Paul Scheerbart

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  “Look here! Look here! Now we final y know what we have to do!

  Atlas, I completely agree with you! Believe me — you’re far cleverer than I

  expected! What you’ve said — is just exactly what I always wanted to say.

  We’l go right home and get rid of rich people — and that wil do the trick!

  Yes — yes — that wil do the trick. Because when the money disappears,

  war disappears too. Of course, of course!”

  The others agreed with the hunchback and they al wanted to board

  the boat immediately.

  But suddenly the comfortable giant said unctuously:

  “Dear friends! It’s not quite that easy! Wait! Wait! What are you trying

  to do? Have you no sympathy? You haven’t gotten comfortable yet! You

  haven’t borne the great dome of the heavens! You real y want to get rid of

  rich people? Ugh, no! Look here! They’re al living so calmly and pleas-

  antly. How could you be so cruel as to want to disturb rich people living

  calm, pleasant lives? You want to hurt the rich people! Oh! Oh! Be com-

  fortable, be agreeable and don’t do such a thing! In the name of the peace

  that you love so dearly, don’t do such a thing!

  — —

  The old Indian philosophers looked at each other as helplessly as before

  and didn’t know what to say.

  Meekly, the hunchback said:

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  “Then how should we do away with war, if not by getting rid of rich

  people? Atlas, I’m very confused!”

  Taking no notice of the hunchback, the comfortable giant went on to

  say:“Dear friends! Be humane! Anyone who has learned to bear the heavi-

  est possible weight, as I have, always stays comfortable. Learn from me!

  Go home and tel the rich people in the name of peace to do away with

  themselves — then you won’t have to do it — and just like that, war wil

  disappear. Be comfortable! Practice bearing and enduring — then you’l

  grow comfortable! Humanity’s greatest representatives — among whom

  you should count yourselves — have to be comfortable!”

  After a little while — very gradual y — almost against their wil s — the

  philosophers understood.

  At which point they sailed pensively home and wrote long letters to the

  rich people and distributed thick new books about war and peace to the

  leisure class, thereby surprising the whole world.

  They were very busy, those philosophers.

  Wel — the rich people cordial y accepted the thick books and the long

  letters that invited them to get rid of themselves — or at least their riches.

  The philosophers grew famous and wel respected!

  And a monument was soon erected in India to Atlas, the comfort-

  able — a monument!

  And a few rich people even gave some of their riches to the clever

  philosophers!!!

  And this pleased the philosophers greatly.

  And in exchange for this money, the philosophers wrote many more

  books about war and peace, because for their part they wanted to do al

  they could to wipe out wealth . . . . . . . . soon there was no more money to

  make war with, and war ended al by itself. War was then natural y — as

  Atlas had said — impossible.

  Money couldn’t be dumped into book writing, book printing, agitation,

  advertising, and the like fast enough.

  Meanwhile the philosophers waited patiently for the rich people to get

  rid of themselves. Natural y — that was the whole plan!

  But over time the old wise men learned to be patient, to bear and

  endure, and gradual y they too became comfortable — almost as comfort-

  able — as old Atlas.

  — — — — —

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  SELECTED SHORT S T O R I E S

  Natural y, the rich people often considered getting rid of their worthy

  selves and their even worthier riches. They could never quite make up their

  minds, however.

  So of course they kept postponing the whole business of getting rid of

  things.

  With time, they too had become more patient. They too had learned to

  bear and endure.

  “Everyone has his portion!” the good rich people thought.

  And everything remained as it was.

  And in the meantime the old gray heads — the philosophers — the sup-

  porters of peace — died in peace.

  May their ashes, too, rest in peace. . . .

  Translated by Anne Posten

  179

  The Magnetic Mirror

  Many years ago, while journeying through Scotland, I stopped off at an

  old castle where I discovered, along with other curiosities, a manuscript

  written in German in a delicate hand, and for a long time I paid it little

  heed. The manuscript contained a meticulously precise account of the man-

  ufacture of magnetic mirrors. Natural y I considered these notes merely

  a graphological curiosity and gave them no further thought — either in a

  positive or a negative sense.

  But several years later I had the opportunity to observe a minor earth-

  quake, and as chance would have it, I happened to take up this old Scottish

  manuscript once more.

  And now I read that magnetic mirrors can be used only in regions in

  which seismographs play a role. Out of boredom, I began to construct a

  mirror with magnetic properties. And I actual y succeeded . . .

  No doubt you’re going to think this is al just a fairy tale. But if you

  suppose you might in this way coax me to reveal a few details concerning

  the manufacture of magnetic mirrors, you are mistaken.

  Let me cast cold water on the hopes of those who suppose they might

  be al owed to glimpse the most powerful secrets of our time in exchange

  for a slice of bread and but er, by briefly relating how effortlessly I can turn

  down the most remarkable offers: an American mil ionaire had heard that

  I’d discovered a “new art” with the help of this magnetic mirror, and since

  this American adored new art, he offered me ten American free states in

  exchange for my mirror secret. I, however, sent word to him as fol ows:

  You can keep your free states, my art is worth a bit more to me than your

  United Beefsteaks. The man was not a little vexed by my uninhibited re-

  buff, yet at the same time he couldn’t help gaining an infernal respect for

  my new art. And this is exactly what should and wil be experienced by

  anyone impudent enough to try to possess this new art in exchange for just

  a few free states — the new art or the magnetic mirror — which amounts

  to the same thing . . .

  First pubished as “Der Magnetische Spiegel” in 1904 in Kunst (Art), the short-lived Viennese

  magazine “for art and everything else,” edited by the writer Peter Altenberg. The illustrations

  by Paul Scheerbart that accompanied the original publication are reproduced here.

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  PAUL S C H E E R B A R T

  Yes — but if you wish to gain an approximate idea of this magic mir-

  ror, you need only think of the magnetic mirrors so often invoked in the

  Romantic period. Seen objectively, these mysterious mirrors are nothing

  more than mere reflective metal plates.

  But when a metal plate that has been produced accor
ding to specifica-

  tions is placed in just the right position during an earthquake, observing

  the plate with a special y prepared magnifying glass wil reveal an excep-

  tional y riveting image. And anyone who is capable of copying these im-

  ages more or less correctly wil have discovered the “new art.”

  There’s just one problematic aspect to al this: the mirror can only be

  made use of in a region susceptible to earth tremors. And since addition-

  al y the mirror shows its mysterious properties only at critical junctures,

  this new art, as all will quickly agree, is connected with constant mortal

  danger.

  But I did not hesitate to put my life on the line in this mat er, and until

  now I’ve had no cause to regret it.

  When the image that is reproduced here as Number 1 appeared in my

  mirror, my first thought was that it was some sort of joke. Soon, however,

  I was shown the error of my assumption: the lips of the head whose eyes

  were fixed on me began to tremble, and then very faint words reached my

  ear, often interrupted by rustling, crackling sounds. Our conversation went

  approximately like this:

  THE HEAD: If only I could get my moustache to turn up!

  ME: But the tips have turned into balloons; the bal oons must exert a

  lifting force. (I too was speaking quite softly.)

  THE HEAD: I live in another sphere, where the law of gravity doesn’t

  apply.

  ME: Wel — why don’t you try a moustache guard?

  THE HEAD: My bal oons are very delicate and sensitive to pressure.

  ME: Could you perhaps tel me why you are so intent on having your

  moustache turn up?

  THE HEAD (quite hastily): But homunculus, do you real y not see that

  I am being attracted by the Earth’s atmosphere and thus made to suffer

  al those things terrestrials have to suffer right now? I am merely a sort of

  human barometer for you — wasn’t that obvious immediately?

  ME: How am I supposed to take that? Nowadays nearly everyone wears

  his moustache pointing up.

  THE HEAD (again quite hastily): But homunculus, have you real y

  not yet noticed that outer appearances almost never correspond to inward

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  SELECTED SHORT S T O R I E S

  states? On the outside, fil ed with courage — on the inside cowering with

  fear! That’s so often how it is.

  ME: In other words, you symbolize our time?

  THE HEAD: But homunculus, do express yourself more precisely and

  say that I am a symbol to you. The state being forced on me at present is

  only temporary. Everything passes — your life too wil pass.

  ME: Not much of a consolation!

  THE HEAD: But homunculus, do you real y consider your current state

  so enviable and admirable that it ought to last forever? You are mistaken,

  however, if you suppose me to be an old philosopher — I am merely a trav-

  eling salesman in the shoe business — hence the moustache.

  ME: So there are shoes in your sphere? But you don’t have a body.

  THE HEAD (harshly): Sir, I have no ears either, for that matter — you

  can see what I look like — so stop asking about things that go beyond your

  sphere.

  ME: So what should I ask?

  THE HEAD: You have no courage either. On the outside, fil ed with

  courage — on the inside cowering with fear!

  After this I perceived lightning flashes in al the extremities of this appa-

  rition — then there was a loud bang, and I fel off my chair onto the floor;

  another strong seismic shock had hit — and my mirror had shifted from its

  position and now showed only my own head when I looked into it rather

  than that of the traveling shoe salesman. But I had copied the gentleman

  during our conversation.

  The other images came about under

  similar circumstances. Numbers 2 and 3

  were powerful fury demons, 2 inveighed

  against the stupid, and 3 against scholars.

  Unfortunately these conversations can-

  not be reproduced, as the language they

  Nr. 5

  Nr. 4

  Nr. 2

  Nr. 3

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  PAUL S C H E E R B A R T

  contained was so strong; such words as “knave,” “balderdash,” and “dun-

  derpate,” etc. did not appear in our conversation; the curses uttered in the

  mirror were at least one hundred times stronger than the above-mentioned

  epithets.

  The two furious gentlemen also claimed to symbolize the mood of great

  hordes of people.

  Number 4 made the same claim and told me she was a symbol of the

  modern artist. She could easily pul her fur hat al the way down over her

  face, and you’d think she didn’t have a head at al — but she did.

  Number 5 claimed she was compelled to be silent al the time — yet she

  was constantly crying out:

  “I shal say nothing more!”

  “I shal say nothing more!”

  I shal al ow myself to fal in with this sentiment and act in accordance

  with it, although I find it rather difficult, seeing how many secondary mat-

  ters I have not yet touched on and considering my fear that I may not have

  made the symbolic character of the “new art” sufficiently clear. Mean-

  while — Number 5 is having such a powerful effect on me that I cannot

  help acting and speaking as she does. Let us hope her influence wil not

  last long.

  Translated by Susan Bernofsky

  184

  Transportable Cities

  In Colombo I made the acquaintance of the American architect Cashling.

  He regaled me with marvelous tales of America and did not fail to remark

  from time to time, looking at me with pity: “After al , you’re just a Euro-

  pean and stil a bit behind in world history.” Every time he said that, I

  blushed.

  Above al I was impressed by what he told me about transportable

  cities.

  This is what Mr. Cashling had to say about them:

  “In Europe, people have a total y false idea about America; al the

  things European newspapers say about us are mere trivialities — we were

  never much interested in Cook or Peary — and the North Pole doesn’t

  concern us. The Northern Lights with their magnetic storms did recently

  arouse a flurry of excitement among our scholars. But we don’t real y care

  about sports. On the other hand, we’re al ears when major scientific or

  artistic developments emerge. And our mil ionaires pay huge sums for

  things of this sort. And so two years ago I was asked to construct a trans-

  portable city. What a commission! Fifty mil ionaires provided the funding.

  By no means a paltry sum. Once we have final y gotten our hands on

  lightweight building materials, and with the help of the automobile and

  dirigible industries, a transportable building wil be easy to produce. Al

  you need are three large automobiles. With three hundred automobiles,

  then, a city of one hundred buildings can be constructed and then relocated

  again and again. This, of course, wil be modern nomadic culture. At the

  beginning of culture, man was a nomad, and in the end he wil be a nomad

  once more. This is probably how Richard Wagner would put it if he were

&nb
sp; stil alive.”

  After this, Mr. Cashling showed me a series of smal photographs in

  which his transportable city could be seen in various landscapes. And as

  he did so he went on:

  “After al , nowadays it’s obviously no fun waking up every morning and

  seeing the same old garden. This is no longer in keeping with this rapid

  First published as “Transportable Städte” in November 1909 in the literary magazine Die

  Gegenwart (The present), Berlin.

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  PAUL S C H E E R B A R T

  age of ours. In the twentieth century, people have acquired a cometlike

  nature — which explains al the traveling about and the boom in industries

  involving vehicles of transport. But doesn’t it seem rather odd to you that

  in Europe no one has yet hit on the idea of constructing transportable

  cities? I find that very odd indeed! Wel — we in America are a bit farther

  along in world history. We already have somewhere around one hundred

  transportable cities. And al of them are wel -armed — especial y with

  machine guns — so they’l be able to defend themselves against robbers

  and Indians. In less than half an hour, my city would always be built up

  again in some new terrain. Most of the automobiles could serve as build-

  ing material without having to be entirely dismantled. And gardens with

  fountains and terraces would be set up right away. And you should see the

  practical, lightweight furniture!”

  I have to admit I was seized with envy — envy made me turn quite

  green — Mr. Cashling told me I was turning quite green.

  Translated by Susan Bernofsky

  186

  Glass Theater

  “We have shadow plays, and motion pictures are light plays. But color

  plays are something we have never before seen on stage, unless you count

  the kaleidoscopic tales of the Laterna Magica; color can be shown to its

  ful advantage only by diamonds and glass.”

  These words were spoken not by a master glazier, as you might imag-

  ine, but by the wel -known theater director Roderich Bäcker.

  “What you’ve just said,” I now replied, “is not particularly clear. We’ve

  seen diamonds on the stage by the thousands. I believe there is not a single

  diamond anywhere on Earth that hasn’t sparkled on a stage on at least one

  occasion. And glass appears on stage quite frequently as wel . And — with-

  out glass no color? No doubt the oil painters wil be delighted to hear this

 

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