Andres Neuman - Traveller of the Century

He opened the Notes on the State of Souls at the most recent entry and browsed his comments. He took his quill, leisurely dipped it in the ink pot, wrote out the date and began his task.

… who I am concerned about is Frau H J de Pietzine, whose trials and tribulations we have remarked upon on previous occasions. A host of fears confound her conscience and darken her soul, the salvation of which will depend in large part upon her willingness to embrace penitence, the exercise of which she is inclined to observe with far less enthusiasm than the act of prayer. A woman of faith and family condition should not make an exhibition of herself by attending frivolous social gatherings of every kind. Address this tendency at next confessionals.

… as is clear from the previous entry, the excellent Herr Wilderhaus, the younger, whose nobility and generosity towards this humble parish we profoundly appreciate, has made an understandable choice, attendant upon certain of Fräulein Gottlieb’s virtues, virtues which, dare I say, in recent years have been unbecomingly eclipsed by xxxxxxa degree of rebelliousness and frivolity. Nothing, I hasten to add, which marriage, domestic bliss and the duties of motherhood cannot redress. Send sacristan to Wilderhaus Hall with a fresh letter on the parish’s headed paper thanking them again for their pious donation. Suggest to Herr Gottlieb a private interview with his daughter.

… having thus abandoned her catechism classes. Her renunciation of past heresies is no less praiseworthy, although it remains to be seen whether this is permanent. The case of her husband is far more arduous, A N Levin, who not only refuses to renounce his xxxxxxSemitic profanation and Arian deviance, but confounds his wife with spurious theosophies ranging from an adoptionism that blasphemes against the indivisible essence of the Father and the Son, to an adulterated hotchpotch of pre-Nicene Christology and Brahmin pantheism. From what I have gathered thus far, his wife was on the point of being persuaded by this pantheistic argument. It was necessary for me to explain to her that such a system leads to spiritual indifference, for if God were equally present in all things, it would make no difference if we paid attention to clouds and rocks or the Holy Spirit. I was obliged to remind her that not everything is God but that God is everything. Keep Frau Levin on her guard. Also request that she consult her husband about the transactions on the following pages.

… with unheard-of impudence. Attempt to find out in the corresponding Bible class. Upbraid the teacher in question.

… of these encouraging signs. Taking his work as an example, devote Sunday’s collective prayer to the supremacy of self-denial.

… not to mention gluttony. Give him a final warning under penalty of banishment from dining hall.

… impure thoughts of an alarmingly frequent and xxxxxxvivid nature. Insist upon penitence. Speak to his tutors.

… collected in our vessel of the divine will, which has had such a blessed impact on our humble parish and on the absolution of souls, I find myself duty bound to inform you that this amount diminished by seventeen per cent last month from an average of half a thaler per parishioner to the current eight groschen per parishioner at Sunday Mass, amounting to an overall reduction in our revenue of fifteen louis or twenty-two ducats. I therefore beseechingly implore Your Excellency to consider and find a way of compensating for this loss, if only in small part. Lastly, owing to a reduction in productivity, the tithes are to remain unchanged until the third quarter, at which time they will be increased to three and a quarter thalers per taxpaying peasant. I hereby attest to the above, and, as your humble servant, await Your Excellency’s next visit in order that I may kiss your hands, discuss these matters in person and celebrate a pontifical Mass in all its solemnity and beauty.

I’m so glad you brought up Fichte, Monsieur Hans (Sophie remarked, stroking the inside of her teacup handle, almost introducing her finger into it, then pulling it back again, while Hans watched, becoming increasingly troubled), because if I remember rightly last Friday none of us mentioned him during our debate about this country. Professor Mietter, so do you not think (she said, changing the tone and direction of her voice, her fingers wandering from the handle to the outside of her teacup, caressing its rippled surface as though she were reading Braille) that it might be appropriate to consider him for a moment? My dear young man (Professor Mietter, who had hitherto been dominating the conversation, addressed Hans with his fingers firmly clasped in front of him), I notice you show an interest in certain philosophers, may I ask what you have studied? (Sophie took her hands away from the teacup and they hung there for a moment, like ears.) Me? Philosophy (Hans replied, but not before hesitating and rubbing his hands together in what Sophie interpreted as a gesture of unease). Ah, philosophy (said Professor Mietter unclasping his fingers and leaving them pointing upwards), how interesting, and where exactly did you study? At Jena (Hans replied, hesitating once more, placing his hands on his thighs as if to say: That’s all).

From what I know of Fichte (said Herr Gottlieb without taking his pipe out of his mouth) I agree with his ideas about Germany, although I have heard he was virtually an atheist. Father (said Sophie, bringing her hands closer together), what an interesting ring the word virtually has! For Fichte, the “I” (observed Herr Levin, whose hands were usually motionless, as though bound together) is a divine category. In my view (said Hans, smoothing his trousers, perhaps in order to soften his disagreement with a gesture of false modesty), no “I” can be divine, except, of course, if it believes itself partly to be He. (Sophie’s forefinger moved back to the inside of the cup handle.) Ah, but (Herr Levin reflected, pointing to an imaginary spot on the table) the most important thing would be the We that is beneath this He. My dear (said Frau Pietzine, dropping her needlework), may I have a little more cake?

At the beginning of the session, Sophie had announced that Rudi Wilderhaus had just sent her a message in which he asked all the other guests to excuse his absence and promised he would be there without fail the following Friday. Hans had deduced that this was therefore his last chance to impress Sophie before her fiancé arrived on the scene. And so he threw himself into the debate about Fichte. I am quite drawn, he said, to his ideas on the individual, but his theory of Germany leaves me cold. If each of us were a country, then every people would be a country made up of countries, would it not? But surely no individual, however sacred he thinks himself, can embody a country or express its fundamental nature. (Tell us, protested Herr Levin, do Bach and Beethoven not represent our nation in the most favourable light? Ah, touché! Professor Mietter exclaimed, trying to look amused but sounding piqued. But Hans was talking only for Sophie now.) No, I don’t mean that. If a poet or musician succeeds in personifying a country’s sensibility it will always be coincidental, a historical phenomenon rather than a metaphysical one. Or do you really believe Bach composed from his Germanness? This is precisely why I am suspicious of Fichte. How can he espouse a radical form of subjectivity and from it construct an entire nation? I wonder what the devil he means when he speaks of the German ideal? Who exemplifies it? And who is incompatible with it? In his discourses, he explains how German uniqueness was a result of migration, while the other Teutonic tribes stayed in their places of origin. What amazes me is that Fichte acknowledges this and then has the audacity to assert that resettlement wasn’t really so significant, and that ethnic characteristics predominate over place, etc etc. You yourself, Professor (Hans was speaking almost without drawing breath, and the professor, unable to find a natural break in his rapid monologue, turned away as though he had not heard his name) have travelled and are therefore aware of how outward changes give rise to inwards ones. History shows that peoples are as changeable as rivers. Fichte describes them as if they were made of marble, solid blocks that can be moved or chiselled but remain essentially unchanged. He underestimates the importance of the mixing of the Germanic lineage with the conquered peoples, and as if that weren’t enough he insinuates that all our problems, our age-old problems, aren’t really German, but foreign. What nonsense! What is he trying to tell us? Whom is he suggesting we flee from in order to avoid contamination? (Herr Levin coughed twice.) I have learnt everything I know from travelling, that is, from associating with foreigners. Very well, let us suppose Fichte’s intention was to restore our faith in ourselves after the French occupation or whatever. Much obliged to you Herr Fichte for having renewed our Germanic spirit, but now our optimism has been restored, let us discover common principles not Germanic tribes.