Although in many ways Stefan Zweig's Beware of Pity is a distressing read, I can't help but admire the work in the same way I admired The Post-Office Girl earlier this year. Although the stories do differ in many ways it's easy to see the the author's mark on it as there are common threads running through both and knowing a little bit about Zweig goes a long way to understanding his novels. As a contemporary and admirer of Freud, the psychological insight into the characters' feelings and motivations subtly comes through, though what they feel is intense and this intensity is felt by the reader in an almost crushing way. Joan Acocella in her wonderful introduction to the book (which helped put in words what I was feeling about it) remarks, "it was no doubt Freud's writings along with the experience of two world wars, that persuaded him of the fundamental irrationalism of the human mind".
In Beware of Pity Zweig shows what happens when the best intentions are misinterpreted for something they're not and how people mire themselves in deceit to tragic consequences. Pity is the main theme running through the story, but as well Zweig writes about responsibility, compassion, cowardice and hypocrisy. As I was reading I was wondering if such a thing could happen in contemporary society. The world Zweig wrote about is long vanished as are some of the attitudes (though maybe I'm being more optimistic than I should be). Although the circumstances and environment have changed, human motivations haven't. Acocella writes that obsession is a central theme in his fiction, and this book may be "the first sustained fictional portrait of emotional blackmail based on guilt." I wonder if in the same situation a man would be as honorable today.
While The Post-Office Girl takes place in the dark days after WWI, Beware of Pity begins in 1913 in the far reaches of the waning Habsburg Empire. Anton Hofmiller is a young subaltern in Franz Josef's distinguished Army . Having grown up in military environments, beginning at age ten in a military school, he's young for his age. The Austro-Hungarian Army was governed by a strict code of conduct, and as an officer Hofmiller would be aware of the rigid rules of honor by which all officers lead their lives, so much so that they were always in uniform and always meant to be representatives of this distinguished group. It's this honor mixed with compassion and perhaps his youthful naiveté that gets him into trouble.
Stationed in a small town on the very edge of the empire, it's an honor to be invited to the grand manor house of one of the wealthiest and aristocratic families in the area. Hofmiller is seduced by the elegance and glamour of the family. He's in his element dancing and mingling and partaking of the riches of food and wine. He realizes that he's not asked the daughter of the family to dance, a blunder which he quickly rectifies only to discover she cannot walk. She is indeed a cripple. His invitation causes her to be embarrassed and creates a nasty scene, which in turn mortifies Hofmiller. He can't get away soon enough. It's this small error which will will nearly destroy his life.
The next day he spends the rest of his monthly allowance on flowers and sends them to Edith Kekesfalva, the young woman against whom he committed this awful gaff. She responds with another invitation to visit. Edith is only seventeen and at one time could walk and ride and was a "normal" young woman. But now she is a slave to her unresponsive body. She tries every treatment she can but nothing seems to work. Between a combination of manipulative overtures by Edith and to a lesser extent her father, and Hofmiller's sense of honor and compassion and most particularly his pity for this poor, lame girl, he starts making promises that he simply cannot keep. In a sense he's wooed by this family, who are very welcoming to his visits and perhaps lift him up to a place he's never yet been. And in return he wants to give Edith something, yet he never realizes how far he's going and just what she's feeling.
"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, and anyone who has been brought up from childhood in the stern school of military discipline is particularly apt to succumb to the hypnotic and compulsive force exercised by an order or word of command; a force which is logically entirely incomprehensible and which irresistibly undermines his will. In the strait-jacket of a uniform, an officer will carry out his instructions, even though fully aware of their absurdity, like a sleep-walker, unresistingly and almost unconsciously."
Litlove wrote a really insightful post about Stefan Zweig, which I found very helpful in understanding his novels. Being a Humanist he was at least initially an idealistic man. He considered himself a citizen of Europe not just Austria. "His thoughts were only for art, which he saw in the most ideal terms" according to Joan Acocella. He wrote Beware of Pity, however, in the run up to World War II when the world as he knew it was crumbling. His own works had been burned on bonfires by the Nazis. It's no wonder the tone of the novel is so pessimistic. There's so much more that could be said about this book, but I rather leave it to new readers to discover. These are wonderful works to read in group settings as there is so much to discuss. I highly recommend Stefan Zweig and Beware of Pity in particular. Needless to say I'll be looking for more of his work.