Soul of the Age (6 page)

I shall probably be coming to Calw soon, and shall probably find other people boring and annoying, and they will feel much the same way about my company.

NB: I would be very pleased if Karl happens to have a small pipe from his student days, doesn't need it, and passes it on to me.

Wilhelm Dreiss did brilliantly in his exams.

 

PS: I may send the important Easter things by mail; I may walk part of the way if the weather is good.

TO JOHANNES AND MARIE HESSE

[
Before March 24, 1893
]

I'm very anxious about Easter. If I could stay here or elsewhere, but as for going home!? I can tolerate just about everything but love. This cannot go on for much longer; I'm completely bedraggled, and my misery doesn't belong in a house such as yours where love and friendship are at home. It's easier for me to tell people like Geiger what I think! I consider that man a blockhead of the first order …

I have to come on Saturday! Don't be startled and—please!—leave me alone at Easter! I cannot tolerate love, and Christian love least of all. If Christ only knew what he has wrought! He'd be turning over in the grave.

I have gone to the dogs in both body and soul; my heart has blackened, as has my life …

You're the people who ought to be pitied; I have been such a burden. A pity about that good money!!

The thought of Easter seems more and more terrible, and fills me with revulsion (only if I come?). I'm about to fall silent, without actually shooting myself. That's fine, the best course for us all.

I pity you! Such devout, honorable, upright people; their filius, however, happens to be a scoundrel who despises morality and all that is “sacred” and “venerable.” That's almost a pity! I would have been able to make something of myself in life had I been a bit more stupid and allowed myself to be deluded by religion, etc.

 

PS: Today I met some nice, jolly people, a German-Italian by the name of Ottilio Pedotti and a rich Russian, Duke Fritz von Cantacuszène.

 

[
Cannstatt, June 13, 1893
]

Well, that's how it is! I spent Pentecost with you: walks, meals, joking around, Bible readings, music—but then a fight, boredom, and so I left a whole day earlier. And now Mother writes saying that my stay at Pentecost was “so brief,” and also that I should talk “openly” about whatever is “affecting me emotionally”!

Poor Parents! You think that you're dealing with an eccentric dreamer with crazy ideals, who is driven by his delusion to stir up mischief, but is actually pining away with grief because of the state of the world and also on account of some personal sorrows. That's how you view your son.

You Christians blend optimism and pessimism in strange ways! At the same time as you're pitying me for being such a dreamer, so nostalgic, I'm trying to while away the time here in Cannstatt, am bored, have debts, etc.!

You call me “beloved child,” and write of my “struggles,” etc.; you imagine that my dearest wish is to spend my life amidst beautiful, good, dear souls who believe in an idealistic philosophy; you think I'm concerned about such things as a Weltanschauung, love, hatred. And as for the reality? What would I actually wish for myself? Well, if you really want to know the whole truth, my ideal would be to have (1) a millionaire father and also several well-endowed uncles, (2) more talent in practical matters, (3) the opportunity to live and travel wherever I please.

I couldn't care less about the aristocracy, yet would love to be an aristocrat, because of the prestige attached to the rank. I think money is absurd, but would really love to be very rich, because of the good life of which it forms part.

And what's the point of all this?

Man lives on bread rather than love; if I had a chance to trade in my exalted ideals, still almost brand-new, for those good Württemberg coupons—ah!

Farewell now! I shall have to think about what you said about the final exam in high school. I'm quite fearful about life at school and possibly also at university.

Write again soon, if you wish and can find the time.

 

[On enclosed page] Dear Papa! Congratulations on your birthday, and the best of health to you! Have a really enjoyable time on June 14, and fond regards to the others.

 

[On the reverse side] PS: I have no idea what I would like for my birthday. I shall let you know, if I think of anything. The awful part is that what you have in mind mightn't appeal to me, and vice versa.

 

By the way, I would ask you not to send books.

 

[
Cannstatt, October 8 or 9, 1893
]

I don't know whether the Principal has written to you or not. I hope so.

I probably cannot go on like this for much longer. While I don't have ordinary headaches, I always feel an awfully dull, uniform pressure in my head which develops into a headache when I have to concentrate. I can't cope with the assignments, which aren't excessive at all. I have to spend three or four times the usual amount of time on them, and my inattentiveness in class is downright embarrassing by now. I'm not able to follow properly, especially if asked questions, etc., and so I'm continually receiving reprimands, having to copy out lines, etc.

I'm terribly sorry to have to cause you such problems again, and so soon, too, but I had to tell you that I can no longer put up with this. Couldn't somebody come over here to see what might be done?

I wasn't able to recuperate sufficiently during the summer vacation because of the toothaches, pains in my eyes, and the heat. I'm again finding it difficult to walk, especially uphill.

If I could only come home, didn't have to be with strangers, and work a bit in the garden, not too much activity, but just enough! I'm terribly afraid, have many worries, and then school, work, angry words.

TO JOHANNES HESSE
13

[no initial greeting]

I decided to communicate with you in writing, so as to avoid unnecessary excitement. Unfortunately, it has become more than evident that we are incapable of having a conversation, because both of us easily become irritated and also have divergent opinions and principles. But to get to the point!

I didn't like it at the seminary, and felt no better at Cannstatt and Esslingen.
14
You thought my running away like that was pathological. Of course, it wasn't right of me, but I didn't feel the least bit eager, energetic, or courageous when thinking about the future you wanted to impose on me. A feeling of revulsion often overcame me at work or while studying.

I have always employed my free time to further my own education. You used speak of my idle pursuits, but that is how I hope to earn my living. I could never summon the courage to tell you about my intentions and wishes, since I knew they didn't agree with yours, and so we drifted ever further apart. I tried the book trade, and was determined to work very hard, if I could detect a single positive aspect, but the whole affair was quite nauseating. Now a decision has to be reached. I know that you were, or are, thinking of such places as Stetten and Chrischona, and so I really have to say this: Your plans, which I went along with, have come to nought. Couldn't I have a final chance to try out my plans before having to enter a lunatic asylum or become a gardener or carpenter? That's more or less what I'm requesting. But knowing that you appreciate precision in such matters: I would like to try to earn a living by drawing on my private studies. I would start off in a place where I have a foothold already, Cannstatt, Esslingen, Stuttgart. Furthermore, I would need certain papers, because of the police, and some money at the outset. If I didn't have a few marks, I wouldn't get as far as Esslingen. If I happened to arrive there on the wrong day, I wouldn't have a bite to eat. Obviously, I have to rely on somebody's help at first. I hope to earn something later, in the foreseeable future.

(
Above
) Calw in the Black Forest, Hesse's birthplace, where he spent the first three years of his life (until 1881), and to which he returned to attend school for three years (1886–89)

(
Below
) The Mission School in Basel, where the Hesse family lived from 1881 to 1886. Hesse spent his first school years here

Maulbronn, the background for many stories

You have spent a lot of money trying to implement your plans for my future. Wouldn't you be interested in investing a little of that in my attempt to determine whether my plans are viable. To put the matter bluntly:

I would ask you to allow me freedom (rather than the 1,000 marks at the very minimum needed to prepare me for a career as a merchant or something similar), and this means helping me acquire the necessary papers, giving me money so I can get started, and permitting me to keep on turning to you in the immediate future for such things as laundry and shoe repair. If things go well for me, then so much the better! If they don't, then my hopes will have proven worthless, and I shall never again lay claim to a will of my own—i.e., avoiding being confined to a lunatic asylum.

TO JOHANNES AND MARIE HESSE

Tübingen, October 18 to 20, 1895

Friday evening

I intended to write again on Sunday, still do, but who knows whether that'll be possible? I shall be tired, have to wait in any case until Sunday before setting up my books, etc., since there simply isn't enough time, and I've been invited to Aunt Elisabeth's
15
for Sunday afternoon. So I'm starting to write today, though I may not get very far.

I'm kind of fond of the town, especially since I live on the periphery and not in town. It is narrow, full of little nooks, medieval romanticism, with little Richter
16
-like scenes, yet it's also rather malodorous and dirty. The castle is wonderful, especially the view from atop the castle mountain, and the avenues are truly splendid.

I can see the castle from my room. The widow of the Deacon is busy mothering me, always bringing butter, rolls, sausages, etc.; she must think I'm a spoiled glutton. It's hard for me to get away from the table after lunch, since she so loves to talk. She knows everybody, people from Calw, Basel, Lapland, missionaries, and can talk about thousands of interesting deaths, engagements, illnesses, trips, and assorted pleasures of that ilk. I already know in great detail all about her husband's death and shall soon be just as familiar with her childhood, engagement, marriage, life with her husband, all her joys and sorrows. She seems like a character from a Dickens novel: agile, merry, cheerful, solicitous, always bursting with stories old and new, as well as extremely kindhearted and loving. Today she implored my forgiveness for leaving a bottle of fresh cider in my room. She just had to, the cider was so good, although she had used more apples than usual, costing 6.50 a measure. She asked whether I would like to have a sausage or something in the evening, and I said I would prefer to have a cup of tea with some bread or rolls, if that wasn't any bother. Well, she gives me tea and rolls for supper, and even puts out some butter, too. When I have eaten my fill, she clears the table. I'm just about to get up when a warm sausage with salad appears on the table. The widow of the Deacon bears a slight resemblance to Frieda Montigel, although she's a far finer person than the latter. While she loves to talk, she would never dream of grilling me like an inquisitor. So I sit there enjoying the meal, listening to her talk, and feeling very cozy—through her lively exhortations she ensures that I eat enough and, what's more, stay awake.

 

Saturday night

Marulla
17
wants to enclose my letter tomorrow, so I'll have to finish this by then.

The pace at work is like this too, hour by hour. I can imagine the sheer variety of tasks eventually sowing confusion in my mind. I already have the following regular duties: I sort all incoming packages, recount the money in the store's cash register (between twenty and thirty marks) each morning, mail the magazines and keep a record of the books. Besides, I have to examine the secondhand books to ensure they're complete (collation), also possibly go on errands, etc. It's a very large enterprise; the main category is theology, also law and philology, not much medicine, art and music only as a sideline. Students may open their own accounts, and there are some unpaid bills that were incurred by gentlemen who have since vanished into thin air. That sort of thing seems to happen quite frequently. I respect all the gentlemen in the store for their education and knowledge, particularly the two eldest, Herr Hermes and Herr Straubing. Herr Sonnewald wears his hat and coat in the heated office, but takes them off when he goes out. He doesn't talk, he murmurs. I have enormous respect for him.