were trembling with a hatred that had been building up inside him for years… and yet it was simply anger, because he had been made to look a fool in front of Törless.

  Yet the more dramatic the events that were gathering above his head became, the more trivial and impersonal they seemed. Yes, the threats frightened him – but no more than that. The danger had just drawn him back into the whirlpool of reality.

  He got into bed. He saw Beineberg and Reiting leave the dormitory with Basini, who was dragging his feet wearily as usual. But he didn’t follow them.

  Nonetheless he was still beset by terrible images. For the first time he thought of his parents with a little warmth. He sensed that he needed this quiet, safe territory for all the things that had been troubling him to evolve, to become more settled in his mind.

  But what exactly was this? He didn’t have time to give it any thought, or brood over what had happened. All he had was a burning desire to free himself from this confusing and tangled situation, a desire for silence, books. As if his soul were black soil beneath which the first seeds were beginning to shoot, although it wasn’t possible to tell what they might eventually grow into. And he pictured a gardener watering his flower beds every day with steady, solicitous patience. He couldn’t get this image out of his mind; its patient certainty seemed to have become the focus of all his longings. That was the only way! The only way, he thought. And his doubts and anxieties were thrust aside by the conviction that he should do his utmost to achieve this spiritual state.

  The only thing that wasn’t clear was what he ought to do first. Because the desire to reflect calmly on his situation only served to increase his loathing for the intrigues that he knew lay ahead. Not only that, he was genuinely afraid of the threats that had been directed at him. If the other two really tried to blacken his name in front of the class, the effort of defending himself would demand such a vast investment of energy that he could feel its ill effects even now. The mere thought of this turmoil, this meaningless struggle against an unfamiliar will and its bizarre intentions, sent a shudder of revulsion through him.

  And then he suddenly remembered a letter he had received from his parents some time ago. It had been a reply to one he had written to them, in which he had tried, as best he could, to explain the peculiar feelings and emotions he was experiencing, although this was before the phase of sensual desire had begun. It was another thoroughly artless response, full of worthy and unimaginative moral advice, advising him to encourage Basini to go to the school authorities and admit his crime, so he could bring this degrading and dangerous state of subservience to an end.

  He had read the letter again later, this time with Basini lying naked beside him on the thickly carpeted floor of the attic room. He had taken particular pleasure in letting the ponderous, facile, rational words dissolve on his tongue, while reflecting that his parents’ overly clear and sunlit existence blinded them to the darkness where, at this very moment, his soul was crouching like a lithe and supple feline at bay.

  Yet when he thought back to this passage now, he felt quite differently about it.

  He was filled with a delightfully reassuring sensation, as if he had felt the touch of a firm, well-meaning hand on his shoulder. In an instant his mind was made up. An idea came to him in a flash, and he seized on it without hesitation, as if under the influence of his parents’ exhortations.

  He stayed awake until the other three came back, and waited until their soft, regular breathing told him they were asleep. Then, quickly tearing a page out of his notebook, by the faltering glow of the night lamp he scribbled a message in large, garbled letters:

  In the morning they’re going to hand you over to the class, and you can expect the worst. The only way out is to go to the Headmaster and confess what you did. He’ll hear about it eventually anyway, but by that time you’ll have been virtually beaten to death.

  Put the blame on B. and R. and don’t mention me.

  You can see now that I do want to save you.

  He slipped the note into the sleeping Basini’s hand. And then, exhausted by all this emotional agitation, he too fell asleep.

  20

  THE NEXT MORNING, Beineberg and Reiting appeared to want to grant Törless another day’s grace.

  For Basini, however, things were taking a turn for the worse.

  Törless saw Beineberg and Reiting going from one person to another, and then groups gathering round them in which everyone was whispering excitedly.

  He still didn’t know whether Basini had got his note, but sensing that he was being constantly watched, he had no opportunity to speak to him.

  At first he was afraid that he was going to be implicated as well. But faced with the repulsive nature of the threat, he was now so paralysed that he would have simply let it engulf him.

  Only after a while, ti
midly, expecting them to turn on him at any second, did he join one of the groups. But no one even noticed him. For the moment it was Basini who was the centre of attention.

  The unrest began to grow. Törless could see it happening. It was more than possible that Reiting and Beineberg had fabricated some of the evidence…

  At first there were grins, then a few people began to look serious, and angry glances were directed at Basini, until eventually an obscure, smouldering silence laden with dark desires hung over the class.

  By coincidence it was a free afternoon.

  They all gathered at the back of the classroom, in front of the lockers; then someone was sent to fetch Basini.

  Beineberg and Reiting stood either side of him like a pair of animal tamers.

  Once the doors had been locked and lookouts posted, the tried-and-tested ritual of making him undress caused much amusement.

  Reiting produced a bundle of letters written by Basini’s mother to her son, and began to read them out.

  “My good little boy…”

  General hilarity.

  “You know that, as a widow, I have very few funds at my disposal…”

  A chorus of unrestrained laughter and obscene jokes rose from the crowd. Reiting was about to carry on when someone gave Basini a shove. Half in jest, half in outrage, another boy pushed him back again. And then all of a sudden, his mouth contorted with fear, the naked Basini was spinning from one side of the room to the other like a football, amid roars of laughter, cheers, prods and punches, cutting himself on the sharp edges of the desks, falling over and skinning his knees, until finally he collapsed in a heap, bleeding, covered in dust, his eyes glazed over like a frightened animal. For a moment there was silence, and then everyone rushed over to look at him lying on the floor.

  Törless shuddered. He had just witnessed the terrifying power of the threat.

  And still he had no idea what Basini was going to do.

  It was decided that the next night Basini would be tied to a bed and flogged with fencing foils.

  But to everyone’s amazement, during first lesson the next morning the Headmaster walked in. With him were the form master and two other members of staff. Basini was taken out of class and put in a separate room.