Beware of Pity (Woolf Haus Classics)

by Stefan Zweig

chacun à son goût.

In all our actions vanity is, after all, one of the most powerful driving forces, and weak natures in particular succumb to the temptation to do something which, viewed superficially, makes them appear strong, courageous and resolute.

Just as a man in the throes of a mortal illness forgets his torturing, agonizing pangs because of a chance toothache, so had I forgotten (or tried to forget) what was really tormenting me, what was turning me into a cowardly runaway, and had advanced as the motive for my resignation that trivial mishap on the parade-ground.

fait accompli.

And with a genuine feeling of reverence I watched Condor cautiously steering the blind woman towards the door, skilfully preventing her from knocking into anything either to left or right; it was as though he were holding something infinitely fragile and precious in his hands.

Have you ever heard of logic prevailing against passion?

for you to decamp now at this critical moment — please don’t turn away — would be a dastardly crime against an innocent creature, and I fear even more than that — it would be murder!’

Only a numskull is pleased at being a so-called “success” with women, only a dunderhead is puffed up by it. A real man is much more likely to be dismayed at realizing that a woman has lost her heart to him when he can’t reciprocate her feelings.

‘That your feeling of horror was not aroused by the fact itself, but the thought of the consequences … I mean, that it is not so much that you are appalled at this poor child’s falling in love with you as that you’re afraid that other people may hear of it and sneer … In my opinion your exaggerated distress is nothing but a kind of fear — if I may say so — of appearing ridiculous in the eyes of others, of your fellow-officers.’

Everything in life that deviates from the straight and, so to speak, normal line makes people first curious and then indignant.

One knows how little one can really do to help; as an individual one can’t cope with the infinite wretchedness that exists all around us in the world. One merely bales a few drops out of the unfathomable ocean of misery with a thimble, and those whom one imagines one has cured today have a new malady tomorrow. One always has a feeling of having been remiss, negligent, and then there are the mistakes, the professional mistakes, that one inevitably makes — and so it’s always good to know that one has saved at least one person, kept faith with one person, made a good job of one thing.

One

One must know, after all, whether one has lived a dull, useless existence, or lived to some purpose.

Believe me’ — and I was suddenly conscious of the warmth and tenderness that seemed to emanate from him — ‘it’s worth while taking a hard task upon oneself if there...

‘I have addressed a question to you, Herr Leutnant. And I repeat that question: Are you aware of the inevitable consequences? Will you take full responsibility upon your conscience?’

When I am called in to help, there is only one thing it is my duty to do: to act, without hesitation. That’s the only right course in every case, because it’s the only humane course. Everything else is in the hands of Providence or, as more pious people would put it, of God.

Keep on saying to yourself: a week, six days, five days, and I shall save a human being; I will not wound, offend, upset, discourage that human being.

If you should not feel equal to your task, or if during this week you unwittingly give yourself away, don’t be ashamed — for heaven’s sake don’t be ashamed to tell me! I’ve seen enough naked bodies and broken spirits. You can call on me or ring me up at any time of the day or night; I shall always be ready to come to your aid, for I know what’s at stake.

Those whom Fate has dealt hard knocks remain vulnerable for ever afterwards.’

‘How splendid,’ he said, patting me on the shoulder, ‘that you came to me and we have been able to talk the matter over! Just think what would have happened had you simply run away from the problem without reflecting! It would have been on your mind for the rest of your life, for one can run away from anything except oneself.

He knew how weak, how cowardly I had been, and yet he did not despise me. He was an older man, a man of experience, I a mere youngster, a blundering beginner, and with those words he gave me back my confidence. A load fell from my mind, and I followed him with a light heart.

He needs someone to restrain him a little. One simply can’t help the whole world …’ ‘But one must try,’ he said, with a glance at me. ‘That’s what one lives for. For that alone.’

And I felt that in embracing this one small part of me which I had yielded up to her she was embracing the whole of me.

I let it happen, powerless, defenceless, yet subconsciously ashamed at the thought of being loved so infinitely, while for my part feeling nothing but shy confusion, an embarrassed thrill.

and since love, according to the inmost laws of its being, ever desires the illimitable, all finiteness, all moderation, is repugnant, intolerable to it. In every sign of constraint, of restraint, on the part of the other it suspects opposition; any reluctance to yield utterly it rightly interprets as secret resistance.

Were people really made so kind and happy by seeing others display kindness and pity? If that were so, Condor was right; if that were so, anyone who made a single person happy had fulfilled the purpose of his existence; it was really worth while to devote oneself to others to the very limit of one’s strength, and even beyond. If that were so, every sacrifice was justified, and even a lie that made others happy was more important than truth itself.

Her lips accepted mine humbly as though receiving some precious gift.

On that evening I was God. I had created the world, and lo! it was full of goodness and justice.

The miracle that they all awaited from me had not happened. I was no longer God, but a puny, pitiable human being, whose blackguardly weakness did nothing but harm, whose pity wrought nothing but havoc and misery.

for a human being will accept the strictest disciplinary measures with a better grace if he knows that they will fall with equal severity on his neighbour. Justice in some mysterious way makes up for violence.

Our decisions are to a much greater extent dependent on our desire to conform to the standards of our class and environment than we are inclined to admit.

A considerable proportion of our reasoning is merely an automatic function, so to speak, of influences and impressions which have become part of us,

bent down and kissed her hand. When I looked up, I could not understand how this woman with the grey hair, the harsh mouth, and that bitter look in her blind eyes had at first seemed ugly to me. For her countenance now shone with love and human sympathy. I felt as though those eyes that mirrored nothing but eternal darkness knew more of the reality of life than all those that gazed out, clear and radiant, upon the world.

No, it was not the healthy, the confident, the proud, the joyous, the happy that one must love — they had no need of one’s love! Arrogant and indifferent, they accepted love only as homage that was theirs to command, as their due. The devotion of another was to them a mere embellishment, an ornament for the hair, a bracelet on the arm, not the whole meaning and bliss of their lives. Only those with whom life had dealt hardly, the wretched, the slighted, the uncertain, the unlovely, the humiliated, could really be helped by love.

I, however, saw in this unanimous silence universal condemnation. I became more and more a prey to the delusion that they had all condemned me, as I had condemned myself, that they all regarded me as a murderer, for that was how I regarded myself. While the whole Empire was quivering with excitement, while all over a distracted Europe the wires vibrated, were white-hot, with news of disaster, while markets tottered, armies mobilized and the prudent were already packing their trunks, I could think of nothing but my cowardly treachery, my guilt.